#SaB fic

[grasslandgirl]

from Mal Oretsev, your Sturmhond, with love

[Shadow and Bone TV. Grishaverse. Mal/Nikolai/Alina. 11k. post-season 2 epistolary get together fic]

No kissing, he’d told her, despite the way her eyes darted down to his mouth. Not unless you’re thinking of me, instead of trying to forget him. What Nikolai hadn’t said, that morning before the world started crashing down around them all over again, was that he thought of Mal, too. Of the twisted-together web the three of them made. His engagement to Alina, how tremulous the thing was, how wary Nikolai felt of hoping too badly for it to happen. Alina and Mal’s history, warped and tightly knotted and strained at the edges. The uncertain shape pulled between himself and Mal, an understanding he can’t put words to and a faith held in the unwavering needle of his lucky compass, warm against the skin of Mal’s chest. Nikolai wonders if he’s the only one who can see it- the three of them, Ravka spread out beneath their hands, back-to-back-to-back. He wonders if he’s the only one who wants it, fearsome and vicious and hungry.

He doesn’t think so; but he’s been wrong on occasion.

---------------------

or, Mal and Nikolai write each other letters, and all three of them find their way home.

hugs and kisses to jack @kingfisherkink for beta reading this LITERALLY MONTHS ago and to everyone who’s been so enthusiastic and encouraging about me talking abt this and then not posting it for literally ages <3 xoxoxoxo

YOU CAN READ FROM MAL ORETSEV, YOUR STURMHOND, WITH LOVE HERE ON AO3 !!

[darnalearnstowrite]

the sound of an unconditional surrender

A/N: Well, Shadow and Bone S2 blindsided me with a new "I don't know how the hell this would work but I'm here for it" ship and I had to write something, even if it's just a quick 10-minute ficlet. Why the hell my brain insisted on Kaz POV I have no idea, but I hope it works.

Name, as is my tradition, from a Diablo Swing Orchestra song.

---

When the Volkvolny returns to port, he's there. Of course he's there. A distance away from the pier, perhaps, but he's there.

Oretsev gives him a nod as he strides past carrying ropes and hollering orders at the disembarking crew. He nods back -- already distracted.

She's walking down the pier in confident strides, hair blowing in the breeze, sun glinting on her daggers. Tolya's big arm rests around her shoulders and she's not shrinking away. In fact, hers is curled around his waist, fingers tucked into his belt.

His jaw tightens and his fingers ball into tight fists around his cane. He plants his feet and locks his knees, forces himself not to be a coward for once.

Her gaze lands on him. And brightens, softens.

His follows suit, with a warm, knowing smile. He blinks and takes a breath, momentarily reeling.

-

When she's standing in front of him, she squeezes Tolya's arm. The pirate's gaze sweeps her face before he gives them a gentle nod and steps away.

Not far. And while his gaze ostensibly searches for his sister, he knows he's still tuned into her, listening for her breathing, her heartbeat. He can respect that.

"Did you find your brother?"

She exhales. Relieved, but her smile is bittersweet. "Yes. He has a new family, now. We... promised to write."

"Hmm." His gaze bores into her. "And you?"

She tilts her head in that familiar, exasperated way and sighs, challenge heating her eyes and sharpening her voice.

"I came back, didn't I?"

The to you is silent and he wonders if he imagined it. He blinks slowly and glances five steps away and to the left. "Yes. You did."

This time she does not fail to roll her eyes. She reaches out her left hand and Tolya is there at her side, fingers intertwined with hers, his gaze steady and warm on her. And then on him.

She lifts her right hand in front of her, palm open, eyes burning. Willing him to figure it out. Willing him to swallow the dregs of fear and pride and accept.

"Yes. We did."

---

[wesper-png]

I was crying and loving while you were howling at the moon

Malkolina | 6.3k | 1/1 | T | Complete 

Summary: “Do you usually have visitors in here?” Mal asks before he can bite his tongue. Nikolai grows very still.

Intruders. He meant to say, intruders. Do you normally find intruders in your private quarters? Not, do you and Alina often invite guests over for a three-way romp?

