#Locke & Key

[comicbookclub]

31 Days Of Halloween Comics: Locke & Key

Looking for the perfect spooky read this Halloween? Look no further than Locke & Key by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez.

Is it basic to choose Locke & Key, a comic we’ve talked about incessantly for years here at Comic Book Club, as our final pick for this year’s Halloween comics? Maybe. But hey, if we’re basic, I’ll take it. Because Locke & Key is not just one of the best horror comics ever, it’s also one of the best comic books ever, period. Written by Joe Hill with art by Gabriel Rodriguez, the IDW book follows…

[comicbookclublive]

31 Days Of Halloween Comics: Locke & Key

Looking for the perfect spooky read this Halloween? Look no further than Locke & Key by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez.

Is it basic to choose Locke & Key, a comic we’ve talked about incessantly for years here at Comic Book Club, as our final pick for this year’s Halloween comics? Maybe. But hey, if we’re basic, I’ll take it. Because Locke & Key is not just one of the best horror comics ever, it’s also one of the best comic books ever, period. Written by Joe Hill with art by Gabriel Rodriguez, the IDW book follows…

[you-are-constance]

lesson done. just 1 more hour till my next rehearsal. and after thats done (pls be quick) i just need to practice for like. 2 hours or something idk.

[xinganhao]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (2)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (2) a.k.a the one where vernon tours in your city ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance relationship, established relationship, pet names, fluff, best read in order + headcanons under the cut.

🗺️ vernon chwe's guide to new york .ᐟ

📍 Socrates Sculpture Park, 32-01 Vernon Blvd., Astoria

your first date that's not over discord or facetime takes place in new york. vernon's just a little too prideful to have you come all the way to sokor for him and a part of him wants to play it safe. there's a smaller chance of him being recognized abroad than if he were to have you in seoul, so he books the red-eye flight and crashes on your couch for the weekend. he's still a bit jet-lagged when you drag him out to your location of choice. new york has its fair share of parks. vernon is expecting the usual— nature, buskers, the likes— only to find that and so much more. you'd taken him to an artist's park. there's exhibit sculptures, and multimedia installations, and he's just absolutely blown away. you can see it from the look on his face, how taken aback he is by the sheer thoughtfulness of your pick. he doesn't really know the extent of it, not yet, until you clue him in. "do you know what street we're on?" you prompt him as the two of you halve a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. he raises his eyebrows in response. "i chose this place because it's on vernon boulevard," you say, and oh. oh. (or: this is where vernon realizes he's going to be pretty down bad.)

📍 The Bowery Electric, 327 Bowery

it's far from the first time vernon has seen you perform. he's seen all most of your videos on the internet, has watched you at festivals and concerts. there's something different, though, about the way you take the stage at the staple east village hangout. you're in your element underneath the blue and pink neon lights. your sound is full, and your eyes are bright, and it steals the breath from his lungs. you do an entire set until you're sweating and your chest is heaving. he wouldn't be able to look away even if he wanted to. everything about you is so cool. your oversized flannel, your secondhand fender. he thinks there's no way he can adore you more until you announce that you want to do a quick cover of a 'friend's song. the amps crackle. the drums kick up. you start to croon running 'round the whole city for someone to look me in my eyes and tell me pretty lies, and vernon swears he can just drop dead then and there. you come up to him afterwards, one corner of your lip twitching in to a smirk. as if to say 'so? what did you think?' (or: this is where vernon first thinks he might actually be in love with you.)

📍 The Basilica of St. Patrick's Old Cathedral, 263 Mulberry St.

when you tell him that you're taking him to church for a date, vernon is admittedly a little unnerved. at this point, he's already fairly sure that he loves you. you haven't said it yet, so he tries to keep his own admission under lock and key. a church, though? "are we going to elope?" he jokes to you, trying (and failing) to not sound nervous. thankfully, you roll your eyes and laugh instead of taking offense. "you wish," you shoot back. that puts him at ease enough for him to be completely normal with you in the back of the cab. when you get to the cathedral, though, he immediately puts two and two together. "is this—?" he starts to ask, his mouth agape. there's a smug look on your face as you nod. it's the church in one of vernon's favorite films, the godfather. he's barely even walked past the doors of it before he blurts out, "god, i love you." he freezes. you freeze. and then— "you sure you're not the one who wants to elope, chwe?" you tease. vernon's ears are burning red with shame, but then he hears the quiet way you add, "i love you, too, by the way." (or: this is where vernon learns just how good it feels, to say and hear those three words.)

📍 Staten Island Ferry

throughout at least half of the ferry ride, vernon is convinced you're going to break up with him. he's been a pretty terrible boyfriend. comeback season had been brutal and the upcoming world tour meant that he would have even less time to make up for his shortcomings. he's tried, he's been trying, but it's been hard. and so as the two of you hang on the back of the ferry's lower deck with the manhattan skyline receding, he thinks: this is it. he's going to lose the best thing that has ever happened to him. you start the conversation with "i'm sorry," and vernon resist the urge to get to his knees. you surprise him when you go on to say, "i've been pretty shitty to you lately, huh?" you talk about your temper, your schedule, your occasional unresponsiveness. your voice wavers in the slightest when you mumble, "i understand if you want to—" no. "no," vernon says quickly, immediately. before he can think of it, his hand is already reaching out to hold yours. the surprise and hope that fills your face is almost enough to bowl him over. "i don't want that," he reassures you. "i'll never want that." he means it. he surprises himself with just how much he means it. (or: this is where vernon decides that he's in it for the long run.)

📍 Little Bay Bridge Pier, Queens

vernon's attempt at planning a date on your turf ends up to be an utter failure. you don't see it that way, at least. you're too nice to call him out for the way everything kind of went to shit, from his credit card declining at the restaurant to the museum he wanted to see being closed for renovations. by the time the day is coming to a close, he's desperate for at least one thing to go right. vernon is not a religious man, but he prays, then, to every higher being and deity known to man. please, give me this. he's convinced they all hate him, though, because while the both of you are sitting by the pier— about to try what he researched to be the best churros in queens— a rat steals the snack. vernon briefly considers throwing himself in to the water. he doesn't know if he should be annoyed or relieved that you're laughing it all off. he settles for something in between. "this is not a laughing matter," he huffs, even though there's the smallest smile on his face. it's the only thing he can do to hide his disappointment. then, a little more seriously, he says, "i wanted to do right by you." it's a grace that you know how to deal with him. there's a fondness in your eyes as you press your lips to the back of his knuckles, the action making his heart skip a beat. "hansol," you say sweetly. not vernon, not v. not babe or baby boy or anything else. you assure him, "you're always right for me," and he wants so badly to believe you. (or: this is where vernon changes his prayer; this time, he begs to never wrong you.)

[tattoosmee]

100+ Best Lock and Key Tattoos: Unlocking the Secrets Behind This Popular Tattoo Design

Lock and Key Tattoo Designs: The Perfect Way to Show Your Unbreakable Bond Lock And Key Tattoos: Hey readers, welcome to your favorite tattoos website. We hope, you enjoyed all the previous articles. On this website, you will get all information about tattoos, their meaning, and their unique and beautiful designs. The perspectives of people have changed now. They think tattoos make them look cool…

[ninibeingdelulu]

When he want your attention…

ft. meguru bachira, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, michael kaiser

Meguru Bachira craves your attention like a hyper kid bouncing off the walls. He'll act out wild soccer replays for you, rambling nonstop about team gossip and hijinks while clinging to your arm looking for constant reassurance those big puppy dog eyes have your full focus.

If you even glance away, Meguru amps up the loud voices and exaggerated gestures until he wrestles your adoring gaze back on his animated displays. Just basking in that makes him even more giddy and effusive, each chuckle or nod fueling his need to keep you captivated as his one-person audience.

Rin Itoshi rules your attention through sheer presence and intimidating arrogance. Those piercing eyes scope you out, maintaining dismissive aloofness while low-key forcing everyone to feel his gravitational pull through imposing posture and razor-edged insults needling at you.

If he senses you drifting, Rin escalates the physical invasiveness stepping into your space while mocking sneers and belittling taunts compel you to confront his suffocating aura unavoidably demanding your complete focus again on the alpha male - whether you want to admit it or not.

Seishiro Nagi plays it cool and laidback seducing your eyes onto him without realizing it. He doesn't demand attention directly, just wanders around oozing this hypnotic detached charisma pulling your sights his way.

Seishiro intentionally lounges and poses in ways carefully calibrated to lure your roaming gaze locked onto his casually irresistible movements and chiselled physique. Finished off with knowing smirks acknowledging your helpless captivation by that subtle sultry command over you.

Michael Kaiser strong-arms your eyeballs his way through pure brooding intensity and cold dominance. Those smoldering stares and statuesque physique force themselves uncompromisingly into your sightlines, his mere presence screaming that you better start venerating him already.

He lashes dismissive scowls and verbal disses destroying any resistance, narcissistically scandalized you'd dare let your obsession over his perfection waver. Michael doesn't need force - his psychological mastery over your desires owns you completely through that irresistibly supreme charismatic aura.

[rueclfer]

heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

[lacy-oh-lacy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒎 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒄𝒔

⋆ 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝑰𝒗𝒚 & 𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂 x Reader | 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒚

-Harley’s so over the top, she's pulling out her best grand romantic gestures from day one

-but she's also famously “crazy”, so how seriously are you even meant to take it when she starts declaring her love for you like she's a romcom protagonist and not a literal supervillain?

-Well, she takes it deadly seriously, there's a blurred line between a crush and suffocating devotion for Harley

-Emotions hit her hard and escalate fast, and suddenly she's all over you, she's gotta be the clingiest girl in Gotham and you’re not even dating

-Whether it's inviting herself to your home or hugging you out of the blue. Boundaries? Never heard of them

-She’s lovesick, some people might even say she doesn't have crushes, she has victims, but she truly would do almost anything to make you happy

-Her real victims are the people on your bad side, them and anyone who could take you away from her. If you try to date someone else while she has a crush on you, god bless their soul, you’re never seeing them again

-In her delusional brain it's only a matter of time until you feel the same way, but if that's not in the cards, don't worry because she may very well lose interest in you as suddenly as she gained it

𝑰𝒗𝒚

-As a misanthrope, Ivy hates the fact that she has a crush on you, a plain old human. She's disappointed in herself honestly

-Though a master of seduction and manipulation, she has no intention of using such tactics on you, or pursuing you at all for that matter

-More often than not she’s just as cold and standoffish with you as she is with the rest of the world but if you still treat her with decency despite that she's gonna fall for you 10x harder

-She keeps her feelings under lock and key but actions speak louder than words, and the non-verbal kindness she shows you speaks volumes

-Like, again, she’s such a misanthrope and yet she's saving your life, comforting you when you're down, forgiving you for faults that would sign someone else’s death warrant…

-She knows she should just stay far away from you since she doesn't want to deal with her feelings but she can't bring herself to do that either

-especially if you need her in some way, for a villain she really can't resist a damsel in distress

-Basically, she’s simultaneously the least likely of the three to confess her feelings, and also the biggest simp

𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂

-Selina’s seductive charm is amped up to eleven around you, you could cut the sexual tension with a batarang

-but don't let your chemistry disarm you, because she’d betray you in a second to further her own ends

-not that she’d ever let something truly bad happen to you, she is much more protective than she lets on

-She’s good at playing it cool like that, you're never quite sure where you stand with her but you know you're getting special treatment

-She’s not a piner, she doesn't miss you when you're not around… but that doesn't mean you're not on her mind, more often than she’d willingly admit actually

-She’s slow to trust and even as she's falling for you she's testing you, she wants to make sure you're worth it

-and once she knows that you are, she is down atrociously bad, you wouldn't know it with how smooth she acts but this woman would follow you through hell

-She likes playing games, she likes the chase, but she also wants to seal the deal, she's used to taking getting what she wants and it shows

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track one : the hell happened in shibuya?

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, he was a skater boi, she did NOT say see you l8r boi, unhinged toge, absurd amount of worldbuilding for what this is, penguins of madagascar. || sfw. 10.1k words.

IT’S A PULSE. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with drumming a live set on the stage of a shitty campus bar, the bass shooting through your blood in time with the adrenaline. Soles of your shoes to the tips of your fingers, the ache in your arms from 120 bpm, amp-deaf ears and stage-blind eyes. You’re alive, and you’re addicted to this feeling. You think you’ll chase it forever.

“Guess it could be a blessing in disguise,” Nobara sings, dropping to one knee at the edge of the stage and gripping the mic in one hand and the wire in the other. She leans out over the crowd, grinning as they match her energy. You switch to a steady buildup on the floor tom, adding snare halfway through your crescendo, and build to a sudden, jarring stop as Nobara belts, “But like hell I’m gonna wait for hindsight!”

You’re back in with a dramatic cymbal stinger, and Nobara whoops and jumps back to her feet, dancing across the stage toward Maki and throwing out her arms to emphasize the bass solo. “One last round for Maki Zenin, everybody!” she shouts.

The crowd obliges, hooting and hollering as Nobara launches back into the final chorus. The lights on the low stage flash, making Toge’s white-blond hair look purple where he stands at the keyboard.

“Give it up for Yuta Okkotsu on guitar!” Yuta does his little riff without looking at the audience—the attention always gets him a little shy. “Toge Inumaki on keys!” Nobara spins around to look at you, winking as the last long, held chord starts rising. “And on kit, you know her, you love her, your drummer, Skip!”

You smirk at the nickname as you hit triplets down the toms and pound the bass, rolling every cymbal in sight to create a barrage of sound as the rest of the band looks to Nobara for the final cue.

“Thank you!” Nobara shouts, throwing a hand up in the air. “I’m Nobara Kugisaki, we’re Cursed Technique, and that’s our set for Friday at The Fix.” She lets the crowd holler for just a moment longer, then throws her hand down.

With a final bass hit, the music comes to a stop. You toss your sticks into the bag hanging from the floor tom and stand, pushing back sweaty hair and waving. The crowd is all indistinguishable shadow with the stage lights in your eyes, but you love it anyway.

This is your favorite place on campus, favorite place in the city—tonight, maybe it’s your favorite place in the world. As you file off the stage, the next band moves out to set up.

Tonight is preliminary performances for the annual Battle of the Bands at The Fix, and Cursed Technique is entering for the first time. You don’t know all the bands (or solo artists, because apparently they’re eligible this year too), but this next one you’re very familiar with. Because—

Maki pauses in front of Mai, taking that stance she only ever takes with her twin sister, cocky and ready to provoke. “Don’t fuck up,” she says.

“Like you did? I heard that bridge. G minor my ass.”

“Aw, you pay attention,” Maki grins. They roll their eyes in tandem and knock shoulders as they pass each other. You genuinely can never tell how serious they’re being. Is it a twin thing, a sister thing? Do they actually hate each other?

Aoi Todo goes after Mai, saying something along the lines of “are you ready to fucking boogie, Zenin?” and Maki snorts as the two of you fall in behind Toge and Yuta, Nobara on your right.

You were the first performance of the night, and there’ll be three more after you and four performances next Friday to wrap up round one. The two lowest-ranked bands or artists will be eliminated. You’re praying that’s not you.

The audience has taken the intermission in stride, the bathroom line curling around the far wall and the bar line even longer. The wait’s not worth it, you figure. Then you turn around and realize Nobara’s disappeared.

“Where did she—”

“Bow down to your savior,” her voice says from your other side, and you spin to see her and Toge holding three drinks.

“You are literally the only two of us who can’t drink,” you say, accepting the drink from Toge and nodding to the stamps on the back of their hands, marking them as underage.

Toge grins. “Yeah, but we’re super trustworthy and shit.”

You blink at them and look back over to the bar. Gojo’s working, his white hair the brightest thing in the dark corner behind the counter. Ah.

“You and your nepo baby privileges,” Maki says, grabbing a drink from Nobara’s hands with a huff of laughter.

“I��m not the nepo baby. I’m just friends with the nepo baby.”

“Oh, hey, c’mon.” Yuta nudges you, turned toward the stage. “They’re starting.”

Sure enough, Kasumi Miwa and her shock of blue hair are standing center stage, electric guitar in hand. Maki rolls her eyes when Mai starts tuning behind her.

