#I wanna know the conversations had about this

[hungharrington]

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[theemporium]

i think the “i’m gonna sleep at my place tonight” prank would work on luke. you’ve moved into him and jacks apartment and not only is luke pouty and sleepy and confused. jack is lost bc he’s like “you live here?” would you be willing to make a blurb about this please?

tweaked it a little but thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You hadn’t even done the prank for the sake of recording it, you were mostly just curious at what the reaction would have been after seeing a few videos earlier that day.

The three of you had a routine, one that you had developed wordlessly since you began dating Luke almost a year ago. On the days that you would be sleeping over, the three of you would watch some random movie or series in the living room together after dinner. You and Luke would take the bigger couch with him sprawled over you like a weighted blanket. Jack would take the smaller couch, sometimes paying attention and sometimes scrolling through his phone where he would turn to show you both something he found funny. 

It had become more of a norm the last few weeks since you had been crashing at their apartment for the foreseeable future after your place became inhabitable. 

It was domestic and comforting and predictable. 

So really, the prank was out of pure curiosity on what two hockey players—known for having their superstitions and routines, despite what they said—would do when that predictability was shattered.

“Alright,” you started once Luke was almost half-asleep with his head on your chest and Jack was immersed in whoever he was texting. “I should get going.” 

Luke let out a groan, nuzzling himself closer to you (as if that was possible). “We going to bed?” 

“No,” you said, trying to keep the grin off your face as you combed your fingers through his curls, watching the way he sighed as his eyes fluttered shut again. “I think I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight.” 

That seemed to catch Jack’s attention as he finally looked up from his phone, frowning at you. “What?” 

“I said I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight,” you repeated, moving yourself out from underneath Luke who groaned unhappily. 

Luke’s annoyance slowly morphed into confusion as he watched you start to grab your things. “Wait, what? What do you mean you’re sleeping at your place?” 

“Just need some space,” you said with a casual shrug, looking up to see both brothers staring at you with baffled expressions. “You know, have a me night.” 

Luke’s crestfallen expression almost made you break. He still looked half-asleep, not fully processing whatever conversation you were having. “You don’t want to sleep beside me tonight?” 

You flashed your boyfriend a sheepish smile. 

“Forget that,” Jack scoffed, sitting up a bit straighter. “You live here now? Why wouldn’t you be sleeping here?”

You shrugged. 

Jack blinked. “Did you hit your head and forget that your apartment is currently submerged in, like, three feet of water?” 

Luke blinked a few times like he was starting to wake up a little. “How is that more desirable than my bed?” 

But Jack took one look at the way you were pressing your lips together to hold back your laughter before he let out a groan, slumping back into his seat with a huff. “Ha ha, funny joke.”

“Like you haven’t done shittier pranks,” you snorted. 

However, Luke still looked baffled as he reached out for you, fingers gripping the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing to pull you closer. “Babe, what do you mean you wanna sleep at your place?” 

Your expression softened as you took in the sleepy, hooded eyes and messy curls, cooing as you tugged your boyfriend to stand up. “Nothing, baby, m’staying the night here. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

Luke flashed you a sleepy smile, nodding before he let out a yawn. 

.

[victhespookygoat]

Full Transcript Below bc Forbes' Website Sucks:

TRUMP (after a reporter asks if he’s too “aligned” with Putin): If I didn’t align myself with both of them, you’d never have a deal. You want me to say really terrible things about Putin, and then say, ‘Hi Vladimir, how are we doing on the deal?’ That doesn’t work that way. I’m not aligned with Putin, I’m not aligned with anybody, I’m aligned with the United States of America and for the good of the world. I’m aligned with the world and I wanna get this thing over with. You see the hatred he’s got for Putin, it’s very tough for me to make a deal with that kind of hate. He’s got tremendous hatred, and I understand that, but I can tell you the other side isn’t exactly in love with him either. So, it’s not a question of alignment, I have—I’m aligned with the world. I want to get the thing sett—I’m aligned with Europe, I want to see if we can get this thing done. You want me to be tough? I can be tougher than any human being you’ve ever seen, I’d be so tough, but you’re never going to get a deal that way, so that’s the way it goes. Alright, one more question…

PROMOTED

VANCE: Hey, I want to respond to this. So, look, for four years the United States of America, we had a president who stood up at press conferences and talked tough about Vladimir Putin, and then Putin invaded Ukraine and destroyed a significant chunk of the country. The path to peace and the path to prosperity is maybe engaging in diplomacy. We tried the pathway of Joe Biden, of thumping our chest and pretending that the President of the United States’ words mattered more than the President of the United States’ actions. What makes America a good country is America engaging in diplomacy. That’s what President Trump is doing.

ZELENSKYY: Can I ask you?

VANCE: Sure.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah?

VANCE: Yeah.

ZELENSKYY: Okay, he occupied our parts, big parts of Ukraine, part of East and Crimea, so he occupied it in 2014. So, during a lot of years, I’m not speaking about just Biden, but those time was … President Obama, then President Trump, then President Biden, now President Trump and, god bless, now President Trump will stop him. But during 2014, nobody stopped him. He just occupied and took. He killed people, you know? What the contact line—

TRUMP: 2015.

ZELENSKYY: 2014.

VANCE: 2014 to 2015.

TRUMP: Oh, 2014.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah, yeah, yeah, so.

TRUMP: I was not here.

ZELENSKYY: Yeah, but…

VANCE: That’s exactly right.

ZELENSKYY: Yes, but during 2014 til 2022, the situation the same that people have been dying on the contact line. Nobody stopped him. You know that we had conversations with him, a lot of conversations, multilateral conversations. And we signed with him, me, like a new president in 2019, I signed with him the deal. I signed with him, Macron and Merkel, we signed ceasefire. Ceasefire, all of them told me that he will never go, we signed with him a gas contract … Yes, but after that he broke the ceasefire, he killed our people and he didn’t exchange prisoners. We signed the exchange of prisoners, but he didn’t do it. What kind of diplomacy, JD, you are speaking about? What do you mean?

VANCE: I’m talking about the kind of diplomacy that’s going to end the destruction of your country.

ZELENSKYY: Yes, but if you—

VANCE: Mr. President, Mr. President, with respect I think it’s disrespectful for you to come into the Oval Office and try to litigate this in front of the American media. Right now, you guys are going around and forcing conscripts to the front lines because you have manpower problems. You should be thanking the president for trying to bring an end to this conflict.

ZELENSKYY: Have you ever been to Ukraine that you see what problems we have?

VANCE: I have been to—

ZELENSKYY: Come once.

VANCE: I have actually watched and seen the stories and I know what happens is you bring people, you bring them on a propaganda tour, Mr. President. Do you disagree that you’ve had problems bringing people into your military?

ZELENSKYY: We have problems—

VANCE: And do you think that it’s respectful to come to the Oval Office of the United States of America and attack the administration that is trying to prevent the destruction of your country?

ZELENSKYY: A lot of questions. Let’s start from the beginning.

VANCE: Sure.

ZELENSKYY: First of all, during the war, everybody has problems. Even you, but you have nice ocean and don’t feel now, but you’ll feel it in the future. God bless, god bless—

TRUMP: You don’t know that. You don’t know—don’t tell us what we’re gonna feel. We’re trying to solve a problem. Don’t tell us what we’re gonna feel.

ZELENSKYY: I’m not telling you, I’m answering on the question—

TRUMP: Because you’re in no position to dictate that.

VANCE: That’s exactly what you’re doing.

TRUMP: You’re in no position to dictate what we’re gonna feel, we’re going to feel very good. We’re going to feel very good and very strong—

ZELENSKYY: You will feel influence—

TRUMP: You’re right now not in a very good position. You’ve allowed yourself to be in a very bad position and he happens to be right about it.

ZELESKYY: From the very beginning of the war—

TRUMP: You’re not in a good position. You don’t have the cards right now. With us, you start having cards.

ZELENSKYY: I’m not playing cards. [INAUDIBLE] Mr. President, [INAUDIBLE].

[CROSSTALK]

TRUMP: Right now you’re—you’re playing cards, you’re playing cards—you’re gambling with the lives of millions of people. You’re gambling with World War III. You’re gambling with World War III. And what you’re doing is very disrespectful to the country, this country. It’s backed you far more than a lot of people said they should have.

VANCE: Have you said ‘thank you’ once this entire time?

ZELENSKYY: A lot of times.

VANCE: No, in this—

ZELENSKYY: Even today. Even today—

VANCE: No, in this entire meeting. You went to Pennsylvania and campaigned for the opposition in October. Offer some words of appreciation for the United States of America and the president who’s trying to save your country.

ZELENSKYY: Please, you think that if you will speak very loudly about the war—

TRUMP: He’s not speaking loudly. He’s not speaking loudly. Your country’s in big trouble.

ZELENSKYY: Can I? Can I answer?—

TRUMP: Wait a minute. No, no. You’ve done a lot of talking. Your country is in big trouble.

ZELENSKYY: I know. I know.

TRUMP: You’re not winning, you're not winning this. You have a damn good chance of coming out okay because of us.

ZELENSKYY: Mr. President, we are staying in our country, staying strong. From the very beginning of the war we have been alone and we are thankful. I said thanks in this cabinet, [INAUDIBLE], I said thanks—

TRUMP: You haven’t been alone. You haven’t been alone. We gave you—through this stupid president—$350 billion—

ZELENSKYY: You voted for your president.

TRUMP: We gave you military equipment and your men are brave but they had to use our military—if you didn’t have our military equipment, if you didn’t have our military equipment, this war would have been over in two weeks.

ZELENSKYY: In three days, I heard it from Putin, in three days—

TRUMP: Maybe less.

ZELENSKYY: In two weeks, of course—

TRUMP: It’s going to be a very hard thing to do business like this, I tell you.

VANCE: Just say thank you.

ZELENSKYY: I said a lot of times, thank you to American people—

VANCE: Accept that there are disagreements and let’s go litigate those disagreements rather than trying to fight it out in the American media when you’re wrong. We know that you’re wrong.

TRUMP: But you see, I think it’s good for the American people to see what’s going on. I think it’s very important, that’s why I kept this going so long. You have to be thankful—

ZELENSKYY: I’m thankful—

TRUMP: You don’t have the cards. You’re buried there, your people are dying, you’re running low on soldiers—listen. You’re running low on soldiers, it would be a damn good thing. Then you tell us: ‘I don’t want a ceasefire, I don’t want a ceasefire, I want to go, and I want this—.’ Look, if you could get a ceasefire right now, I tell you you’d take it so the bullets stop flying and your men stop getting killed.

ZELENSKYY: Of course, of course we want to stop the war.

TRUMP: But you’re saying you don’t want a ceasefire—

ZELENSKYY: What I said to you—

TRUMP: I want a ceasefire. Because you get a ceasefire faster than an agreement.

ZELENSKYY: With guarantees. Ask our people about ceasefire, what they think. It doesn’t matter for you what—

TRUMP: That wasn’t with me. That wasn’t with me.

[CROSSTALK]

TRUMP: That was with a guy named Biden who is not a smart person—That was with Obama.

ZELENSKYY: That was your president. It was your president—

TRUMP: Excuse me, that was with Obama who gave you sheets, and I gave you javelins.

ZELENSKYY: Yes.

TRUMP: I gave you the javelins to take out all those tanks. Obama gave you sheets. In fact, the statement is: Obama gave sheets and Trump gave javelins. You gotta be more thankful. Because let me tell you, you don’t have the cards. With us, you have the cards. But without us, you don’t have any cards.

REPORTER: One more question…

TRUMP: It's going to be a tough deal to make. Because attitudes have to change.

REPORTER: What if Russia breaks ceasefire? What if Russia breaks [INAUDIBLE]?

TRUMP: What are you saying?

VANCE: She’s asking, ‘what if Russia breaks the ceasefire?’

TRUMP: Well what if they—what if anything! What if a bomb drops on your head right now? Okay? What if they broke it? I don’t know. They broke it with Biden because Biden, they didn’t respect him, they didn’t respect Obama. They respect me. Let me tell you, Putin went through a hell of a lot with me. He went through a phony witch hunt where they used him and Russia—Russia, Russia, Russia, you ever hear of that deal? That was a phony—that was a phony Hunter Biden, Joe Biden scam. Hillary Clinton, shifty Adam Schiff, it was a Democrat scam. And he had to go through that. And he did go through it and we didn’t end up in a war. He went through it, he was accused of all that stuff—he had nothing to do with it. It came out of Hunter Biden’s bathroom. It came out of Hunter Biden’s bedroom. It was disgusting. And then they said, ‘Oh, oh, the laptop from hell was made by Russia.’ The 51 agents, the whole thing was a scam, and he had to put up with that. He was being accused of all that stuff. All I can say is this: He might’ve broken deals with Obama, and Bush, and he might’ve broken them with Biden. He did, maybe, maybe he didn’t—I don’t know what happened. But he didn’t break them with me. He wants to make a deal. I don’t know if he can make a deal.

TRUMP: The problem is I’ve empowered you [looks at Zelenskyy] to be a tough guy. And I don’t think you’d be a tough guy without the United States. And your people are very brave.

ZELENSKYY: Thank you.

TRUMP: But you’re either going to make a deal, or we’re out. And if we’re out, you’ll fight it out. I don’t think it’s going to be pretty, but you’ll fight it out. But you don’t have the cards. But once we sign that deal, you’re in a much better position. But you’re not acting at all thankful, and that’s not a nice thing. I’ll be honest, that’s not a nice thing.

TRUMP: Alright, I think we’ve seen enough, what do you think? This is going to be great television, I will say that.

the transcript btw. It was hard to make it out on the video because of the blowhards yelling and me feeling incandescently blind and deaf with rage

oh, to have a leader with the moral fiber and strong backbone that Zelenskyy has

[tsukuhoe]

22. baby, i know cw: heavy mentions of alcohol, teeny bit angsty, wc: 1.8k

you stood in front of the door, your fingers fumbling with the handle. “shit,” you muttered under your breath. you lean on the garage door, arms full of beer bottles and knocked. “hey shitheads?” no answer. you flick a switch, and the garage door opens, and as you walk towards the garage door, the door closes. you look back to see a costumed ghostface closing the garage door. 

“...is that you randy?” the masked man shakes his head. no. 

“what movie is this from? i spit on your garage?” you scoff in return. “lose the costume; if sidney sees it, she’ll flip.” you walk towards the costume. he’s shaking his head again. 

“oh, you wanna play psycho killer?” you said, tilting your head slightly, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “can i be the helpless victim?” 

he masked figure nods. you cocked her head to the side, looking him up and down. “oh no, please don’t kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel!” you said, scoffing, then pushing him to the side. however, instead, the masked face grabbed your arm and pulled out a knife. a few bottles in your arm dropped and shattered as he dragged the prop against your arm, fake blood coming out of the tube. “ah!” 

immediately, you ran towards the fridge, slamming the top freezer in his face. he fell to the ground as you ran past him, grabbed the unshattered bottles and threw them at him once he started getting up. “fucker!” 

desperately wanting to escape, you spotted the doggy door. you quickly ran towards it, trying your best to shove your body through… unfortunately, your shoulders had made you stuck. seeing his golden opportunity, the killer flicks the switch, which opens the door… you are lifted into the air as you look up…

“CUT!” utahime’s voice booms, the entire set erupts into applause. “that was perfect, y/n and toji!” this was the last day of your filming on set. after the hard weeks of consistent filming and visiting the building, you had finished your part. you felt a lump form in your throat as you watched the cast and crew celebrate. this was the culmination of weeks of hard work, late nights, and dedication. ​​

toji walkers over to you. “we did it. we made the iconic scene.” 

you laughed softly, nodding. “we sure did.” 

after being on set with toji for a few weeks, he had gotten used to your presence, however, just because you’d been with him for a few weeks does not mean he’s fond of you now… “now you can finally scram. honestly, singing might be something you’d want to stick you.” he said with a smirk on his face. 

you could tell he was trying to get on your nerves. “awh, thank you so much mr. fushiguro! i appreciate your support in my music career!” you shot him an insincere smile, tone all cheery.  

“nah, i’d never listen to–” “SWEETS! you were amazing!” before toji could continue, gojo ran towards you and spun you around. “seriously, baby, i’ve been watching all the behind-the-scenes clips, and you nailed every scene. i’m so proud of you.” 

“thank you so much, gojo!” you giggled. you aren’t exaggerating when you say you saw literal stars in his eyes. 

“so, dinner? at kura revolving sushi bar?” he asked, setting you down on the ground. 

“yeah, of course— sorry, off topic, but do you know if kento is in the building today? i’ve been wanting to talk to him…” it had been approximately three days since you last had an actual conversation with him. could he be avoiding you? 

“ah, i don’t think so, sweets. from what i remember, he has a shooting to do for tomorrow in osaka! i think he should be on a plane by now.” right. of course. kento nanami is a busy man, this shouldn’t be surprising. however, you couldn’t help but to feel a little disappointed… by what? not getting to talk to him? you could always text him. him leaving without informing you? it’s not like you two were together; he isn’t obligated to tell you anything— so what exactly were you disappointed about? did you want to be with him? is that why you’re disappointed? before you could start spiralling even more than you already are, gojo picked up the change in your mood. 

“hey, if you want, i could pass along a message for you…? or you could even call him! i’m sure he’d be happy to receive a call from you!” he gently said, running his hands through your hair. 

“really? you’d think so?” you asked, eyes watery, tears threatening to spill out. 

“i know so. now c’mon! we don’t wanna be late to our reservation, now do we?” 

‘fuck. what in the world am i doing.’ was the only thought that ran through his head the whole car ride there. supporting you and nanami’s… relationship? whatever you two had going on. his hands gripped the steering wheel harder. he couldn’t help but to feel a jealous— bitter even. he was jealous of nanami’s relationship with you. he was bitter at himself. what did he lack? why was he even helping him? 

“we’re here!” his voice came out cheery, a total contrast to his previous thoughts while driving. you two walked in, while gojo talked to the waitress you couldn’t help but notice the sudden shift in his mood. in the car it was completely quiet, but now he’s all sunshine and smiles. he’s the world’s favourite actor (other than toji, of course) after all. 

“‘order anything ya want, sweets! it’s all on me.” he grinned, taking his seat as you settled in the booth across from him. 

“do you drink, gojo?” you asked, looking at the menu. 

“nahh, i don’t, sweets. i’m a light weight haha.” 

“oh, alright! then i won’t either!” 

“nono, drink if you want to! i don’t mind you drinking, besides i’ll be driving you home!” 

It wasn’t long before you two were laughing and nibbling on different types of sushi— salmon, tuna, avocado rolls, and takoyaki. but the drinks? that was beginning to hit you. you started with one shot, but it had been so smooth that you’d convinced yourself to have another. and then another. 

gojo watched you carefully, noting the rosy flush on your cheeks and the slightly glassy look in your eyes. you were starting to slur your words, though gojo didn’t want to say anything just yet. you two were having a great time, and the vibe was perfect.

"y/n," he said gently, "maybe we should slow down on the drinks?"

you waved him off. "i’m fine, i’m fine! just one more… okay, two more..."

he let out a small chuckle at your drunken state. “i can now see why you’re such good friends with shoko!” 

a few minutes later, you leaned back in your seat with a contented sigh, then suddenly lurched forward, your hand grabbing the edge of the conveyor belt as if to steady yourself. "i think i’m a little drunk," you admitted, your voice wobbling.

gojo couldn't help but laugh. "you think? you’ve had like, seven shots."

you giggled, your head tilting to one side as you tried to look serious. "i don’t know what’s in that drink, but it’s like magic. i feel amazing. i could totally sing karaoke right now."

the mention of singing made gojo laugh harder. "let’s just focus on not falling off the stool for now, alright, sweets?"

you blinked at him, then suddenly grinned. "you’re so funny, gojo. i think i love you."

his heart started to throb. he chuckled and reached for his glass of water. "yeah, well, i’m pretty lovable when i’m sober… let’s go home now, alright, sweets? don’t want you passing out on the conveyor belt." 