Malkolina awkward morning after fic! 

[rainbluealoekitten]

"It was a scene he had imagined billions of times, but nothing was as good as this. It was simultaneously soft and passionate; a soothing balm and the cause of the burn. Everything else melted away, leaving Wylan and Jesper at the centre of the universe. No— Wylan was the centre of the universe. Nothing else mattered. Jesper smiled gently against Wylan’s perfect lips, messing up the kiss, and Wylan laughed breathily into his mouth. It was all Jesper could do to not mention how poetic it was that they were sharing the same air, breathing life back into each other. His legs felt jelly-like as he put one arm around Wylan’s waist and ran his other hand through Wy’s silky locks. His strawberry shampoo flooded Jesper’s airways as they continued to kiss, and he thought to himself that if he had to die, this was how he should go; gasping for breath as his nose bumped into Wylan’s, both of them holding onto each other like they were drowning, pulling each other closer as if somehow they could merge into a single body."

extract from chapter 13 of "Can't We Be Seventeen?" by (me) a_wild_fern on ao3, which you can read in full here:

[tryalittlejoytomorrow]

my hand was the one you reached for (all throughout the Great War), ch.3 ✨

andom: Six of Crows / Shadow and Bone (TV)

Pairing: Nina/Matthias

Tags: alternate universe: modern royalty; arranged marriage; enemies to lovers

Status: in progress???

Summary: Nina decides to enjoy her last night of freedom before her trip to Fjerda to meet her betrothed. What happens in Ketterdam stays in Ketterdam, right?

Extract:

Nina changed the chat title to remember that guy I fucked at the Crow Club?

The first reaction is instantaneous: Kaz left the chat.

Nina added Kaz to the chat.

Nina: come on, get over yourself, Kaz

Kaz left the chat.

Inej added Kaz to the chat.

Jesper: it's not like they fucked on your desk kaz

Inej: don't test him jes

Inej: so what about that guy? is he causing you any trouble?

Jesper: I'll shoot him for you, Nina love

Nina: I appreciate the gesture <3

Nina: turns out, he's *him*

Jesper: ???

Inej: oh, Saints

Jesper: what's happening???

Read more on AO3!

[theriverdiary]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey Characters: Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik Additional Tags: Crush at First Sight, Pining, POV Jesper Fahey, Implied Relationships, Falling In Love, Developing Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Jesper Fahey Has ADHD, References to Canon, References to Addiction, Canon Disabled Character, no beta we die like jordie, Mild Sexual Content, Angst, Reflection, Complicated Relationships, Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa Friendship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Self-Worth Issues, Hurt Jesper Fahey, Jesper Fahey Needs a Hug, Kaz Brekker is Trying, Wylan Van Eck Loves Jesper Fahey, Pre-Poly, Idiots in Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, polycrows origin, POV Kaz Brekker, Kaz Brekker Has Feelings, healing together, One Big Happy Family Summary:

Jesper was enchanted with Wylan's eyes. They were consuming his thoughts, reaching into his heart and replacing old, hopeless wishes with softer, happier ones. Ones he could almost see coming true. Almost. If only he'd managed to notice where, or on whom, those eyes always seemed to linger.. it might've spared him what he's feeling right now.

 In which Jesper Fahey, the hopeful farmboy, chose the wrong person to care about, again. Or did he?

[honestlydarkprincess]

Seven Sentence Sunday!

tagged by the lovely @alyxmastershipper, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, @cowboy-buddie, and @bigfootsmom ❤️

it's still sunday for like 3 more minutes so here we gooooo, have some of my helnik canon divergence because the s2 ending hurts my heart even though the angst is delicious but anyway here

And then, finally, he was free.

“He’s all yours, Brekker,” The guard called out to the tall man dressed in all black, an ornate cane grasped tightly in his hand.

But Matthias only had eyes for the woman standing beside the man— Brekker, apparently.

Nina.

The second he laid eyes on her, everything else fell away.

“Nina.” Her name tore from his throat, an agonized whisper.

