#ariana grande lock pack

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

we can’t be friends

Summary: Hazel, who has a giant crush on you, gets paired with you for a class project. She’s convinced you could never like her back because she thinks you’re straight, what happens when she’s proven wrong?

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Fem!reader

Contains: mature language and content, hurt/comfort, smut, fingering (both receiving), oral, scissoring kinda, floor sex, loser!hazel, dom!hazel, fem!reader, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: (loosely) based off the song We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande, and requested by anonymous. Requests are still open for Hazel Callahan and Kit Tanthalos! Enjoy!

———

Hazel stared at you from across the classroom, a deep longing in her eyes. Mr. G was rambling something about 9/11 and how it somehow pertained to his divorce but she wasn’t absorbing a word of his lecture. All her attention was focused on you.

PJ noticed Hazel’s obvious sense of distraction and rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Hazel.”

Hazel’s face fell slightly as she looked down at her lap. “You don’t know that…” she mumbled.

“I do, actually. My gaydar is perfect, and she…” PJ motioned her head towards you. “…is not.”

Hazel's head shot straight up to look at PJ. “Weren’t you the one who thought Brittany was gay?”

PJ scoffed. “Ok? So my gaydar had a malfunction. It’s fine now, and trust me. You do not occupy that pretty little head of hers.” She shot a pointed look at Hazel. “She doesn’t want you. She wants a boyfriend. With a penis.”

A sad puppy dog look covered Hazel’s face as she turned back to look at you. You certainly did have a pretty little head, with long silky hair falling over your shoulders, perfectly framing your face. Maybe it was because Hazel had little to no experience with makeup, but she always thought yours was flawless, with your eyeshadow consistently color coordinated with your outfits. Today it was hot pink to match your miniskirt and pink pumps, paired with fishnets and a black tank top with writing on it that Hazel couldn’t quite make out.

You took a break from taking notes to reach into your backpack and find your lipgloss, carefully reapplying a layer. A dopey smile formed on Hazel’s face as she watched the sparkly pink solution trace your lips, wondering how it would taste against her own. PJ rolled her eyes once again. “Get over it, Hazel.”

Before Hazel could even open her mouth to respond, the sound of Mr. G’s voice echoed across the room, turning everyone’s attention to the front. He was going on about some new partner project, Hazel could barely focus. She soon, however, perked up when he mentioned your name.

“You’re partnered with Hazel.” He finished.

Hazel’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to look at you, and you met her gaze with a bright smile. She offered an awkward nod back, and quickly looked away.

Mr. G soon finished with the list of partners and the bell rang to signify the end of class. PJ walked out with Josie, who could be heard panicking over being partnered with Isabel. Hazel was packing up her stuff for her next class when she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see you standing over her desk, a glossy grin spread across your face. “Hey Hazel.”

Hazel tried to swallow, but found her mouth was completely dry. She managed to squeak out a low “…hey.”

“Looks like we’re partners for this assignment. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to work on it after school? Today?” You brushed a lock of hair out of your face, making Hazel wish she could do it for you.

She licked her dry lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

You pressed your phone into Hazel’s shaking hands and you both exchanged numbers before “bye’s” and “see you later’s.” Throughout the rest of the day, it was agreed over text that you would meet at your locker after school before heading to Hazel’s house to work on the project. You had originally suggested your place, but after Hazel mentioned her mom being out of town on business, you were all for meeting at her’s instead.

When the last bell rang, Hazel ran to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes fussing over her hair, trying to get it to swoop just the right way. Unfortunately, PJ’s voice saying “she’s not gay, it’s never gonna happen” rang through her head. After deciding it just wasn’t worth it then, she gave up and dejectedly made her way over to your locker.

You were already there waiting for her, and seeing you lean against your locker in the empty hallway made Hazel’s heart flutter. You looked just as perfect as you had earlier today (except Hazel could’ve sworn you had pulled your black tank top just a little farther down). You noticed her approaching you, and flashed her a bright smile.

“Hey Hazel, ready to go?” You asked. Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! I’m excited to be paired with you. I’m sure after this project we’ll become great friends.” You lifted your hand to squeeze Hazel’s upper arm, but she couldn’t feel it over the pang in her chest. Your words swam around in her mind.

“Great friends…” she didn’t want to be your friend. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be the one to laugh with you, and hold you when you cried. She wanted to take you out on dates, and slow dance with you at prom. She wanted you to look up at her with your big doe eyes right before you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her shoulders to pull her closer while she savored the taste of your signature lip gloss. She wanted to touch you. God how she wanted to touch you…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of that. Not if you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at some football player.

You wanted to be friends. Hazel wanted you… but more than anything she wanted you in her life. If being friends was the only way to do that, then so be it.

—————

The drive to Hazel’s house was pretty much silent, minus a few attempts at small talk from you. Hazel made a few attempts to respond, but mainly kept her focus on the grip of her steering wheel and the road ahead.

Hazel turned into her driveway, and walked you through her front door, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She motioned for you to sit next to her on the floor, and got out her pencils and the project rubric. After about five minutes of complete silence, Hazel’s head shot up. “Snacks!”

You looked up from the rubric in confusion. “What?”

“Snacks! I forgot to offer you snacks when we came in. Shit, I’m sorry! I’m a terrible host.” Hazel panicked. You had to stifle a giggle under your hand. Somehow, Hazel was being so adorable right now.

“It’s ok, Hazel. I’m not hungry. I promise.” Hazel rubbed the back of her neck as a faint shade of red crept up on her cheeks.

“Sorry. You just…” Hazel trailed off. You cocked your head in question. “I… what?”

“You just… sometimes you make me nervous…” Hazel mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Your lips parted slightly in shock at her confession. “I make you nervous?”

“Look… just forget I said anything.” Hazel picked the project rubric back up. “So, do you have any idea what this project is supposed to be on? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

You pulled the rubric out of Hazel’s hands and tossed it to the side, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna forget what you said. Hazel, how do I make you nervous?”

A defeated sigh left Hazel’s lips as she realized you weren’t going to give this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking out your name before her next words. “I’m sorry but… we can’t be friends.”

It took a moment for you to process Hazel’s words, but as soon as you did, your face crumpled out of hurt. You were trying not to cry, but you couldn’t decide if it was from hurt or confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t be friends.” Hazel repeated, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m around you, my hands get all sweaty and my mouth gets dry, and I can barely get any words out because… I don’t know. You do this thing to me. I can’t focus in class because all I can think about is how pretty you are and what flavor your lip gloss is and…”

Hazel’s incessant rambling was interrupted by the feeling of something wet and sticky against her cheek. She blinked, trying to process what just happened.

You kissed her. On the cheek.

A faint blush crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to feel where your kiss still lingered. She finally met your gaze to see you staring back at her, a giddy smile covering your face.

“You kissed me.”

You brushed another lock out of your face and smiled down at your lap. “Yeah. I did.”