“How’re we feelin’ tonight, guys?” Kasumi asks, and the gathered students let out a rampant cheer as half the bathroom line abandons their quest and makes their way back to the crowd. “That’s what we like to hear! Alright.”

She looks back at each of her band members in turn, making sure they’re ready. Todo nods and punctuates his agreement with a double kick hit. “We’re Black Flash, and this one should sound a little familiar.”

Momo kicks off with a jazzy intro on the keyboard, Toge already nodding along beside you, and then they’re off in an upbeat, syncopated number you genuinely can’t help but dance to. Sounds like they won last year for a reason.

“Should I learn sax?” Toge shouts over the music, and you glance up to see that Momo has abandoned the keys for a gleaming golden alto. You shake your head at him, taking a drink of whatever it was he and Nobara brought you—it’s sweet, fruity with a kick of vodka.

“Please don’t!” you shout back. “You’ll just play Careless Whisper all the time!” Toge sticks his tongue out at you, which means you’re right. You cheer as the opening song comes to a close with Kasumi hanging onto a long, high note as Todo goes crazy behind her, and then they segue smoothly into a new chart, the bassist walking a steady line up and down before the drums join back in.

You can’t quite remember his name, but you’re pretty sure he’s Kasumi’s boyfriend. His eyes stay trained on her for the majority of their set, watching as she dances around the stage, does an impromptu riff-off with Mai, throws her blue hair around like a natural born rockstar.

“She’s so fucking cool,” you tell Maki, who nods, pointedly looking at everyone on the stage except Mai.

“Thank you!” Kasumi shouts when the band is finally wrapping up. “We’re Black Flash!” You throw back the rest of your drink and cheer with the rest of the hyped-up students.

You don’t feel great about your chances of beating that, but hey, you’re having a good time.

Panda, the senior from the campus radio station, walks out on stage and does some crowd work while the stage techs move things around. You’re pretty sure you knew his name at some point—you wonder idly if he’d even answer to it. You’ve never heard anyone refer to him by anything other than Panda.

“Alright, your penultimate performance of the night, folks,” he says, drawing another cheer from the rowdy front of the crowd. “Let’s give it up for last year’s runner-ups, Shibuya Incident!”

“Shibuya Incident?” you murmur, and Maki snorts. “The hell happened in Shibuya?”

“They’re like, basement emo or something? I don’t know. Nobara said they’re actually good.”

Right. As the band files onstage, you remember that you know about these guys, at least the two sophomores on stage. The kid on drums with the pink hair is Yuji, and the broody bass player is Megumi. They live down the street. Nobara’s over there sometimes. You’ve been meaning to meet her sophomore friends, but the start of school was so busy you haven’t gotten the chance.

“Isn’t he your cousin?” You nod to the bassist and Maki smirks.

“Yeah, he doesn’t tell me anything. I think Nobara might know him better than I do.”

The band launches into a song with no introduction, and you’re captivated.

You don’t recognize the girl, gripping a sleek black and red electric, her dark hair in a combination of knots and braids, studded belt and piercings catching the stage lights.

And you definitely don’t know the frontman.

He’s got a black beanie tugged crookedly over a mess of brown hair, and something about him is strangely mesmerizing. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around campus before, maybe even around The Fix—but you’ve never heard him sing.

You’d remember.

He closes his eyes, lips almost touching the microphone, fingers moving up and down the frets of his electric as he croons, “And my hopes climbed up, tried to tear ‘em down, but they went so fast and it’s too late now.”

And then he opens his eyes, lets the dark-haired girl handle the guitar as he pulls the mic off the stand, still singing. The lights outline his figure in red as he crosses to the front of the stage, the audience surging to meet him. And he looks right at you.

“Dark eyes, the charcoal aftertaste, your mind, you make me wanna waste my life, so promise it’s a lie, a lie, I try, I lie.”And then he circles back to the mic and jams it into the stand, fingers finding the frets of the electric once again. “I guess it’s too late now.”

You chose journalism because you’re a realist—you want the gritty underside of the story, not the fluff piece. Half the time your class readings are about crime and war and all the bad things going on in the world. Love at first sight doesn’t make the front page.

Point being, you’re not a romantic. But when this guy looks at you, you kind of want to be.

What are you thinking right now? You don’t even know him. He’s attractive, yes. He’s talented. You have no way to gauge whether he’s a good person, whether you’re even remotely compatible, whether he’s single, based on listening to a few songs.

But the energy in the room is intoxicating, somehow. The vocals cling to the back end of the beat, relaxed but in a way that demands you hang on. The bass reverb is cranked, creating a kind of wave over the whole of the bar, low and static.

In a high school psych class, you did a project on hypnotism, all the science of it, whether it was effective or even real. You’d tried to do it to yourself, and you’d had a classmate try too, to no avail. Now you think maybe the process of hypnosis isn’t all that complicated after all. It’s just… this.

When the song ends, something in you hollows out, like you need the music to be whole again. But then the lead singer grabs the mic and starts talking. And you think maybe, actually, his voice is just alluring whether he’s singing or not.

“Hey,” he says simply, hanging onto the mic with both hands, letting the guitar hang from its strap. “We’re Shibuya Incident. Hope you’re having a good time tonight.” His eyes scan the crowd, attentive, and you might be delusional, but you think they linger on you for just a second.

“This next one’s new,” he says, glancing back at Megumi with a smile. “It’s called Strike First. Kirara, kick us off.”

The girl on guitar—Kirara—obliges, busting out a descending riff so fast you can’t fathom how her fingers are moving. On the drums, Yuji puts four on the floor and then starts with a laid back hi-hat, and you lose yourself in the music again.

At some point, Yuta waves a hand in front of your face and you realize abruptly that he’s been trying to talk to you. “You good?” he says in your ear, and you nod, grinning. He gives you a strange look but takes you at your word.

After Shibuya Incident walks off stage, you pretty much lose interest. The last performer of the night goes by Angel, and you can’t deny she’s got some lungs on her, but you’ve heard her before. She has a pretty big online following, so her songs are old news to you, recognizable from Reels or TikTok.

“Is her name actually Angel?” Toge asks, and Nobara shakes her head with a dramatic eye-roll.

“Hana,” she says. “It’s a stage name.”

Toge wiggles his brows in a way that means okay, but she’s hot, and Nobara elbows him in the ribs.

When the night is over and the crowd has started to disperse, you find yourself scanning the area beside the stage. It doesn’t take you long to spot Shibuya Incident clustered together near a wall, mostly because of Yuji’s bright pink hair.

Nobara seems to have spotted them as well. She drags you over to the three boys, the girl already disappearing with the blond stage tech—Hakari, you’re pretty sure his name is.

“Oi,” she calls. “Fushiguro, the new song fucked. I’m mad about it.”

“Why—”

“Because we’re supposed to win,” Nobara says with a hand on her hip, and they devolve into arguing, Yuji fruitlessly trying to mediate. You’re left standing awkwardly to the side, and your gaze drifts to the remaining member of their band—the singer, the lead guitarist.

On stage, he’d seemed untouchable, confident and flirty and at ease. Now, he can’t seem to decide whether to stuff his hands in his pockets or wring them in front of him or tug self-consciously at the crooked beanie on his head.

It’s endearing, honestly.

You stick a hand out, suddenly self-conscious. “Hey,” you say. “Uh, I’m not sure we’ve met officially. I’m—well, they usually call me Skip, but—”

“Where are my manners?!” Nobara screeches, turning away from Megumi and Yuji and finally realizing the situation she’s put you in. “Oh my god! Skipper, this is Ino—Ino, Skip. Drummer, singer. Singer, drummer. Blah, blah, blah. You’re both juniors, right? Ino, are you a senior? I dunno anymore. Anyway!” She claps her hands together once, grinning. “Now we’re all friends. And opponents. Go on, converse with the enemy.” She flaps her hands at the both of you and turns back to the boys, apparently not done arguing with Megumi, though it sounds like it’s shifted from any band-related business to something he said about her shopping addiction last weekend.

You know Nobara’s hung out with the entirety of this band before, since she pretty much forcibly adopted Megumi and Yuji in their shared gen. ed. classes, but Ino is apparently nowhere near as used to her chaos as you are. He stares at her back for a second, trying to process the rambling she just threw at you, and then nods slowly.

“She’s—sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Ah. Yeah. She means well.”

“Right. Uh, you’re really—you’re really good,” he says with a nervous smile your way. “Talented, I mean. I haven’t seen someone drum like that in…”

“Hey!” Yuji squawks, and Megumi grabs him by the elbow and pulls him away, Nobara on his other side.

“Thanks,” you say softly, trying to put Ino at ease with a warm smile. “You’re really good, too. I mean it.”

“Thanks,” he says, heat rising to his cheeks.

“D’you write? Those were some good bars.”

“Oh, yeah, uh. I do. Do—do you?”

“Homegirl’s our drummer and our lyricist,” Maki announces, draping herself across your shoulders. You don’t know where she even came from. “She is a woman of many talents.”

“I believe it,” Ino says with a shy smile. “You didn’t compete last year, right? I feel like I’d remember.”

The implications make you flush a little, and you’re grateful for the bar’s bad lighting. “No, yeah, this is our first year. I wasn’t even around for the competition last year. Or I’d probably remember you, too.”

Yuta spent some time abroad last fall, and you were just getting to know Nobara. It was probably a good thing you didn’t enter, because you were so caught up in work for the campus paper that you would’ve been stretched thin. Things this year have settled down with the strangely large wave of younger staffers. So this is your year—your time.

It’s Ino’s turn to be a little sheepish, and he reaches up and scratches the back of his neck, averting his gaze with a small smile. “You live with Fushiguro’s cousin, then?”

You nod. “You live with your bandmates? We’re right down the street.” Now that you think about it, you might’ve seen him skateboarding past your place a time or two.

He nods. “I thought I’d maybe seen you around. So—Skipper? Or Skip?”

“Either,” you laugh. “Uh, freshman year, we gave ourselves penguins of Madagascar names. That was before Nobara. Guess it just stuck.”

Ino laughs, bright. “That’s really good.” He seems to be easing into the conversation now, relaxing. “Which one was Rico? He’s my favorite.”

“Offensive,” you grin. “Toge, over there.” You point to him where he’s animatedly talking to Yuta, who looks about ready to go to sleep.

Ino nods. “Feels right.” He looks at you like he’s searching for something. “You can call me Takuma. If you want.”

“Takuma,” you echo. You like the way it sounds. “Cool.” You glance up at the stage, cleared out now. You’ll have to check on your drums in the back room at some point before you go home.

“Do you guys have music out?” Ino—Takuma—asks, and you turn, surprised.

“Uh, no. We’ve thought about it, but none of us are really the techy types. Do you?”

“Hell yeah!” Yuji blurts, apparently having escaped Megumi and Nobara. “First EP available now on all the usual streaming services.” He grins, then offers you a hand.

You shake it. He even shakes people’s hands like an overly excited dog. It’s infectious. “I think we’ve met in passing? Unofficially. But you sounded great up there. What’s your cymbal brand? Your hat is crisp.”

“Zildjian,” you say, laughing at his enthusiasm. The only right answer, you think, but don’t say. “You sounded great too. You have a brand?”

Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Uh, half of them are Meinl but the other half are Sabian? I kind of need to streamline them at some point. Zildjian seems like the move, honestly.”

Maki waves you over from the door to backstage, and you glance at Yuji and Takuma in turn, offering them a small wave. “I should run. It was good to meet you both. I’ll, uh—see you next Friday? Or around, I guess.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Yuji says with a mock salute, and Takuma chuckles, meeting your eyes.

“Sure thing,” he says. “Or around.”

When you’ve locked up the drums and hitched a ride back to the house with the girls, Maki turns herself around in the passenger seat to look at you.

“What?” You shift under her gaze, unrelenting and knowing.

“So, Shibuya Incident singer.” She raises a brow, and you know you’re blushing, but there’s not much you can do about it. At least it’s dark.

“What… about him?”

Maki just snorts and turns back around, evidently deciding teasing you once was enough. Nobara, though, has no such qualms.

“Oh my god!” she squeals, and Maki gently reminds her to pay attention to the road. “Do you want me to set you up? I can ask Itadori! Or Fushiguro! Or we can—”

You groan loudly, cutting her off as you dramatically flop back in the seat. “Nobara, please, please don’t.”

She sighs, long and drawn-out. “Puh-lease, Skipper, someone in this house has to get some.”

“Drop it and I won’t tell Toge you said that.”

This successfully diverts Nobara’s attention, and she spends the rest of the short drive wondering aloud if Toge actually thinks Hana Kurusu is hot or if he was just trying to annoy her. Nobara has some baseless grudge against Hana that you’re pretty sure is just because Nobara wants to be Hana.

At the house, she immediately starts bugging Toge about it, and eventually he runs into your room and slams the door for cover. Sometimes you’re very grateful your room has a lock. This is not one of those times.

“Toge,” you whine, pressing your forehead against the door. Nobara is crouched beside you, ready to catch him. “I wanna go to bed. Bro. Open the door.”

“Are you conspiring with the enemy?” he shouts from inside.

“No, but I’m about to be!”

He opens the door and Nobara launches herself at him, and amid the accusations of betrayal you manage to herd them out and close the door behind you, beelining for your bed and your headphones. There’s something you’re curious about.

Shibuya Incident, you type into Spotify, and there it is, their first EP. It’s called Over Duress, and on it is the first song they sang tonight plus a few you haven’t heard before.

You don’t intend to listen to the whole thing, really—you just can’t get that song out of your head, and usually listening to an earworm helps. But when you settle in, lights out and headphones on, you can’t stop.

All night his voice is in your ear, eyes boring into yours, singing too late now.

They’re—he’s—good. Really, really good.

You think it might be too late for you, too.

—

You’ve got your headphones on again, listening to Arctic Monkeys as you make your way down the sidewalk. Mondays will be the death of you. Your hour-and-a-half lecture ran late, and you have night class later. You need caffeine.

So caught up in 505, you almost don’t catch the guy in your periphery zooming down the path behind you on a skateboard. You move to the side to let him pass, but he slows down as he nears you, and you look up and realize it’s Takuma. Grinning, you tug your headphones down around your neck. He kicks the skateboard up and catches it in one hand, a messenger bag with a laptop sticking out underneath his other arm.

“Well, hey,” he says. “Look at us. Around.”

It’s odd to see him in this setting, broad daylight and an autumn chill in the air, so different from the dim bar, the artificially-lit stage.

“Hey.” He starts walking alongside you. “Coming from class?”

“Yeah, thank god that’s over. You?”

You hum in agreement. “Composition lecture.”

Takuma makes a tch sound with a click of his tongue. “Ah. Algorithms, for me.” He glances at you, then straight ahead, like you caught him doing something. “Uh, I was gonna grab coffee on the way back. You wanna come? If you’re not busy, I mean.”

You grin. “I was on my way there.”

Your favorite coffee shop is directly across the street from The Fix, and Takuma walks the rest of the way with you, his board in one hand.

“Algorithms,” you say. What a horrible-sounding class. “So are you—what, math? Computer science?”

“Comp sci,” he confirms, “and media production.”

“That’s sick. What do you wanna do?”

Takuma shrugs, but says, “I’m kinda gunning for something in music or audio production, but the comp sci’s more of a safeguard. Easier to get a software dev job than break into the music scene.”

The door to the coffee shop chimes as you push it open. “What about you? What’s your major?”

“Journalism.”

“Oh, that’s cool. You work for the paper or anything?”

“Yessir.”

“Write a story on me.”

If it meant learning more about Takuma, you’d honestly like to.

You pause to order your coffee, and while Takuma orders his you find yourself looking out at the bar across the street.

It looks so different during the day. People call it a shitty campus bar, you included, but honestly, it’s a nice establishment. The grunge is intentional, for the aesthetic appeal.

When you and Takuma both have drinks in your hand, you check the time on your phone and figure you can spare a few minutes. “Wanna sit for a sec?” You nod toward the high-top counter along the wall of windows facing the street.

“My honor,” he says, leading the way. You hop up on the green backed barstool, spinning it a little, and take a sip of your latte as Takuma settles in beside you. “How long you been drumming?”