“you’re so nice, gojo.” 

“you know, you’ve been calling me gojo for a while. satoru is fine, sweets.” gojo chuckled, helping you out the booth and walking you to his car. 

“satoru… satoru… sa…toru… toru. how about toru. since y’know, you’ve been calling me these cute names, i should too!” you beamed, as he opened the passenger seat door for you. 

“sure thing, sweets.” 

the car ride to his place was quiet, you were slowly dozing off while he drove. you stared at gojo for a beat too long, his eyes soft and focused on road. "toru…" you began, your words dragging, "you know, i’ve always thought... you’re really pretty." 

his heart skipped a beat, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. he thought you were just being intoxicated. "you’re not so bad yourself," he teased, nudging you lightly. “we’ve just pulled into the parking lot. i’ll call shoko or utahime to come pick you up in a few?” 

you didn’t laugh. instead, you moved closer, your face hovering inches from his, your breath warm and scented with alcohol. gojo’s heart started to race; unsure if this was the alcohol talking or something more. fuck. he wished it was. 

“y/n, what are you—” 

before he could finish his sentence, you closed the gap between. the kiss was sudden and clumsy, but it was there— his lips pressing against yours with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. the kiss deepened, you tasted like the alcohol you’ve been drinking earlier. gojo hates alcohol, but fuck, your taste was so addicting. he didn’t care. your hand moved to his chest, your fingers pressing into him as you leaned more into the kiss.

the kiss grew more urgent, gojo pulled away slightly, his breath shaky. “sweets, wait... you’re drunk. this isn’t—”

“i want this,” you whispered, your voice soft but insistent. your eyes searched his, a mixture of vulnerability and something deeper that made his chest tighten.

for a second, he hesitated, unsure. but there, in your gaze, was something real. something he couldn’t ignore… but he also knew this wasn’t something to rush. not like this. not when the line between friendship and something else felt too blurry. 

with a sigh, he pulled back, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “we can’t, not like this,” he said softly. 

your eyes flickered with confusion, and for a moment, he could see the haze from the alcohol fading just a bit, replaced by something more knowing, more aware.

“i… i didn’t mean to mess things up,” you whispered, your voice small.

“you didn’t,” he said gently, placing a small peck on your forehead. “we’re just... better off waiting for a clearer moment.”

you nodded slowly, your eyes heavy with sleep now, the alcohol slowly overtaking you again. you leaned back into him, your eyelids fluttering as you tried to keep yourself awake.

he held you there, his heart racing, his mind spinning. gojo didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain— he couldn’t possibly face your sober state after this— even if this kiss wasn’t genuine. even if this kiss only happened because you missed nanami. 

album bonus tracks: — hihi i'm SO sorry for the late update omg... — im going to be so fr i actually got really sad while writing this, then i started contemplating my life choices — i love gojo sm, i promise he's going to be happy TT — other than that, please lmk if there's any grammar or spelling errors! — i wanna get deeper into everyone's character so bad but i don't know when's the right time to do it 😞 — anyways, i'll try to update the next chapter sometime this week to make up for the last weeks ^.^ ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT

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[usomads]

Slow Burn // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiiii :) had this sitting in drafts so I decided to finish it… and I’m– 🤤. Will be working on more stuff in the coming days, so stay tuned! Also, my lovely friend @zyvngi made this clip and I just… yeah there was no way I wasn’t using it lol. As always, happy reading y’all!

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Fluff (if you squint), Cursing, Drug Use (Weed), P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 4.4k

You enter Jon’s house as you always did, swinging the door open without knocking and waltzing right inside– your body collapsing on his living room couch. Media had kicked your ass today, more than usual, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. Jon happened to have a day off today, one that was hard to come by, especially with the work you two did at WWE– him being a talent and you a producer. That’s how the two of you met 4 years ago, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Well, good afternoon to you too, princess.” Jon teases, as you shoot daggers at him. 

“I don’t know how much more I can fuckin’ take. Paul’s driving me crazy, the work is endless, and absolutely nobody seems to appreciate how much work I’m putting into this to make shit happen every show. I’m about to fuckin’ lose it.” You groan, flopping down onto the couch and rubbing your eyes.

Jon leans against the island countertop, grinning, clearly amused by your frustration. “Sounds like you’ve had a day… wanna vent or just keep it low-key?”

You sigh dramatically, sitting up on the couch. “No, no, I should probably let it all out. I swear, I’ve been busting my ass, and every time I think I’m ahead, something else gets thrown on me. And everyone thinks I’m this superhero that can just fuckin’ fix it,” you pause, rubbing your temples. “I just want a break, but I feel like there’s no time to take one.”

He nods sympathetically, then walks over to the end table and pulls something from the drawer. “You really need to take a break though, you keep goin’ like that, you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

You laugh bitterly, half-glancing at him. “I know, I know. It’s like I don't even know how to take a break anymore. It’s always work, work, and more work.”

Jon takes out a joint from his pocket and lights it casually, raising an eyebrow at you. “You want some help with that?”

He takes a slow drag, exhaling slowly as you stare at him– shocked.

“You… smoke?”

He laughs, shrugging nonchalantly as he continues to puff on the joint. “Yeah, ‘s not somethin’ I bring up, but yeah, sometimes it helps me unwind. And you look like you could use a lil’ somethin’ to take the edge off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I just… I never thought you’d be the type to do… that.”

“What, smoke?” he chuckles. “Well, you never really asked. Trust me though, a little bit won’t hurt. It’s just us, Y/N. No work, no stress…” he grins, taking another drag then passing it to you.

You’re hesitant, but also curious. You take the joint from him, your voice getting soft.

“I don’t know… I’ve never done… this before.”

Jon smirks at you, sitting down and leaning back on the couch as he grabs another joint– one for himself. “First time for everything, right? No pressure, ma. Just take it slow.”

Nervously, you take a drag, coughing slightly. “Oh my god…” 

He laughs softly, leaning closer to you and offering you a reassuring smile. “Yeah, it can be a bit much at first. Just breathe through it, you’ll get used to it.”

You exhale, giggling nervously and shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I’m definitely not used to it. But… this actually feels kinda nice.” 

You’re growing more confident by the second, taking another drag. Jon watches you intently, a gentle smile on his face.

“That’s it, you’re doin’ great, ma. You deserve to feel nice, just let go of all that stress, you know?” he soothes you, his voice dropping lower than usual. 

As the night goes on, you both start to relax, the conversation flowing more freely. The effects of the joint take hold, and the atmosphere shifts in a way that has allowed the two of you to open up in a way you hadn’t before. You lean back against the couch, your eyes a little heavier but more relaxed. 

“You know, I never realized how much I needed this… to chill. I feel like I’m always runnin’ around, doin’ everything for everyone, and never doin’ anything for myself.”

Jon nods, a softer tone to his voice as he responds to you, looking at you intently. “I get it. You’re always taking care of other people, but you forget about you. You deserve to slow down. You gotta take care of yourself, too. Not everything’s on you.”

You turn to look at him, the weight of his words hitting you deep within your chest. “I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything. It’s like if I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

He softens, his expression growing more serious. “You don’t have to be everything to everyone, you’re enough just as you are. But I get it, you don’t want to disappoint people.”

A moment of quiet rushes in between them as the room feels more intimate, the casual chatter fading into something more profound. The connection between you feels intense, a shared vulnerability settling in. 

You look down, almost embarrassed, as you speak softly. “Maybe I don’t know how to stop being so… perfect. Like, I always have to keep everything together. I don’t know how to let someone help me.”

Jon reaches over and tilts your chin to face him, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to always be perfect, Y/N. With me, you can just be you, no pressure.”

The mood shifts. Your eyes lock, and there’s an undeniable charge between you, something unspoken but deeply felt. The air is thick with tension as you unconsciously move closer together. Before you can even process it, Jon leans in and kisses you, slow and unexpected. It’s not rushed, but full of emotion, a silent acknowledgement of everything you’ve both been feeling. The kiss deepens naturally, your mutual desire growing, and in that moment, the world outside fades. Reality hits you after a moment and you pull back slightly, eyes wide in shock as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Wha–?”

He pulls back quickly, his own eyes growing wide, clearly panicked. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to– I just– I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have–”

He stands up, pacing slightly, his hand running through his hair. After a beat you stand as well, still in shock as you move towards him and gently place your hand on his arm. 

“Jon…” 

He turns to you, his eyes pinged in fear and nervousness as he looks at you. You step closer, looking at him with a soft but intense gaze. Before he can utter another word, you reach up, gently pulling him back down to you, kissing him again– this time with more certainty, as if you had wanted it too. You pull away slightly, breathing a little heavier as his eyes search yours, his expression mixed with relief and surprise– then, a smile starts to form on his face. 

Jon leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as that signature smirk of his plays on his lips. “Damn, Y/N… You got me over here thinking I messed up, and then you go and kiss me like that?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something deeper laced within it—something raw, something real.

You exhale a soft laugh, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up,” you tease, running a hand through his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Jon’s grin widens, his hands still resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Oh, word? That’s how you feel?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, Y/N. I think you’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You raise a brow, playing along. “And if I have?”

His gaze darkens, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “Then I’d say we got a whole lot of catching up to do.”

Before you can respond, he reaches over to grab the joint resting in the ashtray nearby, taking a slow drag before bringing it to your lips. “Here,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something dangerously smooth. “Relax a little. We got all night.”

You hold his gaze as you take a hit, the smoke curling between you as he watches you, his eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. The tension between you thickens, wrapping around you both like a slow burn.

Jon leans back slightly, exhaling, his lips curving into a lazy smile. “You always look this good when you’re high, or is it just ‘cause you’re sittin’ here with me?”

You smirk, handing the joint back to him, your fingers deliberately brushing against his. “I don’t know, Uce… Maybe it’s just you.”

His laughter is deep, rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “See, now you just gassin’ me up,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he studies you. “But I ain’t mad at it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you watch him. “You like the attention, huh?”

Jon leans in again, this time close enough that his nose nearly brushes yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper. “I like it when it’s from you.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of music in the background and the sound of your own breathing. The world outside doesn’t matter—right now, it’s just you and him, the air thick with smoke and something even more intoxicating.

“Say the word, Y/N,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing up your arm, slow, deliberate. “Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze, your pulse pounding in your ears. Then, with a small smirk, you whisper, “What took you so long to figure that out?”

Jon grins, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, the kiss deeper, more urgent, as if he’s making up for lost time. He groans softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the lingering haze of smoke in the air, and the way his fingers tease at the small of your back all send a slow-burning heat through you.

“You tryna drive me crazy, huh?” he mumbles between kisses, his voice husky, dripping with amusement and something deeper.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to the side as you let your fingers trail up his chest. “I think I already have.”

Jon exhales a slow laugh, shaking his head before taking another hit of the joint, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, you definitely have,” he murmurs, exhaling the smoke lazily before slipping a hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin back slightly. “But I ain’t mad at it, baby.”

Your breath catches as his thumb traces along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine. You hold his gaze, letting your lips part slightly, teasing him just enough before you take the joint from his fingers and bring it to your lips. His eyes darken as he watches you, his expression shifting into something unreadable but entirely consuming.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you murmur after a slow exhale, the smoke curling between you both, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me.”

Jon chuckles, shaking his head as he licks his lips. “Oh, I been wantin’ yo’ fine ass,” he admits, his voice dropping lower, thick with something almost possessive. “Just been waitin’ for you to catch up.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, at the weight behind them, at the way his fingers are still tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull between you both magnetic, undeniable.

“And what happens now that I have?” you ask, arching a brow, challenging him, teasing him.

Jon grins, slow and knowing, his hands sliding down to your hips before he pulls you onto his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now? Now I finally get to show you how bad.”

His words send a spark of electricity through you, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way his breath hitches, the way his grip on you tightens.

“Damn,” he chuckles, his nose brushing against your cheek as he tilts your head, lips ghosting over yours but not quite touching. “You really been holdin’ out on me, huh?”

You smirk, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “Maybe I just wanted you to work for it.”

Jon lets out a deep, satisfied hum, his lips finally capturing yours again, this time with even more urgency, more fire. His hands roam your body, fingertips grazing exposed skin, setting every nerve ablaze.

“Mm,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “I don’t mind puttin’ in the work, baby. Not if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Jon’s grip tightens on your hips as he tilts his head back slightly, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and hunger. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his hands, the faint burn of the smoke in your lungs, and the deep pull of his gaze make your head spin in the best way possible.

“You really got me like this, huh?” he murmurs, his voice husky, rough around the edges. He smirks, exhaling a slow breath as his fingers press just a little harder into your waist. “Sittin’ on my lap, lookin’ at me like you already know what you doin’ to me.”

You bite your lip, dragging your nails gently down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Maybe I do,” you tease, tilting your head slightly, watching his expression shift. “And maybe I like it.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as his hands slide up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Oh, I know you do,” he says, his lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “You playin’ it all sweet, but you been wantin’ this. I can feel it.”

Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Maybe he is. The heat between you is thick, the air electric with the weight of everything left unsaid. But right now? You don’t need words.

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against yours, teasing you, making you chase the kiss. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, smirking as he pulls back just a little, enough to make you whine softly. “You really gonna make me work for it?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully as you drag your fingers up the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips barely touching his. “I thought you liked putting in the work?”

Jon groans, shaking his head with a laugh before finally closing the distance, kissing you with a deep, slow intensity that sends heat pooling in your stomach. His hands explore, memorizing every curve, every dip of your body like he’s wanted to do this for far too long.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You taste too damn good, Y/N.”

Your heart pounds as you smirk, brushing your nose against his. “Must be all that smoke.”

He grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles at your waist. “Nah… it’s just you, baby.”

The way he says it, low and smooth, makes something flutter deep in your chest. You were just playing before, flirting for the fun of it, but now? Now, you can feel it. This is more than just a moment.

Jon studies you for a second, his gaze softer now, a little more serious. “What you want, Y/N?” His voice is still deep, still teasing, but there’s something genuine underneath it. Like he’s really asking.

You hold his gaze, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “You.”

He grins, slow and satisfied, like he just won a game he was always meant to win. “Then come here, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “Let me give you what you been waiting for.”

Jon’s lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, like he’s savoring every second. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady on his lap as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your head spin. 

His hands wander, sliding up your back, tracing along the curve of your spine. His touch is firm, possessive, but there’s a tenderness beneath it too—like he’s memorizing you, committing this moment to memory. When he pulls back, just slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath is heavy, his eyes dark with something deeper than just desire.

His lips find yours again, this time slower, deeper, his fingers gripping you tighter like he’s afraid to let go. And you melt into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, letting yourself feel everything.

He leans back slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in, his expression smug but soft at the same time. “So you admit it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip. “You been wantin’ me too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe,” you tease, dragging your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “What? You need me to spell it out for you?”

Jon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, baby. I just like hearin’ you say it.” His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you even closer, making you feel just how much he’s enjoying this moment. “Say it again.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your jaw, his voice like honey and smoke, smooth and intoxicating. “Say what?” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your pulse racing.

His grin grows against your skin as he places a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your neck, his tongue just barely teasing you. “That you want me.”

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, gripping them just enough to make him hum in satisfaction. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression smug. “Oh, hell yeah.” He licks his lips, his gaze dark and hungry. “But I’d enjoy it even more if you quit playin’ and told me what I already know.”

You take a deep breath, your body fully pressed against his, the heat between you undeniable. “Fine,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, playing with the curls at the base of his skull. “I want you, Jon.”

The second the words leave your lips, his grip tightens, his hands sliding down to your thighs before flipping you onto the couch, pinning you beneath him. You let out a surprised gasp, but it quickly turns into a soft moan as his lips crash against yours again, this time more urgent, more possessive.

“You have no idea how long I been waitin’ to hear that,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing from your mouth down to your neck, his hands roaming every inch of you.

Your head tilts back against the cushions as you breathe out, your heart pounding. “Then why the hell did you wait so long?”

Jon lets out a low laugh, his breath hot against your skin. “’Cause you play too damn much,” he teases, nipping at your collarbone. “Had to let you catch up.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his hair just enough to make him groan. “And now?”

Jon lifts his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. He smirks, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in so close you can feel every word as he whispers, “Now, I ain’t holdin’ back no more.”

Jon’s kiss is slow, deep, and consuming, like he’s savoring every second of finally having you in his arms. His body presses against yours, his warmth sinking into you, making it impossible to focus on anything but the way he feels—solid, strong, right. His hands explore, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something deeper than just desire. Possession. Affection. Something real. His thumb strokes your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the heat burning between you two.

“You sure you ready for this, baby?” he murmurs, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your lips.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, but there’s no more hesitation. The tension, the teasing– it was always leading to this. To him.

You nod, looking into his eyes with a level of certainty that surprises even you. “I’m sure,” you say, your voice soft but filled with passion. “I want this. I want you. Now.”

He groans against your lips, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants, undoing them with a practiced ease. Every touch sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. You tug at his sweats in return, eager to get him closer, to feel all of him, and when the last barrier is gone, the world outside completely fades away. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him, feel all of him, as he enters you. Moans fall from your lips as your walls adjust to his length, entirely consuming you as he slides in deeper. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, and it leaves you breathless as you both adjust to the fit.

You move together, the rhythm natural, fluid, as though you’ve been doing this forever. His groans match your own, every snap of his hips intensifying the connection between you. The way he touches you, the way he kisses you, it’s all so much more than physical. It’s about something deeper, something you both have been unknowingly craving for so long. There’s tenderness in every touch, urgency in every kiss, and beneath it all, there’s that deep, undeniable love that’s starting to take shape.

“God, Y/N,” Jon groans against your skin, his voice strained, as if it’s taking everything in him to keep control. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect.” He presses you closer, if that’s even possible, and you can feel him, feel every inch of his body hard against yours, as if he can’t get close enough. Each touch, each kiss, feels like an explosion of raw, unfiltered emotion, and as you move together, there’s an undeniable sense of belonging that wraps around you both like a cloak. His hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body, pulling you closer to him with every breath, every movement.

Your lips are caught in a feverish kiss, hungry yet tender, each one of his caresses sending waves of electricity through your body. His lips leave your mouth only to graze your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, making you tremble beneath his touch. There’s something about the way he kisses you, something intimate and all-consuming, that makes you feel like he’s not just touching your skin—he’s touching your soul.

"You feel so damn good," Jon murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slide down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he's completely consumed by this moment, this connection. His lips find the soft curve of your neck again, pressing kisses there that make you tremble, and you can’t help but moan softly.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, your voice shaky, your body vibrating with need. Every inch of you is on fire, every nerve alive with the sensations he's stirring within you. You want him, need him, and there's no turning back now.

He looks at you then, his eyes dark and filled with raw emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” he breathes, his lips hovering near yours. “You’re mine. I’m all in. Always have been.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his words, at the vulnerability he’s showing you. The intensity of what’s between you both only deepens, and you can feel the truth of it, settling between you like a promise.

"I’m all in too, Jon," you breathe, your voice steady now, filled with the certainty of everything you've been feeling. "Always have been."

His lips meet yours once again, and this kiss is different. It's softer, more intimate, filled with everything you’ve both been hiding—desire, love, longing. Every part of you is connected to him now, body and soul. You move together, slow and steady, savoring every touch, every kiss, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

You can feel him, feel the depth of his affection, his love for you, and you respond with the same intensity, giving everything you have to him. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the two of you, here, in this moment, and nothing could ever compare to the way he makes you feel.