“Matthias.” Her response was just as quiet, just as heartbroken and full of longing.

since sunday is almost over just consider this a tag for next week <3

tagging: @bigfootsmom, @morganofthefairies, @dykemunson, @fatedbuddie, @swiftiebuckleys, @alinamal, @maygrantgf

[to-pick-ourselves-up-7]

En un momento

The Darkling x Alina Starkov

Sometimes, Ivan came to find out, family meant the child you found in the woods, your boyfriend-lover/husband, a cat with too much personality for its own good, and a stray General who is also your boss.

But life could be a lot worse.

Ao3

[peterpan-in-neverland]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa

Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa

Additional Tags: Touch, Touch Aversion, Talking, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, im bastardizing the plot of the show for my own means, just as the writers of the show bastardized the plot of the books for their own means, as god intended i do

Summary: “And what do you want, Kaz?” she asks, taking a step towards him.

“To be—”

“—To be buried under the weight of your money, I know, I’ve heard it before,” she interrupts, an edge to her voice. He has made her feel wild and untethered, made her feel small and weak, made her feel like she has the world held at the point of her blade. Perhaps it is time to make him feel something, too. “But that can’t be it. That can’t be everything.”

“It is.”

She shakes her head. “It isn’t.” She is so close to him now; she could reach out and touch him, if she wanted. She could pull his gloves from his hands, see if they are covered in blood the way the rumours say they are. She could see if Dirtyhands is truly a name that he has earned. “What do you want, Kaz?”

“I…” He stares down at her, his eyes on her mouth. It is not an answer, not really, but it is something, it is a step, a clue.

--

OR; kaz and inej, after shu han

[claracivry]

Added a post canon Kanej coma episode (x) to my hurt Kaz fic! Would love to hear your thoughts!

Also cleaned up some of the mistakes/missing words on chaps 8, 9 and 10 (the post season 2 ones), just so you know ;)

Come get your Kaz whumpppp

[quillsthrills]

Chapter 3 of my attempt to blend book canon with show changes is up, and it is time to enter the Fjerda and the Ice Court. But what will compel Inej to climb six stories in the dark when she already found – and lost a little faith – her purpose?

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck Additional Tags: Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Touch Aversion, Healing, Love, soft kanej, Kanej - Freeform, Friendship, Crows, Canon Compliant, Inej Ghafa-centric, Kanej-centric Summary:

Inej has left her friends to hunt slavers and search for her family, but when a cryptic letter arrives she makes a decision that will once again alter the course of her life. On a journey touched by danger and death, will she find the strength to heal and the courage to love?

This story starts at the end of Shadow and Bone S2 and encompasses my vision for season 3 from Inej's point of view. The aim is to comply with the SoC duology canon, except for where the show has already deviated.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[suugarbabe]

curls || mattheo riddle

summary: you couldn't help yourself, you just had to fix them. it's not like he seemed to mind your fingers in his hair anyway.

an: another yap fic courtesy of me and @musingsofahufflepuff ; you're welcome. had to include the pic because if you have brown curly hair i'm in love with you.

warnings: none; just fluffy goofiness.

Staring wasn’t usually an issue for you. Typically you could take your glances here and there and still focus on what you needed to do. But today, you just couldn’t turn away.

Mattheo wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't even really your friend...you didn't think at least. You weren't in his little group of pals. But he also didn't ignore you like he did most people.

People often thought it was strange how nice he was to you. Not that he ever really sought you out or anything, but if your paths crossed he would say hello to you, would smile at you even.

You knew he was attractive, and your friends were convinced that he thought you were too. Of course you brushed those off. However if he was your boyfriend your current irritation could be fixed without question.

Mattheo's hair looked flat as hell.

The top of his head looked like he'd been wearing an American baseball cap for about a week straight. His hair seemingly flat around his skull and his curls twisting at the ends.

It really was a shame. If he would just fluff his roots his entire hair would come back to life, you were sure of it. But you couldn't just jump the desk in front of you to get to him, rifle your own fingers through his scalp and revive his ringlets.