You hum, tapping your fingers on your knee while you think. “The summer before I started middle school, I think?” That sounds right. You’d started taking lessons so you could join jazz band.

“Damn,” Takuma whistles. “That’s a while. No wonder you’re so good.” You laugh despite yourself, feeling the heat creep up to your cheeks the way it always does when someone compliments you.

“What about you? Been playing guitar for a while?”

He leans forward, wholly engaged in the conversation. “Yeah. My dad played, and I learned on his acoustic, and I spent all of middle school saving up for my own electric.”

“The one you have now?”

“Ah, no, I’ve got two, but I still have that one back at my place. I love that thing.”

Talking about music, it seems the hesitant, bashful side of Takuma slips away, replaced with this sunny boy who just wants to talk about what he loves. You find yourself wanting to feed into it.

“So, I listened to your EP.”

His entire posture seems to brighten, coffee forgotten on the countertop as he stares at you. “For real?”

“It’s really good. Seriously. I’m—when did that come out?”

“Uh, end of last semester. So like May?” He shrugs.

“Do you rent out a place in the city?”

“Actually, I can book out the campus studio spaces because I’m a production major,” he says, making a paper airplane out of his napkin. “We recorded our EP in there.”

“Techy.”

He smiles. “Yeah, comes with the major.” Turned to face you with the light from the window illuminating half of his face, you find yourself really looking at him—his mess of brown hair, deep but somehow bright eyes, the curve of his mouth, the line of his jaw. There’s an energy about him that just draws you in.

His phone lights up and he jumps a little. “Oh, crap! I forgot I was gonna take Itadori to the skate park. He wants me to teach him to kick flip before the snow comes.”

You doubt it’ll take him that long to figure it out—he’s a natural athlete. You’ve had to last-minute cover a track meet before, and his name took up half the damn page with all the records he set.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you say, downing the rest of your coffee. As much as you don’t want to leave, you’ve got a lot to get done before your night class. You push back your stool and sling your backpack over one shoulder.

Takuma seems to consider something, eyes bouncing from you to his phone to the street outside. “Actually, we’re recording again on Wednesday, for the new single. You should drop by. I can show you the ropes.”

You’re not sure what excites you more: the prospect of watching a live recording or having an excuse to see Takuma again.

“That’d be cool,” you say. “The new song? From Friday?”

“Yeah, Strike First,” he says. “Fushiguro wrote a lot of it—shit, actually, I’m not s’posed to say that.”

You laugh. “What? Why?”

He grins, a little conspiratorial. “Sometimes he shows up in my room and just shoves lyrics at me, and they’re always really good and deep and shit, and he says if I tell anyone he’ll kill me in my sleep. So. Secret poet.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” you promise. “So, Wednesday night.”

“Six thirty,” he nods, standing up and grabbing his skateboard from where he leaned it against the wall. You walk out into the bright mid-afternoon air side by side, starting to drift opposite directions on the sidewalk. You’re going to get some work done in the newsroom before your night class. The skate park is down the block from your place. And his.

You nod at his board. “Don’t die.” You’ve longboarded on campus several times, and the intersections are unforgiving.

He grins, standing on the board and starting to skate backward. “Me? Nah.” You roll your eyes but can’t keep the smile off your face, even as you turn away, his laughter bouncing down the path behind you.

—

That night in class, you get a series of messages from a number you don’t recognize, but you know who it is. They’ve sent you a gif of Skipper from Penguins of Madagascar.

unknown number: hey it’s ino! unknown number: or takuma. or whatever hahah unknown number: fushiguro got your number from maki i hope that’s not weird? i just wanted to send you the recording location in case you want to swing by wednesday unknown number: [Shared 1 Location Pin] unknown number: literally no pressure though unknown number: obviously

You turn down the brightness on your laptop, tucking your messages into the corner while the pitch document for class takes up the rest of your screen. Adding the number to your contacts, you glance surreptitiously up at your professor, who’s still doing something on the computer in the front of the room.

takuma: wait okay fushiguro just said what if maki gave him the wrong number as a joke takuma: idk if she would do that but now i’m paranoid takuma: if this isn’t skipper i’m SO sorry

Toge leans over and reads your messages, wiggling his brows at you when you shove him out of the way. He’s only in this class because you are—he took it as one of his writing electives for his comm major, and he spends most of it bothering you while you’re trying to work.

“Put the guy out of his misery, Jesus,” he whispers.

“Put me out of my misery, Jesus,” you say back. “Get me a new seat partner.” Toge gapes at you, affronted, and you smirk and go to text Takuma back.

you: oh my god no don’t worry it’s me LMAO you: yes i’ll swing by! that sounds so fun

The typing bubble pops up, disappears, pops up again. You try to hold in the laughter as your professor kicks off the next part of class, which he essentially runs like a newsroom in collaboration with the campus paper, since your editor is his TA. You’re in the middle of a features pitch session.

takuma: oh thank god takuma: cool!! takuma: hey thanks for coffee today. it was nice talking to you

Once again, Toge’s got his chin on your shoulder, reading the screen. His eyes widen and he moves so that he’s blocking your line of sight. Coffee? he mouths. You shove him out of the way with a hand on his face.

you: i had a good time :) you: okay i’m in class rn so just know i’m not ignoring you, i’m suffering at the whims of postsecondary education takuma: I’M SO SORRY takuma: thoughts and prayers takuma: ew why do you have class at 7 pm that’s cruel

It is kind of inconvenient. But a lot of your journalism classes wind up being nights, and you actually don’t mind it—you love your prof and the other juniors in your major. And you love your editor. You want to be her.

“Alright,” Kusakabe says. He’s got a doctorate, but he hates going by Dr. Kusakabe. “Back to the board. I want your bestmonth-long project pitches. Fushiguro here will put the best ones in print, so don’t mess around here. You want a spot at the paper next year? Impress her.” He nods at Tsumiki, who’s sitting in the back corner with a pen tucked behind her ear and her laptop and notepad ready.

“There are no horrible ideas,” she says.

Kusakabe points at her. “Not strictly true. She’s nicer than me.”

You already work for the paper, as does half of this advanced journalism class, but you’re gunning for Tsumiki’s job next year. So you need to impress.

“The Fix,” you say. Kusakabe points a whiteboard marker at you, then turns and scribbles it on the board in his horrible handwriting. He doesn’t let you raise your hands in class. Newsrooms work fast, he says. Better get used to it.

“Why?” Kusakabe asks. You’ve got your pitch ready. This isn’t your first rodeo. You hold up a hand, counting off on your fingers as you talk.

“One, it’s the most popular place on campus. Two, it has the lowest crime rate of any bar in the city. It’s run entirely by Jujutsu alumni. It’s time-relevant, because Battle of the Bands is going on right now, which also means good photo ops. We’ve been needing to cover it for years.”

Toge starts typing on his own laptop, and you know he’s not doing anything class-related. Sure enough, you get his message a second later.

freak no. 1: OKAY SHE’S A JOURNALIST freak no. 1: let me be your partner plsplsplsls freak no. 1: PLEASE i don’t wanna do a whole project story by myself i’ll do anything

He stares at your screen and glares at you when you don’t respond.

freak no. 1: why is that still my name. this is bullying. harassment even freak no. 1: freak no. 1 implies the existence of freak no. 2 freak no. 1: who is it freak no. 1: is it yuta freak no. 1: tell me it’s yuta

“Yes,” Kusakabe says. He’s not smiling—he rarely ever does—but you can tell he’s pleased. “That’s what I’m talking about. I want to know why a bunch of qualified alumni decided to dedicate their postgrad careers to running a college bar. Give me the backstory, give me the details. This is the kind of thing I’d put Fushiguro on if it wasn’t a conflict of interest.”

You twist around in your seat, craning to catch Tsumiki’s eye. She’s smiling, typing rapidly without looking at her keyboard.

“Yep,” she affirms. “But I can get you phone numbers. Good stuff, Skip.”

“Conflict of interest if I���m in a band?” you ask. She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head.

“Just don’t make it the story’s central focus and you should be fine. I’ve got some underclassmen covering the battle for event coverage practice, anyway.”

You flash her a thumbs-up and Kusakabe turns back to the board, half-dead marker hovering beneath his scrawled THE FIX: BAR, SAFE, ALUMNI

“Throw it at me,” he calls to the rest of the class. “What else you got?”

You click back into your thread with Takuma and send him another message.

you: freshie reporters are covering battle of the bands you: watch out for the novice press, mr frontman takuma: oh man takuma: i would not be focusing on me if i was them tbh

Toge kicks you under the table.

freak no. 1: cant believe youre getting a boyfriend before me freak no. 1: im leaving the country freak no. 1: god save the queen

—

It’s dead silent down here.

You’ve only been to the comm and media department a few times, mostly for electives or to drag Toge to lunch with you after one of his classes. But you’ve never had reason to venture all the way down, deep into the bowels of the huge building, to the production areas. Most of the studio spaces down here are padded with soundboards, making your trek down the hall an odd, isolated thing.

But then, after you’ve walked a while, you hear laughter, the idle plucking of guitar strings. Ah. You follow the noise to Studio C, where the door is cracked open, and sure enough, the band is there in full force, tuning and talking and warming up. Kirara is sitting in the spinning chair behind the soundboard while the blond from the bar plays with some dials, and the others are behind the window in the recording room.

“Hey,” you say, and Kirara looks up at you, offers you a nod.

“Girl drummer! What’s up?”

“Spying,” you reply. “Thought I’d get behind enemy lines.”

Kirara snorts approvingly and nods toward the man working on the sound dials, and he turns to glance at you. “You guys met?”

He sticks a huge hand out and you shake it. “I know you,” he says. “Or of you. I do stage stuff at The Fix. Name’s Hakari.”

“He does ‘stage stuff’ at the bar ‘cause he wants to follow me around,” Kirara says.

Takuma glances up through the recording space window, and when he sees you he grins and tugs off the headset. “You came!” he says as he drops his guitar into its stand and comes to stand in the open doorway between the two rooms. “Oh, you can shut that, it was open for you.” He nods to the door you came in, and you lean back on it, closing it.

“I’ve never been down here,” you admit. “It’s cool. And empty.”

“Yeah, it’s never busy Wednesdays,” Kirara says, shrugging. “All the sound and screen people are out working megachurch youth groups or whatever.” She kicks her clunky boots up on the table. “Kinji, did the backups sound good last time or should we rerecord them?”

“Skipper!” Yuji shouts. He waves and nearly smacks himself in the face with a drumstick. “Look! Zildjian!” He points to a crash cymbal that must be a new addition and you give him two thumbs-up, beaming.

Beside him, Megumi looks up from his bass and gives you a nod. Sometimes you forget he and Tsumiki are related—they look alike, but they carry themselves so differently. Your editor is all witty questions and chasing the news and juggling a thousand things at once, knowing everyone, always throwing out compliments like candy. Megumi keeps to himself, that quiet, broody bass player in dark colors. Writing secret song lyrics, apparently.

“So we recorded backup vocals last week,” Takuma explains, leading you over to the soundboard. You slide into Kirara’s spot as she hops up and grabs her guitar, plugging in in the next room. “Hakari handles the board while we’re recording, and then I mix it in post.”

“Cool,” you say, lost in all the switches and dials and colored lights.

“It’s less complicated than it looks,” Hakari offers, gesturing to the expanse of controls. “You really only use a third of ‘em.”

Yuji abruptly does a buzz roll, and you look up in time to see Megumi roll his eyes.

“That’s the hey Ino, we’re waiting on you, you fucking slacker drum roll,” Kirara drawls without looking up.

“I feel loved.” Takuma smiles at you and darts into the other room, closing the door behind him, and you lean back in the spinning chair. Hakari hands you an extra headset and you slip it over your ears with a grateful nod.

“Alright,” he says, leaning to speak into a mic that must carry through to the band. “Give me a chorus or somethin’ so I can test these levels out.”

They play part of the first song on the EP, and then Hakari goes through one by one and makes some minor adjustments until he deems them ready to go.

“Okay,” he says, glancing at Kirara. “Strike First, take one, in three, two…” He trails off and presses a button, and Kirara starts riffing like it’s nothing.

“Catch feels real quick,” Ino half-sings, half-says, picking up his own guitar. “And they go real deep. Try to burn ‘em out.” He looks up at you through the window. “But I’m half asleep.” Megumi is laying down a steady, bouncing bassline. “With her face in my head, and her voice in my ear, and her warmth in my bed, but she’s not really here, oh!”

Megumi and Kirara have indeed already recorded the backup vocals, and Hakari scales them up as they play. Intoxicating, in-intoxicating, oh she’s…

Yuji’s crash does sound better, and you find yourself nodding your head along to the beat, watching Hakari run the soundboard, watching the band in their element in the recording space.

The first time they stop just before the bridge, and they talk among themselves and mess around with some adjustments before starting again.

“We’re all cursed, so I, I strike first.” The track finishes with a single, hard kick. You wait until Hakari switches off the recording and clap. Takuma smiles brightly behind the window.

“What’d you think?” he asks, his voice crackling in your ear. “Any tips?”

You hum, leaning into the mic Hakari offers. “You sound great!” you say. “Yuji, save that sick fill for the prechorus leading up to the bridge. The syncopated one. The buildup will pay off.”

Half the art of drumming is knowing when to lay back and when to bring the energy. It’s one thing to go crazy drumming covers for a YouTube channel, which you’re pretty sure Yuji does, but it’s another to play in a band setting, trying to bring out the best in everyone else’s parts. You’ve seen so many drummers get so excited about playing fast and loud that they give too much too soon, and it makes the peak of the song less gratifying. It took you a long time to learn that.

“Oooh,” Yuji says, clicking his sticks together. “You’re right.”

Kirara jumps off her stool, spinning to face him. “What did I say? That exact thing. Three times before.” She points at you, then turns to face you, smiling good-naturedly. “He’s like one of those kids whose parents have been telling them the same thing for years, and then their favorite teacher says it and they act like they’re hearing it for the first time.”

“What? When did you say that? Kirara—”

But everyone’s laughing, and Yuji eventually gives into it too, grinning and tapping out a swing beat on the rims just to do something with his hands.

“Okay, run it again,” Kirara says, settling herself on her stool again. “Kinji?”

Hakari nods, and they launch back into the song. They do three more full runs before they agree they’ve got it. “Cool,” Hakari says. “Ino, you want the drive?”

“Please,” he says, and then takes off the headset and starts putting away the guitar.

“Hey,” Yuji says brightly, after he’s packed up the kit. “You should come over, invite Kugisaki and your bandmates. I need to fight someone who isn’t Ino in Super Smash Bros.”

It sounds fun, and it’s right down the street—Nobara would kill you for saying no. You got most of your class work done while Kusakabe was on another one of his journalism ethics rants that you can quote in your sleep, and your only major project now is The Fix. Not much you can do about that on a Wednesday night.

“Sure,” you say, and Takuma appears beside you, guitar case on his back.

“Sure what?”

Yuji bounces on the balls of his feet. “She’s coming over! And inviting her friends!”

“Like, the whole band?” you clarify. “Is that—”

“YES!” Yuji exclaims. “Pleeease, Skipper? I love new friends. We’re basically neighbors anyway.” You glance at Takuma, trying to gauge his reaction. He looks excited about the idea, so you figure it’ll be fine.

“Okay,” you relent, and Yuji basically tackles you in a hug. “Woah, okay! I’m gonna swing by the house first. I’ll see who’s around and drag them down the street.”

“Tell Kugisaki I have to decimate her in Smash. I want to see her face when she loses.”

“You park in the side lot?” Takuma asks, adjusting the strap of his guitar case. You shake your head, pointing to your longboard in the far corner of the room. You don’t have a car on campus, but it’s usually not an issue since three of your housemates do. “No way. You skate?”

“Just longboard. Never really mastered the skateboarding thing.”

“Oh, I can teach you!” His grin is infectious. You could’ve had one of the girls drop you off tonight, or Yuta, but honestly, you were kind of hoping for a reaction like this. Was it practical to board halfway across campus alone in the dark? Maybe not. Not like you haven’t done it before. But looks like it’s paying off.