“Fuck, Jon…” you moan, your head falling back. “I’m–”

“I know, baby,” he groans in the crook of your neck, “I know.”

And as you move together, your bodies becoming one, there’s a sense of completeness, a feeling that you’ve found exactly where you belong. And when you finally reach the peak of that all-consuming desire, it’s more than just physical pleasure. It’s an emotional release, a release of everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve been too scared to say.

When you both collapse into each other’s arms, breathless and sated, you can’t help but smile. There’s no question anymore. What you’ve shared tonight is only the beginning. This is only the start of something deeper, something real. And you know that with Jon, you’ve found exactly where you’re meant to be.

[f4dedtouch]

╰┈➤ there for you

pairing: fawn!reader x s3 rafe

summary: fawn!reader getting asked out by a random guy on a date the one guys rafe specifically tells her not to go with. light angst with a happy ending.

warnings: mention of cursing, rafe being a bit mean.

you were curled up in bed, highlighter in hand, trying your best to stay focused on your notes. rafe was sprawled beside you, arm tucked behind his head, lazily scrolling through his phone like he had nowhere else to be. this was normal—him hanging around your place, making himself comfortable while you studied, offering absolutely zero help but keeping you company.

for a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft scratch of your pen and the occasional vibration of his phone. but your mind was elsewhere. you’d been holding onto something all day, and you knew if you didn’t say it now, you never would.

taking a quiet breath, you finally spoke. “so… i think i’m going on a date this weekend.”

rafe barely reacted at first, just a slow blink before his eyes flicked to you. “with who?”

you hesitated, shifting on the bed. “you know that guy… uh, logan? the one with the stupid expensive watch he never shuts up about? yeah, him.”

his jaw tensed immediately. “no. don’t go.”

you sighed, setting your highlighter down. “rafe—”

“no, i’m serious,” he cut in, sitting up now, his whole posture shifting. “that guy’s a total dick. i promise you, he’s not a good dude.”

“you say that about every guy,” you argued, crossing your arms. “every single time someone asks me out, you find something wrong with them! i’m tired of it, rafe. i actually wanna give him a chance.”

“and i’m tellin’ you not to waste your time,” he shot back, brows furrowing. “i know guys like him. he doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“oh, and you do?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. his expression hardened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said quietly. “i do.”

you swallowed, but the frustration was still there. “i just—i don’t get it. why do you care so much? why can you never just be happy for me?”

rafe scoffed, shaking his head as he stood up. “fine. do whatever you think is right.”

his voice was calm, but you could tell he was pissed. he grabbed his keys, casting you one last glance before muttering a quiet, “goodnight,” and walking out.

you laid back against your pillows with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, feeling strangely unsettled.

you had put in the effort. the dress, the hair, the subtle makeup. you’d spent way too long deciding on an outfit, checking the mirror one last time before heading out.

and now, you were sitting alone at a candlelit table, fingers gripping your phone as you checked the time again. ten minutes late. fifteen. twenty.

the restaurant was buzzing with couples and conversation, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart as realization settled in.

he wasn’t coming. all that effort for nothing.

embarrassment crept in, your throat tightening as you quickly grabbed your bag and left, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stepped into the cool night air. you felt so stupid. this was supposed to be your first real date.

your hands shook as you unlocked your phone, pressing the only contact you could think of.

“rafe?” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

there was a beat of silence before he answered. “where are you?”

you swallowed hard. “he—he didn’t show up.”

another pause. and then, voice softer now, “i’ll be a little late, yeah? hang on for me.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

when rafe finally pulled up, you immediately noticed the way his knuckles looked slightly bruised, like he’d been gripping somethin’ too hard. his breathing was controlled, but there was an edge to him, somethin’ unreadable in his expression. you didn’t say anything.

he didn’t say anything at first either, just opened the passenger door of his truck for you, just reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, his fingers brushing against your arm for the briefest moment before pulling away.

the car was quiet as he started driving. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, shame curling in your stomach.

“i should’ve listened to you,” you mumbled finally, voice small.

rafe exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “yeah, you should’ve.”

your stomach twisted. “i just—” you shook your head. “i thought maybe, for once, things would be different.”

he glanced at you, and his voice softened. “that ain’t on you. some people are just assholes.”

you bit your lip, guilt gnawin’ at you. “are you mad?”

“no,” he said easily. “just pissed you looked that good for a guy who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

you blinked, caught off guard, but he just kept his eyes on the road, like he hadn’t just casually complimented you. I mean he always complimented you but this felt different.

a few minutes passed before he spoke again. “you hungry?”

you shook your head. “not really.”

“yeah, you are.” he pulled into the drive-thru of your favorite fast-food place without waitin’ for an answer. it was a tradition—eating in the car, parked in a quiet spot, just the two of you.

he ordered for you, knowing exactly what you liked, even throwin’ in your favorite dessert.

when you were parked, he handed you your food, watchin’ as you picked at it before finally takin’ a bite.

neither of you talked much, just eatin’ in comfortable silence, the familiar presence of him settlin’ somethin’ deep inside you.

when he finally drove you home, you turned to him, voice quieter now. “thanks for pickin’ me up. and for the food.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, jaw clenchin’ slightly.

but then, his expression softened, and he looked at you, somethin’ unreadable in his eyes. “hey,” he murmured. “if you need a date, let me know, alright? you don’t gotta go out with assholes.”

you let out a quiet laugh, shakin’ your head. “i’ll keep that in mind next time.”

he smirked slightly before leanin’ in, pressin’ a soft kiss to your forehead. “goodnight, sweet girl.”

your heart stuttered. “goodnight, rafe.”

he waited till you got inside then you watched as he pulled away, the glow of his taillights disappearin’ down the road.

what you didn’t know was that when rafe got home, he busied himself with paperwork, emails, anything to keep his hands from curlin’ into fists again.

because the sight of you sittin’ there, all dressed up and lookin’ like a dream, only to be stood up by some loser?

yeah. that was enough to make him wanna beat the guy into the ground all over again.

[emphasisonthehomo]

UHHHHHH so Bucktommy a/b/o au anyone?

Mildly nsfw.

•

“Tommy wants to be there for my rut,” Buck says to Eddie as soon as he picks up the phone.

“‘Hi Eddie’” Eddie says with a loud sigh like a rush of static, “‘How’s your day off going? I’m certainly going to ask about that before talking about my dick.’”

“Hi Eddie,” Buck snorts, “How’s your day off going? I didn’t say anything about my dick.”

“My day’s going great, Chris and I are going to a movie after school,” Eddie says, “And you didn’t have to, your dick was implied.”

Tommy went to Muay Thai and Buck went to the grocery store. Now Tommy’s rinsing off, and Buck’s getting ready to prep lunch. He’s only got a few minutes before Tommy’s back in the kitchen.

“You know the stats,” Buck says, because well. A lot more than his dick is implied in conversation about rut.  

“What stats?” Eddie has the nerve to sound confused.

“Rut injuries,” Buck hisses into the phone, “He’s a beta, I don’t wanna break his ass.”

“Sounds like he might want you to break his ass, if he’s asking to be there. Some people are into it.”

Buck flushes and thinks about how he’d fucked Tommy a few weeks ago. How after Buck's knot had gone down and he'd pulled out, Tommy's hole had been gaping, red and puffy and sensitive. Dripping with lube and come, how his thighs shook and he moaned into the pillow while Buck licked him clean. Buck’s cock twitches in his jeans at the memory.

“I don’t want to talk about Tommy’s ass with you,” Eddie grunts, correctly interpreting Buck’s awkward silence as a horny one.

“There’s a 1 in 6,000 chance of serious injury when someone’s in rut and their partner isn’t,” Buck continues resolutely, “Which, mind you, is a way higher chance than getting struck by lightning in a lifetime, so no I’m not overreacting.”

“I’m pretty sure that you two are perfectly capable of taking steps to mitigate that risk,” Eddie says, and Buck can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

[paishoeyeroh]

Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER TEN: Fracture

Chapter Summary: You push. Sukuna breaks.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Sukuna is ignoring you.

At first, you don’t think too much of it, assuming he’s just quiet this morning. You hadn’t seen him since last night, after all, and you figured things might be a little… tense. But by the time you’re sitting through your first lecture, tapping your pen against your notebook in distraction, the truth becomes evident. He’s doing it on purpose.

No odd comments thrown your way, no dry observations, no flickering glances. He follows, because he has to, but he doesn’t acknowledge you once. It’s as though you don’t exist.

You try to push it aside, to focus on your professor���s voice, on the words you should be writing down, but it hurts. There’s no denying that.

There’s really only one explanation for his coldness. Last night. The way you were drawn to each other like magnets. And then, Megumi’s call. A reminder of the one person Sukuna seems to despise, though you’ve never been entirely sure why. He’s never liked Megumi, never tried to hide his distaste. Whatever his reasoning, you know the timing isn’t a coincidence. Whether it was the moment itself or the interruption that followed, it’s clearly bothering him.

And if it’s not? If there’s something else behind his silence? That thought is even more frustrating, because it means you still don’t know what’s going on inside his head at all.

Between classes, you catch sight of a familiar head of pink hair bobbing above the crowd. Yuji. At the sight of him, you remember your conversation with Megumi last night. You decide to call out his name.

He turns immediately, eyes lighting up the second he spots you. A wide grin spreads across his face, and before you can brace yourself, he’s bounding toward you, all but skipping across the hall.

“Hey!” he exclaims, wrapping you in a tight, familiar hug. The embrace is warm, effortless, and you sink into it without hesitation. A real, genuine smile tugs at your lips, one you didn’t have to force. His energy, so bubbly and contagious, fills your insides with light, chasing away the darkness you’ve been carrying all morning.

“I was just thinking about you! Nobara and Megumi are coming over later to hang out. Wanna come?” he tilts his head closer to you, his hand coming up to cup the side of his mouth as he lowers his voice, “there’ll be weed and snaaaacks,” he sing-songs, as if he’s trying to bribe you into coming.

You giggle at his antics, but you feel a tight pang in your stomach at the realization that he’s trying to convince you, probably because he thinks you don’t want to go.

“Alright, I’ll come. But I’m not smoking any of your weed. Not after what happened last time,” you say with a grimace. Yuji’s weed is always incredibly strong, and since you’re not much of a smoker anyway, it had too great of an effect on you the last time you tried it. You don’t even want to think about it. The head spinning. The paranoia. The crying. Not fun.

Yuji throws his head back as he laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and you have no doubt the memory is playing back through his mind.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that. Good times,” he mocks as his hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder. “Well, just come over whenever after class. Nobara and Megumi are catching a ride with me, so we’ll all be there.” He waves his hand at you as he walks away. “See ya later!”

You find yourself still smiling long after Yuji passes by you in the hallway, his bright and bubbly mood never failing to cheer you up. Tonight is going to be just what you need.

As long as Sukuna behaves with Megumi around.

Your smile immediately falters at the thought. You glance over at him, standing a few feet away leaned up against the lockers, looking in the opposite direction of you. You sigh as you head to your next class.

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, now that you have something to look forward to. As Sukuna continues to neglect your existence, you become more and more certain that he will keep up the charade at Yuji’s place. The thought almost comforts you. Maybe it’ll feel like old times again, before you ever put on that damned ring.

You make your way up to Yuji’s apartment, lightly rapping your knuckles against the door.

It flings open suddenly, and Yuji’s standing there in all his marijuana-induced glory, having clearly started smoking already. His eyes are half-lidded and red rimmed, and there’s a wide, goofy smile plastered across his face as he welcomes you.

“Heeey! Guys, I told you she’d come!” he shouts back to the others, before beckoning you inside. You take a step in, with Sukuna following behind you before Yuji closes the door.

The moment you step inside, the thick, unmistakable scent of weed hits your nostrils. It’s warm in here, cozy in that lazy, indulgent kind of way. The coffee table is a mess of half eaten snacks—open bags of chips, crumpled candy wrappers, a box of cookies that’s already looking dangerously empty. And right in the middle of it all, Yuji’s bong sits proudly, a testament to the night they’ve obviously already been having.

Megumi is sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in months. His head tips lazily toward you, and a slow, lopsided smile spreads across his lips as he greets you. You return it, unable to control the tugging at your lips at the sight of him so at ease for once.

Yuji flops down beside him with a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. Meanwhile, you settle onto the floor next to Nobara, who turns to you with a look of pure relief.

“Thank god you’re here. I can’t listen to those two anymore, especially Yuji. I think I can actually feel him making me dumber.”

“That’s not because of me, it’s the weed, idiot,” Yuji quips, ducking to avoid the pillow she throws at his head in response.

You laugh, shaking your head, as you turn back to Nobara. “How’d your date go the other night?”

She immediately rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag of chips and pulling out a handful. “Ugh, don’t even get me started,” she shoves the chips into her mouth, crunching loudly. “First, he didn’t open the door for me. Then, he tried to, like, order my own food for me? And to top it all off, he didn’t even compliment my outfit!” she crushes her bag of chips in her fist in anger.

“So, naturally, I ghosted his ass. I don’t have time for that kind of disrespect.”

“Naturally,” you snort, as Megumi coughs loudly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he takes a rip of the bong. He reaches out, offering it to you.

“Want some?”

You turn to him, shaking your head.

“Nah, I’m good.” you decline, watching him pass the bong to Yuji. As you do, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. It’s Sukuna, and you watch as he rounds the corner, walking out of sight. Probably off to go pout somewhere by himself like a sullen child, you think as you inwardly roll your eyes. You have no intention of dealing with that for the remainder of the night. You quickly turn your head back to the group as Megumi speaks.

“Guys, can we put a different show on?” he asks, his voice strained, almost pleading. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked onto the screen like it’s about to crawl out and grab him. “This one’s freaking me out.”

Yuji squints at the screen, then back at Megumi.

“What? It’s just Pokémon, dude,” he says before he leans forward, studying Megumi like he’s the most fascinating thing in the room. “Are you good?”

Megumi stands shakily, his face pale, quickly making his way down the hall. “I’ll be back,” he weakly mutters over his shoulder.

Nobara and Yuji watch him for a moment, bursting out in simultaneous laughter after the bathroom door slams shut.

“He must’ve smoked too much. He’s probably in there freaking out,” Nobara manages to get out through her wheezes.

“It’s not his fault,” you defend, “Yuji’s weed is way too strong. Last time I smoked with you guys, I convinced myself I was in a simulation.”

You shudder as you recall the memory, but it only encourages another round of cackles from the two.

You watch them for a moment, trying to contain your own laughter. But after what feels like way too long for a regular trip to the bathroom, Megumi still hasn’t returned.

You glance over at Yuji and Nobara, but they’re engrossed in their own conversation. They’ve either forgotten about the situation entirely or are too high to care. Or both. You realize that you’re going to have to be the one to go check on the poor guy.

You stand up with a sigh, preemptively pouring a glass of water in the kitchen before heading down the hall.

As you pass by Yuji’s bedroom, the open door offers a glimpse inside. You glance in casually, only to stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Sukuna is there.

Flat on his back, sprawled across Yuji’s bed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. But something’s off.

His upper set of hands are thrown over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, covering his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world. The lower set of hands are clenched into fists, the muscles in his forearms tight, twitching with some kind of barely restrained force. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s seething. Pure, unadulterated anguish radiates off of him, thick enough to suffocate the air in your lungs.

You watch him for a second, concern twisting deep in your gut. You’ve never seen him like this. Ever. Sukuna does not unravel. But here he is, unraveling right in front of you, completely unaware that he now has an audience.

Your lips part, the start of his name forming on your tongue, but before you can speak, his hands slide up, gripping into his hair with so much force it looks like he might tear it straight from his skull.

You stand in the doorway, mouth open, quickly snapping it closed when you notice the look on his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed so tight it looks like it hurts. His lips part slightly as he exhales a slow, trembling breath, one that sounds like it’s been forced from the depths of his chest. His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing repeatedly, and his fingers tighten their grip on his hair almost desperately, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to keep from coming apart entirely.

Your own breath stills in your throat. Every muscle in your body goes rigid, your mind struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing.

What the hell is going on?

A lump forms in your throat as you try to make sense of it. He’s been avoiding you all day, shutting you out since last night, and now… this? The distance, the cold silence, was all a cover, that much is clear now. But for what?

A part of you wants to go to him. To reach out, to touch him, to offer anything that might ease whatever war is raging inside of him. The urge claws at you, visceral and insistent, your arms aching to wrap around him in comfort.

But another part of you hesitates.

I shouldn’t be here.

You’re witnessing something raw, something unguarded and deeply, painfully human. A moment he never meant for anyone to see—least of all you. You’ve been toeing a dangerous line with Sukuna for a while now, but this… this feels like stepping over it. Stumbling over it, straight into a place you don’t belong.

You should leave.

The need to understand him, to help him, gnaws at you like a hunger, but he isn’t someone who needs things like that. Sukuna doesn’t want help. He is power. He is control.

But right now…

He looks like he has neither.

You catch yourself before you do something you’ll regret, clenching your hands around the glass of water you’d forgotten you were holding. Slowly, as to not make a sound, you creep past the doorway, heading over to the bathroom.

You press your ear against the door, listening for any sign of life from inside. Nothing. No movement, no shuffling. Only silence.

After a brief hesitation, you turn the knob and push the door open, peeking your head inside.

Megumi is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows braced against his knees, his head cradled in his hands. His shoulders rise and fall with slow, deliberate breaths, the kind you take when you’re trying to will your heartbeat to steady.

“Megumi?”

He lifts his head at the sound of your voice, blinking sluggishly. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, his pupils blown wide. It takes him a second to register you standing there, and when he does, his posture stiffens just a little. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips—weak, sheepish—before he clears his throat.

“I’m alright, I just needed to chill in here for a second.”

You step into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him. The cool tiles press against your legs as you settle in close to his feet, holding out the glass.

“Here, drink this. I got you some water.”

Megumi takes it, fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t look at you right away, instead staring down at the rim of the glass like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.

“Thanks,” he mutters, finally lifting it to his lips. He swallows a few careful sips before adding, “Sorry for ruining the vibe.”

You shake your head, lips twitching into a small smile as you reach out, rubbing his arm in comfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assure him, your voice soft, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

That gets him to look at you, but only briefly, his eyes flickering to yours before darting away. He shifts slightly on the edge of the tub.

You grin, deciding to tease him just a little. “Come back out whenever you’re ready. Oh, and I’ll make sure that show isn’t on when you do.”

His lips part slightly before pressing into a flat line. A weak chuckle escapes him, half amusement, half mortification. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

You squeeze his arm lightly before rising to your feet. As you do, you glance down at him one last time, watching as he rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. Stifling a giggle, you reach for the doorknob.

“See you out there,” you say, stepping through the doorway.

As you make your way back to the living room, you pass by Yuji’s room once again. This time, you keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, resisting the urge to steal another glance inside. If Sukuna were to catch you looking, even for a second, he’d know you saw him earlier. He always knows. And you’re not sure you’d be able to school your expression fast enough to keep the truth from spilling across your face.

Right now isn’t the time to deal with whatever it is Sukuna’s got going on. Right now, you just want to have fun with your friends. You can deal with anything else once you get home.

That’s what you keep telling yourself.

Upon re-entering the living room, you notice the show from earlier has already been turned off, the soft hum of music filling the space instead—low, rhythmic beats that sink into the atmosphere like a gentle pulse. Yuji is sprawled across the couch on his back with a half-eaten chip bag laying forgotten on his lap, one arm tucked behind his head, the other drumming lazy fingers against his stomach in time with the music. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his expression distant, no doubt lost somewhere in the hazy lull of his high.

Nobara mirrors his sprawl on the floor, phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling as she occasionally pops a chip into her mouth. You retake your spot beside her, snatching one from the bag without a word.

“Do you think that grass is, like, the earth’s pubic hair?”