“But I’m not a boy.”

You shot your head up and gaped at her, bewildered. Did you hear her correctly?

“Huh? I know…” you trailed off as realization set into you. “You think I’m straight?”

“Well, yeah. You’re all like… feminine and stuff…” Hazel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

A thick silence filled the room as you stared at her, wide eyed. Hazel held her breath and refused to look at you. She thought for sure she fucked up before she heard… laughter?

Hazel looked up to see you in absolute stitches from laughing so hard. On one hand, she was glad you didn’t seem mad at her, but on the other… she really had no idea what you were laughing at.

After a moment, you calmed down, and stuck out one of your wrists to show Hazel a pink, white, and orange threaded bracelet. “Trust me, I’m not straight. And this…” you gestured to your outfit. “…is called hyperfem, and it’s actually meant to deter the male population.”

Several thoughts swirled around Hazel’s mind. Some “fuck PJ” or “how did I not notice the bracelet?” But mostly, all she could think about was how you were sitting in front of her, out and proud, in an empty house, and beaming from ear to ear.

You giggled at Hazel’s astonished expression and looked down at your lap. “I was kind of wondering why you had never talked to me before. Guess I know now.”

Hazel gulped. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly, you decided to cut her off by tossing all the papers between you to the side, and crawling over to her lap. You put one hand on her knee and brought your face as close to hers as you could without touching. Hazel’s breath hitched at this new position, and you hummed as your eyes dropped to her lips. “Now that you know I’m gay… what do you plan to do about it?”

It took a moment for your words to settle into Hazel’s mind, but as soon as they did, she brought her face forward and kissed you, melting instantly at your touch. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she shivered from the pure adrenaline. She couldn’t believe how soft your lips were, and the taste of your lipgloss felt absolutely intoxicating.

You pulled away suddenly, smirking as Hazel whined at the loss of your touch. “So… what flavor is my lip gloss?”

Hazel hummed in thought, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Watermelon?”

“Bingo.”

A devilish grin spread across Hazel’s face before she grabbed your jaw and pulled you back in, forcing you to tuck your knee into her lap to keep balance. Her tongue danced against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. A small giggle escaped from the back of your throat as you parted your lips and let her deepen the kiss.

Hazel’s hand left your jaw and slowly made its way down to gently caress the thigh you still had perched in her lap. You felt your body shiver at this new sensation, causing Hazel to pull away and survey your reaction.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice. You nodded, your half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. “Please.”

Hazel caught your lips in hers again, and gripped at your fishnet-clad thigh. You moaned at the feeling of her fingertips caressing your nearly-bare skin. You had no idea your thighs could be so sensitive, but here you were, falling apart at her literal fingertips.

By now you were mentally begging Hazel to push her hand up just a little higher, so you grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled her close until you were on your back and she was hovering over you. Her big blue eyes looked like pools you were dying to swim in as she peered down at you with a look of nothing but content.

You dragged your top teeth against your bottom lip and giggled. “Tell me again how pretty I am?”

Hazel smirked as she continued to rub her thumb along the inside of your thigh. “So pretty. Like a princess.”

Your body involuntarily shivered at this new nickname, and Hazel found it impossible not to notice. “Oh, you like that? Princess?”

A muffled moan vibrated against your puffy pink lips in response. Fuck, when did Hazel get so… dominant?

She ran her hand just under the edge of your tank top, looking up at you for approval. You nodded, and she got to work pulling it up and over your head, leaving your stomach exposed and your chest covered with nothing but a black lace bralette. Hazel gulped at the sight of you, her spontaneous dominance momentarily leaving her. She swore she had never seen anything this beautiful. She leaned down again to kiss you once, softly and sweetly, before slowly leaving a trail of kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and down to the top of your breasts.

Hazel’s big blue eyes stared up at you as she ran her tongue across the top of one of your tits, gently testing the waters. You let out a gentle moan, purely from the eroticism of it all. You swore you could cum just from looking into Hazel’s fuck me eyes.

“Hazel,” you breathed out, sitting up slightly to lean on your elbows. “You can take it off.”

A nervous look clouded Hazel’s features for a brief moment before being replaced by one dark with desire. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

God, you could feel yourself get wetter every time she used that stupid nickname.

Getting your bra off wasn’t necessarily a fast and flawless task for Hazel, as she was used to the simplicity of sports bras rather than the confusing clasps of a bralette. Luckily, you both had a good sense of humor about it, which made the situation far less awkward. Eventually, Hazel opted to just pull it over your head like a t-shirt, tossing it over her shoulder immediately after.

Hazel never thought she’d see the day where she’d have the Popular Princess of Rockbridge High’s tits practically served to her on a silver platter, but here they were, exposed in all their glory, and hers for the taking. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, running her tongue along the erect bud as she used her hand to gently massage the other. It felt incredible, but as much as you loved watching Hazel Callahan play with your tits, there was another part of you that was much more desperate to be played with.

Your hips involuntarily bucked against Hazel’s stomach, forcing her to pull away and click her tongue disapprovingly. “So impatient. Never took you for a sub.”

“Never took you for a dom.” You fired back, surprisingly quickly considering how mushy your brain felt.

Hazel simply shrugged and flashed a wicked grin. “Guess you do something to me.”

She slipped one hand down to the waistband of your skirt and started to undo your belt buckle until it was loose enough for her to slide it down your legs. Her fingers danced along your now completely exposed fishnets while she plucked at the delicate little strings.

“Funny,” she started, gently pulling at the thin threads. “If you weren’t wearing anything under these, I would totally keep them on while I fucked you.”

Her blunt choice of words sent palpitations straight to your clit, forcing a shiver down the length of your entire body. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to because she just shrugged. “Too bad you are. Gotta take them off.”

In a way, you were grateful for the black panties you had worn under your fishnets. Watching Hazel undress you to any capacity was a bigger turn on than anything any porn site had to offer. You made a mental note to wear more clothes next time.

By now you were down to nothing but the aforementioned silky black panties. Hazel moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing her thumb along the inside teasingly. She reached up and allowed her finger to gently brush over the tiny crease where your leg ended and your panties began, looking up at you for affirmation before continuing.

You sighed, rolling your bottom lip between your front teeth. “Please Hazel. Please touch me.”

Hazel’s stomach couldn’t help but flutter every time one of your desperate pleas hit her ears, but she tried not to let it show. Still, it was difficult to ignore the dampness in her boxers, thankfully still hidden by her shorts. On the other hand, your panties were on full display, the black color managing to hide your wet spot from Hazel’s vision, but failing to keep your secret when she dragged her finger up your clothed cunt.

“Holy shit.” Hazel muttered under her breath. “So fucking wet already?”

You were far too turned on to even begin to respond to her taunts, opting instead to raise your hips and signify Hazel to take off your panties. Hazel, however, had other plans. She continued to stroke the length of your covered cunt, enjoying watching your hips stutter every time she so much as grazed your clit.