“I’ve got the truck out back,” Hakari says. “Anyone want a lift?”

Yuji shakes his head. “Brought my car for the drums. And Fushiguro.” You politely decline, and Takuma holds up his board in answer.

Hakari nods as he shuts down the soundboard. “Sounds good.”

You open the door and Takuma follows you out, the hallway feeling largely different with someone else filling the space.

“So, what’d you think?”

“That was awesome,” you say honestly. “I don’t know how you guys do the technical side of things, but it’s cool.”

Outside, the two of you drop your boards to the ground and push off, careening down the long campus sidewalks.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you had a longboard,” Takuma says as you round a corner, you shifting your weight to your heels as he charges ahead of you with hands in his pockets like he’s not balancing on a board with a guitar strapped to his back. “How come you’re never at the skate park?”

You shrug, putting a foot to the pavement again to give yourself some more momentum. Truthfully, the skate park has always just felt daunting to you—not because you know about the drugs getting exchanged under the ramps, but because all you can do is board. No tricks, no half-pipes, nothing crazy, and everyone there is always so off the walls you’d feel like an idiot trying to teach yourself.

“You should come with sometime,” he says. “I took Itadori today. He already learned how to kick flip. He’s stupid athletic.”

You grin, theory proven correct, and turn onto the side street your house is on. Takuma slows down when you kick your board up, and you start up the small sidewalk leading to the green front door. “See you in a minute?”

He grins, skating backward again down the street toward his place. “Yes, ma’am.”

The house is small, but you chose it for the basement space with rehearsals in mind. It’s small, but you’ve made it your own. Yuta’s rapidly growing collection of plants sits in a line along the kitchen windowsill. Nobara’s put Polaroids up all over the place, which Toge regularly replaces with printed memes and then times how long it takes her to notice. Your record player sits in the corner of the living room, the stand beneath it overflowing with vinyls the five of you have amassed.

This is all there when you open the door. But unexpectedly, so is Maki, standing in the kitchen with her arms crossed, looking at you expectantly. Nobara shouts, “Is she home? Skipper!”

It takes you a second to clock that Yuta and Toge are also waiting for you, Toge hanging upside down on the couch through the doorway and Yuta leaning against the wall.

“Uh, hi?”

“Howwasyourdate?” Nobara gushes, and you feel your face go flaming.

“Date? Nobara, his whole band—”

“Nooo!” she groans, raking a hand through her hair. She plants a hand on each of your shoulders, staring at you pleadingly. “I am so bored. This is the most exciting thing to happen since Muta asked Miwa out. Have mercy.”

Muta—that’s the Black Flash bassists’s name. You vaguely remember Nobara being over the moon when he got together with Miwa last year.

“How did you even know where I was?”

All four of them answer in unison, “Google calendar.”

You laugh and pry Nobara’s hands off your shoulders, feeling warm all over. God. You forgot having a crush was this fucking embarrassing. Over Nobara’s shoulder, you look helplessly at Maki, who has decided to be of no help.

“Okay, take a breath.” You make your way into the living space, Maki’s gaze following you from the counter and Nobara quite literally following you. “Don’t any of you have homework?”

Toge pulls himself up dizzily, evidently done with the blood rush of hanging upside down. He points at Yuta and says, “That man has never procrastinated anything in his life. You know she has it done.” Here, he points to Maki. “And Nobara and I have priorities. Like your love life.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Toge already filled them all in on the texts he read in your night class, and they’ve all been teasing you ever since. Well, mostly him and Nobara. But you see the little smirks and glances Maki and Yuta exchange whenever Takuma’s name is brought up.

Nobara, to put it lightly, loves love. She texts your group chat any time she makes eye contact with a potential suitor, and whenever she catches wind of a possible relationship, she wants every detail. You don’t really care to inform the whole house of every interaction you’ve had with Takuma. Not because it doesn’t excite you—part of you just, weirdly, wants this to yourself.

And part of you is trying not to get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you all to calm down. You’ll scare him off, if you keep up like this.”

“And you definitely don’t want us to scare him off?” Maki confirms, sounding almost bummed. “I am really good at that.” Yuta nods solemnly.

You glance at Nobara, who’s staring at you knowingly. “No,” you admit, sheepish. “I would rather you not.”

Lovers, Nobara mouths, and you push her away.

“Well, if you’re not busy, I’m going to his place,” you say, and put your hand over Nobara’s mouth before she can scream, “and you’re coming with.” You glance around at the rest of your friends. “All of you.” Nobara glares until you pull your hand away from your mouth.

“Yuji wants to beat your ass in Smash,” you tell her, and she smirks.

“Uh-huh. He’d like that, wouldn’t he?” She practically yanks your backpack off your shoulders and pushes you toward the front door.

“Okay, everybody out, let’s go! Operation Get Skipper—”

“I will drag you back into that house.”

“I said nothing,” Nobara smiles sweetly. And the five of you make your way down the street.

—

Yuji’s car is in the driveway, a bright red Hyundai. You can tell it’s his partially because it’s bright red and partially because you can see a few cymbal stands sticking up in the rear windshield. A truck is parked on the curb, and you figure it’s probably Hakari’s.

Nobara leads the way up to the front door, the only one of you who’s been here before. Unless Maki was visiting her cousin for something, but you don’t think so.

“Itadori!” Nobara shouts, and the door swings open to reveal Yuji, tousled hair and eager grin and all. “I’m here to beat your ass. Get on the Wii.”

“Yes!” Yuji shouts triumphantly, two fists pumping the air.

The house the band is renting out is functionally the same as yours, but it couldn’t look more different. There are mismatched string lights everywhere, dark tapestries on the walls that scream Kirara. Old band posters are plastered to half the available wall space, and a JBL speaker is blasting a song you’ve never heard.

“Hey,” Kirara calls from her place on the couch, leaning into Hakari. Yuji and Nobara are already planted on the floor, preparing for Smash Bros, Toge settled in between in an already futile effort to prevent violence.

“Hey, Okkotsu.” Megumi nods. “Maki. You haven’t been here before, right?”

“It’s not a college boy dump,” she responds. “So proud of you.”

“Mostly his doing, honestly,” Kirara says. “He’s a neat freak.”

You wave at her and Hakari. “You both live here?”

“Nah,” Hakari says. “I’m with Panda on the other side of campus.” Kirara’s the sole girl in the house, then. Brave woman.

“Skip!”

You turn to find Takuma leaning in the entryway to the living space. “Hey,” you grin. His gaze moves to where Yuji and Nobara have selected their characters.

“Oh, this’ll be good.” He moves to the open space on the couch and glances at you, and you follow. There’s plenty of room, since Kirara is basically on Hakari’s lap.

There’s a papasan chair in the corner that Yuta tries to insist Maki take, but in the end he winds up sitting in it with his legs tucked up under him and Maki sprawls out on the floor in front of him. You nearly jump out of your skin when Yuji screeches, and you blink and realize Nobara has already decimated him.

“Jesus,” you say.

“How did you—what was that? How did you do that?” Yuji demands. Toge, evidently having decided his mediation effort is fruitless, scoots back. You grin. Nobody can ever beat Nobara in Smash Bros. You would know.

“That’s what you get for picking Sonic, you freak.” Nobara turns up her nose. She picks Link every time.

“Do not slander the good name of Sonic in this house.”

“Okay, give it to me,” Toge says, grabbing the remote from Yuji. He levels Nobara with a serious look, chooses Daisy, and says, “Prepare to die.”

Takuma laughs beside you, and you’re suddenly aware that your thighs are almost touching, his warmth emanating off him. You try to focus on the game as Link proceeds to destroy Daisy within an inch of her life, but it’s hard now that you’re hyper-aware of your proximity.

“I like your place,” you tell him, and he smiles.

“Yeah? I do too. All the tapestries are Kirara’s.”

You fist bump her. “Good taste.”

“I know,” she says.

“What?” Toge shrieks. He groans, dramatically falling forward and burying his face in the carpet. “No. You cheated. Again.”

“You’re an idiot,” Nobara says, and they play again. “You’re not gonna win.”

Toge scoffs. “I would if you’d play Just Dance with me, coward.”

“Hey.” Takuma nudges you with a knee. “You wanna see how I mix the tracks?”

You glance at Nobara, entirely engaged in her game, and figure if you’re going to safely escape the room with Takuma, the time is now. “Sure.” He stands and you follow, ignoring Maki’s knowing gaze boring into your back as you go. The laughter and shouts and music follow you up the narrow stairs, and you hope this can be a new kind of normal, this mishmash of people who seem to get along so well.

Takuma’s room is at the end of the hall, and there’s no doubting how insanely Takuma it is. A skateboard—covered in faded stickers, different from the one he used today—hangs on the wall, there’s an acoustic in the corner, and the lights are all LED and green and red and purple. He leads you over to his monitor setup along the wall, where something is just finishing uploading—the drive Hakari gave him from the recording session.

He pulls over a stool and pats the desk chair for you, and you’d argue but he’s already opening up Logic, throwing in the tracks.

And then you lose time.

It’s already dark out, and you have no measure of the hours passing as Takuma locks in, nodding his head along to the beat, walking you through every setting and adjustment he makes as he mixes the new single, his own voice echoing back at you on the vocal track. You ask questions that are probably stupid and he answers like you’ve asked the smartest thing in the world.

His face is aglow in the colored lights of his room, and he’s animated as he walks you through the process. You point to the backup vocals track and ask a question, and he wraps his hand around yours and guides it to point at the corresponding change he makes, and before you know it the track is done and he’s sliding a pair of headphones over your ears, looking at you hopefully as the song comes through.

It sounds amazing. Something about listening with headphones on is all-consuming, and there’s something intimate about the way you’re sat facing one another, one of your knees between both of his, not breaking eye contact as you listen.

Kirara and Yuji’s backups flow so seamlessly into the rest of the recording, loud enough to hear but quiet enough not to pull away from Takuma’s voice as he sings, “Preemptively intoxicating, I can hear the heartbreak saying, ooh, I’m on my way.”

He smiles at you, soft, excited, his knee bouncing to the beat of the song even though you’re the one with the headphones on. “So you strike first, strike first ‘cause she’s not gonna stay.”

You tug the headphones down around your neck, the melody still bouncing around in your ears. The curtains flutter above the rickety AC unit in the corner, casting flickering shadows over the monitor, over the wall, over Takuma. There’s no more music, but it is far from silent. The sounds of your friends drift up the stairs and through the cracked door, the computer’s kicking up a fuss with its fan, your breathing seems louder than normal.

“Damn,” you say softly, like speaking any louder will break this—whatever this is.

“Yeah?”

Your faces are very close.

“Yeah.”

A scream from downstairs makes you jump, knocking your knees with Takuma’s, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Yuta, control your child!” Nobara screeches, and you presume that by that she means Toge. “Maki? Skipper, where did you go? AGH!”

You laugh, pushing to your feet. “We should probably…”

“Yeah,” Takuma says quickly, too quickly, standing and setting the headphones back on the desk. “Yeah, totally.”

The rest of the night passes in a wash of laughter and Smash Bros and half-eaten bags of chips and yes, eventually, Just Dance, which Toge does win by a significant margin. Yuta, Maki, and Megumi spend a lot of time catching up in the corner, and Kirara and Nobara get along great. You realize far too late that putting Toge and Yuji in the same room was a horrible decision. They feed off each other’s chaos, a pair of little speed demons. You fear they’ve just become best friends.

At some point Kirara and Hakari disappear, and when you’re all finally making your way out, dreading your morning classes, you turn to Takuma, hovering in his doorway.

“Thanks,” you say. “For showing me the mixing. And recording. And—yeah.” You flush. God, you’re usually so good at talking to people. When did you become this socially inept?

“Anytime,” he says, and you know he means it. “Hey, if you guys are ever interested in putting some music out… Hakari and I could help.” He scratches the back of his neck a little self-consciously.

“Wait, for real?”

“Yeah! I mean, Hakari goes wherever Kirara goes. And she likes you. You’re really good, I think you’d really take off on streaming services.”

Kirara likes you? That weirdly means more to you than any of the other bandmates’ approval. Something warm blooms in your chest.

“Skip, c’mon,” Maki calls over her shoulder, and you jump and realize the rest of your housemates are already down the drive.

“Ah, yeah! I’ll talk to them about it. Thanks, Takuma.” You beam and turn to catch up to your friends, feeling like a stupid high schooler with a crush.

You’ve been rehearsing at your place every day this week, even though you don’t know where you’ve landed in the battle bracket yet—not until this Friday. You’re trying to nail down the perfect set, and Maki and Yuta have come up with this great instrumental, but you keep coming up short—you’ve been a useless lyricist lately, all up in your own head about pointless, trivial things.

Now, though—you feel like you have some words to get out. Feelings to get out, if you can just figure out how to articulate them.

In your tiny room, you find yourself thinking about him—getting coffee with him, skateboarding, the lighting in his bedroom, the bar—The Fix, you think.

And you pull out your notebook and start to write.

directory | next | meet shibuya incident | meet cursed technique | meet black flash | meet the rest of the contestants | welcome to the fix

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites

a/n: no, these are not real songs. yes, they are from the notes app archives. oops. ANYWAY SORRY IT’S 10K WORDS I’M HYPERFIXATING LMK WHAT YOU THINK

[luckieduckiie]

Daddy & Duke | d. dennis & chrisnxtdoor

in which Chris asks Duke to watch yall & he does…

Duke wasn’t a conservative guy by any means, everyone knew that, but nothing could have prepared him for the request which Chris had just asked of him.

“Man what?” Duke asked again, unsure if he had heard what his friend really said.

“Bro, I’m for real man. She said it was something she has always wanted and you’re the only guy I know mature enough not to go run they mouth about it or make shit weird,” Chris stated matter of factly.

Duke scratched his head through his beaning, “So you are asking me to sit and watch you and your girl fuck?”

“Yeah nigga, she says the thought of that shit turn her on.” Chris stated.

“Man, that’s some crazy shit. Did she say she wanted it to be me that watched yall?” He quizzed.

“No, actually she said she didn’t want it to be anyone from AMP at all since she aint met yall yet and she don’t want the first impression she makes to be one like that.” Chris sighed. “But Duke you a handsome guy man so who else better. No homo though nigga.”

Duke just stared at the man across from him for a moment digesting what was just said. “Nigga what?”

“Man yes or no, fuck you making shit difficult.” Chris said slightly annoyed and before Duke could think about what he was nodding his head in agreement.

“Bet, ima drop you a lo tonight around 9 ish. Ima take her to dinner and ill leave the key underneath the mat just go in to the bedroom and wait ight.” Chris said excitedly.

“Ight man, fuck.” Duke agreed standing up.

“Real shit, thank you man. I knew I could count on you.” Chris said standing up and pulling Duke into a hug.

“Yeah, of course.” Duke said hugging the other man back.

With a smile Chris pulled away and walked out of the older mans room leaving only him and his thoughts together.

→

Go inna bathroom we finna be in

Duke stared at the text as he sat on the blue bed. When he had got the location from Chris he had just woken up from a nap and had to hurry to shower and get dressed and drive to the apartment. He was scared that there would be someone else in it but he was glad to see that the only other occupant was a small dog.

He pushed himself up off of the edge of the bed and entered the bathroom. Just as he did he heard the front door click open and a string of giggles coming from who he could only presume was you.

“Chris, what the fuck did you do?” He heard you say still giggling as you two got close to the door.

“Nothing, just keep yo eyes closed ok.” He heard his friend say as the bedroom door creaked open.

“Fine.” He heard you huff as you sat on the bed.

“Ok ima just put this on you so I know you aint gone peek ok baby.” Chris said.

“Alright.” You giggled.

A few moments passed and soon the door opened to expose Duke standing in the bathroom grinning ear to ear.

‘Sit right there’ Chris mouthed pointed to the grey velvet chair in the front of the room. Duke gave him a thumbs up and slowly walked to the chair careful not to make any noise, a certain anxious feeling making its way into his stomach- excitement disguised as anxiety really.

“Ok babygirl don’t take off your blind fold until I tell you ok.” Chris said creeping closer to you.