“Yuji. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Nobara responds immediately. Based on her reply, you can only assume this has been going on for a while.

“I’m just saying! It makes sense if you think about it.”

“He’s kinda got a point,” you add with an amused tilt of your lips.

“Please, don’t encourage him.”

“You guys just need to get on my level. Nobody’s on my level,” Yuji pouts.

Before anyone can respond, Megumi reappears, looking far better than he did before. His complexion is no longer pale, his movements steadier, the color returned to his cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair as he steps into the room, shaking off the last remnants of his ordeal.

“Welcome back, buddy!” Yuji exclaims, immediately sitting up to make room for him on the couch. “We were worried about you! Were you fighting demons in there or what?”

Megumi levels a deadpan look at him before scanning the room, his gaze settling on you and Nobara before he sinks back into his previous spot. In one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes the bag of chips right off Yuji’s lap with a little more force than necessary.

“Nobody speaks of this outside of this room,” he says, voice flat as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Or you’re all dead.”

“Alright, jeez. Relax. Not like we’ve never greened out before,” Nobara mutters without looking up from her phone.

As the night winds down, conversations fade into a comfortable lull, and Nobara suggests putting on a movie. You settle in as it plays, watching it unfold on screen, but your mind is elsewhere now.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about what you saw in Yuji’s room—Sukuna lying there, his hands fisted in his hair like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will, seemingly teetering on the edge of some sort of breakdown.

You’ve never seen him like that, so unguarded, so vulnerable. You’ve seen him express emotion, sure. Anger, usually. Or quieter flickers hidden beneath sharp words and sharper smiles. But you’ve never seen something like that, not from him. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Is it because of me?

The question nags at you, digging into your ribs like a phantom dagger, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Would he be angry if he knew you saw him like that? Or would he shut you out even more?

The idea sends a wave of sadness through you. Your heart aches for him. Whatever it is he’s going through, you have a sinking feeling that he’ll never open up, no matter how much you pry.

You shift in your spot, eyes flitting toward Yuji’s bedroom before quickly turning away.

Don’t.

The urge to check on him gnaws at you, but after the cold shoulder he’s been giving you all day, you doubt he’d give you the answers you’re looking for.

So instead, you decide it’s time to head home for the night. Yujis passed out anyway, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the movie started, and Megumi looks like he’s close behind him. You stand, gathering your things as you whisper your goodbyes, heading to the door.

Just as your fingers curl around the doorknob and open it to step outside, Sukuna appears, rounding the corner with his usual quiet grace. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t look anywhere but forward. He just slips past you and steps out the door ahead of you, carefully maneuvering his body so that his arm doesn’t so much as slightly brush your own.

You exhale slowly, watching his back as he strides ahead, his steps long and deliberate. You’re not surprised to see him keeping up his silent act. He doesn’t know that you saw him in Yuji’s room, after all. He doesn’t know you stood there, rooted in place, witnessing him beginning to unravel at the seams.

You step outside after him, the cold air a sharp contrast to the cozy warmth of Yuji’s apartment, slapping you like an icy wake-up call. Sukuna is already way ahead of you. The wind tugs at the strands of his hair, but he doesn’t react—just keeps walking, his movements purposeful, controlled.

By the time you reach the car, he’s already inside, the door shutting with a firm click. You sigh, tightening the grip on your keys.

You settle into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. The hum of the car feels louder than usual in the empty space between you. Neither of you says a word.

You want to say something, anything, to break this awkward tension. But… what can you say? You glance over in his direction briefly, but Sukuna is turned away, the side of his face barely visible in the dim light coming off the dashboard. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding you, or just lost in his own thoughts. Probably both. Either way, you can feel the distance continuing to grow between you with every minute that ticks by.

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to demand an explanation for his behavior today.

Just drive.

When you finally pull into the parking lot to your apartment, Sukuna doesn’t wait. As soon as the car comes to a stop and you shut the engine off, he’s already out, his door slamming shut before you can un-click your seatbelt.

You watch his back as he walks ahead, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. With every step, frustration burns hotter inside of you, winding itself around the ache that’s been sitting there since you saw him in Yuji’s room.

Why won’t he let you in? He’s hurting, you saw it with your own eyes. So why is he still keeping you at arm’s length? Why does he insist on suffering in silence when you’re right here?

By the time you reach the door to your apartment, your chest feels tight with your unspoken thoughts, the urge to voice them aloud becoming harder and harder to resist. You step inside right behind him, closing the door softly despite your inner turmoil threatening to spill over. And once again, Sukuna moves past you without a word, already striding down the hall, probably planning to disappear to wherever the hell he goes when he doesn’t want to be seen.

You make a quick decision. You’ve had enough of being ignored. You can’t just keep pretending everything is fine, like you’re sure he intends to. You have to say something.

“Sukuna.”

He stops, turning halfway around to face you. You study him carefully, searching for even the faintest trace of what you witnessed earlier—the tension in his jaw, the desolation in his face, the silent war he was waging within himself.

But there’s nothing.

Where there should be emotion—something raw and real—there is only an empty stare, a hollow reflection of the man you know lurks beneath his mask.

Cold. Dark. Void.

It’s a door slammed shut, an unspoken message that whatever moment of weakness you glimpsed was never meant for you.

The air between you grows infinitely heavier, colder. You can almost physically feel it, the absence of him, like something vital has been drained from the space he occupies. It prickles at your skin, wrapping itself around you, a quiet, almost suffocating numbness that mirrors the emptiness in his gaze.

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Have I?” his voice is steady, indifferent.

You fold your arms across your chest, feeling your irritation finally rising to the surface. “Yes. You haven’t said a word to me all day. You haven’t even looked at me, not since—“ you cut yourself off, afraid to bring up the almost-kiss directly, “not since last night.”

Sukuna turns away, dismissing you with the shift of his shoulders, as if the conversation itself is beneath him. “There’s nothing to say,” he replies flatly, his tone impersonal, like he’s already decided this discussion isn’t worth his time.

But you refuse to allow him to slip through your fingers so easily. “Come on, don’t do that,” you step closer to him, determined to not let him brush it off, “don’t just… shut me out. Haven’t we moved past this?” your voice softens, the concern evident in your words.

Sukuna remains still, his shoulders drawn tight, his entire body wound like a thread stretched too thin. He doesn’t turn to respond, but his silence speaks louder than any answer he could give. And still, you push, even knowing it might only drive him further away.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you continue, your frustration giving way to something dangerously close to pleading. “I’ve opened up to you about everything—about my past, my ex, my life. You’ve basically seen it all. But you? You’ve given me nothing. You hide behind this wall like you’re… some… untouchable thing.”

At that, Sukuna finally turns his head, just slightly, his narrowed eyes settling on you over his shoulder. There’s a shift in the way his eyes almost darken, like a tide pulling back before the wave crashes. His voice is low, almost a growl.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

His question stings, cutting deep. Your throat constricts, like his own words have wrapped themselves tight around your airway, but you swallow hard, willing yourself to push through it.

“I want you to stop pretending that this means nothing to you,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, between the space that feels impossibly vast despite how close you stand, “that I mean nothing to you.”

For a moment, he just stares blankly at you in response. Then, without warning, a low, humorless laugh escapes him, dry and sharp, like the crack of a splintering bone. “You think this… whatever this is, means something to me?”

You take a breath, the words that have been stuck inside you for days, weeks, finally crashing to the surface.

“I know it does,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts, “and I know you feel it too, Sukuna. You’re not as detached as you think you are.”

He whips around at that, his face twisting, a sharp flash of anger breaking through his emotionless exterior. His brows pull together in disbelief, a deep furrow forming between them.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “Let me guess, you think just because we’re stuck in this bond, you can ‘fix’ me, is that it? You think I can feel anything? Love? Don’t be foolish.”

You’re taken aback by his words, his sudden anger. This is not how you wanted this conversation to go at all. But it’s happening now, spiraling out of control right in front of you, and there’s no turning back.

“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just asking you to let me in.” You step closer, desperate to break through the icy wall he continues to throw up, to finally see the real him that he’s been hiding behind it. You’re tired of him pretending there’s nothing left of the man he once was.

Fuck it. You might as well let it all out.

“I’m not like her, Sukuna.”

His reaction is immediate. Sukuna’s body stiffens, his shoulders locking into place as if he’s just been struck. His eyes widen dangerously as his stare burns straight through you, unsettling you to your core.

“What?” His voice is low, quiet, but full of warning, like a blade pressed to your throat.

Your pulse pounds rapidly in your ears, your instincts screaming at you to stop and retreat, but you can’t stop yourself. The words continue to spill out.

“Look, I know about Uraume. I know what she did to you. I—“

“If I were you, I’d choose my next words very carefully,” he interrupts, his tone razor-sharp and dripping with venom.

You really should stop talking. Any rational person would. But the next words are already on your tongue, your desperation outweighing your better judgment. If you just keep pushing, if you can just make him see—he’ll believe you. He has to.

“I’m not her, Sukuna. You can trust me. I would never do that to you.”

His eyes flash, cold rage igniting in them like a distant storm, dark and inevitable. He takes a slow step toward you, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and you have to lock your legs in place to fight the urge to step back in response.

“Since you think you know so much,” he growls, his voice dripping with contempt, “then surely you know what happened to her, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head in response, your voice sounding much smaller and less confident than before. “No, I don’t.”

His expression changes, the sharp edges of his fury settling into something eerily calm. Too calm. His lips curl, not into a smirk, but something that resembles more of a grimace, though his eyes remain wide, uncanny and hollow.

“I killed her.”

He takes another step closer, and a sudden, primal fear rises inside you, sharp and instinctual. Your body tenses as you cower back.

His jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, a shadow of something—pain, maybe rage—contorts his features. But it’s gone in an instant, swallowed expertly by that cold, unrelenting mask.

“She screamed,” he continues, his voice dipping lower, “begged for mercy, for forgiveness.” A slow, humorless chuckle escapes him, causing a chill to run along your flesh. “As if it meant anything. As if I would ever grant her either.”

He takes a final step forward, and you don’t move, don’t breathe.

“I tore her apart, piece by piece for what she did to me. Watched her blood stain the ground like spilled ink. And when she finally stopped screaming, when she gasped that last, pitiful breath—“ he leans in, just slightly, “it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.”

Your stomach plummets, a sickening drop that leaves you dizzy. His words coil around your throat like a noose, tightening, choking. You had considered the possibility—of course you had. Sukuna had killed before. You had seen it yourself in the visions of his past. But those had been in battle, acts of war and conquest.

This… this was something else entirely.

A slow, merciless dismantling. A deliberate, calculated destruction of someone he once loved. Nausea rises in the pit of your stomach, threatening to bubble up into your throat. You stare at him, at the thing standing in front of you, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly seeing him. The demon. The unrepentant, merciless king who had bathed in the blood of those who wronged him.

The Sukuna you’ve come to know—the one who met your wit with dry amusement, the one whose touch had once felt gentle against your skin, who had almost kissed you just yesterday—is gone.

“I…”

You take another step back, the words struggling to form on your trembling lips.

“You’re nothing like her,” he sneers, his voice laced with disdain, “and you never will be. You think just because you have some sort of odd little obsession with me, that makes you special? That I could ever feel for you what I once felt for her?” His lips curl into something akin to a snarl, “I am a monster. I kill, I destroy, I devour.”

His words strike like a blade, each syllable leaving his lips like tiny knives carving into your heart, stripping it away piece by piece, leaving you hollow. You can do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, empty, nothing left but the overwhelming ache where hope used to be.

“You’re nothing to me,” he continues, cruel and cutting. “Your pathetic little life is a mere speck in the grand scheme of things. I have been here for centuries. And I will continue to be here long after you’ve rotted, buried deep and forgotten underground.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, your vision blurring around the edges as your eyes begin to fill with unshed tears. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no words. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of his cold dismissal of you.

“I’m not capable of love, girl, and you’d do well to remember that.” He says, his voice quieter now, but no less harsh.

“I’m not some human you can change and mold into a version that you prefer. I’m a demon. That’s all I’ll ever be.” He takes a step back, his face hard and unrelenting. “And if you think for even a second that I could ever care about you, then you’re even more fucking pathetic than I thought.”

The tears come fast, scorching trails down your flushed cheeks as your breath turns ragged. Your vision blurs, the room shrinking in around you, and all you can think is that you need to get away. Away from him, from his words still ringing in your skull, splintering through your chest like jagged glass.

You don’t look at him. You don’t even think. You just run.

You barely make it to your bedroom before the first sob rips free, raw and uncontrollable. The door slams behind you, but it does nothing to stop the pain from clawing its way up your throat, your shoulders heaving with the force of it. You stumble forward, collapsing onto your bed, curling in on yourself like a wounded animal.

Your hands tangle in your hair, gripping tightly, desperately, as if you could anchor yourself, as if you could stop the ache spreading through your chest, sinking deep into your bones. But it’s useless. The sobs wrack through you, shaking you to your very core, your breaths coming sharp and fast, too fast, until you’re gasping, until it feels like you’re drowning in it, in him, in everything you thought you had and everything he just tore apart in an instant.

And still, his voice lingers. Still, it hurts.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t feel. He’s a demon—a creature of pure, unrelenting cruelty. You knew that. You’ve always known that. And still, somehow, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope that there was something more beneath all that rage and ruin, something real. Something for you.

But there isn’t.

There never was.

You’re just a pathetic, lovesick fool, chasing a dream that was never yours to begin with. He’s not a man. He’s not someone to be understood or saved, not someone who could ever love you back. He is darkness, destruction, a force of nature that does not bend, does not break, does not care.

Your stomach twists with the sheer humiliation of it, shame seeping into your skin like poison. How could you let yourself fall? How could you have been so blind?

Your body trembles as you curl in tighter, rocking slightly, trying to push it away, to find some shred of comfort in the wreckage. But the thoughts won’t stop. The hurt won’t stop. It digs into your ribs, carves itself into your heart, reminding you over and over and over—

“You’re nothing to me.”

A strangled sob tears from your throat, raw and broken, as you bury your face into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sound. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The ache in your chest is too big, too unbearable, clawing at your ribs, crushing the air from your lungs.

For a fleeting moment, you think about leaving. Just getting up and walking out the door, disappearing into the night, never looking back. Maybe if you run fast enough, far enough, you can outrun this pain, escape the weight of what you’ve done, what you let yourself believe.

But where would you go?

There is nowhere he wouldn’t follow. No distance you could put between you that the bond wouldn’t snap back into place, dragging you right back to him. He is inescapable.

And you are trapped.

Your chest tightens violently, a crushing, suffocating weight settling onto it, making it impossible to breathe. The walls feel smaller, the air thinner, the room closing in like a prison. You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenching in the sheets, trying to steady yourself, to think, to breathe.

Breathe.

Eventually, the sobs fade, not because the pain lessens, but because your body simply can’t keep up with it anymore. You lie still, curled in on yourself, drained beyond measure. The tears don’t stop, though—they slip silently down your face, soaking into the pillow, leaving behind the sticky remnants of grief. The hurt remains, dull now, a hollow, throbbing thing inside your chest, like an open wound that refuses to close.

You take a trembling breath, staring blankly at the wall as the crushing silence of the room presses in around you, thick and suffocating.

“You’re nothing to me.”

The words replay in your head, slow and deliberate, sinking deeper with every repetition. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe you were foolish, delusional to think you could ever be anything more than a passing amusement to him. To believe you could reach something inside him that simply doesn’t exist.

And yet.

Even as you think it, even as you try to carve the truth into your own heart, a part of you refuses to believe it. Because you know better.

You’ve seen it. Felt it.

Despite his cruelty, despite the ice in his voice, despite the way he shut you out like you were nothing—you know there’s something beneath it all, something he won’t let himself admit.

But if he refuses to acknowledge it… does it even matter?

The thought lingers, heavy and unresolved, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

It shouldn’t matter. It can’t matter.

As you lie there, hollowed out and aching, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs like iron, you know this wound won’t fade so easily. It’s carved too deep, settled too far inside you.

So you let the tears fall, silent and endless, tracing paths down your skin like a grief that refuses to be swallowed. You close your eyes against the darkness, but there is no escape—not from this, not from him.

All you can do now is endure.

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☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @after-laughter-come-tears @rizzyjuney609 @prezzleyy

[starrihan]

Smoking Weed w/ Nicholas

-> Pairing: smoker! Nicholas x afab! Reader

-> Genre: smut, kissing, neck kissing, oral (m receiving), reader and Nicho are basically strangers, slight spit play

-> Warnings: smoking

-> Word Count: 2,278

-> Notes: Ive seen 2 different posts about smoking with Nicholas/ Nicholas smoking and I find the idea so hot so here is how I headcannon smoking weed with nicho would be like (even tho its not in like typical hc format) also this is barely proofread

Also this was the inspo for this fic btw: Imagine going down on him because you’re so high and so horny and you’re trying to suck his dick but your mouth is dry because you have cotton mouth so he smirks and picks your jaw up with his finger, spitting in your mouth to make it wet again - i wrote this while i was high 

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You would meet him once at a party, not really knowing much about him besides his name since your friend introduced you two. You guys would chill for a bit with your friend and her boyfriend, Euijoo, until they went off on their own and you and Nicholas did the same.

You found yourself talking to some of your other friends but eventually, the loud music was too much for you so you stepped outside in the backyard that wasn’t as occupied and where the music could barely be heard.

You lean against the fence on the deck, not paying much mind to your surroundings as you pull out your phone.

“Couldn’t stand it in there either?”

You turn your head slightly to see the stranger talking to you, before realizing that the voice belonged to the boy you met not too long ago. You sighed, agreeing with him. You were staring at the joint in his hand, watching as he bounced it between his two fingers. He noticed your eyes staring at it.

“Wanna hit?”

You looked at him, curious. You had smoked before and the feeling was rather enjoyable. Maybe it would help you feel a little better about this boring party.

“Sure, thanks.”

You respond as he hands you the joint. He watches you as you bring it up to your lips, lightly inhaling to control the amount of intake. You pass it back to him when you’re done, holding the smoke in your mouth for a bit until you feel it reach your lungs, exhaling a decent cloud as you basked in the slight burning feeling in your chest.

You did feel a little better, the act of taking a hit alone making you feel more relaxed.

“Why are you here anyways? I mean, you don’t seem like you’re having a good time.”

He says, taking another hit. His slightly messy hair and silver chains caught your attention. You couldn’t tell before with the inadequate lighting inside the house but he was really attractive under the glow of the moonlight.

“Neither do you.”

He chuckles as he passes you back the joint, this time you take a bigger hit than before. Upon exhaling, you cough, to which he hands you the water bottle that he had kept on the banister.

“First time smoking?”

You shake your head ‘no’ as you drink the water, the cough subsiding.

“I just haven’t done it in a while. Did a little more than I could handle.”

He nods in understanding, giving you a second to recover. Once you feel better, you take another drag without coughing this time, the effect of the weed starting to hit you. You ash the joint before handing it back to him, fingers brushing his as you look away, face warming up at the contact. You can tell by the way his eyes droop and the whites of his eyes slowly become redder that he’s high.

“Wanna walk with me? I’m getting tired of just standing in this spot.”

You think for a second before agreeing, grabbing your stuff from your friend and informing her that you’d be leaving.

You both walk around aimlessly, passing the joint back and forth. Your conversation was everywhere, not being able to focus on one thing at a time. You were starting to lighten up, laughing more freely around him and his jokes. He was actually pretty funny.

You went from talking about your friends, to classes, to the stars above you and even the greater meaning of the vast universe. It didn’t take long before the joint had run its course, shrinking with every passing minute until it was nothing but a mere roach.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize how much we’d smoked.”

He says, laughing.

“Really? I’m not even that high. Do you have another one?”