As much as you loved the cloth friction rubbing against your slit, the growing pool of wetness that resulted was beginning to make you feel suffocated. You lifted your hips to chase her touch, moaning with desperation. Hazel smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Patience, pretty girl. I can’t do anything until you tell me what you want.”

Hazel’s finger picked at the waistband of your panties, while her darkened eyes stared down at you. You struggled to speak, your brain far too mushy to form a complete sentence. How in the hell were you this fucked out, and Hazel had barely touched you?

“P-please Haze… I need you mph… take them off…”

Another wicked grin appeared on Hazel's face as she leaned down again to praise your obedience. “Such a good girl.”

Her mouth latched onto your jaw as her fingers curled over the top of your waistband. You raised your hips, and Hazel pulled off your panties in one quick motion.

Now that you were completely exposed, you felt completely exposed, which wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling. Your legs began to shut involuntarily, catching the attention of the girl hovered above you.

Her eyes went wide as she crawled off of you and put her hands up. “Hey, woah, are you ok? Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry! I should have checked in more. We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Hazel’s sudden transition out of her dominant alter ego caught you off guard. Still though, you couldn’t help but melt a little. She was being so sweet, making sure you were ok, you almost felt a little bad for her. You didn’t mean to freak her out.

You sheepishly smiled up at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little weird being the only one naked is all.”

Hazel blinked at you, processing your words. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head, she jumped up and practically tore all the clothing off her body, throwing each piece over her shoulder as soon as it was off. You couldn’t help but notice a string of arousal momentarily connecting her slick to her boxers, breaking only after she slid them down her legs.

Hazel’s body read like a painting, with each brush stroke precisely positioned to perfect the masterpiece. Her wetness glistened from in between her legs, and you couldn’t help but admire the beauty standing before you. However, you didn’t get to admire for long, as Hazel was already repositioning herself over you.

“Better?” She asked.

You sighed. “Definitely.”

Hazel immediately got to work trailing kisses down your body while thumbing through the folds of your slit. Soft moans echoed from your lips every time she’d slightly dip into your entrance for some more lubricant, and then frustrated groans would roll out whenever she immediately pulled out. God, she had access to every part of you and still managed to be such a tease.

Eventually, Hazel kissed her way down to your pelvic bone, hovering her face just over where you wanted her the most. Her hot breath tickled your dripping wet folds, making you tremble with anticipation. She stuck out her tongue and gently kitten-licked your clit to gauge your reaction, staring up at you as she did. A soft whimper left your throat, causing a smug smirk to form on Hazel’s face. Starting to gain some confidence back, she locked eyes with you and slowly licked up the entire length of your cunt, from your entrance all the way to the hood of your clit. You whined, throwing your head back against the carpet.

“Feel good?” Hazel asked, not bothering to wait for your response as she already knew the answer.

Hazel dived into you like a starved woman, lapping up your slick like it contained the very thing she needed to survive. Broken moans fell from your parted lips as you desperately grasped at her hair, trying to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips bucked against her face, a part of you dying to see her features covered in your juices.

Her name found its way out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Hazel I… mph… fuck…”

“Fuck yeah. I love it when you say my name, pretty girl.” Hazel exclaimed, eyes rolling in the back of her head. You groaned. Dominant Hazel could have very easily put you into cardiac arrest, you were pretty sure.

The feeling of Hazel’s tongue against your engorged clit was hypnotizing, but your entrance was also twitching for attention. You wanted, no, you needed her inside you.

You grabbed Hazel’s hair and pulled it to lift her off you. She started to whine at the loss of your taste, but quickly looked up at you to make sure you were alright. “Everything ok, princess?”

“Hazel, I… I wanna ride your fingers. Please.” You panted breathlessly.

Hazel’s body shifted at your bold choice of words before a dark desire clouded her face again. “Of course.”

She reached up and crashed her lips against yours again, the taste of your own pussy still lingering on her tongue and coating your mouth in the most arousing way. You both readjusted to where she was on her back and you were now hovering over top of her. She adjusted her right hand in the “come here” position with her middle and ring fingers standing, and rested it in the middle of her thigh.

“All yours, honey.” She looked up at you with a goofy smile and half lidded eyes.

You positioned your entrance over her fingertips, shifting slightly before sliding down onto her knuckles. Hazel's fingers curled to hit your g-spot, forcing your head to fall back with a throaty groan.

“Feel good, gorgeous?” Another one of Hazel’s praises fell from her lips.

“Fuck Hazel, those nicknames are gonna kill me…” you whined.

Hazel smirked. “Oh yeah, you like that? Gorgeous? Pretty girl? My princess?”

As you were drinking in Hazel’s sweet nothings and riding her long fingers, your eyes fell down to her lap. Her exposed cunt glistened with her own arousal, dripping down her thighs and onto your carpet. A wicked idea popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Your hand traveled down to the folds of Hazel's slick, forcing the brunette beauty underneath you to jump at the sudden touch. “Honey, what are you…”

“Is this ok?” You asked softly. Hazel nodded quickly, realizing what you were getting at. You hastily licked your fingers and slid them into her twitching cunt.

Hazel moaned at the feeling of your fingers inside her. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good. So good to me.”

The longer you bounced on Hazel’s hand, the more you felt that familiar tight feeling in your abdomen. “Hazel, I’m…”

“Yeah… mph… me too.” She managed to whisper under her breath.

Hazel positioned her thumb to rub against your clit, forcing your body to tremble in sputtered shocks. You curled your palm to stimulate her clit, and you could tell she was almost as close as you were.

“Hazel, can we… mph… cum together?” You asked, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The brunette underneath you was already starting to fall apart. “Fuck baby… so close… let go… I’ll follow… yeah?”

You rolled your hips against her, using your free hand to position her wrist where you needed her to touch you. Your hips sputtered, your core tightened, your clit throbbed. “Hazel, I… mph fUCK!”

Your head rolled back as you let out a sound so primal, you weren’t even sure it was sexy. Hazel soon followed, her groans and whimpers reverberating around the room as her hips sputtered under you. You rode out your climaxes together, the erotic sounds of sex disappearing into the nearly empty house.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. Not only was her longtime crush gay, not only was she fucking you, but she had just given you a mind-blowing orgasm at the same time you gave her one. Fuck, the very thought almost made her cum a second time.

You rolled off of her, and snuggled into her chest while she wrapped her arm around you. “Wow…”

“That was… unexpected…” Hazel muttered breathlessly.

You giggled. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, both of you just enjoying the presence of the other, the project from before long forgotten.

You looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her jaw. “Still think we can’t be friends?”

“I think we’re a little more than friends now.” Hazel chuckled.

Your heart fluttered at her suggestion. “Yeah? You want to?”

“I mean, yeah, if you want to.”