“Ok daddy.” You said voice quieter than before Duke noted mentally. He could finally get a good look at you for the first time too and he wanted to congratulate Chris, he did good. He could tell you were tiny, at least in comparison to the two of them just by the way your feet dangled as you sat on the edge of the bed. He could also see your thick thighs as they were on display by your shorts, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. You looked good and honestly if you weren’t with Chris he would try to make you one of his.

Chris sat down beside you and pulled you into his lap positioning his dick right in the crevasse of your ass and your back to his chest. “You ready love.” He whispered in your ear before peppering kissing along your neck. His eyes locked with his friends for a moment before they started looking back at you.

You only moan in response tilting your head back and arching your back a little pushing your ass into his dick even more. Duke drinks up the sight, shifting in his seat as he sees his friends hand slide in your shorts and begin massaging your pussy.

“Daddy take them off please.” You beg spreading your legs apart to give him better access.

Chris silently obliges and swiftly removes them leaving you only in a gray thong. Dukes breath hitched as he say the wet spot right on your pearl. He shifted his hips up and legs apart as he began to feel himself hardening at the sight. It was so lewd, but so sexy.

He watched as Chris’ long digits began to rub circles right in the wet spot and the fabric sank within your folds- his lips still nipping at your neck all the while.

“Daddy, stop teasing me.” You whined, hands gripping his wrists.

“Tell me what you want mama, use your words.” He murmured into your neck, large hands rising to grip at your breast.

“Fuck me, eat me, anything.” You say breathlessly.

Chris smirks as he begins to tug the end of the fitted top you had on slipping it over your head, careful not to pull the mask off along with it exposing your breast. Duke took a sharp breath at the sight feeling himself becoming harder by the moment.

“You want daddy to fuck you baby?” Chris asked lowly in your ear his own length nudging at your ass.

“Yes please.” You pleaded, pussy throbbing as he was still rubbing slow circles through your underwear.

Wordlessly Chris lifts you from his lap just to slip his shorts down to release his dick and you can now feel it against your ass. He slides your panties to the side finally exposing your slick, aching pussy. Duke becomes restless at the sight and feels like this surprise for you is somehow punishment for him. He wants to glide his fingers through your folds and watch as you lick your juices off of them, but he is imprisoned to the chair in front of you.

Chris rubs himself through your folds basking in the slickness of your clit coating his tip before he finally positions himself with your entrance and slowly lowers your down onto him. Your breath hitching as he finally fully gets to a halt, the entire length buried inside of your wetness.

“Fuck.” The younger man mutters closing his eyes briefly to bask in the bliss.

At these words you slowly begin to grind on him and Dukes eyes become transfixed on your breast that bounce during this motion. He can’t help as his hand goes down to palm himself through the sweats. Chris notices this and grins. He grabs your hips and begins thrusting into you.

“Ah fuck, daddy.” You cry out, reaching back to find his body.

“ You like that baby?” Chris questions.

“I love it daddy!” You cry out.

As the words spill out of your mouth Chris without a second thought reaches up and takes off the fabric that was covering your eyes. As your eyes adjust to your renewed sense, you immediately lock eyes with the man in front of you and gasp.

“You like it huh baby, this what you wanted aint it?” Chris is the one to speak first and honestly it is turning him on too. He never expected that having one of his closest friends or anyone for that matter watching him in such an intimate setting as this would give him this kind of thrill, but it did. He wanted to bend you over and offer Duke your mouth as a sign of gratitude, but this was more than enough for the moment.

Your mouth is open, but words aren’t able to come out as you stare at the man in front of you. His lips were slightly parted as his hand gripped his own length through his sweatpants, and you were able to see the diamonds that were in his mouth. His high cheekbones and chocolate skin were illuminated perfectly in the lighting from the room, and you couldn’t deny that he was handsome.

Chris hand gripping your throat bought you back to reality and you let out a loud cry as he pulled you into the bed and pushed your head down into the blanket. Duke breathed heavily as he spotted thesmall cherry tattoo on your right cheek and snaked his hand underneath his waistband pulling himself out.

“Answer me baby.” Chris says again, snaking a hand around your neck “Aint this what you wanted.”

“Y-yes, this is what I wanted daddy.” You moan, as he slams into you.

“What you supposed to say? “He growls voice low.

“Thank you.” You say your voice barely above a whisper.

“I cant fucking hear you baby, what you say?” He asks again hips snapping into yours, sending ripples throughout your ass.

“I said thank you daddy.” You cry as you grip the sheets in attempts to brace yourself as he continues to assault your cunt.

“And what you wanna say to Duke?”

The older of the two perks up as he hears his friend finally mention his name.

Your eyes low and full of need bore into his tight ones and you moan. “T-thank you Duke.” You moan out.

Dukes tempo increases as he continues to stroke himself and for the first time since he has been here he spoke, voice low and full of lust, “Ya welcome gorgeous.”

Chris continues his assault of you and Duke continues to watch, transfixed on the sight in front of him and unable to take his eyes away even if that was what he desired. He wanted you, and in some small part of his mind he wanted to be with yall. He wanted to add to this dynamic of dominance and create his own role in your life. He wanted to see you underneath him just as you were with Chris, he wanted to be the one to taste you on his lips, to kiss you, to squeeze you. He wanted you more than anything right now, but Chris. He had the upmost respect for his friend, afterall if not for him he would have not been able to witness you and all your glory.

“You hear that baby,” Chris voice broke him away from his thoughts, “He said youre gorgeous. He thinks you look gorgeous like this- ass up, pussy full of my dick”

Duke now took a little time to admire his friend, and he was beyond surprised. He never took Chris as one to be this vocal ever, but here it seemed as though he was the shining star, leading you with his words and actions and everything that you did was as an extension of him.

“Y-yes daddy, I heard him” You whine, “Thank you Duke.”

Duke cant help but float at how effortlessly his name tumbles from your lips.

“You gone be a good girl and squirt for daddy and Duke?” Chris says feeling his climax nearing, and reaching his arm around and fingers beginning to massage your clit.

You cant help the loud whines that escape your mouth as he stimulates your center eyes locked on the man in front of you stroking himself vigorously to the tempo of you and Chris, lip between his glistening teeth.

“Yeah that’s it baby I feel it squirt on daddy dick and show Duke what a good girl you are.” Chris grunts his breath getting quicker as he feels himself closer and closer to his release.

Your body goes limp and a mixture of cries and huffs escape your mouth as you feel the man behind you pull out and attaches his mouth to your clit sucking as you squirt all over his face. He only stops when you go limp and fall onto the bed to reinsert his dick and pound you like a madman chasing his own climax.

Your eyes shoot to Dukes as you hear a struggled grunt escape his mouth as his hand and hoodie become painted with white stripes.

“Fuck.” You hear Chris cry as you feel his dick twitch within your walls and his warm cum fills your insides. His strokes are small as he fucks you through his release. Once he’s done he collapses onto your side, arm on your ass as he rubs circles into it.

Exhaustion washes over you like a tide and you feel your eyes become low and your mind clouded. Chris takes a few moment to catch his breath before sliding off the bed and walking in the bathroom taking a quick look at his friend as he did so.

“Hey, ima run her a bath if you wanna wait till I get her in I can get a rag and some of my sweatpants.” He offers his friend.

“Type shit, preciate it.” Duke agrees grateful.

As Chris begins to walk off he looks back at the older of the pair and grins, “That shit was good wasn’t it, I was killing her shit.”

Duke cant help the laugh that escapes his lips. “Hell yeah nigga you did yo shit.”

“On God nigga but say next time you gotta join that shit had her ass wet as fuck.”

Duke couldn’t help but smile “Type shit, next time.”

yall like it?? i felt like i finally got back in my element lmk what yall think!

[alrightieaphroditie]

across the road | masterlist! (mayfield!reader x eddie munson)

*:·ﾟ✧ back to masterlist

series summary: after the death of your brother, you move back home to hawkins, indiana, to help take care of your little sister, max. living in the trailer park isn't the fantasy you imagined, but soon you find a brightside in the form of eddie munson, your neighbor.

₊ ⊹ part one: take the edge off | you're exhausted, feeling burnt out, and your neighbor won't stop practicing guitar with his amp turned as loudly as possible. you need a pick-me up, and eddie munson has just the thing. ₊ ⊹ part two: shining armor | after working a double shift, you realize you left your house key locked, well, inside your house. while waiting, a thunderstorm hits, and the only one around to save you is your neighbor. ₊ ⊹ part three: feeling alright | you decide to surprise eddie by going to his band's gig, though you somehow end up babysitting max and the rest of the hellfire gang, too.

cutie-patootie dividers by @saradika-graphics!

[leonw4nter]

I Love You, Without Wax. Forever Yours, Leon

Boyfriend!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

Leon finally managed to find the keys to the jet ski, making sure Ashley stuck close to him as he fumbled with the slot for the key to try to get it to work. After a few minutes, he managed to get it to run, hopping in first before extending a hand to Ashley to help her get on since she had a slight limp going on. Revving it up, the water mobile got to work and moved them through the murky waters. He amped up the speed, swerving expertly through rocks but a rock he didn’t spot from underneath the water scratched the side of the jet ski, causing it to start taking in some water. They would both die at this rate; the hole wasn’t big enough and the water wasn’t rushing in fast but the weight of two people on the jet ski caused water to do more damage than it originally would. He had to come up with a vital decision: swim to freedom or send one person back home.

“Ashley!” He began. He turns around, locking a stern gaze with the blonde.

“I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say.” She nods, her expression serious and furrowed in focus.

“I’m going to jump from the jet ski and I’ll just see you out instead. This thing’s taking in water and with my weight added, we’re not going to make it. Since you’re lighter you won’t sink but with me, we will so I’ll get out. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, worry drawn all over her features; no layer of grime and soot could mask the fear in her eyes.

“What? Leon, you know I can’t–”

“Trust me, Ashley. I won’t leave you. Your father trusts me, right? I know what I’m doing. I’ll guide you on your way out of this cave. It’s just going to be like that one time we rode that cart.”

She still looks doubtful,  unsure of what she’s going to do next with Leon just running alongside her in a matter of seconds if she nods her head. Leon’s right: her father trusts him and she does too. Whatever they did, they always made it out alive thanks to him so they’ll make it out of this one as well. With a shaky breath, Ashley sighs and readies herself to take the handles.

“I’ll jump in 3, 2, 1!” He counts down before jumping, barely making it to the docking area of the tunnel and starts running, making sure he’s running alongside Ashley. Ashley notices the jet ski grow lighter and suddenly a little more of the jet ski’s bottom isn’t submerged in water anymore. With newfound encouragement from this, she takes the handles and speeds off. Though she doesn’t exactly avoid the debris in the water expertly like Leon did mere moments ago, she’s still managing to do well and Leon’s sure her chances of making it out in one piece are high.

“That’s it!” He said. “Keep going until you make it out, I’ll watch you from behind!

She didn’t respond but Leon knew she heard him; she was just focused on trying to keep herself afloat and make it out alive from this hellish place. The island was blowing up, both Leon and Ashley knew that so time wasn’t on their side. Leon’s legs were starting to cramp up, having run at faster speeds without a break and running low on water content. Soon, he saw a tiny sliver of golden light at the end of the tunnel but this is where a serious explosion from within the cave was being set off; he wouldn’t make it in time.

“Go, Ashley! Keep going! You’re almost there! Just keep up the speed and don’t take your hands off of the handles!” He instructed, cupping his mouth to amplify his voice amidst all the booming and popping of explosives.

Ashley got to the ramp and sped up, coursing through the air before hitting the salty seawater with a large splash. Had she not held onto the handles, she might’ve fallen out of her seat when she landed on the water. Cautiously, she peeked on the side of the jet ski to look for the hole that formed. Thankfully that splash didn’t cause more damage, much to her relief.

“Leon!” She suddenly remembers. She circles nearer to where she came from, looking at the fiery dock. The dock was going up in flames, black smoke billowing from somewhere inside the island. “Leon!” She calls out again.

She moves a little closer to the dock but there is no sign of the agent. She suddenly recalls how his voice sounded more faint before she got it, which could mean he lagged behind and stayed there up until the explosion. But he’s Leon, right? He can’t just leave her like this, he’s got to come back too!

“Leon! Please, you promised that we’d both make it out didn’t you?” She exclaims as fear swells in her heart and threatens to render her lost and directionless.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s a bad day for you today: paper work is piling up, two department heads have already given you a talking-to over the mistake of the juniors under your team, and your fellow seniors aren’t helping you fix anything or get the other papers done. Sometimes you wished you were a field agent, actually going to places and moving around and fighting stead of sitting in a stuffy office and completing the never-ending load of papers dropped at your desk. Despite the strong urge to switch departments and just be a field agent for the thrill of it, you felt kind of guilty for wanting to voluntarily put yourself in physically taxing situations. Your Leon was a field agent once, until he never came back from a mission; he died making sure the president’s daughter got home in one piece. Even if it’s been well over  a year since his death and you’ve managed to get back to normal, life still feels incomplete without him and his stupidly charming jokes.

“Y/N, we’re all going to hit the clubs later to look for some guys. Wanna come with–”

“Listen, Emerson.” You harshly articulated. “Instead of hitting the clubs to look for the newest hookup this week, why don’t you and the others get to your desks and actually do something productive. I got fucking yelled at by our superiors for shortcomings that was caused by you and the other little fucks but I took the brunt of it instead and you have the audacity to go out and party.”

“It’s not like I knew–”

“It’s not like you’d know because you’re a lazy piece of shit!” You fumed. The entire office falls silent, only the low thrum of the AC being heard in the space. Emerson’s face contorts into disbelief and slight shock, taking offense to your words even if it’s true. Her friends cross their arms and start whispering amongst themselves, shooting you with a disdainful look. With a roll of her eyes and an irritated huff, she takes a small stack of papers in her arms before heading to her cubicle.

“Damn bitch, I was just asking,” you hear her mutter under her breath.

“I don’t ever want to hear about Valentine’s Day, okay? The love of my life is dead.”

Your own words catch you and everyone else by surprise. Everyone, including yourself, had thought that you’d formally come to terms with the loss of Leon but it seems that there’s still a part of you that will forever subconsciously wish for him to miraculously come back. You promised Leon that you’d always be happy every Valentine’s Day, even without him but here you are: acting like the Valentine’s Day counterpart for the grinch. Everyone in Leon’s department and yours knew that you two were one soul in two bodies; inseparable. To see you without Leon was a huge change for everyone, an unfortunate change that you and they will have to get used to.