You laugh with him. To be honest, you were fairly high, but you enjoyed his company and conversation and you didn’t want this to end.

“Damn, no I don’t. But, my residence hall is right there. Would you mind waiting for me while I get it?”

“Could I come with, if you don’t mind? It’s just… it’s dark out and I don’t want to be out alone…”

“Oh my— yeah you can. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what I was saying. I know better than to leave a woman alone by herself at night, I promise.”

You laugh at his rushed sentence and he loosens up, laughing with you as you both walk to his room. You take in the posters and dark sheets that lay on his bed, waiting for him to grab another joint.

“Do you wanna go back outside?”

He asks, sitting in his desk chair, quickly grinding more weed to pack into the joint.

“Actually, could we stay inside? It’s kinda cold out there…”

You say sheepishly, but he agrees.

“Take a seat on my desk,”

He says and you hop up onto the desk, sitting in front of him. Once he has the next one ready, he lights it before handing it to you.

"Ladies first~"

He says, cheekily. You laugh, taking the joint from his hand. He watches the way your fingers move the joint up to your lips, and the way your lips wrap around the end of it, finding the act hot. He looks away from you, cheeks hot, from both the weed and the blush forming on his face.

You tap his shoulder, passing back the joint as you exhale, his eyes following the cloud of smoke disappearing into the air. He places a hand on your knee, just below your thigh before taking a hit. You feel your body start to tense up, feeling warm at the sudden contact.

He was unbelievably attractive, especially when his eyes were red and droopy, looking up at you with that lazy smile. You were lost looking into his eyes. It's like your body would move before you could process what it was doing as you find yourself holding the joint up to his mouth, waiting for him to inhale. He quirks his eyebrow at you, holding your wrist in place as he takes a hit. Your breath catches in your throat, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs slightly upon inhaling.

He flicks his eyes up from the joint to your face, holding the smoke in his mouth while reaching his hand behind your neck before pulling you down to meet his lips. Your surprised yelp has him smirking into the kiss, letting the smoke migrate from his mouth to yours. You feel dizzy, head spinning at action, thighs clenching together. He rests his hand that's not behind your neck on your thigh, rubbing soothing, little circles into it.

The way his tongue ever-so-slightly glides across yours has you leaning in for more. You put the joint down on his desk, its ashes falling astray against the faux soapstone. He doesn't care though, pushing his chair back and grabbing under your thighs to move you onto his lap. You're straddling him, hands in his hair, tugging on it as you reciprocate his earlier move, swiping your tongue against his lips. He gladly opens his mouth as he rests one hand on your ass, the other traveling up your shirt to feel the skin of your waist.

"Is this okay?"

He asks, pulling away from the kiss to catch his breath. You nod, trying to catch your own breath. You're staring into his eyes as he moves his hand along your body, groping your ass. He doesn't break the contact either, enjoying the light blush dusting your face and the way your hair is slightly disheveled. You reach behind you, picking up the joint and smoking from it before putting it back down, letting it reach your chest before you pull him back in for a kiss. The smoke dances across your tongues as you messily kiss each other. You pull away first this time, moving his head to your neck as he places both hands on your waist.

He's taking his time on your neck, sucking and nipping lightly at first, hands traveling up to your chest before pulling your bra down, playing with your nipples. You gasp, arching your back and bringing you into him more. You can feel his teeth sink into your skin, wincing at the slight sting. You shift on his lap, feeling his hard length pressing up against your thigh. You take the opportunity to grind down on him, laughing when he gasps into your neck.

"Someone's riled up, huh?"

He says, smirking up at you.

"I can say the same for you. Someone's excited"

You both laugh as you stand up, kneeling on his floor as you look up at him with pleading eyes, fingers moving towards the button on his jeans. He's already looking down at you, nodding as he lifts his hips up a little. You unbutton his jeans, sliding them down along with his boxers until they're pooled at his ankles. Your mouth drops at the sight of his dick, perfectly long and hard. You trace the veins along the underside of his dick with your index finger, mesmerized. Nicholas can feel a deep blush creeping up to his cheeks.

You finally wrap your hand around the base, earring a yelp from him. You can’t find it in yourself to keep a straight face, a direct result of being high. He’s fidgeting, bouncing his leg at the anticipation of your hand around his cock.

“You look really pretty like this.”

You say. He's laughing as he looks away, not being able to control himself or his nerves. You take the chance to start pumping your hand up and down, mouth dry as his hips buck slightly into your hands. You lick the tip, playfully gliding your tongue along the slit. A guttural groan escapes his throat as he prods his dick into your mouth. You pull back, trying to gather enough saliva in your mouth, finding the task nearly impossible.

The cotton mouth you were experiencing was crazy. You looked around for a second, looking for a water bottle when Nicholas notices your frenzy. You look up at him, motioning with your hand that you need water. The smirk that creeps up on his face is almost evil when he quickly leans forward, grabbing your chin. You look at him, confused.

"Open your mouth"

You do as he says, slowly opening your mouth. He finds the saliva he needs, gathering it in his mouth before letting it spill it into yours. You're shocked, but your thighs are clenched together, heat rising to your cheeks. You hold his spit in your mouth as he gently pushes you away, looking down before letting a big string of his own spit travel down his length.

"That should be good enough"

You nod, dipping your head back down and taking half his length in your throat. His hands immediately snake their way into your hair, pushing back any loose strands that may have been in your way. You're focused on taking him in fully, bobbing your head up and down as his grunts fill the room. He's leaned back, completely relaxed in your hands as his hips start moving slowly to meet your movements. He's fully in your mouth at this point, tip hitting the back of your throat as you try so hard to suppress your gag reflex. 

You take a second, grounding yourself and catching your breath through your nose before continuing. The sound of your gagging is like music to Nicholas’s ears, his pace increasing as his breaths become shallow. His grip on your hair strengthens as he moves your head for you. Your hands that were once holding the chair slam down on his thighs in a bruising grip, determined to have him finish in your mouth. You let him take control, drooling all down his length and thighs. 

“Fuck Y/N… taking me so well…”

His praise has you shoving a hand between your legs, rubbing yourself through your jeans to get any sort of relief. You take the chance to lick around the base, a slight sting in the back of head from his tightening grip letting you know that he’s close. You can’t help it as you move your fingers faster over the rough material, the vibrations from your moans sending Nicholas even higher into the clouds. His animalistic groan fills your ears as his hips stall, pushing your head further down into him as he coats the inside of your throat with thick ropes of cum. You frantically tap his hand, signalling him to let go of your head. 

He notices your distress, quickly removing his hand and pulling your head off of him. He watches as you gulp down his liquids, tongue darting out to catch any remnants that may have escaped. His eyes trail down to your other hand, watching as you continue to touch yourself. He stands up, helping you stand before picking you up and placing you on his bed. He goes back over to his desk, grabbing what's left of the joint and taking another hit before handing it back to you. He captures your lips yet again, this time trailing his hands down your stomach and into your jeans, feeling the growing wet patch on your panties before rubbing slow circles over your clit. You whimper at his touch, leaning your head on his shoulder as another wave of your high hits you. 

“You did such a good job sucking me off like that, it's only fair that I return the favor, right?"

༄ ༄ ༄

-> Side note: One of the fics I read had him smoking a cigarette and I absolutely HATE cigarettes but the idea of seeing him with a cigarette in his mouth and between his fingers is so hot to me

[menmuncher]

the monkey Bill/Hal Shelburn x fem!reader

a/n: I've been obsessed with 'the monkey' and WAITINGGG for a fic to come out of it (it has been 4 days) but i've found nothing- so i'm taking it into my own hands, hehe. i couldn't choose a brother bcuz they're both hot (duh. but I fear i'm leaning towards bill because i enjoy weirdos) so why not BOTH!!!1

synopsis: head cannons? of the brothers. not at the same time because we know they wouldn't share.

warnings: NSFW, oral (both receiving), stalking, abusive relationship, creepy behaviour, bruising, slapping

HAL

when you first started going out on dates with him, you both really enjoyed it. he would usually take you to those cheesy spots teenagers would go to as their first date: some places like the movies or a bowling alley.

as these dates passed, you grew closer.. but at the same time, you would meet less often? once a week turned into once a month, but you couldn't understand why considering every time you did see him again he'd almost be emotional with how excited he was - clinging onto you like a puppy

you tried to initiate more time together but were always met with an excuse. it had to be on his terms or nothing, which obviously upset you. you began to feel a sort of anger towards his neglect and decided next time you saw him; you had to say something.

and so it happened, you guys met at a small diner in Maine and he obsessed over you as he always does after not meeting for a while. you had about 10 minutes of strength before you began to break down mid-conversation, begging for an explanation why he hardly took the time to see you anymore

this broke him; he didn't wanna seem insane to you but he also didn't wanna risk you leaving. he weighed his options for a minute before ultimately deciding to take the easier route, not that either would be simple

he explained the monkey to you. you were silent the whole story, jaw-dropped. once he finished, the silence didn't end. he waited for you to throw water on him, call him a psychopath and walk out... but it never came

you... actually believed him? hesitantly, for sure, but you were willing to trust him for this relationship. now he was the one breaking down - he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable around you and there was no shot he would be able to keep it together at this moment.

you told him you'd be fine and you were willing to take the risk as long as it meant hanging out with him more. he didn't want to put you in this position, but he nodded. he was too far into you at this point.

from then on, the days together become more frequent though he pays the same attention to you as he always would after missing you.

he's so nerdy but so attentive. he loves to buy you flowers and your favourite meal every Sunday on his way home from work. if you try hard enough, you're able to keep 3 weeks worth of flowers alive at once.

"these reminded me of you. i think the lady said they were dahlias? they bloom so beautifully and reflect such a bright color, don't you think?"

he's clingy, too. he loves to lay on your lap when you watch TV together - though, he's usually asleep within minutes of resting his head. it's okay because he's cute which makes up for it.

he has panic attacks every now and then due to nightmares about the monkey, but just holding him and combing through his hair is enough to bring him back to peace

he'll cook for you sometimes, too. it's not the best cooking, but it's the thought that counts. his favourite to make is pasta, probably because it's easy.

after you've been together for a while, he'll take you on more casual dates. still a movie every now and then but mostly just a dinner at his house or a drive in the car with long conversations, where he obviously lets you have the aux. he knows you enjoy simple things like that

now, into the NSFW stuff.

he loves when you're being pleasured. he thoroughly enjoys eating you out and grunting into your pussy so you can feel his enjoyment.

he enjoys getting oral, too, of course - but won't make that the main focus. it's only if you're feeling up for it. he gives you words of affirmation while you do it

now, when he fucks you - it's usually in the bed. you being comfortable is the #1 thing to him

he's okay with you being a pillow princess. he enjoys being dominant.

but if you wanna take over? he's happy to take that as well. he's really up for anything.

he's pretty vanilla, honestly. will put a pillow under your back so you're in a comfortable position as he angles himself perfectly into you, hitting your g spot with nearly every thrust and talking you through it.

even though he goes deep and likes to control you, he's so gentle. treating you like glass and ensuring he doesn't squeeze your hips tighter than he would your hands. he couldn't handle seeing you with bruises.

he just needs to show you how much he really loves you and appreciates you staying despite his screwed up baggage

BILL

you weren't looking for a partner when you found him. you had seen an ad in the newspaper looking for a 'long lost toy monkey'.. it was bizarre, considering you could probably buy your kid a similar-looking one without him noticing.

but you had a toy monkey. you kept it as a collectible, and it sounded similar enough to the ad. you don't remember where you got it from but it wasn't anything special to you so 15 bucks was enough to have you handing it over. when the guy came to your door, he looked disheveled. he had a terrible haircut and kind of smelled.. his outfit was weird, some sort of suit sewed into a tight black fire shirt with a key necklace. you knew a lot of people in this town but.... never saw him before?

why he was wearing such a complex outfit to buy a toy monkey from you? no clue.

you took the 15 bucks, exchanged a few words then shut the door after making the sale. turning from the door, you went back to sit on your couch before your doorbell rung again.

what else could he need? he had the monkey. you walked towards the door and opened it up to have him smiling at you. something he hadn't previously done. he was silent for a minute, just smiling.

"....can I help you?" you asked, before he spoke

"uh yeah, I was wondering.... could I get your number? you are like, really good looking."

you paused for a moment, taken aback. that is not what you expected him to say. you bit your lip and contemplated- he was kind of handsome.... but there was no chance. he was a weirdo coming to pick up a monkey from you. not to mention he had absolutely zero sense of fashion.

"yeah, no" you said, closing the door. it was harsh but you didn't wanna conversate with him anymore. you were way too tired, so you went into your room and eventually fell asleep.

from that day on, you started seeing him everywhere. he would be shopping at the same supermarket as you, passing you when you'd be on a walk, and appearing at the bar every time you went out with friends. it wasn't until you had a bit of alcohol in you that you finally got enough courage to talk to him.

"this guy's a creep, i'm ending this." you said to your friends, pushing yourself up from the bar despite being warned and going over to the man sat by himself at a table - some sort of alcoholic substance in his hands.

"what is this? you're absurd" as you got closer to his booth, you saw that he wasn't in fact alone, but had your previously-owned monkey sat beside him. your face scrunched up in even more disgust

"I don't know what you're talking about.." he didn't even look at you as he continued to sip his drink, acting like this was normal.

"you're harassing me! I don't even know you!" you began to scream in his face now as he displayed little to no emotions and kept his vision locked on his glass.

"will you look at me?!" you exclaimed, leaning over the table and grabbing the monkey from the couch beside him- now he looked at you. reaching a hand out to grab at your wrist, tightly, his teeth gritted.

"leave him alone" he sneered as he tugged it from you, not completely pulling it from your grip

"him? it's a toy!" you tugged back at it as he almost growled. he stood from the booth and fully took it from your grasp this time, holding the toy to his chest. he was breathing heavily as you both stared into eachother's eyes with anger. you were left speechless, this guy was clearly mentally ill.

suddenly, his angered eyes softened. he breathed out whatever he was holding in and sat back down. you didn't speak ither, half expecting him to just get up and leave with the toy. instead, he spoke:

"this monkey reminds me of my late dad. I don't know why, but he just.. does. i've been so lonely ever since my dad left." thanks to that kid, Ricky, for inspiring his sob story. even if bill's dad was still around, he couldn't care less whether he was dead or alive.

his sad confession definetly wasn't a proper explanation to why he was stalking you.... but for some reason, you felt guilt.

he didn't need to say it. it was clear he took a liking to you because of his obsessive behaviour - and wanted this loneliness to come to an end. so, with a sigh, you stupidly submitted in an attempt to cheer him up,

"i'm sorry, I can understand being lonely.. I mean not in the aspect of friends, or family, just like-" he looked up at you and when your eyes met his you stopped.

"..what i'm trying to say is, would you like to go out sometime? maybe we can make each other less lonely." he smiled at you, something he hadn't done since he was last on your doorstep, and nodded.

you didn't really bother explaining that to your friends later on. just dismissing the conversation, claiming you "solved everything".

you started to go on dates with him. none of them really requiring spending money- he always suggested something like a park, which also made you feel bad for him. so much so that you began to initiate actual restaurant dates.

it actually wasn't going bad. he was definetly odd, and embarrassingly enough always wore the same outfit, but he began to be more attractive the more you hung around him. eventually, you forgot how weird he was.

when you two were close enough, he became obsessive as he originally was. he always needed to be near you. he always came over to your house - never even inviting you to his as it was "too messy"

there wasn't many romantic gestures he'd do, besides telling you how much he needs you and how he would "die without you"

he followed you around everywhere. he'd whine that he wouldn't want to go to your places, but would go anyway just to be in your presence.

throughout all this, he always kept the monkey just as close.

bill loved being inside you. unlike his brother, he wasn't gentle with you. at all.

he'd toss you around and fuck you pretty much anywhere he could. he would breathe in your hair's scent as he dug his nails into your thigh and pounded you. he didn't care about whether you were comfortable or not- therefore you two would frequently end up on the ground or the table.

he couldn't be submissive. besides that time at the bar, he was never again vulnerable around you- especially not during sex.

he loves receiving head. he'll tangle your hair into his hands and push and pull at it as he rapidly fucks your face. he doesn't really care for giving you air to breathe, this is his time. his pace is so rapid as the sounds, almost screams, echo the room. slapping your cheek each time you tried to pawed at his thigh in an attempt to stop him.

he's selfish. he doesn't really give you head. if you ask really nicely, he might finger you for a minute or so, kissing your slit until he's tired and wants the attention back on him.

there wasn't much aftercare. he'd just go to sleep, so neglecting of you which you hated. it made you question: should you have ever offered him a date? what would've happened if you just called the police?

when you go to confront him one day about mistreating you, he immediately goes into a rage. screaming and cursing something about how he has always been watching over you to make sure you're safe but has just been met with selfishness in return.

the argument got so deep that you eventually threatened to walk out. that's when you were once again, put face-to-face, with your toy monkey.

okay this isn't much of an ending but i'm out of ideas and this was turning into more of a fanfic about bill SORRYYYYYY

[kxsagi]

"𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭"

it had been three years that you and isagi yoichi have been dating for. so you couldn’t help but be suspicious why he was leading your hand to the beach known as the “sea of stars” in maldives, also the same place that you told him you dreamt of being proposed to at. 

“your eyes are still closed, right?” 

“uh huh,” you nod, heart beating in your chest furiously. was tonight the night?

it could have been. this whole trip was very spontaneous after all. your boyfriend had even wanted to book the whole thing and pay for all your expenses himself, even pre-trip stuff like a fresh mani/pedi and new clothes and bags. it was a nice surprise, but he was extra insistent about everything.  

the two of you had just finished eating dinner at a fancy restaurant. your lips still taste sweet from the dessert, too. but after getting lost in conversation for an hour, yoichi all of a sudden said he wanted to “take you somewhere,” but “you have to close your eyes.” 

the familiar warmth and texture of the grainy sand hits your bare toes as he takes off your heels. you hear him shuffling to take off his shoes, too, then his large hand grabs yours, gently leading you ashore. the relaxing sounds of ocean waves crashing grow louder and louder with each step. 

“you’re not gonna push me in the water, right?” 

his chuckle fills the air. “wouldn’t dream of it. plus, i wouldn’t wanna ruin that beautiful black off-the-shoulder dress.” 

“... you’re acting weird.” 

“am i?” 

it seemed as if you wouldn’t shut up, trying to mask the nervousness bubbling in your gut. but before you could begin yapping about your favorite part of the dessert you shared an hour ago, you hear, “open your eyes.” 

the sight in front of you is breathtaking. stars scattered above in the sky and in the ocean, dark blue neon dots glowing brighter with every movement of a calm wave. you’ve dreamed of seeing bioluminescent phytoplankton like this before, kneeling down gently to lift your dress and place your feet in the water, watching blue glow around your skin. 

“wow, it’s so pretty!” you exclaim. 

yoichi nods, watching you from a few feet behind as you play around in the water. he’s not one to get his long pants wet, but he’s all for seeing you happy. 

after you’re done, you walk back up to him. “there’s like almost no one here!” 

“i might’ve paid them to leave us alone for ten minutes,” yoichi shrugs, earning a playful slap to his chest. with a laugh, he points to your left. “look over there.” 

you turn to your left, cocking your head as to what he was possibly pointing at. there’s nothing, no boats, no people. just the water and more ethereal bioluminescence. you turn back around, confused. 

“i don’t see –” 

you’re cut off with yoichi on one knee in front of you, a hand covering half of his face as the other holds a velvet box with a large oval-cut diamond ring on a simple gold band. 

“i don’t even know where to start,” he laughs nervously, removing the hand from his face. it’s a bit dark, the only source of light being from the ocean, but you can tell he’s red. “i’ve been rehearsing since 3 AM in the hotel bathroom and i couldn’t sleep.” 

you already feel hot tears brimming at your eyelids. yoichi notices, but for you, for this moment, he tries his best to keep himself composed. 