You nodded, snuggling back into her chest, close to falling asleep after so much activity. Hazel continued to stare up at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered across her features.

“PJ is gonna lose her mind after this.”

[vanilladove]

hiii hello vani<3 may i request smt angsty with dazai and reader in which he’s acting neglectful/unfaithful as a partner and you just deal with it? but you don’t hate him or anything you’re just really sad about it hehe tysm ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

☾⋆.ೃ࿔* ghostin

gif creds fybugoustraydogs | divider creds benkeibear

₊ ⊹☁ pairing: dazai x gn!reader

₊ ⊹☁ genre: angst :,)

₊ ⊹☁ content warnings: distant/neglectful relationships; canon mentions of double suicide bc dazai lol...i couldn't bring myself to write a cheating dazai i'm sorry T~T inspired by ghostin + better off by ariana grande!

₊ ⊹☁ word count: 1.9k

You shivered under the cold sheets when your alarm had woken you up. The space next to you was empty, your lover nowhere to be found.

It had been like this for months now, but it was nothing new due to the nature of his job. Dazai always became distant right before handling a new enemy for the Armed Detective Agency. He only disclosed vague details to you, explaining that withdrawing himself was a way to protect you since he didn’t want enemies knowing about you. Before leaving, he’d muttered something about keeping you away from “the demon”.

But you had to admit, the feeling of being 'safe' from a far away, unknown enemy didn't compare to being wrapped in your lover's arms, the soft kisses on your forehead, gently running your hands through his brown fluffy hair, and whispering sweet nothings to eachother. You missed his corny jokes and the nights you two would have together after drinking too much sake, giggling on the floor and watching the stars on your open balcony—Dazai always pointing out the constellations and telling you the stories and lore behind each one.

He had been staying at a secret location far from your shared apartment, so the sheets didn’t smell like his musky, warm cologne anymore. The space felt ghostly now, and hanging out with your friends barely helped. Stirring a sugar cube and cream into your morning coffee, the things they said repeated in your head.

“Just break up with him..."

"You don’t deserve someone who ignores you—especially if he puts work above you…”

"He's definitely cheating on you with all the travel he's always away on..."

Your friends didn’t understand though. They didn’t understand the depth of your relationship or how Dazai loved you. He was a reserved man; he didn't let anyone into his heart, always putting on a flamboyant front to mask his true self. Even becoming his partner and finally moving in with him was a feat in itself and was something he'd hesitantly accepted. You knew he had a traumatic upbringing and that the ones he cared for eventually left his life, often in a tragic way; the last thing his broken heart could take was losing you.

Which was why you put up with the cold sheets in the morning, the single serving meals, and all the sad movie nights alone—because deep down, you knew he cared about you. Your lonely conscious couldn't handle any other explanation.

You tiredly shaped the triangular onigiri filled with snow crab and placed it in the wooden bento box, along with some tamagoyaki and salad, savoring the momentary heat in your hands. It was Dazai's favorite lunch—something you used to pack for him everyday. You forcibly dragged yourself out of bed to make it for him after receiving a text—from an unknown number, of course—that he was stopping by the apartment to grab something. You knew it was futile waking up early; it wouldn't stop him from leaving with no explanation, from not being targeted by the port mafia, the hunting dogs, or "the demon". How silly and lovesick you were.

Closing the lid, you put the dishes in the sink and placed a piece of bread into the toaster, staring intently as you waited for it to finish, which seemed like forever. You took a sip from your mug, cringing when the lukewarm liquid touched your tongue. Shit, your coffee had gone cold. That never happened when he was still there.

The lock clicking snapped you out of your somber thoughts, and you turned your head around to face the self-inviting visitor. Gaze softening, you admired the tall man in front of you, wrapped in a tan trench coat, which you instinctively slipped off from behind him, his tense shoulders relaxing under your fingertips as you draped the coat on a nearby chair. Wordlessly, you both exchanged melancholic glances before Dazai made the first move, stepping forward to close the space between you two. His slender fingers slowly came up to caress your face, the foreign touch making your cheeks heat up. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss on your cold lips, "Hi, bella."

Forcing yourself to open your lids again and not overindulge in the much needed contact, you smiled at your lover, but it didn't quite connect back to your eyes, "Welcome hom—errr—back...You needed something from here, right?" You replied, choosing your words carefully so he couldn't hear your evident desperation.

Dazai blinked carefully, "Yeah, a flash drive. It's in one of the kitchen cabinets. Is it fine if I look around for a bit?" You nodded, looking down at the tiled floor and smiling at nothing. Dazai was always like that, hiding important things in the most impractical places as a precaution. As he fished through the cabinet, he turned his head briefly to look down at the abandoned mug sitting on the counter, "Is that for me?"

You wiped the nostalgic grin off your face, reaching for your coffee, which you'd made in Dazai's usual mug, "A-Ah, no. It's mine, sorry," Dazai raised an eyebrow at you, "I made it earlier this morning, but it's cold now. I'll make you some more." You offered, trying to brush off his suspicions and the strange looks he was giving you.

He sighed, stroking your hair lightly, "It's fine, darling, brew yourself a new cup, and I'll drink this one." He gave you one last reassuring pat before picking up the mug and slipping away into your shared room to look for something else, giving you no time to protest. What seemed like a sweet gesture really had a double meaning: I'm not staying long enough for a new batch of coffee, so I'll just take the cold cup.

A pit formed in your stomach as you dumped out the used coffee filter and reached for a new one. Your vision started to blur, stopping you before you could open the lid of the coffee grounds. Wet drops falling on the back of your hands made you realize you were crying. Instinctively, you brought your hands up to cover your mouth and block any sobs from Dazai, who was still next door in your bedroom.

Stop it.

You tried to coerce yourself, but you couldn't help it. The despair was too agonizing; to have the one you needed most close to you but not being able to tell them to stay, to hold you, especially since you knew how precious you were to him—if you asked, he'd drop everything to stay the night with you. Everyone at the ADA was aware of that, which was why they'd sat you down and conveyed that you couldn't dote too much on Dazai. You understood that and had stayed by his side anyways, knowing that being with him sometimes was better than never. Even if it broke your heart in the process. Even if it meant crying silently in the kitchen while your lover was in the next room, oblivious to the tears wetting your sleeves.

Deep down, you wished he would notice the pain you were in. You wished he would text and call you more or at least take you out to dinner and do special things when he'd finally come back, but he always resumed your daily routines almost like he'd never left. It made your heart ache, feeling like he disregarded his long leaves and their effects on you. You sniffled quietly and quickly wiped your tears away upon hearing rustling from the bedroom doorway signaling that Dazai was almost done grabbing what he needed.

Inhaling deeply, you breathed in and out slowly to calm your frantic heart and turned to the side to face the counter as your partner walked back into the kitchen.

"Found what you were looking for?" You asked, trying to cover your face with your hair and sneakily wipe away any residual tears.