With an exasperated sigh, you sit back into your chair and get working. Despite all the tension in the room, you’re thankful that this outburst managed to motivate everyone into doing something for once. With a stretch and a sip of coffee for some energy, you got right into reading reports and signing them for the next few hours until your day ended.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After a day that seemed to drag on forever, you finally got to come home and unwind. Before going home, you made a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up some junk and beer. Sitting in bed wearing one of Leon’s shirts, you reclined into the pillows and sighed deeply; there were still papers that needed reading and signing but they weren’t a huge load like earlier so you decided to let those wait. Feeling a little thirsty, you get up to grab a cold beer from the fridge before moving to find the can opener. The spoon drawer was near you but you didn’t want to bend your utensils even more so you decided to dedicate some time to look for it. After a few moments, you still couldn’t find it despite opening up every cabinet door and pulling on the cabinets. You remembered how Leon had a tendency to hide things on shelves only he could reach so maybe he decided to hide it on top of the cabinets. Moving your beer elsewhere, you get on the kitchen counter and make sure you’re balanced, one hand holding on to a cabinet door and the other feeling around for the tops. Your hands are slightly sweaty, worried that you’ll take a misstep and fall down but you push through anyways; you’re determined to have that drink. After a few minutes of feeling around, you still don’t find it but you feel something smooth albeit a little dusty. Interested, you pull the smooth something back to you and see an envelope; the envelope doesn’t have any exterior markings and is only sealed by a singular waterproof band aid but with a turn of the envelope you see your name written with Leon’s handwriting. Even more interested than you were, you forgo looking for the opener and drink altogether to opt for reading the letter instead. Besides, you miss your boyfriend with each passing day and today is Valentine’s Day so why not cut the pity party and indulge in some totally-not-heartbreaking reminiscing. Heading to your room and getting into bed, crawling to Leon’s side of the bed you take the letter and gently tear the band aid seal off. You open it up and take the paper out; the letter was written at the back of an old document, blue ink strokes creating texture at the back of the paper.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

04-29 To my pearl Y/N, You’re asleep right now after a pretty lengthy breakdown session (not the dancing kind, unfortunately) so I had to sneak out of bed and look around for whatever to write in. I seriously hope you don’t turn around and drag me back to bed, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now. Anyways, I find myself drawn into the depths of my emotions and unable to contain the overflow of adoration that fills every corner of my being whenever I’m with you– when you laugh, when you smile, when you cry. How do I begin to express the depths of my love for you? Will an entire lifetime be enough time to show you all that I’ve got for you? How can mere words encapsulate the boundless ocean of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you? I’m very grateful that you find solace within me, a sanctuary where you could lay bare your vulnerabilities without fear of judgment or rejection (and vice versa: me being vulnerable around you). When you speak my name, the universe pauses, holding its breath in honor of our bond. When we touch, I feel my spirit lifted to dizzying heights and surrounds me in this happiness that defies description. Your essence, your soul is like a beacon of light from a lighthouse in the darkest of my nights and the stormiest of my seas, calling me to the safety of the shore. You are the gem I consider myself lucky to have love and receive love from amidst the vast chaos of this universe. All those flowery words aside, I’m sorry that I kept something from you while you were having a rough time– I’ll be going on a 3 month-long mission to the other side of the world. I just didn’t want to tell you while you feel like the world is against you and I’m really sorry– I promise I’ll tell you really soon. I really don’t want to leave you but I have to, out of a deep-rooted desire to protect the world and to protect you. Three months will feel like forever but please hold on for me, okay? I’ll get you something from Build-A-Bear when I get back :) Though the nights will feel longer, please promise me that you’ll get some rest and live happily while I’m elsewhere (but still think of me too yaknow). If… If I don’t come home then celebrate every single holiday out there because it’ll make you happy. Do something with your life when I couldn’t with mine. Don’t sulk and wallow in self-pity coz I’d really hate to see that if I somehow get turned into a ghost :/ For the meantime that I’m not yet out for work, I’ll keep holding you close to my heart. Wherever I’ll end up, I’ll still be yours– always and forever. I love you :) Without Wax, Leon :) xoxo P.S. (I saw this at a random Almanac) “Sincerely” came from the Latin word “sin cera” which means “without wax”. Dishonest sculptors with imperfections in their sculptures filled in mistakes with wax and when something was flawless, they labeled it as “sin cera”, which is “without wax”. Basically, what I wanna say is that my love for you is real and genuine :) And also it sounds cool right? x

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. MIssing you so much right now,” you whispered as you traced Leon’s name with a finger.

You smiled to yourself, pressing a feather-light kiss to the closing portion of his letter. God you missed him dearly; what you’d give just to have him back. Folding the letter back and placing it back inside the envelope, you kept it near your heart for a bit before putting it on your bedside table. Walking over to your work desk you pulled out a neat sheet of paper and your favorite pen, getting ready to pen a letter that’ll respond to Leon’s though he’ll never get the chance to read it.

NOTE - I decided to write angst for Valentine's Day but I decided against making it super sad so... yeah. Also I attended a seminar yesterday since every single one of us were required to attend and it was... okay. Like it wasn't super fun but I did speak up a lot and a buncha girls went to me and hugged me ?????? Like that was actually really nice, I need more hugs ( -> touch-starved ). I finished writing this on the 8th and my grades release this Saturday so let's hope I don't die 🙏🙏🙏 Also, I read uhlunaro's fic called "Bone-Chill" and OH MY GOD ?????? IT WAS SO GOOD ???? LIKE THAT THING STUCK WITH ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY-- IT WAS THAT GOOD. GO READ IT GUYS CMONNNN!!!!!! Anyways, I know it's not the 14th anymore but I hope you had a great Valentine's Day and thank you so, so, so, much for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! <33333333

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[sanakimohara]

“Pretty When You Cry” B.C.

“Although she is alone…she knows the truth.” + “If you think I’m pretty lay your hands on me…”

Summary: Chan as a yandere. Borderline stalking type of yandere to be exact.

WARNING: MDNI, cursing, smut obviously, mentions of kidnapping, and cnc…among other things.

A/N: this was a request and it caught my interest so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did while thinking/writing about it.

—————————————————————

A knife could slice right through the thick tension between you and Chan right now.

Not because his eyes were glaring daggers straight into your Bambi like stare or that you were purposely keeping your distance from him by sticking close to the nearest exit. No, the reason was much more complicated.

You. More specifically, you assuming Chan wouldn’t be jealous or possessive of you.

Now, he had you all alone to ‘talk’ but you knew that just meant your night was about to riddled with consequences from him. So, planted yourself near the door -a useless precaution you took to feel safer.

Little did you know, he’d locked it the moment you wandered into his room. You came to him under the impression he just wanted to show you something he’d been working on and was only slightly aware of his true intentions.

Now, you wished more than ever that you’d paid more attention to your small suspicions, but it was too late for you to leave without having to go through him. Chan made sure of that by pocketing his hotel room key card.

“Chan, please..” you started to reason with him, voice trembling slightly as you spoke, and your body involuntarily pressing against the locked door as he stood up abruptly. His face was unnervingly expressionless but his eyes were piercing, swirling with all the intensity of emotions you’d become familiar with.

Jealousy, lust, and possessiveness. Anger was present too -steadily growing the longer he replayed the image of you flirting with some random staff member during their concert.

“Let me ask you something,” Chan was now inches from you, his entire body dwarfing yours in comparison, and his voice shallow with simmering rage. He really was terrifying when upset and with envy added into the mix he was downright evil sometimes.

Shamefully, it turned you on more than anything else. Being afraid of him, what he might do you, and how he’d take his anger out on you. It was so wrong for you to be wet already, merely in Chan’s presence, and forced to stay there until he decided to let you go.

Which was never, in his opinion.

“Do you like pissing me off?,” he nearly growls the question and your tummy does several slips hearing the rasp carry through to his accent. “N-no, I don’t Chan-“ you answer him carefully, face heating up as your fear amps up to new heights when he grabs your jaw with one hand and places the other above your head to lean forward on. “Yes, you fucking do. Why else would you go around whoring yourself out to other men then?” Chan taunts you with a faux smile, raising his brows slightly to add to his condescending tone, and you huff softly in return.

“Channie, I promise we were just-“ you’re cut off again as his hand on your face falls to your throat, gripping it tight until you have to hiss in a breath, and cling to his wrist with both of your small hands. Chan holds you there, counting the seconds until he sees tears prick your lidded eyes, and only then does he loosen his hold on you.

“I don’t care what you were doing, little one. This is the last time you’ll ever try me, understood?” You could barely hear him over your heart drumming your ears from being choked so ruthlessly seconds ago, and when you don’t answer him immediately Chan takes that as a sign of defiance on your end.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, dark eyes filling with a new emotion as he watched you struggle to breathe with his hand still putting pressure on your throat. You already looked so broken in for him, probably bound to drop to your knees if he let you go, and your pathetic attempts to wriggle out of his grasp never failed to amuse him.

Chan would never let you go, you knew that, but still tried with all your might to fight him off -even if you’d been craving his affection the whole time.

It was part of your dynamic. Chan could drag you through hell and back, you’d insist on running away, but ultimately fail and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to,” Chan hums lowly, passing his thumb over the fullness of your bottom lip before slowly pushing it into your warm mouth. “Suck,” he commands, pressing down on your tongue slightly as you start to do exactly that. Quiet whimpers vibrate through your throat as you lick and suck on his thumb, doe eyes sparkling with need as he watched you obey his every word.

You could feel his hardened cock through his jeans, the length of it pressed right against your pelvis and lower stomach, and you were tempted to reach down and palm him just for the hell of it. Unfortunately, he’d quickly pull your hand away, reminding you that ���you’re not allowed to touch daddy until I say you can…”

You hated that rule but knew the consequences for breaking it would only leave you edged to the brink of delirium and his cum plowed deep into your sore womb.

Chan was certainly not the man to tease -unless you were prepared to endure the corresponding punishment.

So, you took pleasure in sucking on his fingers, imagining it was cock instead, and continuously drooling on his digits until he removed them. You coughed softly as he did, chest heaving, and eyes still watering as they refocused on his face.

Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at your disoriented expression, always so neat and sweet in public, but behind closed doors and in his view you just looked like a love sick pup waiting to be used.

You half expected him to push you down to your knees, already accepting your fate of him using your throat as his personal cock sleeve, but Chan had other ideas.

He closed the distance between you two, ducking his head to capture your spit slick lips with his plump ones. You moaned as he pushed his tongue past yours, taking his time to explore your mouth, and swallowing the short and desperate noises you let out in between each kiss.

Your hold on his veiny wrist and arm traced up to his neck, gently massaging the muscle there before your fingers tangled through the hair at the back of his head. Chan grunted into your mouth when lightly pulled on his dark hair, “I should’ve fucked you in front of him,” he mumbles harshly against your lips, hands gripping your hips to turn you around in one quick motion.

A small yelp flies from your chest as your frontside meets the cold surface, Chan’s body weighing down on yours as his hands slid from your waist to the closure of your black high waisted shorts. He started to undo the tedious buttons and zipper while tracing his lips down the right side your neck. You whined as he littered mark after mark on your unblemished skin, his hands now hooked on the sides of your shorts to pull them off, and his heavy breaths causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You would’ve liked that, yeah? Daddy fucking you in front of everyone so they’ll never forget who you belong to?” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, tone bordering on desperation as you whined and reached a hand up to caress one side of his face. “Yes,” you moan loudly, finally shedding your usual timid nature to fully enjoy the moment, and Chan smirked against skin hearing your delicate voice reach a new octave.

“You’re such a slut, and you’re all mine too,” he muses, slipping one hand right between your shaking thighs, and delving past the fabric of your underwear to cup your mound. “Ahm…stop! No..!” You half moan and half whimper as he takes in the soaking expanse of your cunt.

It was embarrassing. You were definitely more than eager to have him touch you and now he knew it.

Chan laughed dryly at your pathetic attempt to refuse him, fingers sliding up and down your folds to collect as much of your cum as possible before swirling those same fingers around your clit. “You want me to stop? That’s not what your body wants, now is it, baby?” He didn’t need you to answer, your broken cries were enough for him, and the dazed look in your eyes only intensified as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“…s-stop p-please….ill be good…just-just let me go…” you try again to win your freedom, voice cracking as a few tears began to trickle down your flushed cheeks. His attention to your clit had migrated to your entrance, prodding it open with two thick fingers before he shoved them into you as deep as possible. “Fuck ..,” Chan inhaled sharply from how tight your cunt was, already clenching around his fingers like you’d break if he put anymore in.

He might’ve came right then and there if he hadn’t already built his stamina up but his cock still twitched just from the constant pulsing of your wet core.

“Daddy, s’ too much....” you weakly called for his attention, panting as he curled, pumped, and twirled his fingers inside you. He reached every spot that made you see stars and even had you circling your hips to the pace of his hand. “I don’t care,” Chan responded gruffly, back to marking your neck and shoulder as he sped the pace of his fingers up.

You choked on a string of moans, face contrasting into a mindless picture of pleasure as he abused your cunt. “Nooo.. ah!” You tried your best to keep protesting, yet he only added to your torture by slowly circling his thumb on your clit . Now, you were at a loss for words, head emptying of any thoughts besides cumming on his hand.

You were incredibly close to the edge and Chan noticed from just one look at your beautifully lost and delirious stare. Your head lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes rolling slightly as he brought you to your climax with precise pumps into your dripping cunt. “Cumming…” you whimper into the crook of his neck, letting the smell of his cologne fill your head as the knot in your tummy snapped. He groaned as you gushed on his hand, making a mess in your lacey underwear as well, and watched you rock your hips to ride your high out.

Chan smiled at the sight, in love with how messy and careless you could be when he touched you. “You’re gonna cum like this on my cock next, princess…” he announced it like a command and all you could muster was a shaky exhale followed with a lazy smile as you felt him drag his fingers out of your sticky entrance.

“You’ll never forget what it means to be owned by me again, baby girl..”

—————————————————————

Should I make a PT2? I kind of already did hehehe….we will see how PT1 goes first, yeah? 🖤

BONUS CONTENT +

(Sorry not sorry for this…🖤)

[jakeysbuttsheeks]

Jake x fem reader

Warnings: sexual content, oral sex (m rec), fingering, period sex etc . 18+ mdni

"goddamn it baby , what the fuck do you want me to do about it!? Huh?" Jake yells, slamming the door open as the argument from the car commences into the house .

"there's a limit Jake. That girl almost had her mouth on yours" you state , tired and frustrated.

"Jesus- i can't help it okay?! I didn't know she was gonna-" Jake slams the car keys on the coffe table as he kicks off his shoes.

"you didn't even push her away! And don't fucking throw your shoes around the living room I'm not your fucking slave!" You cut him off , finally screaming as you picked his shoes up and walked over to put them away with yours .

"you know how it would've looked if I pushed her away! " He screamed back , looking over the couch at you before standing up and making his way over to you

"and I give you every goddamn thing! So don't ever fucking say I treat you like a slave!" He points at you , screaming so loud it shuts you up.

"if anyone's a slave it's me! I work and tour all the time and come home and give you everything you could ever want and you still want more!? What the fuck do you want me do!? Shove her away and destroy my reputation?!" He screams at you as you take in a shakey breath .

"You know part of my job is entertaining those women right ? and haven't i told you enough that it means nothing to me?! I tell you everyday! You just can never trust me can you ?!" He screams but he softens immediately after when he notices the look on your face , immediately sympathising with you. You were mortified to have upset him so much.

He sighs and looks at the floor , his hands on his hips . the sigh was thick with disappointment and mostly tiredness but also guilt. He was tired from the show he just played and there was no way he could've know that fan would lean in to kiss him like that, he had little to no time to deal with the situation.

He walks awayas he started unbuttoning his shirt. He probably wanted to change and crawl into bed and sleep you thought . But instead he walks over to the home studio. He would always lock himself in that room for hours after an argument.

You walk in after a while, hearing the strumming of the beautiful blues notion he was playing. blues always got you in the mood. He knew you'd entered but he kept playing, standing by the amp , shirtless with his guitar on him , back facing the door.

"Jake" you call softly as you approach him but he doesn't respond, first you thought he couldn't hear you.

"baby" you humm as wrap your arms around his waist as you approached him from behind, pressing your lips to the side of his neck. He knows you've come to apologise , but he ignores you . You realise he's playing hard to get.

You let him go and walk in front of him and he still doesn't even bother to look at you , busy looking down at the fretboard as he played.

You immediately drop to your knees . You wanted him , but this would also be a test on how much he loves you , the best reassurance was to watch how much you could do to him . If you had to be honest , you were quite petrified he might not even want it or might not even get hard, or show little to no reaction to it.

He never faultered in his playing, playing flawlessly, not even budging , not even looking at you as you looked up at him , his guitar rested on his right upper thigh, leaving just about enough room for you to reach his crotch.

You rested your hands on his legs , slowly moving up till your fingers barely touched his crotch . You were careful but deliberate.

"fuck" he muttered as he hit a wrong note , but almost immediately continued again. You smirked to yourself, your confidence now building up.

You took the liberty to gently paw him through his pants , feeling him getting hard under your touch , you watched his face as he closed his eyes for a few seconds, pretending he was into the song , but you knew he was enjoying what you were doing. He was trying to ground himself.

You knew he was watching you even though he wasn't looking at you , pretending to be busy looking at the fretboard. You decided to put an end to his silent treatment.

You leaned in , opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out , running it against his zipper , his bottom half was fully clothed and you knew he could barely feel it but he was definitely dying you watch the show you were putting on for him.

You let your teeth sink gently into his hardening bulge making him involuntarily jerk forward while completely going out of tune. He knew there was no way he was winning this battle but he wanted to see how far he could push you .

So he kept ignoring you , going back to playing the riff again. You roll your eyes before pulling away , grabbing at his belt and unbuckling it , you accepted the challenge he was throwing at you.