“honestly, i’ve been in love with you since the moment i laid eyes on you. and every single day since then, i’ve fallen harder, deeper, and more helplessly into this love. you have completely ruined me, in the best way possible. i can’t function without thinking about you. i wake up thinking about you. i go to sleep thinking about you. every little thing you do, every smile, every laugh, every time you look at me… i swear, it feels like my heart is about to explode." 

he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief at just how gone he is. 

“you are my entire world. you are my best friend, my greatest joy, my deepest love, and, honestly, my only personality trait at this point. i would do anything for you. anything. If you told me to swim across this entire ocean right now, i’d ask you if you wanted me to backstroke or freestyle. if you asked me to count every single star in the sky just so you’d know how much i love you, i’d be out here all night, every night, for the rest of my life." 

his voice is thick with emotion, looking up at you with complete devotion. 

“i have never, not for a second, doubted that you are the one for me. you are my forever, my always, my everything. so, here i am, in front of the most beautiful person in the world, under the most beautiful sky, by the most beautiful ocean, asking the most important question i will ever ask… will you let me spend forever proving that i was meant to be your husband?" 

the waves crash softly, the stars above shining brighter, as if the universe itself is waiting for the only answer that could possibly exist. 

“yes.” 

it was an easy answer, one that needed no hesitation from you. with the happiest smile and a weight lifted off his chest, yoichi slides the ring onto your left ring finger, standing up, picking you up, and twirling you around with joy. 

on this night, the stars bore witness to the two of you beginning forever. 

𐙚

it’s safe to say that the internet BLEW up after you posted pictures of you with your diamond engagement ring with the caption: “in my fiance eraaa”

everyone knew of your engagement, shippers going crazy and every social media algorithm showing users your beautiful diamond ring that probably cost $1 million easily. 

your comments flooded with fans expressing heartfelt congratulations and jealous haters who could only dream of having a love like yours. your family and friends were also very happy for you and so were yoichi’s family and teammates. 

a/n: i am aware that everyone has different skin tones, i just used this pic to show off what the ring looks like!

it would be a lie to say you didn’t spend the next day on pinterest looking at wedding inspo instead of enjoying your vacation. 

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒: 

the wedding ceremony was held a year later. 

you made sure to keep it private, only inviting close friends and family from both sides, but there were still a lot of people. 

though you might need to be studied, because how did you break the internet again?

shortly after releasing your wedding pictures, they went just as viral as your engagement announcement. 

it wasn’t just the off-shoulder lace mermaid dress, or the way yoichi basically began crying the moment he saw you, or the fact you opted to walk down the aisle alone to show how no one but you was going to give yourself away to the love of your life, or how bachira had a dance-off moment with a soccer ball on the middle of the stage, or the fact that rin actually gave a speech. 

no, it was your long trailing veil scattered across the ground with two words delicately embroidered at the end: “MRS. ISAGI.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: yes i am gonna keep writing about my man

[kind-of-a-writer]

Relax (18+)

Gator Tillman x fem!reader Gator helps you relax at the dinner party. wc: 2k

contains: older gator, reader is like 20ish and gator is a few years older, innocent reader, oral sex, p in v, slight religion kink, etc

“What if they hear us?”

Gator already had his large hands up your dress, squeezing at the flesh of your ass. His face was tucked into the crook of your neck as he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. Your cheeks were burning, practically on fire. It felt good. Wrong, but good. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, clearly not bothered in the slightest. “Don’t you wanna feel good? Thought you loved it last time…” 

“Gator,” you said softly. He was right, you did love it, more than you wanted to admit. The way he had fucked you with his fingers in the kitchen when you found yourselves home alone just a couple days ago. It had only left you wanting more, even though you knew how wrong it was.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed it; that you didn’t like how good he made you feel. You loved the newfound attention he was giving you. As stupid as it sounded, it made you feel wanted.

It was confusing, Gator’s newfound interest in you after years of indifference and casual conversations you had only out of politeness. Maybe Gator was just bored, but you didn’t really mind. You’d always found yourself drawn to him, even if you denied it. He was a little older, distant, but always kind towards you, which made you feel special. 

You were supposed to be good, your parents’ perfect little daughter. But here you were, with Gator up in your room, knowing exactly what he wanted from you. He was sucking at your neck softly, humming against your skin, making it difficult to think straight, to think about doing what was ‘right’. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” you said quietly, trying to pull your head back. Even though you wanted him to. You wanted Gator to bite and mark you all over, make you his for everyone to see. 

“I won’t, relax,” you could practically feel him smirking against your neck. “You’re all tense, darlin’.” 

You didn’t quite know what to do, arms stiff as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. This was all still new to you and Gator seemed to enjoy that; he relished in your innocence.

His words, while not doing much to actually ease your worry, were enough to let him continue what he was doing. He gently pushed you back onto the bed, bunching your dress up around your waist carefully, like he was afraid to rip it. 

“Real pretty dress, did I mention that?” Gator said lowly, eyelids heavy as he gently lifted your hips, tugging your panties down to your ankles. He ran his fingers up and down your thighs, almost in a soothing manner, noticing how tense you still were. 

You shook your head, looking up at him shyly. You were glad he liked it, he was the main reason you had worn the dress anyway. It was modest, but a little short, and you’d hoped it would catch his attention. “Thank you,” you said finally. “It’s new.”

“Yeah?” he replied. Gently, he parted your wet folds with two fingers, letting out a low whistle at how slick you were already. “Oh, you been like this all night, sweet thing? That why you’ve been staring at me all night?”

You didn’t know what to say, embarrassed he had taken notice of your longing glances his way during dinner. “No,” you tried to deny, but he only laughed in response. 

“S’okay, sweetheart,” he said with a smug smile. “It’s cute, y’know. You’re real cute.”

Cheeks flushing even more, if possible, you watched as Gator lowered his head between your legs.

Oh. You had expected him to use his fingers like last time, but this was new. Different. Even better, if possible. But it didn’t matter, really. You wanted Gator however he’d take you. 

He pressed a few kisses to your slick pussy before he flicked his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your slit until it reached your clit. You couldn’t help the soft moan that left your mouth, hands clenching into fists at your sides as he pressed his tongue flat against you. 

Gator sucked on your swollen clit, causing you to make a louder noise, something between a gasp and a moan. He hummed against your pussy, the vibration sending a jolt through your body.

Obscene, wet noises filled your otherwise quiet room as Gator’s mouth relentlessly sucked and licked like a man starved of water. Faint chatter from downstairs could be heard, but you were starting to care less and less about anyone hearing you as the pleasure started building up in your stomach. 

It was sinful, how he lapped at your pussy, the sounds you were trying to muffle by biting your lip. 

This situation, in its entirety, was a sin you knew you’d have to repent for later. And Gator was the Devil himself, moaning softly against your pussy like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. 

Instinctually, your fingers found his hair as your hips rocked into his mouth. He smirked, his tongue swirling around your clit as his grip on your thighs tightened to keep you in place. 

“Gator,” you gasped out before you could help yourself. “Oh, God-”

“Shh, honey, I know,” he mumbled against your sensitive skin, pulling back slightly to calm you down, sensing your pleasure building up too fast already. He had a devilish grin on his face, his lips glistened with your slickness as he glanced up at you. The sight made you even more aroused, if possible. “You taste divine, just like I imagined.” 

Gator continued to caress your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the pleasure dissipating slightly as he looked down at your dripping cunt. You looked down at him, unable to speak. 

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Can I fuck you?” he asked, voice low and raspy, as if he was asking for a simple favor from a friend. Not asking you to take your virginity. 

You blinked, unable to think. Your instinctual response was yes. Of course. But finally, you said, “they could hear us.” 

“You can be quiet, I know you can. I promise it’ll feel good,” Gator pressed a kiss to your clit again, making your eyelids flutter shut. “Better than my fingers. You really liked that last time, huh?”

Your fingers continued to caress his hair while he wore your defenses down one kiss to your clit at a time, making it near impossible to say no. Then, slowly, you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed. “Want you fuck me, please.”

“Attagirl.” 

At once, Gator lifted himself up so he could settle between your thighs. He was quick to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down to his knees, like he’d knew you’d say yes. You peered down, mouth watering as he pulled out his hard cock, pumping himself lazily as he looked down at you. Not that you’d had much frame of reference, but you knew at once, he was big. Bigger than what you’d expected.

He noticed the flushed, nervous look on your face. The sight of his cock leaking with precum, hard and wanting, made your pussy ache with need. There was no question about it; you wanted - needed - him inside you, his cock to fill you up and fuck into you. You could worry about the guilt later.

“I promise it’ll be good,” he repeated, his voice softer this time. “But gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nodded in response, lifting your hips slightly as Gator leaned down. He tantalizingly rubbed his thick, leaking tip cock up and down against your slit. “Quiet,” you repeated, mostly talking to yourself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gator groaned as he slowly pushed his thick cock in, only to pull back out swiftly, making your stomach flutter. “Do you want me to ruin you? Make you dirty, ruined for any other man?”

A whimper escaped you as he teased your entrance with his cock again. “Yes,” you breathed, feeling your clit pulse. “Yes, Gator, please I want it so bad. Want you to ruin me.” 

Gator looked smug. “Yeah? You’re that desperate for it?” he asked in amusement. “Oh, baby. If I’d known, I’d have fucked you years ago.”

Slowly, he pushed his hips forward, sliding his cock inside your wet cunt with little resistance. The feeling of him sinking into you for the first time made your entire body tingle with pleasure, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t have known just being filled would feel this good.

His fingers gripped your sides, trying to soothe you as you whimpered at the sensation. It was intense, how big he was. Your slick, tight, walls were squeezing around his cock. 

“Shh, I know,” Gator cooed, leaning down and peppering kisses along your neck as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. He adjusted hips slightly, allowing him to hit a deeper angle, pressing up against your spongy walls. Causing you to moan loudly. “You okay, honey? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, momentarily rendered speechless. Gator, despite trying to keep a cool front, was breathing rapidly against your neck, the feel of his cock stretching your cunt making him groan. He grunted when you shifted underneath him, twitching inside you. 

“You’re so tight,” he said roughly, like he was struggling to speak properly, “squeezin’ me so tight, honey. Feels so good. Can I move now?”

Again, you nodded. “Please, please,” you pleaded desperately. 

Slowly, Gator pulled his cock almost all the way out, then swiftly pushed back in, the tip of his cock hitting so deep you felt like you couldn’t breathe. He began a slow, gentle rhythm, rocking his hips against yours, like he was afraid he’d break you.

“Oh, darlin’, you take it so good for me,” he praised, sucking at your neck, picking up the pace just slightly. “You’re such a pretty little thing, takin’ it so well.”

Your thighs trembled as his thrusts suddenly got a bit harder, faster. Amidst it all, your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him closer.

You couldn’t have fathomed sinning would feel this good. That Gator pounding into your aching cunt would make you feel more alive than you’d ever felt before. His hands moved down to your hips to keep you in place, his grip tight and firm unlike before. He was keeping you in place, not letting you move or squirm, desperate for his own release. 

Gator put his hand over your mouth as you moaned a little too loud. That familiar swirling in your stomach was starting to build up, just like it had a few days ago, increasing with every forceful thrust.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he groaned. “Gonna come for me?”

Whimpering, your grip on his back tightened as your climax washed over you, your body tingling and vibrating with pleasure. It was sudden, overwhelming, the feel of his cock filling you up and hitting against that sweet spot you didn’t even know you had. Your whines were muffled against his palm as your eyes rolled back, the intensity of your orgasm almost too much to handle.

You moaned as he pulled out suddenly, hot spurts of his cum spilling onto your bedsheets and your dress. He let out a moan as he pumped himself lazily, getting the last drops to spill out onto your thighs. 

He grinned down at you, breathless and smug. “Told you it’d feel good, huh?”

He was right.

Still, the guilt was quick to catch up to you as he helped you put your panties on and tugged your dress down, the warmth of his cum against your dress now a dreadful reminder of the sin you had just committed. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“It’s a shame your new dress got ruined,” he murmured lowly.

And then he was up and gone, rejoining the dinner party.

[hoiststowline]

second meetings [aka, the day after you first met w/ ultra magnus, cliffjumper, sideswipe & hound]

ultra magnus’ impromptu arrival is initially more for business-purposes, hardly pleasure for him nor you. it isn’t until after this meeting that he would come to realize he throughly enjoyed your company, entranced by your input and easygoing nature. yet, when he first arrives, it’s to complete sweeping amounts of documents, information about you that he would require for more paperwork later. you’d actually laughed, thinking he wasn’t serious, but quickly understand that magnus is the kinda guy to poke fun, at least in this regard. hesitantly, you step upward and into his proffered cabin door, but calm down instantly when you find that his words paint him a better picture: intelligent and trustworthy. you’d end up chatting for hours, conversation drifting away from a formal tone to somewhat casual, magnus so uncharacteristically distracted he doesn’t realize the time until blaster is radioing him. “perhaps we can resume this another time,” he tries, uncertain of your reaction to such a suggestion. “I’d like that,” you respond, a much calmer posture adhered to your body language, sincere. magnus hadn’t wanted to depart so soon, but opts to let this one go here, knowing that it would pick right back up where it left off whenever he had the opportunity to meet with you next.

upon arrival back from work, you come to discover the red beetle parked in your driveway, headlights dimmed out. briefly, you can recall cliffjumper mentioning swinging by to check up on you the following day, but you hadn’t taken his words to heart as he appeared so indifferent to such an idea. yet, even if he was the one who suggested it, it hadn’t seemed like something he’d actually follow through with. carefully, you exit your own vehicle and begin up the concrete, jumping slightly as his headlights blink to life and the passenger-side window rolls down. “hi.” is all he says at first, to which you pause before offering a short wave. “ratchet sent me to check on ya. you’ve been gone for a while.” swallowing thickly, you nod before answering. “I had work today. I’m sorry,” even though you can’t see his eyes, it’s as if he blinked confusedly at you, perplexed by your answer. “you don’t have to be sorry. ‘m the one intrudin’.” eventually, the conversation would spin off into other topics, and simultaneously cliffjumper had slowly begun to shed his tough-guy armor. with each passing moment he recognized a growing fondness over you, though not quite dropping his armor entirely. you weren’t all that bad, admittedly, though silently impressed by your sympathetic and friendly demeanor.

sideswipe’s visit is all pleasure, the exact opposite of ultra magnus. the red sports car rolls up to your curb and waits for you to come outside, engine thrumming loudly and impatience high. but he doesn’t want to startle or scare you, so eventually when you do cross the lawn, his window rolls down immediately to better address you. “you came back?” you ask, not out of annoyance, just plain confusion. “of course I did! we had a good time yesterday, didn’t we?” while at first you wouldn’t call it fun, sideswipe had shown his true colors from the start: he’s a lighthearted guy and pretty laidback. your personalities meshed well, and the red lambo couldn’t quite get his mind off of you since he dropped you off back home. “yes, yes we did.” you breathlessly laugh, impressed by his enthusiasm once more. “to what to I owe the pleasure?” you follow up with, and that question momentarily stumps him, but his surprise is well masked. “I dunno. do you wanna go for a drive or something?” he offers, passenger door swinging open before you can even reply. he’d enjoyed your company immensely, and would like to learn a little more about you, if you’d have him. after a brief pause of contemplating, you nod, a small smile brimming as you maneuver into his cabin and sideswipe now finds it increasingly difficult to contain his excitement.

out of any of them, hound’s visit was more for peace of mind. both yours and his, as he lingers, tucked away at the end of the street to observe your house and surrounding areas. just to make sure you were safe and unharmed, as he was now terrified of something happening to you on his watch. you need not to worry as long as you were his charge, but that didn’t mean his unease would deescalate any sooner, still moderately afraid. after an hour, he swallows his nerves and risks his chances, rolling forward as you exit your home to collect your mail for the day. “hello.” he warbles, but is quickly mesmerized by your simple wave and small smile in return. “jus’ makin’ sure you were alright,” hound confesses, never quite able to pass as a believable liar. “i’m fine, thank you. how are you?” the exchange ends up moving locations twice, first to your driveway, and then your garage as it begins to rain. he had attempted to leave you be once the storm started, but you had politely asked him to stay if he had the time. and who is he to deny you, especially when you’d been so forthcoming and understanding regarding the whole ordeal? he wants this to last forever, but knows he must return to base once the storm lets up, a disappointing revelation. hound had been so nervous and worried about protecting you, when there was so many positives to this situation, including your kindness and companionship.

[aylacavebear]

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 6

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 4638

Warning: Angst, longing, some Fluff. Not much that I can think of.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

Summer settled into an easy rhythm, days stretching long and golden beneath the warmth of the sun, nights spent tangled in quiet conversation beneath the endless sprawl of stars.

For the first time in years, Jess wasn’t just your best friend—she was someone experiencing the same whirlwind of emotions, the same breath-stealing realization that fate had stepped in and rewritten her story in a single moment. She spent every possible second gushing about Sam, retelling their conversations with wide-eyed wonder, as if she was still trying to convince herself it was real.

You and Dean spent a lot of time together, too, nearly as much as Jess and Sam had. The two of you talked, sometimes for hours, but there was always something hanging in the air—words left unsaid, feelings neither of you seemed ready to put a name to. The conversations would get close, hovering on the edge of something real, something important… and then, without fail, something would interrupt. A ringing phone. A passing packmate. A reason—any reason—not to say what you both knew was waiting just beneath the surface.

It was starting to feel like fate was playing a cruel joke.

“You know what’s crazy?” she mused one evening, laying on your bed with her feet kicked up against the headboard, a soft breeze drifting through the open window. “We were both going to the same college this whole time. Same damn school, same campus. And if I hadn’t met him here, I never would’ve known.”

You grinned from where you were sitting at your desk, flipping idly through a book you had no real intention of reading. “You realize that just makes it even more of a fate thing, right?”

Jess groaned, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in her arms. “God, I know. It’s so disgustingly romantic, I wanna throw up.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you tossed a pillow at her. She barely reacted, too lost in whatever dreamlike thoughts were filling her head. You were happy for her. Genuinely. But it was impossible not to feel the weight of your own uncertainty pressing in at the edges.

The months had passed in a blur of late-night talks, stolen moments, and the growing anticipation of what was coming.

The pack had been planning the celebration since the moment the four of you had met that day in May. It was tradition. Finding a soulmate wasn’t something small in your world. It was a bond written into the marrow of your bones, and the Winter pack honored that. The Winchester pack believed much the same. Two of their alphas had found their true mates—both omegas from the Winter pack. 

Your pack had extended the invitation first, allowing Dean’s family to bring up to five other pack members of their choice. In return, the Winchester pack had made the same offer to yours. It was only fair. The celebrations would take place in the middle of the week following the next full moon, with two days between to rest, recover, and prepare. 

You tried not to dwell too much on the times Dean had taken you to their land to meet some of his packmates. He had always picked up Jess too, making sure she could be with Sam. But Sam rarely ever came along when Dean would pick the two of you up. It wasn’t personal—he thought you were nice, really—but your scent was a bit much for him, trapped in the Impala. Even with the windows down, even with the open road stretching out ahead, it had been too much.

“So, you gonna wear the new dress?” Jess’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Probably. I mean, that’s why we went shopping,” you murmured, flipping a page in the book you weren’t actually reading.

Jess didn’t buy it. Even caught up in the whirlwind of her own happiness, she always noticed when something was off with you. She sat up, eyes narrowing, before launching a pillow straight at your face. You barely had time to react before it hit you.