"Alright everyone! Partner up, partner up!" Slughorn waved his hands in the air, dismissing the class to form pairs for brewing Draught of the Living Death.

Immediately you rounded your table, lightly grabbing his elbow. Mattheo turned towards you at your touch, a grin forming on his lips. "Partners?" You asked, hoping your look didn't appear to pleading.

"Sure thing, babe," Mattheo responded without hesitation, pulling the stool next to him out for you before grabbing your books from your previous table.

Throughout the potion preparation you kept stealing glances at him. Er, well, his hair. You did need to brew the potion, but you'd be damned if you left this lesson without correcting his curls.

"Have I got something on my face?" Mattheo jested. You laughed lightly, shaking your head before picking up the last of the ingredients to toss them in the cauldron.

Mattheo began to sir, the color of the potion changing correctly with what you both were doing. And you were staring again. You knew it. You knew he could feel it because he was grinning once more.

"Can I just.." you pointed somewhat shyly at his head. Mattheo cocked his head slightly, giving a small nod.

You let out a sigh of relief, lifting your hands and quickly threading your fingers between curls and to his scalp. As you fluff his hair, nails scratching at his scalp slightly, Mattheo's eyes almost involuntarily roll.

"Merlin's fucking beard, that feels good," Mattheo praises as you finally take your hands away from his head. He shakes his head back and forth, his curls flopping this way and that before standing still again, giving you a big smile, "Better?"

"Godric, yes," you breathe, "I'm sorry, Matty. The flatness was killing me." Mattheo bit his lip to stifle a laugh, "Oh yeah? Tell me how you really feel, babe."

You gave a playful shove to his shoulder, "You really should pay attention to your hair more. It's one of your best features. But Enzo did just get that new haircut and might I say..." you gave an exaggerated sigh and fanned your face with your hand.

"You saying Enzo's hair looks better than mine?" Mattheo laid a hand on his chest, mocking offense. You shrugged, grin continuously growing.

Mattheo gasped at your lack of response, squeezing your side playfully. You giggled, pushing his hands away, "Okay, okay. I'm just saying you need to take care of those curls or one hot guy haircut is gonna make you fall down the ranks."

Mattheo shook his head, his now lively curls bouncing as he did. "Listen, if you ever. And I mean ever see my curls dead again, I don't care what I'm doing, you stop me and fix them. Preferably with the head scratches like you just did."

There was no thought needed, no extra considerations, before your immediate response, "Deal."

[lassieposting]

I absolutely love how the one thing everyone agrees on in this fandom seems to be that Ivan is an overprotective mom friend who doesn't think any potential love interest is good enough for his General

Aleksander Giving Alina His Drink ↳ requested by @vesperass-anuna​

[dazzlingsab]

how does drew handle tantrums from little reader when she’s being stubborn to listen to him

Big feelings

summary: cg!drew handling little!reader when she’s being stubborn.

a/n: I hope you enjoy anon 🤍!!

Drew had let you go play outside since it was still early and it was nice outside. However, an hour passed by, and the weather started to get hotter; it was too hot for you to be outside. He didn't want you to get overheated or sunburned. He sighed softly as he got up and opened the back door, leaning against the doorframe of it.

You were sitting on a small picnic blanket, coloring in one of your books. Not even noticing how hot it had gotten. "Angel, it's time to come inside." Drew said gently, expecting you to listen and come inside.

Although you obviously had different plans. You puffed your cheeks a bit. "But... I don't want to..." you whined.

Drew was starting to feel a bit frustrated, but he pushed it down and decided to be patient for now. "I wasn't asking. It's too hot for you to be out here; I'm telling you to come inside. Now." His voice was a bit firmer now.

Usually you would've taken the warning and listened, but instead you continued to be stubborn and bratty. "No." Your bottom lip started to wobble, crossing your arms tightly.

Drew's jaw tightened in frustration. He had never met someone as stubborn as you. "That's it." He huffed as he quickly made his way to where you were sitting. He ignored your whining and protesting as he picked you up over his shoulder and started to carry you back into the house.