You were not gentle as you pulled his pants down , almost disrupting his playing but he worked around it as you pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles, revealing his hard cock that screamed for more attention.

You didn't touch him yet , your hands slid behind his legs as you kissed his length before swallowing him into your mouth , humming around him. The guitar restricted room for you to use both your hands and mouth on him , so you decide to just use your mouth .

His chest was heaving and he was damp with sweat , fighting the urge to drop the guitar and grab your head and fuck his cock into your mouth. But he was stubborn, putting all his focus into what he was playing, thought it was sloppy and he knew it . He mentally cursed at you for having such an effect on him.

Your fingers caressed his legs and dug into his soft flesh as you worked him with only your mouth , knowing it would work him up but leave him wanting more . You sucked on his length, deepthroating him before pulling off and teasing his tip with your tongue , moaning and drooling on him and continuing it over and over till you felt his legs trembling , he'd almost stopped playing completely.

You pulled back and pepperd kisses all over his length and exposed thighs . You heard him let out a shaky sigh as you finally met his eyes , half closed and lust blown , his eyebrows pinched together . He looked defeated . You couldn't help the smirk that formed on your face . He'd stopped playing at this point, unable to bare it anymore. His right hand resting on the body of guitar as he gripped the fretboard tightly in his left .

You stuck your tongue out again circling his tip before teasing the underside, you felt him trembling again . You took him fully into your mouth as he took the guitar off his shoulders and rested it on the stand next to him , his hands almost immediately slipping into your hair and gathering them in a make shift bun for you , caressing your face in the process.

You watched him as he thew his head back , his eyes rolling back and his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.

You perked up when he let out a pained moan, pulling on your hair as he pushed himself deeper into you, making you gag on him causing him to moan again.

You loosened your jaw and placed your palms on his thighs with your cheeks sucked in and tight around his cock as he began fucking your mouth with small jerks of his hips , throwing his head back but looking back down at you immediately , letting his hair get messy as he began rutting his hips into you , like how he did with his guitar on stage.

He was panting, let out moans with each breath , getting higher in octave as he came closer and closer to his high .

"god fuck baby- fuck!" He froze, his body tensed up as his muscles contracted while releasing into your mouth, pushing your head down on him again and you gagged around him again , swallowing him down clean.

He let go of his grip on your hair but you kept sucking him dry making him whimper. Till you pulled off and he let out a whine . you held onto him when standing up.

"fuck baby you take me so well" he panted , his voice desperate and whiney as he grabbed your jaw , squishing your cheeks together and with his other hand , pulling you against him by your waist. you were drunk on how fucked out he looked . He looked like this everytime he got off the stage .

"please" you beg , not sure what for ,as his grip on your jaw made your lips purse out.

He crashed his lips into yours, the both of you almost tripping as he walked you backwards , stepping out of his pants that were at his ankles.

his hands grabbed the ends of your slimfit black dress that he'd been wanting to tear off you the minute he saw you in it, and pulled it up to your waist.

"Jake" you stop him and part from his lips to speak , immediately grabbing his wrists as he reaches for the waistband of your panties. He looked at you in a daze but he was concerned as to why you want him to stop.

"I'm on my period" you say , your were dying to kiss him again, your eyes half open and lust blown.

"ohh is that why you've been acting so cranky" Jake states in realisation. You roll your eyes and kiss him again , sloppy and desperate as his hands reached to pull your panties down again and you stopped him , again.

"I'm on my period" you reminded more sternly.

"now when has that ever stopped me baby?" He asks in a quick mumble, not even waiting for an answer before he resumed pulling your panties down and kissing you , not even caring about the pad you had on.

He continued walking you backwards , till your legs touch a chair behind you , you almost tripped in your panties that were at your ankles but quickly kicked them off.

"sit." He breaks the kiss as he pushed you to sit down on the chair , which you did immediately. He got down on his knees along with you , barely breaking the kiss as he lifted your legs to rest over each armrest.

"jake- it's gonna make a mess" you mumble against his lips. It wasn't the first time you and Jake had period sex , but it was usually in the bathroom or somewhere more sensible for that activity, not his home studio.

He ignored you and felt his hand slip into your hair by your neck , grabbing a fistfull of your hair and wrenching it back making you wince as your head flew back , his lips immediately attacking your neck in sloppy open mouth kisses, groaning as he tasted you .

His other hand your felt caressing your inner thigh , squeezing the flesh slightly before his fingers dipped into your soaked cunt .

"Jake" you gasp , feeling his cold fingers on your sensitive clit as you eyes rolled back. Your abdomen and back ached from your period and Jake knew the only way to help that.

He slipped his thick middle finger into your hole, you could almost hear the squelching. And you could smell iron in the air from the blood , you could almost taste it . It seemed to turn Jake on more than anything.

"fuckk" Jake whispered to himself shakily as he parted from you to watch his finger slide into you , getting coated with your dark red slick .

You screamed out a moan when Jake finally curled his finger up , sending a jolt of pleasure through your body , easing all the discomfort and pain you were feeling. You threw your head back and arched on the chair , grabbing his shoulders to ground yourself as you spread your legs wider for him.

"that's it baby give it to me" Jake mumbles as he starts pumping his finger into you and curling it up simultaneously , perfectly in your gspot . His strong fingers were to die for , the way they pulled you to an orgasm with little to no effort.

"you're already squeezing me" he huffs with a small smirk as he slipped another finger in , keeping them tightly together as he curled them up into your gspot , almost making your ass lift off the chair as you let out pornographic moans .

"comon baby" "that's it doll" he coaxes as he watches you try to calm yourself and take deep breaths . But he picks up his pace while his thumb pushes into your folds , starting small circles making you dig your fingers into his shoulders, your legs threatening to leave it's place on the arm rests and wrap around Jake instead.

Your breath was out of your control and you were a mass of sweat , panting and moaning out Jake's name mindlessly as he worked you with skill and commitment.

His eyes met yours as a devious smirk forms on his face , like he'd just gotten some idea . Just then you felt the two fingers he had inside you spread apart and scissor you before curling up , making you throw your head back with your jaw hanging open and your eyes fluttering closed as he repeated it , making your legs tremble and bringing you to the brink .

"fuck! Jake!- I'm coming!- fuck-!" You whine and moan as you thash around in the chair before one last deep curl of his fingers had you gushing all over them.

"fuck" you whine as you look down at Jake , he had his eyes peeled on the way your juices squirted out from around his fingers , feeling the way you clenched around him so hard . You couldn't help but feel horrible at the mess it would've made.

Tears brimmed your eyes for a reason you couldn't point out and when Jake pulled his fingers out you felt a huge save of emptyness wash over you, causing the tears to roll out .

Jake couldn't get his eyes off your cunt but when he finally did look up at you, his expression immediately turned to worry.

"what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He asks immediately , his voice dripping in fear.

"baby say something" he shook your knee, his clean hand cupping your face as he moved closer to you , still on his knees in front of you.

"I'm so sorry jake- you do give me everything and i- I'm sorry for what i said today- i just can't stand the way those girls look at you. I know there's nothing you can do and-" you start to blabber but he stops you.

"hey" Jake shushed you, his voice stern as he brushed his thumb over your cheek , wiping the tears.

"nothing's going to ever seperate us" Jake says, shaking his head as he stares deeply into your eyes.

"You're my girl. nothing is going to change that" he said , almost like it was a demand. His words broke you down even more . He had a slight smile, knowing he was going to make fun of you for being so dramatic later.

"c'mere" he murmurs as he pulls you into him , hugging you tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his hair.

He whispered softly comforts as he turned his head to press his lips against the side of your head , stroking your hair and back while you sobbed softly.

With that he picked you off the chair as you instinctively wrapped your legs around him , carrying you to the bathroom so the two of you could have a nice hot shower.

[shewrites444]

jealousy [dom! xavier thorpe x reader smut]

[ this is a requested prompt that i am super excited to write on! i will say this one shot does contain some angst and toxic themes, but it does end positively, of course. enjoy! ]

word count - 3k

[summary: the reader unintentionally makes xavier jealous at the carnival, and he intends to make her feel the same way he felt. when she confronts him about his immature actions, the two argue, but there's only one way that seems to prove their feelings for each other are true.]

[warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, arguing, angry make up sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink]

-

"don't you understand how stupid this all sounds, xavier? you're my boyfriend, for christ sake! why the hell would i make any sort of move on ajax?" i shout across the room as i slip my black converse on, looking over to my frustrated boyfriend, as he paces back and forth across the wooden floor, the boards creeking at each obnoxious step he took. "all he did was help me win that panda at the fair. he is obviously interested in enid, and has been your friend for years, so he'd never do anything to come on me, and you know i wouldn't allow it anyway!"

"you sure? because the way you hugged him when he handed you that prize said otherwise. what's next, he wins the poe cup in your honor? i don't fucking think so." xavier says, walking over to grab his keys and aggressively hand me my jacket. "i can't believe we have to go to that stupid dorm party tonight. i’m sure he's going to be eyeing you all night."

i roll my eyes and scoff, sliding my jacket on before opening the dorm’s tall door. "it's you that for some reason still wants to go. once again, no sense in making someone jealous when they don't want me in the first place. you're being ridiculous about this.”

he takes my hand as he locks the door, before walking down the hall with me and towards the next one, remaining silent during the five minute walk to ajax's dorm. our fingers were interlocked but the hold was fairly loose, as the two of us stared at the floor while we walked through the darkened hallway.

xavier and i had been together for a few months now, and while we rarely argued, jealously, and being overly possessive, seemed to be a pressing issue in our relationship. my boyfriend wasn't the kind to take other guys flirting with me lightly, and assumed that the smallest shit, like me literally hugging ajax, who was also my own friend, to be a sign of me returning affection that wasn't even there from either one of us in the first place.

upon reaching the dorm, xavier opened the door and greeted everyone with a smile on his face, sitting down on the bed aside yoko and enid. as i went to sit on his lap, he lightly nudged me off, which caused me to raise a brow, and plop down aside him instead.

"so, how was the carnival?" enid asked with a smile, looking around the room with excitement. "did you guys win any prizes? i got another shark plushie for my collection!" she pointed across the room to the giant mountain of stuffed animals against her window that was practically unable to be missed.

xavier rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "[y/n] won a panda, actually. it's super cute, if i say so myself, but it would be much cuter if i won it for her. isn't that right, ajax?"

ajax sighed, looking up to xavier awkwardly. "chill, bro. i happened to be at the booth and lended her a hand. she's not the best aimer when it comes to darts." he laughed in an attempt to ease the burning tension, but obviously, that made xavier way more amped up.

"she's also not the best when it comes to showing her friends affection. she's also not a big hugger, so she must have been really thankful for your help."

"xavier, quit it. you're being embarrassing at this point. i really don't want our friends thinking this of you, or our relationship." i frown, looking around the room of clearly uncomfortable guests while he nods, patting his hand on my thigh.

"you're right, baby. my fault." he says sarcastically, looking to enid. "i'm sure you had some sort of game for us to play, like usual?"

she nodded awkwardly, coughing to break the silence. "i did, xavier.. everyone up for truth or drink?"

everyone nodded, and we were thankfully, back into our normal routine as a group. back and forth, everyone went around with the bottle of cheap vodka passing from hand to hand as we each admitted something silly we were asked, or took a gulp of the horrifically smelling alcohol.

when it was xavier's turn, enid must have not thought her question through, because it sure got him riled up again.

"have you ever had a crush on someone else in the room besides [y/n]?" she asked, everyone muttering a small 'ooo' under their lips.

he chuckled, taking the bottle and placing it between his legs before looking to bianca. "obviously, enid. that lovely siren across the room from me."

bianca blushed softly, batting her blue-colored lashes before her cheeks flushed. "that's ancient history, xav."

that nickname slid smoothly out of her mouth, and boy, it stung me like a hornet. i held a fist aside my thigh to avoid letting anything slip out of my mouth, while i watched the encounter through a blank face. enid looked to me with pure panic on her face, as she mouthed an obvious 'sorry' while i merely nodded at her words. it's not like she was the one being a complete asshole about this, or blowing it insanely out of proportion.

"is it?" he answered with a wink, causing bianca to giggle loudly, as ajax interrupted the sinful flirting with a gesture towards xavier to grab the bottle of vodka, taking a hefty sip to prepare himself for the next few hours of pure torture for everyone except xavier, apparently.

the fact that he’d flirt with his ex in front of me to purposely make me feel jealous blew my mind. yeah, it worked, but this was on purpose. i knew he didn’t have feelings for her anymore, but he sure knew how to make it seem like it.

the next hour was complete and utter torture for me, as i watched everyone discuss the latest nevermore gossip and enid give a tour of her giant squish collection. as the night grew closer to midnight, i not only grew tired, but i was also ready to head back to my dorm and call it a night. it was best i didn’t speak to xavier tonight or crash at his place, because i really didn’t want my night to go further south than it already had.

“well,” i began, standing up and grabbing my phone, stuffing it into my pocket. “i think i’m gonna head back to my dorm, guys. it’s been fun.” i smile awkwardly, nodding to enid and giving her a soft thumbs up. “thanks for inviting me, i’ll see you in class monday.”

i turn around to walk out, shutting the door behind me before i speedily walk down the dark hallway with tears collecting in my eyes, reaching my dorm and upon shutting my door, i kick my shoes off and plop onto my bed, batting my eyes and wiping underneath them to calm myself and avoid any further embarrassment, even though i was now alone. while xavier did mean the world to me and i truly did love him, he could be a serious asshole at times.

i hear a knock on my door and i roll my eyes with a scoff, clearly aware of who was waiting for me on the other side. like i said before, i really didn't want to speak to xavier tonight, but he was really leaving me no choice.

i stood up and opened the door with a blank expression, allowing him to walk inside. i turn around, my hand still on the knob as i looked up to him with a frown.

"if you're just here to argue, then you might as well walk right back out this door." i say sternly and a bit flatly. "what you did at enid's was so embarrassing for not only you, but us. you know i didn't mean to make you upset, xavier, but you made me upset on purpose. you don't even like bianca, so why the hell would you pull that?"

xavier rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged lightly, walking over to sit down on my unmade bed. "look, i'm sorry, babe. i really didn't mean to make you that upset, i was just trying to make you feel the same way i felt."

i frown, walking over and sitting aside him, taking his hand and squeezing it softly. "our relationship isn't a competition. we need to talk things out before coming to conclusions, and also using other people to make someone else jealous? that's just fucked up."

"i'm sorry." xavier said quietly, resting his chin on the top of my head with a heavy sigh. "you know i love you."

"then act like it." i say coldly, looking up to him as i chewed on my bottom lip.

he pursed his lips together with a heavy sigh, pulling himself away from me before standing up, grabbing me by the ankles and pulling me down to where my back pressed against the mattress. he climbed on top of me and i lightly nudged him off, attempting to squirm out of his tall build.

“let me prove i’m sorry, baby, please..” he said quietly, pressing his lips against my neck while i continued to fight his touch.

he ran his tongue against my heated face until he landed at my mouth, pressing a soft kiss against my lips while his hand reached in between us to slide the waistband of my pants down.

i shook my head, kneeing him in the stomach, which quickly got him off of me.

“ouch!” xavier frowned, looking up to me as i got off the bed. “what is wrong with you, [y/n]?”

“what’s wrong with me?!” i turn to face him, my hands naturally throwing themselves into the air as my frustration only grew. “you’re the one who thinks i’ll just forgive you after we have sex.”

he sat up, sliding himself off the bed before walking towards me until my back was against the wall, with nothing but his hands sliding down my waist and to my ass, squeezing lightly before he leaned down to kiss my forehead.

“i didn’t say you had to forgive me, babe. just let me please you.”

i roll my eyes. “i would’ve been pleased if you didn’t throw a hissy fit tonight. now get away from me before i knee you where the sun doesn’t shine, xavier.”

he pulled away, holding his hands in the air and smirking down at me. “okay, fine. you wanna play that way, we’ll play that way.”

“what?” i quirk my brow. “what way?”