Dazai swiftly passed by you, going towards the chair to slip his trench coat back on and grab the lunch you'd made him. "Yeah, I found it. Thanks for the bento and coffee by the wa—" Your eyes widened as he trailed off mid-sentence, all of a sudden feeling his presence next to you. He bent down to peer over at your face, evidently still swollen and a bit red from crying.

He rotated your body towards him and pushed the stay hairs from your face, intently observing your features. "Bella, have you been crying?" He stroked your cheeks delicately, "And your eyebags are so dark...have you been getting enough sleep?" He looked genuinely worried, peering into your eyes for any sort of insights, but it was too hard to maintain eye contact with him.

"I'm fine...I—" You muttered, words trapped in your throat.

Tell him you miss him. That you don't want him to leave you again.

No, don't! Let him walk out as usual. Your sadness isn't worth letting a countless number of innocent people get harmed or killed.

Thoughts conflicting and wearing your tired soul out, you only mustered a weak smile, placing your cold hands on top of Dazai's. "If I died now, would you still die with me?"

"What?"

"You promised we'd commit a double suicide together. Would you still—" Dazai's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his warmth and comforting scent making tears fall again, not knowing the next time he would be back. You cursed yourself internally for breaking down in front of him, but you couldn't hold your emotions in any longer. He only held you silently, running his hands through your hair as you sobbed into his chest. You felt lightheaded, crying for several minutes, the only condoling things being the scent of Dazai's cologne and the way he held you to remind you he was still with you.

You looked up from his chest, gazing into his chocolate brown eyes, which were swirling with uncertainty. A pained expression was on his face, no doubt from your actions. "I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry..." He lifted your face up to kiss your lips gently and kiss away your salty tears before pulling you back into his chest. "I was selfish to think you wouldn't be hurt by me always being away. I tried to turn a blind eye to focus on work, but..." He exhaled shakily, "...somehow I always hurt the people closest to me...even the one I love the most."

Dazai squeezed you tighter in his arms, "I love you, and I know we'll get past this, darling. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, please don't think of resorting to that." He cradled your face, forcing you to look up at his broken eyes.

This was the power you had over him. Prison, criminals, and even the mafia couldn't break him anymore, but your tears could melt his gaudy, confident facade instantaneously and bring him to his knees. Exactly what everyone warned you about.

You nodded slowly, the last of your cry session being wiped away by Dazai's thumbs. You hugged him back, listening as his rampant heartbeat went back to normal, staring off to the side.

"Listen, bella, I'm going to be gone for a few months. I suspect I'm going to be arrested and sent to a high-security prison...probably somewhere overseas. We won't—we won't be together for a while." You heaved, holding your breath, "But," He turned your head to face him, "I'm going to stay here for a couple of days until then. Is that okay?"

Before you could think, you crashed your lips on his, and Dazai only happily kissed back, smiling, grateful to have cheered up his love again.

"Y-Yeah, that's fine. I love you, Osamu." You sniffled back. He could stay forever if he wanted to, but you'd take a few days.

"I love you, too, bella. I always will, even when I'm not with you. Enough for the both of us."

[vanillawurld]

༊*·˚ Wait For Your Love

✧.* Pair - Joost Klein x Fem! Reader

✧.* Tags & Warnings - Angst, crying, alcohol, kissing, cussing, fluff at the end.

✧.* Summary - After not seeing each other for almost a year due to a breakup, a whirlwind of emotions flooded both Joost and (Y/N). The desperation to be with each other again took over for the both of them.

✧.* Extra- We can't be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande crying emoji heartbreak emoji.

✧.* Word Count - 1,998

The club was always packed with drunk assholes and beautiful women dancing. It was a place to have fun. Dance, drink, and not worry about tomorrow (unless someone had to work). (Y/N) and her friends decided to go clubbing to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Everyone wanted to get shit-faced drunk and some wanted to end up in a man or woman’s bed by the end of the night. (Y/N) couldn’t wait to get drunk and dance her ass off to the music that was playing. As soon as they get into the place, everyone was already ordering shots and mixed drinks.

Even though she wanted to get drunk, (Y/N) decided to get mixed drinks because she hated the bitter taste of hard liquor in tiny shot glasses. She decided to take her night a little slow to be more alive in the club. (Y/N) felt like she needed the time out with her friends. After a massive heart break 10 months ago, it felt like she couldn’t move from her home, especially her bed. Her friends would try to get her to hang out, but most of the time all she wanted to do was stay in bed and stalk her ex-boyfriend’s social media.

By the time she was on her second mixed drink, some of her friends were already on their 4th shot of the night. The music was starting to get to everyone and they all dragged each other to where everyone was dancing. The DJ was playing American 2000’s music so the whole club was dancing and/or grinding on one another. (Y/N) and her best friend were dancing and practically grinding on each other to the beat of the music while singing and laughing together. Everyone was having the best time.

That was until (Y/N) mysteriously smelled a familiar scent she hadn’t smelled in a while. His scent. She slowly stopped dancing and started looking around to see if she can catch him somewhere in the crowd. (Y/N)’s best friend looked at her, “Are you okay? What happened?”

(Y/N) didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night with the topic of her ex-boyfriend, “Im fine, girl. I just need to use the bathroom and then im gonna get a shot.” (Y/N) walked away but stopped when she felt someone grab her wrist. She turned around and saw her best friend holding her wrist.

“Do you want me to go with you?” She asked. (Y/N) simply shook her head and continued making her way to the restroom. (Y/N) thanked God when she saw there wasn’t a line to go to the bathroom. She immediately walked in and looked at herself in the mirror.

She let out a sigh and was trying to convince her brain to not freak out because she smelled his scent. She didn’t want to ruin everyones night, she just wanted to have fun with no worries. She quickly fixed her lip liner and lips and head out to the bar. When she got to the bar to order her drink, she had a feeling someone was watching her. She decided to ignore it because there were a lot of people in the club so it didn’t matter.

The feeling of being watched got stronger by the seconds and it bothered (Y/N). She looked around to catch whoever was staring at her and when she turned around, she locked eyes with him. Joost Klein, her ex-boyfriend. She felt her heart race and her stomach drop to the floor. He looked extremely handsome and beautiful. They stared at each other strongly until the bartender put (Y/N)’s drink on the table, making her break the contact and turn around.

Even though they stared at each other for a couple of seconds, it felt like an eternity for them. (Y/N) leaned forward towards the bar table and let out a deep sigh. She was trying to keep herself together. Tapping her foot against the floor, sighing, but all of that didn’t work because she felt her eyes start to water. She knew she couldn’t stay in that place much longer. She didn’t want to look like the weird bitch crying in the club. She quickly took her shot and sped out the doors, walking toward the empty side of the club wall. She started to hyperventilate before letting the tears spill. She covered her mouth to prevent making any sound, but everything was going crazy in her mind, she didn’t care who listened.