“Spill,” she demanded, arms crossing. “And don’t try to play it off.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book’s edges before you sighed, your shoulders dipping ever so slightly. “You and Sam… you have everything figured out. Dean won’t even talk about what comes next.” The words came quietly, like you weren’t sure you wanted to say them out loud.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, steadying embrace. She didn’t try to offer hollow reassurances—she knew that wouldn’t help. Some things couldn’t be fixed with words alone.

But maybe she could do something.

As she held you, a thought struck her. If Dean wouldn’t talk to you about what was going on in that thick skull of his, maybe she could get through to him. The celebration would be the perfect opportunity. She’d pull him aside, corner him if she had to. One way or another, she was going to get some answers.

—-----------------------------

The night of the celebration arrived with the scent of woodsmoke and fresh pine hanging thick in the air, mingling with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of slow-roasted meats. Lanterns were strung between the towering trees, their golden glow casting flickering patterns across the gathering space. The entire Winter pack that lived even remotely close by had come together, dressed in their finest, laughter and conversation already filling the clearing.

You stood beside Jess, watching as the first of the Winchester pack members arrived. Dean was the first out of the Impala, naturally exuding that easy confidence of his as he surveyed the celebration. His sharp green eyes swept over the gathering before landing on you, the corner of his mouth quirking into something small but warm.

Sam followed, his expression a little more reserved, but softening the second he spotted Jess. Her excitement was contagious, pulling a rare, bright grin from him as she practically bounced in place.

John and Mary weren’t far behind, stepping out of the second vehicle with Bobby, Ellen, and Jody. John had that ever-watchful gaze, assessing the space, while Mary’s warmth balanced him, offering a nod of approval at the way everything had been set up. Bobby let out a low whistle, taking in the sight of the Winter pack’s living area with an appreciative eye.

“Well, ain’t this somethin’,” he muttered, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Gotta hand it to you folks—y’all sure know how to throw a gathering.” Ellen smirked, nudging him with her elbow. “Better than the last one we had back home. No one’s thrown a punch yet.”

“Give it time,” Jody remarked dryly, though her eyes crinkled with amusement.

Then came Cas and Benny. Cas, ever the observer, studied the way the Winter pack moved, his blue eyes sharp with quiet curiosity. Benny, on the other hand, took it all in with an easy grin, already nodding along to the music drifting through the trees.

“Hell,” Benny chuckled, rolling his shoulders, “this almost reminds me of home.”

Dean clapped a hand on Benny’s back before glancing at you again. He didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. There was something about the way he looked at you, something in the way he carried himself tonight. But there was still a hesitation there, an unspoken something lingering between you.

Jess squeezed your hand, grounding you, her voice just loud enough for only you to hear. “We’ll figure it out.”

And with that, the celebration began.

The celebration had settled into an easy rhythm—conversations weaving together, the air thick with the mingling scents, the steady pulse of pack bonds, and the rhythmic thrum of drums beneath the open sky. Laughter rippled between shared stories, teasing remarks, and the occasional howl from the pups as they ran through the clearing, high on the energy of the gathering.

Dean stuck close, his presence a steady weight just on the edge of your awareness. He wasn’t hovering, not exactly, but he wasn’t straying far either. It was instinct, you figured. Maybe something deeper, too. The bond you didn’t feel but knew had to be there, just beyond your reach.

Sam had barely left Jess’s side all night, not that she minded. His presence settled something in her, the soulmate bond between them unmistakable. His scent had softened into something warm, a contrast to the sharper edge it carried when he wasn’t near her. But Jess had a mission tonight, and even Sam’s gravitational pull wasn’t going to stop her.

She just needed the right moment.

She waited, watching—a break in the conversation, a distraction, something. And then it happened. Mary had started a conversation with Sam, and before he could instinctively reach for her, Jess leaned in close, brushing a quick kiss against his jaw.

“Gonna grab something to drink,” she murmured.

Sam barely had time to nod before she was slipping away, light on her feet, making sure you were occupied in conversation before beelining for Dean.

He was off to the side now, nursing a beer, gaze flickering toward you when he thought no one was watching. Jess rolled her eyes. She knew that look.

“Alright, Winchester.” She planted herself beside him, arms crossing as she fixed him with a pointed stare. “Spill.” Dean blinked at her, brows pulling together. “Spill what?” “Oh, don’t play dumb with me,�� she scoffed. “You know exactly what.” Dean exhaled, tilting his head back for a second before looking at her again. “Jess—”

“Nope. Not letting you brush me off,” she cut in, narrowing her eyes. “Why haven’t you talked to her about what’s next? Sam and I are already planning everything out. You?” She gestured toward him. “Radio silence.”

Dean set his beer down on the wooden railing beside him, jaw tensing for half a second before he shook his head. “It’s not that simple.” Jess huffed. “Dean, she’s waiting. Maybe she doesn’t realize it yet, but she is. And you’re just… standing here, making eyes at her like a lovesick puppy instead of actually doing something.” Dean let out a sharp breath, running a hand down his face. “You think I don’t want to?” His voice was quieter now, rougher. “You think I haven’t gone over it all a hundred times in my head?”

Jess softened just a fraction, watching the way his fingers curled against the railing, the way his scent shifted—just enough for her to pick up on the quiet frustration, the conflict he was keeping locked tight.

“Then why haven’t you?” she asked, gentler now.

Dean hesitated, glancing back at you across the way, something almost unreadable in his expression.

“Because I don’t want to screw this up.” His voice barely above a murmur, rough like gravel. “She deserves better than me rushing into something just ‘cause I feel it.”

Jess exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “Dean. She deserves you.” She paused, mulling over her thoughts for a moment before continuing. “She’s not like most people. If you tell her what you’re going through, she’ll listen. She won’t even judge you for how you’re feeling.” 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a slow exhale, he nodded once. “Yeah.” Jess patted his shoulder. “Good. Now, I’m gonna go back to my mate before he starts scenting the air for me like a damn bloodhound.” Dean smirked at that, shaking his head as she turned and made her way back toward Sam. But as he looked at you again, standing there, unaware of the weight he carried, he knew one thing for sure. Jess was right. 

You were engrossed in a conversation between your parents and Dean’s, doing your best not to let embarrassment creep in as they exchanged childhood stories. Some of the tales made you laugh outright, especially a few about Dean’s younger years. The warmth of the gathering wrapped around you like a comforting weight, a reminder of the family you had and the one you were stepping into.

Goosebumps danced down your exposed arms, that familiar prickling of being watched sending a shiver down your spine. A small smile tugged at your lips, even before you felt the warmth of a hand against the small of your back.

“Mind if I barrow my mate for a bit?” Dean asked with a teasing smirk, sending heat straight to your cheeks. “Just behave. The pups are still enjoying the celebration,” your father teased right back.

Dean huffed a laugh, but you were too busy trying to will away the blush creeping up your neck. Because mate. The word settled somewhere deep in your chest, curling into the spaces you hadn’t yet named. And as Dean guided you away, his touch warm and steady, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as unaffected as you thought.

Dean led you through the celebration, his hand a steady weight against the small of your back, guiding you toward the treeline. The sounds of the pack softened as you moved further away—laughter and music fading into the background until it was just the two of you beneath the canopy of stars.

You could still hear the distant hum of voices, but here, surrounded by the scent of pine and earth, everything felt quieter. More intimate. The warmth of Dean’s palm against your back lingered even after he pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he exhaled.

You waited, letting the silence settle between you, knowing he had something to say.

Dean let out a breath, eyes flicking up to meet yours before shifting away again. “Jess got in my head.” He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not that she was wrong.” You arched a brow, crossing your arms as you leaned against a nearby tree. “About what?”

He hesitated, rolling his shoulders, as if trying to shake something loose. “About me needing to talk to you. About this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his expression guarded but not closed off. Not anymore. “About how I keep looking at you like some dumb lovesick puppy instead of just—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply.

Something in your chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing against something you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge.

Dean ran a hand over his face, then finally, finally looked at you. “I don’t want to screw this up.” His voice was rough, quieter than before. “You mean too much for me to just… rush in without thinking.”

Your breath caught, heat curling low in your stomach. “Dean…”

“I know you can’t feel the bond, yet,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “But I do. And I don’t just feel it—I want it. I want you.” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching at his sides. “But I also don’t want to push you into something before you’re ready.”

The honesty in his voice unraveled something in you, something you hadn’t let yourself touch.

You stepped closer, close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in his green eyes, the way he held himself like he was bracing for impact. You just didn’t fully understand the depths of his confession, not how he meant it.

“I don’t think you could ever screw this up, Dean,” you murmured. “Not with me.”

Dean’s breath hitched. He searched your face like he was memorizing every detail, every unspoken thought lingering in your expression. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but was still holding himself back.

Before you could say anything else, his hand lifted, brushing against your arm, slow and tentative. “Yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing against the warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah.” Across the clearing, Jess had returned to Sam’s side, but her attention flickered to where you and Dean stood. She watched as Dean finally let himself touch you, the way your body leaned toward his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Relief settled deep in her chest, soft and warm. She nudged Sam, who followed her gaze, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“About damn time,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she watched her best friend step into something she’d always deserved—something she’d always longed for, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.

Hope curled in her chest, steady and certain. 

Neither of you noticed how several eyes glanced in your direction as Dean’s hand came up slowly, cupping your cheek before letting his fingers curl around the back of your neck. You couldn’t look away from those emerald-green eyes, your own hands resting against his chest. You could feel his heart racing beneath your palm, matching your own.

“I know I love you. I know my wolf loves you,” he whispered, leaning just that much closer, his voice a soft whisper. “We want to claim you, when you’re ready,” Dean whispered, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, giving you ample time to pull away.

Even if Dean didn’t have the memories of the time his wolf spent with you, and the two couldn’t truly share their experiences, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that neither he nor his wolf would ever hurt you.

Your breath hitched as your heart thrummed against your ribs. He’d kept the distance between the two of you, but at least now you knew why. You finally understood. When his lips were only a breath from yours, you whispered, “I love you too.” Dean’s lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if savoring the moment—memorizing the feeling of you, the taste of your breath mingling with his. But when you didn’t pull away, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and you leaned into him, he deepened the kiss.

Heat spread through your veins, slow and intoxicating, as his hand at the back of your neck tightened, holding you close without caging you in. His other hand slid down your back, anchoring you against him as his lips moved with a tenderness that made your heart ache. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was pouring every unspoken word, every bottled-up feeling, into this moment.

The rest of the world melted away.

Until it didn’t.

A deafening roar of cheers and whistles shattered the quiet, ripping you both from the cocoon you’d been wrapped in. Dean barely had time to pull away before the entire celebration erupted in victorious howls and applause.

Your face burned as you turned, only to see nearly everyone watching—some raising their drinks, others clapping each other on the back like they’d won a damn bet.

Jess was grinning like a Cheshire cat, nudging Sam with an unmistakable I told you so look. Mary had tears in her eyes, while Bobby just shook his head with a smirk, muttering something about Winchesters and their dramatics.

Dean groaned, forehead dropping against yours. “We’re never gonna live this down, are we?”

You laughed breathlessly, still a little dazed over your first kiss. “Not a chance.” His green eyes flickered between yours, something warm and certain settling into his expression. “Worth it.”

And when he kissed you again—amid the howls and laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the warmth of the pack surrounding you—you couldn’t help but agree.

For the rest of the evening, Dean stayed close, but not like before. There was no more careful distance, no hesitation in his touch. His arm remained around you, solid and sure, and you leaned into him, feeling the shift between you settle into something steady, something certain. The tension that had once lingered between you had melted away, replaced with quiet understanding. Yeah, there was still a lot to talk about, still things to figure out, but tonight wasn’t for that. Tonight was for celebrating—the kind of joy that only came from finding what had always been meant to be.

In three days, you’d be on Winchester land, surrounded by his pack, continuing the celebration. But that was a tomorrow problem.

At one point, your gaze met Jess’s across the fire, and you mouthed a silent thank you. Whatever she had said to Dean had helped, had given him the push he needed, and you’d be forever grateful. She only smiled, a knowing gleam in her eyes before turning back to Sam.

Dean had finally allowed himself to relax, the rigid tension in his shoulders easing, though not completely gone. He knew himself well enough to recognize the way his mind was already itching to overthink, to dissect every next step. But wrapped in your scent, pressed close against his side, he fought against it.

This moment—this warmth, this certainty—was what mattered.

Still, the future loomed in the back of his mind. He needed to talk to you about what came next, about what claiming you would mean. He knew that once he did, your first heat would come—not immediately, maybe not even soon, but neither of you knew how long you had before that happened. It was uncharted territory, and the thought of it had his wolf restless, pacing.

Then you shifted against him, your warmth pressing closer, and just like that, the thoughts scattered. He let out a slow, shaky breath, grounding himself in this. In you. For tonight, that was enough.

As the celebration wound down, the Winchesters stayed to help clean up, despite your and Jess’s parents insisting they didn’t have to. It warmed you to see how seamlessly they had fit in, how natural it felt to have them here—not as guests, but as family. Because that’s what this was now. No longer two separate packs, but one.

Dean followed your lead, helping you wrangle some of the more energetic pups, something unreadable glimmering in his eyes as he watched you with them. You handled them with an ease most unmated omegas didn’t possess, and it did something to him—set something deep in his chest thrumming. His thoughts drifted before he could stop them: you, barefoot in his kitchen, a pup on your hip, another growing in your swollen belly.

That lopsided smile tugged at his lips just as you turned to him.

“You comin'?” you asked, curiosity flickering in your expression at the way he was looking at you.

He felt heat creep up the back of his neck, huffing a quiet laugh as he tried to shake the thought loose. “Yup,” he replied, popping the p with a little too much emphasis, hoping you hadn’t caught on. But if only you knew what the sight you—just being you—did to him and his wolf.

With the pups safely returned to their parents, Dean took his time walking you back toward the clearing where the celebration had been. He didn’t rush, didn’t feel the need to. Your fingers were laced with his, and that was enough. Just a quiet moment, just this.

“Can I come over tomorrow?” he asked, a thread of nerves creeping into his voice. His mind was already racing ahead, overthinking everything he wanted to say.

You tilted your head slightly as you looked up at him. “Sure. What time?”

Dean already knew what your answer would be—you always said yes. Still, it settled something inside him to hear it. “Around ten, if you aren’t busy.” 

The way you smiled at him, soft and easy, made his heart stutter. “I’m not busy. I’ll make us something for brunch.”

He could have told you not to worry about it, but he knew better. You loved cooking, loved baking. And if he admitted it to himself, he loved everything you made, loved the way you always put just a little extra care into it when it was for him. He squeezed your hand, holding onto this moment for just a little longer as the clearing from the celebration came into view.

The cleanup had gone quickly, everyone working together, leaving little for you to do except walk the Winchesters back to their cars, Dean’s hand still warm in yours. Goodbyes were exchanged, laughter lingered in the air, but when it came time for Dean to say his own, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you and breathing you in.

“I think I’m gonna bring that blanket back so you can make it smell like you again,” he murmured into your hair, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You giggled softly against his chest, letting out a content sigh. “I can do that,”  you whispered, though the words were bittersweet. You wished—more than anything—you could know what his scent was. What comfort smelled like to him.

He smelled it, the subtle shift in your scent, and his hold on you tightened for just a moment before he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “I promise, we’ll talk about it all tomorrow,” he said, voice low, reassuring. And then he kissed you—one of those soft, lingering goodnight kisses you’d only ever dreamed about.

Benny let out a chuckle as Sam barely contained his, grinning against Jess’s lips as he stole his own goodnight. Mary, ever the pack mother, smacked Benny upside the head, like he was a misbehaving pup. He just rubbed the spot with an exaggerated pout before sliding into the passenger seat of Cas’s car. 

Dean exhaled through his nose, reluctant to let you go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, thumb brushing the back of your hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered back, kissing the tip of his nose before he finally pulled away.

It took effort to step away, to let him go, but eventually, he slipped into the driver’s seat of his Impala. Jess moved to stand beside you as they pulled away. For a few moments, the two of you were silent, just watching them drive into the darkness.

“So,” she drawled, amusement thick in her voice. “How was your first kiss?”

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the warmth of Dean’s embrace still wrapped around your ribs. “I can understand at least a little as to why you and Sam are always sneaking off.” Jess smirked, but as she studied you, the lightness in her expression softened. “You nervous about the celebration on their land?” 

Your breath left you in a quiet sigh, the moment’s happiness dimming just slightly. “Kinda. I can see when my scent bothers them. I did my best to stay downwind from them all night. I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish that when there are more of them to be considerate of.”

She didn’t respond right away, just reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “It won’t always be like that,” she murmured. “After he gets around to claiming you, your scent won’t have that anymore. It’ll be… normal. Just try to focus on that.” 

Your fingers curled around hers, the reassurance welcome but not quite enough to ease the weight in your chest. “Yeah, but… he said he wants me to be ready before he claims me,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I think he’s scared. Scared of bonding with his wolf and getting all those memories and feelings.”

Jess squeezed your hand again, grounding you. “Then talk to him tomorrow and tell him how you feel,” she said softly. “Maybe he’s just having a hard time admitting that, even to himself.”

You nodded, trying to hold onto that thought, but as the night stretched quiet around you, all you could think about was tomorrow—and all your own worries that had been circling through your mind. What if he wasn’t ready to face what you needed to say? After all, it wasn’t just about him claiming you and all that came with it. It was about you claiming him, too.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7 - coming soon

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OFFSEASON – quinn hughes

featuring ; quinn hughes x fmc (sydney gray)

✮⋆˙ warning & content ; swearing

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a/n ; woohoo chapter three is here! also what's up with the hughes brothers getting hurt within the last 48 hours...hope they're ok :c also thank you all for the recent support, means a lot! uh this isn't proof read, but happy reading <3

CHAPTER THREE

QUINN

The bell above the café door chimed as I stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries hitting me almost instantly. I wasn’t much of a coffee guy, but I definitely needed it today.

The place was an average size for a café, cozy, slightly packed with students hunched over laptops and the occasional older couples chatting over mugs of tea.

Conor, who trailed behind me with Brock next to him, actually suggested this spot, claiming it to be one of the best coffee in this side of Vancouver. It wasn’t my go-to energizer. Still, after the morning skate we had, I could use something to wake me up.

After coming off a big-time loss, post-practice was always tougher.

If people thought we’d been left off the hook to start the off-season early the following day. They have never been more wrong. So fucking wrong. Just because we were out of the game, did not mean that it was over.

Everyone on the team had been anticipating that text from our coach and told us to “Get your asses in the rink. Now.” Knowing Tocchet, he was ready to give us hell–more specifically Simon and I. And we got it.

The skating and puck handling drills were relentless. I don’t think we’d ever been pushed like that before. They were much more intensive, fast-paced, more difficult targets to hit in the goal post. I tried my best to keep up, which I did, but I would be lying if I had said it didn’t wear me down to the max. My body absolutely felt like I was checked over and over again.

Not the best feeling in the world. Trust me, I would know.

Conor and Brock stood behind me, still joking about the brutal morning skate we had to endure. “Man–I need something strong.” Brock said while his eyes wandered the menu. “I swear, if we have another skate like that, I’m gonna need a new set of legs.”

Conor huffed a laugh. “Better legs wouldn’t make a difference for you, buddy.” 

I smiled while Brock gave him a look, “Whatever–” he waved his hand before looking at the menu again. “So, what do you usually get here Gar?”

“Yeah, Garland. You’re the one who said this place was good.” I muttered.

“Because it is. And you need some caffeine in you, Huggy.” Conor shot back, nudging towards the counter. “Maybe then you’ll stop looking like you wanna skate into oncoming traffic.” 

I ignored him since it was probably true, and not a terrible idea considering what I had to deal with in a week or so.