“the way where you pretend you don’t want me railing the shit out of you right now.” he smirked, taking my hand and pressing soft kisses against my knuckles. “i know you’re mad at me, but that doesn’t stop you from imaging what it would feel like to have me inside-”

“shut up.” i interrupt, pulling my hand away harshly before walking back to the bed. i sit on the side and cross my ankles as they hang above the floor. “you can leave now. seriously. maybe we should sleep this shit off.”

“gosh, [y/n], stop being so hardheaded.” xavier complains, walking up to me again before wrapping his hand around my neck, the other motioning down to press against my warmth through my pants, causing me to moan lightly.

a satisfied sigh slips from xavier’s lips as he steps closer, looking down at me as i avoided eye contact. “honestly, [y/n].. i’m not sure you’d be able to take my dick tonight.” he grinned, glancing down to the erection that was forming in his sweatpants. “i don’t know if you can handle me fucking you while i’m upset with you.” he slides down my pants to my knees, leaving me in my white panties, which were already covered with my wetness, despite how much i didn’t want to admit it.

“mind if i stretch you out a bit, baby?” he smirks, moving my underwear to the side before his thumb attached to my clit, rubbing softly and earning a heavy moan from my lips. he added one digit into my folds, fingering my softly as he began to open my walls up.

“you’re gonna take my dick so good, love.. i’m gonna make sure you’re mine tonight, and always, hm.. would you like that, baby?” he said softly, watching as he pumped his finger inside of me, while he gently added another.

i bite my lower lip, shaking my head slowly as i looked down between my legs. "you make this so complicated.."

"then fight it." he said back, raising a brow as i looked up to him with a shocked expression. "that seems to be your favorite thing to do tonight, right? fight?"

i scoff, rolling my eyes. "you're hilarious if you think i'm gonna fight this. go harder. you wanna fuck me mad, then prove it."

he nodded with a grin, tightening his fingers around my neck as his others finger fuck my dripping entrance. his digits curled within me, sending me into a loud moan as i looked down to watch his erection grow in his pants. his eyes glued against my entrance while he added another finger, making me yelp as all three fingers fucked me deep, stretching me out the more he pushed himself inside.

he pulled away once the bed began to hit the wall with each movement he made in me. he helped to flip me around, pulling my underwear down to the floor before sliding his own off.

"this doesn't mean i forgive you." i mutter, feeling his tip press against me before pushing inside. "i'm still angry."

"how about this," xavier began lifting my ass up on the bed and pressing my back down, pushing himself deeper inside of me, causing me to yelp as his balls hit my clit through one rough thrust. "less talking, more fucking. we'll talk about it in the morning."

i groan in annoyance, pressing my head against the pillow as i nod, sighing heavily. "fine. fuck me then."

"that's more like it." he leaned down to peck the back of my neck before his hands locked around my waist and he began to thrust, holding me tightly while he fucked me from the back, the two of us moaning in sync while the bed shook and the floor squeaked at xavier's every move.

"you're so wet, baby.. it's like you being mad at me just turns you on even more.. you gonna let daddy come in you tonight?" he cooed in my ear, pressing a kiss against my sweating temple. "i need to fill you up."

glancing up to him, i bite my lip and nod, small moans slipping off my lips as he pumped in and out of me, his hands traveling down to rest on my ass as he continued to thrust.

"you gonna answer me in more than a nod?" he said sternly, slowing down his pace as he leaned over to watch my facial expression drop.

my cheeks heated up and i sighed, locking eyes with him and nodding once again. "fine." i scoff, grinning softly. "fill me up, daddy. you wanna be so possessive over me, then prove it. make me yours."

"fuckkk.." he moaned at my words before starting a rhythm inside me again. his fingers gripping my ass cheeks with every thrust.

after a few more strokes, he wrapped one hand around my stomach before flipping me over, hovering over me and positioning himself once more.

"hold your legs." he said, watching as i took both of my ankles with each hand, holding them above me while my legs spread further and he slid inside of me once more. "i wanna be as deep inside you as i can be, love."

he slammed himself in and out of my walls, my legs shaking from the amount of stimulation he was filling me with. as xavier thrusted, i watched his face while he stared at my chest through my tank top, one of his hands trailing to slide underneath the shirt and to rub against my nipples, playing with the stimulated buds as he fucked me harder and harder.

"rub my clit, too. i wanna finish with you, xav." i demand, looking up to him as he nodded, moving his free hand to press against my skin, rubbing lightly as he worked himself up to even the stimulation out.

i moaned loudly the more his thumb press against the sensitive bud, and the more the knot in my stomach grew at his touch. god, no matter how mad i was at him, he sure knew how to make me reach an orgasm. every fucking time.

"i-i'm gonna - fuck - i'm gonna cum..!" i shout through staggered moans, my eyes closing as my back arches underneath me and i let go of my legs, both feet crashing onto the bed while xavier picks up his pace, closing his eyes as his orgasm grows closer as well.

i begin to buck my hips up, reaching over to grab his hand that was on my chest, interlocking our fingers together and squeezing his hand as we both reach our orgasms.

xavier moaned heavily, slowly pulling out of me before laying aside me. he cupped my cheeks, pulling me into a deep kiss. he smiled softly before taking my hand again.

"you still hate me?" xavier said with puppy dog eyes, taking me by the waist and pulling me closer to him. "because you're stuck with me, love."

"oh, fuck you." i kiss his cheek before slowly sitting up and pulling my top off. "fuck me again and maybe i'll hate you a little less."

"sounds good to me." xavier said before grabbing my waist and pressing me against the bed once again. he climed on top of me, kissing me once more. "i really do love you, though, [y/n]. i'm sorry about tonight. i let jealousy get ahead of me."

"hmm. how about this? less talking, more fucking." i copy his words from earlier, winking at him. "but i love you, too." i peck his lips in return, before pushing him down on the bed, and getting on top of him.

[ a/n: i also did want to mention i am back in classes and working more, so now so my posts may not be as frequent :'( nevertheless, please still share your thoughts and feel free to send me requests! ]

[the-way-astray]

HIIIIII

Katie gave me tips for this fic

You can put her partly to blame for thus 😃

This one is called:

High on Your Love

Stria was peacefully drinking her bottle of youth in the hall at Foxfire. She was almost late to class, but she really did not want to go to her inflicting lesson with Councilor Bronte. Last week, she dropped him down with one blast of pain, and he still didn't seem pleased with her.

The bell's shrill ring revertebrate off of the crystal walls. She cursed under her breath. Late. That would make him even more mad. She stalked down the hallway.

When she came up to the corridor, someone snatched her wrist. She yelped before seeing it was just her boyfriend. She let out a sigh of relief.

Keefe smirked at her. He took her other wrist in his hand, bringing her knuckles up to kiss them.

"Hey gorgeous," he whispered.

Stria felt a smile tug on her lips. "Well, hey. You know I have class, right?"

He tucked a curl behind her ear. "I know you don't want to do that. You should ditch with me."

She made a half-hearted attempt to pry from his grip. He tightened his hold. The idea really did sound quite appealing. Did she really feel like dealing with Bronte? Hanging out with Keefe felt much more appealing.

She felt herself become quite antsy at how nonchalant Keefe was being. The eyebrow raise he gave at her emotions, amped up this feeling. She needed him. Now!

He took his sweet time, however. He knew exactly what he was doing, grazing his fingers over her midriff, up her side. He settled his hands on her hips.

Stria held her breath, waiting for him to make his move. She wanted it. Craved it. Needed it.

He stayed where he stood. That knowing smirk creeped his face.

She circled his neck with her arms. Keefe brought his face closer to hers. Just out of reach for her to reach him. He was teasing her. That sly twinkle of his shone in his eyes. How she despised this boy for driving her crazy.

Stria ran a hand up his neck, to his hairline. She took a fistful of it in her hand, dragging him closer.

Keefe took one hand from her hip. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes. If he didn't stop stalling soon, all of the creatures inside of her were going to bust her open and escape. She knew only his touch would calm them.

"Are you gonna kiss me, or what?" She finally asked.

He brushed her lips with his thumb. She felt warm. Her lips tingled where he had touched them. She sucked in a breath.

"Eventually," he murmured.

He continued stroking her lips. That wouldn't do with her patience.

"If you don't kiss me here in the next five seconds, I'm going to bite you," Stria informed him.

He challenged her with a smirk. "Alright, bet."

He leaned down and molded his mouth to hers. She locked onto him like a key.

She had meant that statement in reference to his thumb. But she would gladly go this route, too.

Sparks flew throughout her body. She wanted to try something. She had never done it before, but she was supposed to be in inflicting currently. So it was worth a shot to try.

She pushed out the ecstacy she was feeling in that moment out to Keefe. She knew it had worked when he made a noise of approval in response. His lips moved from her mouth, moving down to her neck.

She gasped in air. The dizzying rush the lack of oxygen gave her reminded her she still needed to breathe.

Keefe seemed to remember that as he pulled away. He panted for a moment before going back to her lips. His tongue brushed the corners of her mouth.

Stria balled up Keefe's tunic in her hand. He moved one hand to tilt her head back as he placed the other on her waist to back them behind the corridor so they'd be hidden from direct sight. He continued until her back was pressed to the wall. He went further, squishing up against her.

They kisses slowed from there. Keefe lazily moved back to her neck, slowly going further to her collarbone. She hummed her contentment, scratching her nails up and down his back.

Someone cleared their throat. Stria practically shoved Keefe off of her. It was far too late. Council Bronte had his arms crossed, tapping his foot.

Stria desperately wanted to try and find an excuse. It was no use, however. If her messy hair, smudged lipstick, and aggravated lips didn't say it, Keefe with remnence of her lipstick on his face, their wrinkled tunics, and both of them with a few hickeys sure did.

They both ended up with detention. The mentor had made sure to separate them. However, both Stria and Keefe thought it was very much worth it.

*sigh*

"High on Your Love" what love???? there is no love to be found here.

"Stria was peacefully drinking her bottle of youth in the hall at Foxfire." already i've been characterized wrong. i'm a dehydrated freak. hope this helps.

"She was almost late to class, but she really did not want to go to her inflicting lesson with Councilor Bronte. Last week, she dropped him down with one blast of pain, and he still didn't seem pleased with her." late to class? me? never. and bronte actually gets pulled out of the weirdness with negative emotions, and put into it with positive. so that's interesting.

"The bell's shrill ring revertebrate off of the crystal walls." i believe foxfire's bell is actually chimes or something like that?

"She yelped before seeing it was just her boyfriend. She let out a sigh of relief." the word boyfriend in reference to the relationship between me and keefe made me take so much psychic damage i had to close this and take a second. and "relief" is not a word i'd use to describe my feelings toward keefe. "rage" is better.

"Keefe smirked at her. He took her other wrist in his hand, bringing her knuckles up to kiss them." GET YOUR ASS LIPS OFF OF ME BOY.

""Hey gorgeous," he whispered. Stria felt a smile tug on her lips. "Well, hey. You know I have class, right?"" banging my head into the wall i HATE looks-based compliments. this is so fucking out of character i'd be shoving his face into the wall. and why is he whispering? speak up, boy. and i'd never skip class to make out with someone . . . especially if that someone was keefe . . .

"He tucked a curl behind her ear. "I know you don't want to do that. You should ditch with me."" GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF MY HAIR. WEIRDO!!!! and classic keefe. sigh.

"She made a half-hearted attempt to pry from his grip. He tightened his hold. The idea really did sound quite appealing. Did she really feel like dealing with Bronte? Hanging out with Keefe felt much more appealing." my full-ass heart would be in that action, actually. and you switched the sentences, here i'll fix it for you: "did she really feel like hanging out with keefe? dealing with bronte felt much more appealing."

"She felt herself become quite antsy at how nonchalant Keefe was being." yeah antsy with RAGE because i want to PUNCH him. and keefe is not nonchalant. at all. he's the exact opposite at all times. is this why he's so annoying and cringe all the time? mayhaps.

"The eyebrow raise he gave at her emotions, amped up this feeling. She needed him. Now!" i've passed away. i'm dead. the cringe fucking knocked me out, shot me, dug my grave, and buried me. and the exclamation point isn't helping with that. HELP ME.

"He took his sweet time, however. He knew exactly what he was doing, grazing his fingers over her midriff, up her side. He settled his hands on her hips." the midriff is above the hips. and if he takes this long, i would get so bored and faint for sheer annoyance halfway through. this man is so crusty!!!! GET OFF!!!!

"Stria held her breath, waiting for him to make his move. She wanted it. Craved it. Needed it." hello i'm dead. goodbye, it was nice knowing you.

"That knowing smirk creeped his face." i would punch him :) i hate smirking boys.

"How she despised this boy [ . . . ]" accurate and the rest of the sentence doesn't change the meaning of it at all. trust.

"Stria ran a hand up his neck, to his hairline. She took a fistful of it in her hand, dragging him closer." and then she ripped it out. painfully.

"If he didn't stop stalling soon, all of the creatures inside of her were going to bust her open and escape." there are two wolves inside me: hate keefe, and be angry at keefe. they are never at war and coexist quite peacefully, actually.

"She knew only his touch would calm them." hello i am perished. i am deceased. i am gone. NO IF HE TOUCHED ME I'D SHOVE HIM OFF ME. BECAUSE HE'S FUCKING. CRUSTY-ASS KEEFE. EW.

""Are you gonna kiss me, or what?" She finally asked. He brushed her lips with his thumb. She felt warm. Her lips tingled where he had touched them. She sucked in a breath." NOOOOOOO. NOT THE "SHE SUCKED IN A BREATH" THIS IS SO SHANNON. NO, WAIT. THIS IS SO YA.

""Eventually," he murmured." this crusty musty rusty dusty man.

""If you don't kiss me here in the next five seconds, I'm going to bite you," Stria informed him." i do bite people (my friends). so that makes this sentence roughly *checks notes* 0.000000001% accurate.

"He challenged her with a smirk. "Alright, bet."" NOT THE ALRIGHT, BET . . . WHY DOES HE TALK LIKE A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD PREPUBESCENT BOY???? AND HOW IS THIS NOT TAKING ME OUT. EWWWWWW.

"He leaned down and molded his mouth to hers. She locked onto him like a key." what the actual fuckety fucking fuck is this word choice. makes me feel like he's sucking my face off.

"Sparks flew throughout her body." HELP NOT THIS FUCKING LINE.

"She pushed out the ecstacy she was feeling in that moment out to Keefe. She knew it had worked when he made a noise of approval in response. His lips moved from her mouth, moving down to her neck." NOT THE ECSTASY . . . NO. NO. NOT ME FUCKING. INFLICTING ON HIM. ALAYDA I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU. and get your crusty-ass fucking lips off my neck, keefe. fuck you.

"Stria balled up Keefe's tunic in her hand." literally why would i do that. why.

"He moved one hand to tilt her head back as he placed the other on her waist to back them behind the corridor so they'd be hidden from direct sight. He continued until her back was pressed to the wall. He went further, squishing up against her." why are we stereotypical teenagers . . . nobody actually does this shit . . .

"They kisses slowed from there." can they stop entirely. please.

"Stria [ . . . ] shoved Keefe off of her." THIS SHOULD'VE BEEN THE ONLY LINE IN THE ENTIRE FIC. and don't even think about what i took out that changes nothing.

"Council Bronte had his arms crossed, tapping his foot." THANK YOU BRONTE (i still hate him)!!!!

"If her messy hair, smudged lipstick, and aggravated lips didn't say it, Keefe with remnence of her lipstick on his face, their wrinkled tunics, and both of them with a few hickeys sure did." i don't wear lipstick, i think i've worn it maybe once in my life because my dad forced me. unfortunately my hair does get messy easily. big sigh. "aggravated lips" alayda i want you dead in a ditch. what the fuck. were we biting each other what how why when where what.

"They both ended up with detention. The mentor had made sure to separate them. However, both Stria and Keefe thought it was very much worth it." I HAVE NEVER GOTTEN DETENTION EVER WHAT THE FUCK. I WOULD NOT THINK IT WAS WORTH IT. RUINING MY PERFECT RECORD???? FOR KEEFE???? EWWWWWW. EW. EWWWWWWWWW. GROSS.

in conclusion, i'm going to kill alayda and frame katie for the murder. you're both horrific terrible people and i'm going to block you both.