Beautiful moments between (Y/N) and Joost started flashing in her mind. (Y/N) truly loved Joost. She still loves him. She truly felt a connection with that man. He always took care of her and she returned the nurturing energy all the time. They never had a dull day together, it was always filled with happiness and laughter. Everyday was a blessing for them. Everyone, fans and friends, idolized their relationship, so when they broke up, everyone was filled with shock and confusion.

The day Joost left (Y/N) was the day she died. She didn’t want to go out anymore. She had no motivation to do the things she loved. Everything reminded her of Joost. Even when she went to the places her and Joost last visited together, she would always tear up a bit. The truth was, (Y/N) was waiting for Joost to come back. She was waiting for his love to find itself back to her. The more she waited, the worse she got. (Y/N) slowly started detaching herself from him 7 months after the break up and was slowly started bettering herself. But in that moment in the club, felt like all of her self improvement was tossed out the window.

While (Y/N) was in her head, she hadn’t notice a tall male figure walking towards her side. When she looked, it felt like her heart skipped a beat. There he was, staring at her with a yearning look with sadness in his eyes. (Y/N)’s tears started coming in more but she didn’t want to cry more in front of him so she looked away and looked up at the sky.

“Hey,” she heard Joost say. That didn’t make things better. Hearing his voice made her tear up even more. At that point, she didn’t care and let her tears flow.

“Hi,” she said back.

Joost stared at (Y/N) and started tearing up as well. He was finally looking at his girl again after almost a year of not being able to. Even with running mascara, puffy lips, red eyes, and a tired look on her face, she still looked pretty as ever to him. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of his teary eyes and got closer to her. “How are you?” was all he said.

“Uhm, i’m… doing good, I guess. What about you?” she asked.

“Im doing pretty well too. I just saw the most gorgeous girl at the club, but she walked out and now she’s crying,” he said. He wanted to lighten up the mood. While his body language gave off zero energy, deep down he wanted to hold (Y/N) and kiss her tears away. Joost missed (Y/N) more than anything and seeing her teary eyed made his heart ache.

(Y/N) let out a chuckle and went silent. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two until Joost broke the silence, “I’ve missed you.”

That made (Y/N) tear up even more. “Then why did you leave me,” She asked.

Joost stayed silent for a moment before answering, “Honestly, I don’t know why. At the time, my mental health was down the toilet and I thought you were the reason why. I thought leaving you was going to fix it.”

Hearing that made (Y/N)’s heart ache. “Did it?” she asked.

“No. It didn’t. It actually got worse. When I realized you weren’t the problem, I felt like it was too late for me. I thought you hated me and didn’t want to talk to me. I thought of that saying you told your friend once ‘You made your bed, so now lay in it’ and that’s exactly what I did. I punished myself for ruining something so beautiful,” he replied.

Deep down, (Y/N) was happy when she realized she wasn’t the problem. But at the same time, she was sad for Joost when he thought she was mad at him. “Can I tell you something?” she asked and he nodded, “I was never mad at you. You could never be mad at someone you truly love.”

Love.

She said love. Not loved. That made Joost smile.

“For a good few months, I was stuck in a delusion that you would come back. I wanted to reach out to you so badly, but my friends kept telling me to let you feel my absence and that that was the best thing to make someone realize their mistake,” she continued.

“They were right,” he spoke, “when I realized you were gone, I wanted to crawl back to your apartment and beg for your forgiveness. I had no one to text me ‘good morning’, ‘good night’, ‘i love you’, ‘i miss you,’ it was hell for me.”

Their confessions made both of them realize that they were still in love with each other. They never stopped. They followed through with the, ‘if it was meant to be, let it be,’ and it brought them back. They never gave up on each other, even when they were apart. That is the true beauty of love.

Joost grabbed (Y/N)’s chin, making her look up at him with her beautiful teary doe eyes. “baby, I am so sorry for breaking your heart. I regret it so much and seeing you makes my heart ache and happy at the same time. I would do anything to be with you again,” he said with a yearning voice.

All (Y/N) could do was look at him. Her eyes started to become more teary. “I love you. I never stopped loving you,” she replied. They both started getting closer and closer until their lips touched. It was electrifying for both of them. The more their lips were in contact, the more loving and passionate it became. (Y/N) wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss.

When they pulled away, they looked at each other in the eyes. Deepening the intimate moment. The moment was ruined when Joost’s phone rang. When Joost checked who it was, (Y/N) saw it was one of his friend’s. She frowned because she thought their moment was over, but instead, Joost ignored the call and pulled her close to him by the waist. He laid his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes, wishing this was his forever moment.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Getting comfortable and feeling each other’s presence after months of not being able to. It all felt like a dream come true. Until reality hit (Y/N). She didn’t want to break away from the moment, but she kind of had no choice,

“Joost.”

“Hm?”

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

(Y/N) giggled, “I do. My friends are probably looking for me and I have to visit family tomorrow in the morning,” she said while pulling away from his embrace. Joost and frowned. He didn’t want her to go. (Y/N) kissed him on the cheek and started walking away.

Joost watched as she walked away before calling her name, “Can we… call tonight?” he said, referring to staying on facetime while they slept like they use to. (Y/N) nodded and blew him a kiss. Joost practically sprinted towards her and passionately kissed her, one last time for that night.

“I’ll call you when I get home,” She said.

“You promise?”

“I promise, handsome.” She said. He raised his pinky, indicating a pinky promise gesture. She raised her pinky and hooked it onto his. Settling the promise.

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

Guys was this good be honest also im too lazy to spell check

[alisonwritesimagines]

Santa Baby ~Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagine~

Summary: You surprise your husband when he comes home from his mission.

Author’s Note: This man can take me in his arms and squeeze me to death and I would thank him for letting me be in his arms till I die.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smut in the end

Please do not post this anywhere!!!

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

December 1st

Today was the day your husband came home. You had gotten a call from him after his mission was done and he was doing a small celebration at a bar with his teammates saying that he was going to be home a little earlier than expected. To your excitement, you had gotten things ready for when he came home.

Simon opened the front door before dropping his bag onto the ground. Before he walked in, he made sure to take off the heavy gear knowing that-

"Daddy!" He heard his twins yell out excitedly.

Simon took off his mask as his son and daughter rush over to him before jumping onto him. Simon kneeled down on the floor to hug his kids.

"Hey, kids," Simon smiled before kissing their heads.

"We missed you!" His son, Nate, said as he held onto his father's arm.

"Mom said you'll be coming home and we got the house cleaned up!" His daughter, Susie, excitedly told him.

"Simon!" You smiled as you rushed over to your husband. Simon stood up before wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a passionate kiss.

"Ew!"

"You're not under any mistletoe!"

You giggled into your kiss before pulling away.

"I'm glad you're home in one piece," you tell him.