My mind was stuck on last night’s game and the conversation with Tocchet. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The rest of the team didn’t hound me after figuring out what transpired in the coach’s office between me and Simon. They knew not to press me on it–I was glad that they did as I was already in a bad mood. I doubt that Simon kept his mouth shut about it to some of the guys, ranting to them per usual. 

Conor and Brock continued on with their banter. I was only half-listening as I stared at the menu, pretending I knew what any of the drinks meant or how–

I blinked and before I could react, as soon as I took a step forward, the person in front of me turned around–colliding straight into me. I watched as the girl’s cup tipped forward, brown coffee spilling all over her grey hoodie.

“Fuck!” She let out a sharp and frustrated voice under her breath.

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t good.

I staggered back, looking at her. The girl in front of me–who I had just completely steamrolled–stood frozen and appalled, coffee staining the front of her hoodie. The brown liquid spreads rapidly across the cotton like wildfire. 

Her jaw clenched, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across her face.

“Shit, I–” I started, but the words barely left my mouth before she snapped her gaze at me, clearly about to let me have it–then she froze.

I watched her expression shift, something unreadable flickering her chestnut-colored eyes. Her pupils softened, but still held that glare. Her gaze swept over me in a quick assessment. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.

Oh, she was pissed.

Looking at her, she was strikingly beautiful. Dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, long eyelashes, very light freckles dotting her nose across her tan skin, the kind of natural beauty that didn’t need any effort. But it was the look in her eyes that got me–like she had already sized me up and made her judgement. 

And from the way her mouth pressed into a tight line, it wasn’t in my favour at all.

“I, uh–” I looked at the sight in front of me, wincing at the view. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Shit. Not the best first impression.

I grabbed napkins from the counter and held them out to her. She took them but didn’t seem all that convinced they would be much help. I watched as she tried to dab at the stain, her expression growing more annoyed by the second. Yeah, the napkins weren’t much help.

It was only right that I offered to buy her another coffee–although, I figured it would make matters worse–so I opted to at least buy her a new hoodie. 

She shook her head to refuse, still working with the napkins. What she said next had caught me completely off guard. “I don’t need anything from an NHL player, alright–”

Then she stopped, her own words registering, her eyes widened slightly.

My brows furrowed. “So, you know who I am?”

Maybe she was a Canucks fan.

She met my gaze again, unimpressed. “Yes, I do.” The tone in her voice made it clear that wasn’t exactly a compliment. 

Alright, maybe she wasn’t a fan.

That surprised me. Most of the time, when someone recognized me, there was some level of excitement. But her? She didn’t seem impressed in the slightest. If anything, she looked more annoyed and pissed than before.

A strange mix of amusement and curiosity flickered in my chest. What the hell, that was new.

“Can I at least get your name or number?” I asked, then immediately realized how that sounded. “To replace your hoodie or pay for dry cleaning, anything to fix what I caused.” 

I had no other intentions behind that statement. For all I cared, I just wanted to make a things right. Not just because there were now a couple of eyes watching us, but it wouldn’t be fair for her to leave this place without anything in return to help her. Then I’d feel like a complete asshole. 

Sure. She was pretty. Beyond her looks–and her built up frustration–she carried herself with grace and poise. Even in a stained-hoodie, black leggings, and white sneakers, there was still that elegance to her like no one else had–you just had to be born with it.

Wait. I couldn’t be like this.

“I’m not making you buy me a hoodie. I can take care of this–” she gestured down. “–myself. So, I think I’ll respectfully pass up on that offer of yours, but thank you though.”

Before I could say anything else, she turned away.

Don’t look like an asshole. Don’t look like an asshole.

On instinct, I reached out, lightly catching the material of her sleeve. “Hey look, I’d feel really bad if I left here without making it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” She paused, raising a brow at me.

Of course I’d feel terrible. She could have gone off on me in front of the entire shop, but she hadn’t. And now I was weirdly determined to fix it.

But she smirked slightly. “I think I’ll survive without your help, but thanks.”

I stared, absolutely stunned, but a tinge in my lips dared to curve. And just like that, she walked off, returning to her table with another woman–most likely her friend–before I could even respond.

Well that caught me off guard. I don’t think I’ve ever been let down like that. Strangely enough, I was not bothered by it, but just fascinated. It’s not everyday I get these kinds of interactions.

The sound of laughter brought me back, and I turned to see Brock and Conor watching the whole thing unfold with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. I forgot they were here for a moment.

“Dude,” Brock said, he shook his head in disbelief. “Did we just witness the Quinn Hughes talk to a girl?”

Conor was quick to add, whistled lowly. “Not just talk. Get rejected.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a complete rejection, noting she ‘respectfully’ declined.

“She didn’t reject me.”

“She literally just rejected you,” Brock deadpanned.

“She didn’t even let you buy her a new hoodie,” Conor mentioned the obvious, also shaking his head in mock sympathy. “That’s tough, Huggy.”

“Maybe she saw last night’s game and watched us play like shit and–”

“Shut up.” I said under my breath. 

Given she knew I was an NHL player, there was no doubt that she knew about last night’s game. I wondered if she had even watched it at all. Better if she hadn’t, the sight of us losing on our home turf was not only embarrassing but rather disappointing.

If I were a fan, I would be feeling anything but happy. That realization crashed down on me a lot more than I thought it would.

Brock’s laugh brought me out of my short trance. “No, no, this is big,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Quinn, do we need to have the talk? You know, the one where we tell you how to approach women like a normal person?”

“You two are the worst.” I wasn’t completely paying attention to them. 

My gaze drifted towards the exit, just in time to watch the same coffee-stained hoodie girl leave the cafe alongside her friend. 

I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t even get her name. But, there was that feeling down my gut that told me this wouldn’t be the last time I was going to see her. 

And usually, my gut-feeling has always been right.

I had two weeks of freedom. A glorious, responsibility-free stretch of time before I had to start this personal hell.

And I spent it the only way I knew how: watching hockey, reading new books that I got a few weeks ago, hanging out with some of the guys, and watching more hockey. 

It was the perfect balance of nothing and everything. Until now. Until this.

I pulled into the Lumé Wellness parking lot, stared at the building through my windshield like it was about to swallow me whole. The building itself was tucked in the center of downtown Vancouver, which was near the Rogers Arena. The area around the studio wasn’t too busy or lively, I didn’t have to worry about the media at this time.

If I could put this mandatory cross-training off another week, I would have in a heartbeat just to prepare myself for this moment. Hell, I would have put it off forever if it meant I wouldn’t have to do this with Simon.

But no, that wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to come back at my best instead of my ass being glued to the bench next season.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel. I was about to hop out when I glanced around the lot and realized that Simon’s car wasn’t here yet. I took the liberty of keeping track of his cars whenever I could, just to avoid bumping into that prick at random places. 

I was expecting him to be here, especially considering his whole ‘I’m better than you, I know everything, and I make the shots you would have   missed’ complex. But, who was I kidding? Simon didn’t want to be here, and so had I. If he didn’t show, then I wouldn’t blame him. Since he wasn’t here yet, that either meant he was running late on purpose or–worse–he was about to show up here with his sister.

The hoodie girl at the café popped into my head before I could dread what was about to come. 

The thoughts of our interaction weeks ago lingered in my head, which was strange, because usually I didn’t dwell on these things. But the reminiscence of spilling coffee all over her and interacting with her, it had been itching at my brain ever since.

She looked so annoyed, so unimpressed. 

It also didn’t help the fact she knew exactly who I was. I had no idea if she hated me or not, but she probably did now. Not that I cared what people thought of me on or off the ice–except, for some reason, with her, I kind of did.

I shook the thoughts out of my head, got out of my car and walked towards the entrance of the studio, pushing open the glass door. 

The foyer was empty, which was unexpected. I came prepared to see a lot of people here, but it was quiet–too quiet. The scent of essential oils idled in the air, a mix of eucalyptus and lavender, almost enough to make me forget how much I didn’t want to be here. 

I made my way past the front desk, my gaze roaming over the sleek, modern with contemporary wooden interior. Soft lighting, smooth hardwood floor, and floor-to-ceiling arched mirrors in every studio room.

Great. That meant I’d have to watch myself struggle through whatever the hell was about to happen here.

As I wandered further into the hallway, I passed more studio rooms, each one either empty or locked. Then, as I turned the corner, I caught the faint sound of music–Michael Jackson.

I slowed my steps, glancing toward the slightly opened door at the end of the hall. Inside, a single figure was stretching in front of the mirrors.

My feet stopped moving. It took me half a second to realize why.

No. There’s no way.

The café girl. 

She looked the same as the last I saw her. Brown chestnut eyes, her hair in a braid instead of a loose ponytail. Rather than a stained grey hoodie, she wore black yoga pants and a matching fitted jacket. 

I traced her face through the reflection of the mirrors, watched as she moved fluidly, adjusting her position with practiced ease. She was focused, lost in whatever she was doing–until she wasn’t. 

I hadn’t realized how long I was like this for. She must have sensed me, because she suddenly straightened up, her eyes snapping to mine through the mirror. 

“What are you doing here?” She turned to face me, looking just as surprised.

I blinked, clearing my throat. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Her lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “I asked first.”

Okay. Fair enough.

“I, uh–” I scratched the back of my nape. “I have a session today.”

She tilted her head in amusement, probably found it hard to believe that me, Quinn Hughes, would be at a Pilates studio. I also found that reality hard to grasp around my head. “I’m sure you don’t see a lot of guys here, right?” 

“Well, believe it or not Hughes, I see a few male athletes here and there for Pilates. So, don't go around thinking you’re all that special now.”

Great, it looks like she hadn’t forgotten me after all. I couldn’t tell if I should be happy or worried about that. “So, you remembered me.”

She only nodded, but not in a way that meant it was a good thing. “Well, duh. You’re the reason I had to throw my favourite hoodie in the bin.”

I saw that coming, there was no way she would look at me any other way than this. I wasn’t just an ‘NHL hockey player’ in her eyes, instead I was now dubbed ‘the guy who ruined her clothes’.

“I offered to buy you another one or pay to get it cleaned–”

“I’m just kidding,” she chuckled, ever so lightly, waving her hand. “It’s a good thing washing machines and laundry detergent exist. It took a few cycles and extra scrubbing to get it out, but it’s all gone–good as new.”

That weight I have been carrying on my shoulders for the past two weeks, instantly lifted after hearing that. So, she didn’t hate me in the end. I dodged a bullet there.

“Oh, good–” I huffed out in relief. “I am sorry about that, again.”

All she did was smile. Who knew that a single smile would ignite something beneath my chest. There was that feeling from the cafe again. And I wasn’t sure why it only kept happening around her.

Taking that she hasn’t kicked me out yet, I took a few strides into the room, inviting myself in. I have never been to any Pilates studios, so I have never seen what was inside one–although, I had a good idea of it. 

One side of the walls were large arched floor to ceiling mirrors, the opposite side were windows that overlooked outside, multiple pilates reformers in one neat row, and the other end were laid out yoga mats and more equipment.

“Do you come here often?” I asked.

I figured she was in her twenties, but I could be wrong. I guessed since most Pilates’ clients were either young adults or middle-aged. I did some research prior to coming, and I would know a bit about it since my mom picked it up a couple years ago.

She gave me a vague shrug, “Something like that.”

I exhaled, shifting my weight as I walked around the reformers, taking in my surroundings, still keeping my distance from her. “I should’ve known you did Pilates.”

I recalled from the café; she stood so close that I noticed the small flecks of sweat glisten against her skin. She most likely earned them after being here.

Her brows lifted, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, you seem like you’d be good at it.”

Now that I realized it, I sounded awkward just then. I mentally face-palmed myself for my ‘game’–more like lack thereof. Maybe that talk Brock and Garly were referring to on that day might have come in handy for times like these. I sound like a fucking idiot in front of her.

But, I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. This was simply to make conversation. That’s all.

She stared at me for a moment before she shook her head with a laugh–like she wasn’t sure if I was complimenting her or just making shit up.

I was about to say something else, anything to save me from my impending doom, when Michael Jackson’s voice blasted through the speakers again. I recognized the song immediately.

“Beat It?” I said, more to myself than anything. “Solid choice.”

She turned her back to her bag on the floor, kneeling to grab her water bottle. She glanced at me, amused. “Yeah, you a fan?”

“I know good music when I hear it.”

That earned me a small smirk on her pink tinted lips. 

I didn’t know why, but I felt the need to keep talking to her. I wasn’t usually like this–I didn’t go out of my way to make conversation, unless I had to–but, especially not with strangers. But, my mouth was already moving before I could think about stopping.

“What's your name? You know, since it's only fair because you know mine.” I asked, looking at all the equipment surrounding us.

She exhaled a short scoff, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You’re not answering them.” 

She twisted the cap off her bottle and took a sip, like she was debating on whether or not she wanted to humor me. Before she said anything, though, another voice cut through the air.

“Let’s not waste time and get on with it.”

I knew that voice all too well. Fuck.

I turned my head just as Simon strolled into the room like he owned the place, then tossed his bag to the side by the wall.

The café girl–her entire posture shifted. She walked over to the speaker where the music came from and turned down the volume. Her head snapped toward him, her expression tight. “Took you long enough. Didn’t I tell you to get here earlier because of traffic in the area?”

Simon barely looked fazed. “Turns out you were right after all. There was traffic. Duly noted for next time.”

My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t sure why. Simon has a wife, I knew that, but it did put me on edge to see her and Simon talk to one another. They spoke casually, so effortlessly, like they had known each other forever. Not that I was jealous or anything.

It seemed like I was invisible and there was a wall between myself and the two of them. 

I cleared my throat and interrupted their conversation. “Do you guys know each other?”

Simon shot me a look, one of those ‘are you the dumbest person on earth?’ expressions he was always good at–towards me specifically.

“No shit, Hughes,” he deadpanned. Then he jerked his chin toward her. “She’s my sister.”

all rights reserved © 2025 hellvst. please do not copy, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[matts-girlfriend]

Breakfast In Bed - Matt Sturniolo 2

Part 1

this is the final part to breakfast in bed. read part one before reading this one!

wc: 1266

(english isn’t my first language)

this song inspired this part.

Warnings: angst, smoking, drinking, mentions of being intoxicated, happy ending :)

It had been about two months since the breakup, and I think I had finally come to terms with it. I never thought I’d live my life without Matt, but I couldn’t keep forcing it on myself anymore.

I was out with my friend Mya at one of Nate’s parties. Nate was the only one who still talked to the triplets after they moved. It was crazy to me that they chose to keep in contact with him but left me behind. My thoughts didn’t last long, though, because Nate walked up to me.

“You drinking tonight?” he asked, holding his near-empty cup close to his chest.

“Maybe. I still don’t know if I’m driving home or if Mya is,” I replied, trying my best to make conversation.

“Well, at least smoke this with me, yeah?” he offered, holding up a poorly rolled joint—so bad I almost laughed.

“Did you roll that shit yourself?” I asked, biting back a smile.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Shh, don’t be a kill. And I’m telling you, you’re not gonna wanna be sober tonight,” he said, dragging out the “r” in sober.

I raised an eyebrow but caved, following him outside to the backyard. I lit up the spliff, staring out into the front yard.

We sat there for a while, taking turns hitting the spliff, making easy conversation. It felt natural, like any other night—until Nate turned to me, his expression shifting, a little more serious this time.

“Would you ever get back with Matt?” Nate asked randomly, taking a hit.

His name sent goosebumps down my arms. I cleared my throat, trying to figure out how to respond. “I don’t know.”

Nate hummed in response, passing the joint back. “I think you should talk to him.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You think I didn’t try? He left me without a second thought—for his career.” My voice faltered at the end.

“I’m just saying, maybe he had a reason, Y/N. I know you’re hurt, believe me, but I don’t think he’d leave you without—”

I cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Look, Nate, I don’t care. He made his choice. He decided to leave. He wanted this for his career. He took everything we had and let it go, so for fuck’s sake, just stop bringing it up. I don’t wanna talk about it, and I don’t wanna hear his name again.”

“Whose name again?”

I turned around to see Mya, clearly drunk, leaning against the backyard door.

“Matt,” Nate answered.

Mya scoffed in disgust. “God, that kid. Don’t bring him up. What’s crazier is I just saw him inside, standing with Chris and Nick, talking to Madi.”

I blanked out.

He’s here? Why is he here? Did Nate know? Oh my god, this was a setup.

I whipped around to Nate. “What the fuck? You didn’t tell me he would be here,” I snapped, standing up and tossing the spliff to the ground.

“Hey, I told you that you wouldn’t wanna be sober tonight. You should’ve guessed it, Y/N,” he said, voice innocent—too innocent. “And maybe this is your chance to talk and fix things.”

I didn’t listen. I just turned and rushed back inside, pushing through the crowd and heading upstairs to grab my purse from Nate’s room so I could leave. But when I pushed open the door, he was already there.

Matt.

Seeing his face after two months made my stomach flip. I almost lost my balance.

“Y/N,” he said.

I ignored him, marching inside to grab my purse. I turned to leave.

“Y/N, please—wait. Let me talk to you.”

The second his hand touched mine, I felt it—goosebumps. I immediately ripped my hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I muttered, voice unsteady.

“Five minutes. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Just five minutes.”

I scoffed, eyes burning. “Like how you gave me five seconds to read the text before you blocked me? Before I even had a chance to respond?” I poked a finger into his chest, my voice cracking, a single tear slipping down my cheek before I even realized it was there.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” His voice was raw, desperate. “I should’ve never sent that text. I should’ve never blocked you before you could respond. I should’ve never left you. But you were never not enough.”

He hesitated before lifting his hand, gently wiping the tear from my face. I flinched back.

I swallowed hard, staring at him—hurt, confused, and still so full of love. “Why, Matt? Why’d you leave? Why didn’t you at least tell me this in person? Why didn’t you reach out?” My voice broke as more tears fell.

He exhaled shakily. “I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t wait for me when I moved away. That you’d get tired of long distance. That you’d find someone better.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “So you decided to leave me high and dry with a fucking text because you were scared of losing me?”

“I’m so undeniably sorry.” His voice wavered. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined everything. But I never stopped loving you. Even sending that text, I still loved you so much. And I know it was so incredibly stupid of me. But if you just give me one more chance to show you how sorry I am—how much I love you—I swear, I’ll never make you regret it.”

He reached out, holding my hands.

I swallowed hard. “How can I trust you, Matt?”

“You don’t have to trust me right away,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. I want this more than anything. I love you more than anything. And I can’t live with thinking I lost you because I was an idiot. Please, give me this chance.”

“Promise me you’ll stay this time. Promise me you won’t make me look stupid again.”

Matt let go of my hands, lifting his to cup my face. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking. “I promise, on everything I love, that I will never make that choice again. I will never hurt you again, Y/N.”

“One chance, Matt. And I swear to god, if you make me look stupid again, I will personally beat your ass.”

For the first time that night, Matt let out a small, amused smile before pulling me into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“That’s all I need,” he murmured. “I promise I won’t hurt you again.”

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in a silence that, for once, didn’t feel heavy.

“Did Nate know you were gonna talk to me?” I finally asked, my voice quieter.

Matt laughed, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Why do you think he threw this half-ass excuse of a party?”

I shook my head, letting out a breathy laugh. Then, for the first time in two months, I really looked at him—how close he was, how familiar it all still felt.

Matt hesitated before leaning in. “Can I kiss you?”

I nodded.

He smiled softly before closing the distance. The kiss wasn’t desperate, wasn’t hungry—it was real. It was pure. It was love.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. “I’m never losing you again.”

And for the first time in two months, I felt at peace again.

a/n: sorry if this is a little choppy, i’m still new to writting and i was trying my best to match the plot and still add new people into the story with out making it messy.

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws )

taglist:@jcsturniolo11 @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @crazbubs @poolover123