Tears of frustration and stubbornness ran down your face; you tried to kick your feet. Unfortunately for you, Drew's grip on the back of your legs prevented you from doing so.

He carried you all the way back inside and sat you down on the staircase. He noticed your crying getting worse. He dug inside his pocket and pulled out your pacifier.

"C'mon baby, I didn't make you come inside just to be mean." Drew pointed out firmly, as he gestured for you to take the pacifier in hopes it'd calm you down. You furrowed your brows; you took the pacifier out of his hand only to throw it at his chest. "Yes, you did!" you cried, hiccuping through your tears.

"Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath." He knelt down on his knee to be eye level with you. "Just like Daddy, okay?" He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest as he took a deep breath.

You sniffled quietly as you started to sync your breathing with his.

Drew smiled softly as he started to notice your breathing and crying slowing down. "There we go..." his thumb wiping off the leftover tears on your face.

"All better. You can play outside tomorrow, I promise. Daddy just doesn't want you out in the heat right now." He explained gently, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek. "Do you understand now?"

"Yes..." you mumbled, nodding your head.

"Good. Let's go watch a movie, yeah?" He offered as he picked you up into his arms.

[ivysprophecy]

coincidence

warnings: this isnt a very... girls girl chapter XD got inspo from that one scene in oth where haley slaps daneel ackles lol sooo underage drinking, cursing, drinks thrown in faces, hair pulling, reader being difficult XD idk what else

word count: 1490

prev. | next

masterlist

summary: things with jj had been great, steady even. it was a whole month of pure bliss, so is it a coincidence that you predicted this was gonna happen?

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

things have been so great. jj and i have been great i should say rather. its likes nothing has changed but it has in the best ways.

and no ones said anything. no questions no pestering.

just us.

its been about a month since that day on the beach and to be truthful the sneaking around, stolen kisses, and small touches, its been so much fun.

granted i dont like lying to all of our friends but i think its been beneficial to our relationship. theres no pressure of any watchful eyes.

and its very helpful when they expect all the touching and glances anyway so like i said, its been easy and thrilling,

which leads us to now at a bonfire in the boneyard dancing and drinking and relaxing.

"im gonna go get another drink okay j?" he pats my thigh giving me that damn smirk.

"bring me one too mama, just a cup from the keg."

"you didn't use your manners maybank," i stand up looking back at him with a teasing smile.

he rolls his eyes tilting his head back pretending to be fed up with me. "please mama?"

"i suppose i can do that." i send him a wink. "ill be back in a minute, dont miss me too much."

"oh i miss you already," he smiles knowing exactly what its doing to me. hes sitting against the rocks with his legs spread and his arm splayed next to him resting against where i was sitting.

fuck he looks good. wanna take him home and climb him like a damn tree.

unfortunately to get to the keg i have to pass through the crowds of tourons, kooks, other pogues. its a giant mess of music, drama, and body odor.

with a few excuse me's and shoves i finally made it to the keg and coolers that house my preferred rum and cokes. i make my drink before grabbing jj's, marking the cups appropriately with one of the sharpies laying around.

ive only had three so its still legible.

doing my best to push past the crowds again with out spilling my drinks it takes a little longer to find my way back to my boyfriend.

who, when i turn past a group of people, i see him leaning against the rocks with some girl shoving her tongue down his throat. aggressively might i add.

so i do what any rational person would do in this situation. i threw my drink on her.

"fucking bitch!" i pull her off of jj by her obnoxiously long, thick, and blonde ponytail, "who the fuck do you think you are!? huh?! you like being a boyfriend stealing slut?"

"woah! woah? y/n-" i feel someone wrap their arms around my waist and pull me away from the girl, "take a breather i can explain-"

oh tell me he did not just say that.

"you can explain? you can explain how im gone for five fucking minutes and youve already got some dumb fucking touron wrapped around your finger? fuck that maybank! and fuck you!"

"mama! mama slow down! okay listen- just for two seconds listen to me!"

"i fucking trusted you!"