"Me too. I'm going to take a quick shower," Simon tells you. You nodded as your kids rushed off to finish the Christmas decorations they were doing before Simon came back home.

After a dinner together, you helped the kids pack up an overnight bag so you could spend the night with your husband alone without any interruptions.

"Are we going on a vacation?" Simon asked you as he stood by the doorway.

"Grandma and grandpa are picking us up!" Nate told him.

"Your parents are coming over?" Simon asked.

"The kids are going to spend the night with them," you said, winking at him.

"It's okay daddy. We can get our Christmas tree tomorrow!" Susie told him.

"I like that idea," Simon told her.

"Oh, your grandparents are here! Come on!" You tell the kids.

Once you bid your goodbyes to your children and your parents, you and Simon headed back inside before closing the door and locking it.

"Now that we're alone," Simon said as he towered over you.

"Not yet, lieutenant. I have a surprise for you," you tell him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You stay out here while I get our bedroom ready," you tell him.

"Can't I join you?"

"No! It'll ruin the surprise," you whined a little.

"Oh fine."

You laughed a little before giving him a quick kiss. You quickly hurried over to your bedroom to change into your outfit and get the bedroom ready.

You dimmed the lights a little after you changed into your outfit before getting on your bed. You called Simon over before pressing play on your phone the moment you heard him walk over.

Simon opened the door to reveal you lying on your side on the bed in a Santa dress with fishnet stockings and a matching Santa hat. You smiled at him as Santa Baby from Ariana Grande and Elizabeth Gillies played through your speakers.

"Is this my early Christmas gift?" Simon asked you.

"Maybe. You like?" You asked him.

"Coming back home to you is always a gift. However, I think I would like to unwrap this one," Ghost said.

"Well, you're lucky you've been on my nice list," you tell him.

"Thank you, Santa," Simon smiled before getting on the bed and climbing on top of you.

"Glad you're home with us for the holidays," you smiled.

"Me too," Simon agreed before kissing you hard on the mouth.

"Now, let's enjoy this while we can without the kids yeah?"

"Want to give me another kid?"

"Let's hope it's not twins again," Simon joked. You giggled a little before kissing him again.

A/N: So I imagined Jade West's outfit from the Christmas episode from Victorious just a heads up for what reader was wearing.

[banannabethchase]

for the hangman in a lab coat doing serious scientific sex experiments with matt as his test subject verse: adam wants to see what matt would look like double stuffed, i.e., they try double penetration with someone else

Greedy - also on AO3

~

Matt's finally ready to suggest his second Mox-related experiment, and Adam is so ready to take a back seat to his mad scientist boyfriend.

~

Thank you for this genius prompt, V!!! Title from Greedy by Ariana Grande.

~

Matt skips into the hotel room, throwing open the door without fanfare, like it hadn’t been a week since they’d seen each other, like he hadn’t been in California packing stuff up in his house to ship cross country to Adam’s. To their home. “I have an idea. An experiment idea.”

“You do?” Adam asks. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks up at Matt.

Who immediately goes pink.

“What?”

“I – forgot what I going to say.” Matt shuffles over to the bed. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Adam says back. He smiles as Matt curls into him, treating him, essentially, as a mattress. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Matt sighs. “You pushed your glasses up your nose and it was cute.” He lifts his head and smiles at Adam, all sweet. “And then I remembered I get to, like, kiss you and keep you and whatever, and…” He trails off and flops back onto Adam’s chest.

“Lord,” Adam says. “You’re all gooey today.” He sets his book down and wraps his arms around Matt’s back. “Must have been the week apart.” He kisses the top of Matt’s head, reminding himself that he’ll get to have these moments every morning from now on. “Tell me what your idea is. I wanna hear.”

Matt hums. “Snuggles first.”

Snuggles turns into resting their eyes, and resting their eyes turns into sleep. Adam never sleeps as well as when Matt is playing weighted blanket on top of him, but it’s in the back of his mind as he drifts off to sleep that he never got an answer about Matt’s idea.

~

They’re in the middle of the venue, helping Tony with some organization, when Matt huffs.

“I have that stupid cowlick going,” he grumbles. “I seriously need you to get that hairbrush situation fixed.”

“Or, what if,” Adam says, moving a speaker where he’s been directed, “you could get your own damned hair brush.” He puts the speaker down and pulls out the cord, running it to the wall.

Matt sits on top of the speaker. “But then I don’t get to share yours.”

“More like you don’t get to have that tiny bit of extra space in your luggage.” Adam leans down and kisses Matt’s forehead. “Get up, come on. We have to get out of here before anybody comes over here and makes us do something else.”

The footsteps feel annoyingly appropriate, but Matt lights up as he jumps to his feet.

“You look so fucked up,” Mox says, looking Matt up and down. Adam stands. “Why do you look like you slept with a rock for a pillow?”

“Considering Adam’s pecs, that’s actually pretty accurate,” Matt retorts.

Adam snickers. “Thanks, babe.”

Mox chews his lollipop and looks Adam up and down. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, by the way.” He winks at Adam. “You looked great at that death match.” He runs his thumb along his lower lip, eyes locked on Adam’s mouth. “Sort of jealous you didn’t drink my blood in ours, but whatever.”

Matt clears his throat. “Well, we’re needed in the EVP room. Thing. With Tony.” He grabs Adam’s hand and drags him away at a speed that feels almost comical.

“What’s wrong with you?” Adam laughs. “We weren’t done with the speakers.”

“My idea,” Matt says. “What the eff. It’s like he can read my mind.”

“Read your – oh.” Adam gets it. “Oh, this is about that idea you keep talking about whenever I’m blowing you?” He slides his fingertips along Matt’s hip, sliding under his shirt. But, for the first time Adam can remember, it doesn’t distract Matt even a bit.

Matt nods. “I wanna ask him,” he says. “I, um. I really – I think it’s the right time, you know.” He bounces on his toes. “Do you think he’ll want to?”

“I think,” Adam says, stepping into Matt’s space until Matt’s pressed up against the wall, “you should say exactly what you want him to do.” He leans in, lips to Matt’s ear. “What you want both of us to do.”

Matt exhales slowly, deeply, intensely. “I want you – both – to…” He swallows, and Adam gears up to hear him say it. “I want you both to fuck me at the same time.”

Adam chuckles in Matt’s ear, licking his lips. “So it’s more than just a fantasy now,” he says. “You really want it?”

“I do,” Matt says. “Um. If you want it.”

Adam pulls back. “Say that again?”

“If you don’t want to, I get it,” Matt says. “I mean, having him, um, rail me when you came in afterwards was kind of different. I know that.” He presses his lips together, still managing to look cute when talking about being fucked by two men at once. “So I need to you to know that I’m okay if it it’s just a fantasy.” He grabs Adam’s hands, and looks so goddamned sincere with those gigantic eyes that Adam almost wants to drop to a knee now.

He does have the ring in his bag this time.