"you still can! i didnt kiss her!"

everyone has their heads turned in our direction at the sound of us bitching at each others face. including our friends.

this night just got shitty and its about to get a whole lot shittier. im not drunk enough for this. but somehow im also too drunk for this. you know what i mean?

"mama i wouldnt do that to you- cmon you know me. id never hurt you on purpose," jj pleaded for my sympathy.

i dont know if its the alcohol, the rage, or a combination of tonights events with the two. but i cant fucking deal with this right now.

"jj i saw you kissing her! dont fucking lie to me right now. i told you this wasnt gonna work. that it would be too much, too confusing, and that one of us was gonna do something the screw it up! but i prayed to god that it wouldnt be you j! and i NEVER wouldve thought itd be this soon. but i guess thats for the best right?"

"no! no its not- fuck. mama listen i didnt kiss her back! okay?! she was trynna feel up on me and talking about the island and shit and i tried to blow her off but she just-"

oh my god im seeing red.

i dont know whats true. i saw what i saw. i saw them kissing, and his body language didnt seem to convey that he didnt wanna be kissed. but maybe i saw it wrong? could i have? no. theres no way.

a good girlfriend would believe him, but isnt that just naive of me? what if he didnt want do this... i dont know. i dont know, theres no way. this is exactly what i was afraid of.

"jj dont start- i dont wanna hear it right now. i cant. i just cant. im done! im fucking going home. have fun with your little blonde!"

he goes and reaches for my arm trying to keep me close, letting out an exasperated sigh. "how are you getting home?"

"thats all youve gotta say right now? un fucking believable. ill walk home for all i care j but you need to let go of me right now."

"youre not fucking walking home y/n-"

"yes i am," i yank my arm from his grasp "and dont you dare follow me jj. im not afraid to have this fight right now but trust you dont want that. because you will stay single."

god i really wish i hadnt said that.

and with that i walk away without looking back. because i just cant help making things worse, its what i do best. i can already hear all the rest of the pogues running up to him with all these questions and i have no fucks left to give about it.

if he doesnt wanna answer them he can go back to the blonde girl. i wont be surprised.

what i am surprised about is to have john b run up behind me, turning me to face him gently.

"hey- um youve been drinking i dont really think you should walk home alone," john b, always playing hero.

"ill be fine jb. really. go back to sarah and jj ill be fine."

"you keep saying youll be fine but you look like youre about to cry."

damn. am i? i reach up to touch my face and feel a small trickle fall from the corner of my eye.

"look i wont bombard you right now just- let me walk you home? please? make sure youre safe?" i cant lie, itd be nice to know someone gives a damn about me right now.

"thanks john b... thats actually really nice of you," i wipe my tears away and sniff away the cracks in my voice.

how could i be so stupid? i dont do stuff like this. ever. and i just let it happen.

but i'm not wrong am? it cant be a total coincidence that i specifically brought this up with him and this is how it ends?

"... so... you and jj?"

"i thought you werent gonna bombard me?"

he throws his hands up in surrender "its only one question."

i sigh, throwing in the towel because one, hes my friend and he deserves to know. i shouldnt have lied to any of them. and two, it would feel nice to get some of this off my chest. "yea. me and jj. for about a month now.."

"a month??"

i send him daggers with my eyes warning him this is not the time as we walk down the dirt road that leads home to the chataeu.

"sorry- youre right. i wont bug you about it yet."

"yet," i let out a laugh that sounds bitchier than i meant it to be, "im sorry we didnt say anything... i was kind of afraid of this exact thing happening. wanted to keep it low key."

"i get it..." he leads me up to the door where he pauses for a minute. "but y/n/n, for what its worth i think you should hear him out. jj has done a lot of things, but cheating on you? thatd never be one of them."

i open the screen door taking off my flip flops as he speaks, unsure of how to take his suggestion.

"youre a really good friend john b. honest. but i need a little space from all of the jj talk right now. tell sarah im sorry i stole you from the party. have fun."

he nods understandingly, watching me flop onto the couch before walking back down the road.

i stare up at the ceiling thinking about how everything went so wrong so fast until sleep takes over.