“So, just, I’m okay if it’s all talk,” Matt says, nodding. “I’m okay with it.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Do you think that I only want it to be talk?”

Matt shrugs. “I mentioned it to Kenny.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “You brought up our threesome to Kenny?”

“You know how he is,” Matt says, waving it off like that statement makes any sense at all. “He had a similar thing going a while back and told me to make sure you were entirely on board with it before bringing it to Mox’s attention.” He wrinkles his nose. “Apparently Kenny asked Nick before double checking with Kota and it all went really bad.”

“I mean, you brought it up to me months ago,” Adam says, and he finds himself playing with Matt’s hair, running silky locks through his fingertips. Mox was right, though. There’s a bunch of knots he slowly starts working through.  “And did I seem like I didn’t want to back then?”

“We had just finished having sex,” Matt says, like an explanation. “Sometimes we say things in a post orgasm haze that we don’t mean.”

“Like that one time you said you could see the appeal of the Undertaker, you mean.”

Matt frowns. “You promised me you would never bring that up.”

“No,” Adam says, “no, you told me to promise never to bring it up, and I told you I would save it for a time when it was appropriate for the situation, and here we are.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “You suck.”

“Says you,” Adam says, kissing his forehead. “Now, tell me again. Tell me exactly what you want so I can tell you I am so fucking into it I may have hidden extra lube in my checked bags every goddamned time we fly just in case you decide it’s time.”

Matt exhales slowly. “Really?”

Adam nods. “Really.”

Matt stands on his toes and kisses Adam with a fervor, hands wound around his neck and fingers in his hair. “I want it,” he gasps, against Adam’s lips. “But – but I wanna make sure you – that we all know I belong to you, in the end.”

Adam whines. “Fuck. Goddamnit, baby, you can’t say shit like that when we have a show to help run.” He leans in and kisses Matt as possessively as he can, trying to make sure Matt knows. He’s always Adam’s.

“Okay,” Matt says, looking dazed and floating when Adam pulls away. “We have to talk to Mox first, though.”

~

The opportunity comes later that night at the hotel, when Adam and Matt are stopping by the hotel restaurant for a late night snack.

“I just really want French fries,” Adam says, dragging Matt. “Come on.”

When they walk in, Mox has a plate of fries in front of him.

“Huh,” Adam says. “Look at that, baby.”

“You said you wanted French fries.”

Adam decides that he’s earned a bad idea, so he walks up to Mox and grabs a fry from the plate, popping it in his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Mox asks turning to him. Adam grins as he chews, Matt sliding around to Mox’s other side.

“Hey,” Adam says. “Matt has a question for you.”

Mox grins. “Oh. Anything like last time?”

“Similar,” Matt says, and Adam can’t help but notice the way he trails his fingertips along the back of Mox’s neck as he walks to his other side. “But it requires the two of you to be, like, cool with being near each other. More than last time.”

Mox leans back, which gives Adam the opportunity to take a few more fries. “Talk to me,” he says. “And stop fuckin’ eating my French fries, you dick.” He slaps Adam’s hand when he reaches out to grab another. “You two fucking suck, by the way.”

“We weren’t thinking sucking would be involved,” Matt says, hopping into the barstool. “Well, this time.”

“This time?” Mox asks, turning to Adam. “This becoming a thing?”

Adam shrugs. “Don’t ask me. This one’s all his idea.”

“I thought you were the experimenter or something.”

Adam frowns, and reaches out to take another fry. Mox doesn’t stop him. “My lab’s been taken over by a madman.”

“You have never once complained about my ideas,” Matt says. “Anyway, if you two will stop bitching, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Mox has to straight up slap his hand over Matt’s mouth at one point when the bartender is coming over to refill their waters.

“Baby, I love you,” Adam says, fighting back laughter, “but if you say ‘just get your dick in there and we’ll make it work’ in public like that, somebody eventually is going to leak that to a dirt sheet and people are going to start expecting very different pay per views.”

Matt’s eyes light up a little more than strictly necessary.

“Hard no,” Adam says firmly. He glances around, then leans in, over Mox. “I ain’t sharing you with anybody except for him. You’re mine.”

Matt’s eyes widen and he settles back into his seat. “So I shouldn’t bring up that thing I wanted to ask related to Claudio?”

Mox laughs so hard he slides off the barstool.

~

Wrestling’s a sport. Adam knows that. They train and focus, and Matt goes hard on exercises specifically researched to make him better at certain wrestling moves. But Adam has never seen anybody train the way Matt has the past few weeks for this particular event. They’d been messing around with Matt taking more and more for months, but since their conversation with Mox a few weeks before, things have gotten almost clinical.

They’re in bed, Adam on his back as Matt sinks down on him.

“I’m just saying,” Matt says, far too put together to be filled up by Adam, “I don’t think it’s possible for Mox to be bigger than this one.” His turned around the opposite direction from Adam. “Okay, go ahead.”

Adam grins. “You sure?” he asks. He touches around Matt’s hole gentle, giving soft, listless thrusts with his dick and a finger. “I can just keep this up as long as you want.”

Matt falls a little forward on his hands. “I – okay, always, but I’m really – I want to make sure I can handle this one, too.”

It takes a few minutes, some deep breathing from Matt, and Adam keeping his hips as still as possible, but Matt manages to take both Adam and the largest dildo they have in their collection.

“Fuck,” Adam says, staring. “I wish I could see your face, babe. But this view is out of this world.”

He keeps himself absolutely still as he slowly works the dildo in and out.

Matt exhales. “This – I feel –”

Adam freezes. “Are you okay?”

“This is incredible,” Matt says. “I don’t get – this…Adam, I may be obsessed with this.”

“Fucking awesome,” Adam murmurs. “Because I kind of am, too.”

He reaches around without moving his hips but can only get his fingertips along Matt’s cock.

“Oh,” Matt says, voice a whisper. “Oh, okay. Take the other – take the fake one out. I want you to really give it to me, okay?”

Truly, Adam has never said no to Matt.

~

Matt sprints into Adam’s bedroom, skidding to a stop right before crashing into his bed.

“Hey,” Adam says, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at my phone,” Matt says, throwing himself on the bed and shoving the phone into Adam’s face.

“Even cross eyed, I couldn’t read that,” Adam mutters. He bats at Matt’s hand until he pulls his hand back and Adam can grab the phone.

got a suite Tuesday nite til fridya morning if you two are in this week

“He spelled Friday wrong,” Adam says, frowning down at the phone. He looks back up at Matt. “Is that why you’re freaking out?”

“Don’t – focus, Adam!” Matt says. When Adam looks up, he can finally see how excited Matt is. “Mox got a suite! So we can do the whole two guys at once thing!” He does what Adam may have to consider the most charming happy dance he’s seen from Matt, something similar to when he’s being a particularly huge bitch in a match.

“Oh, shit,” Adam says. “Yeah. Hell yeah. Let’s do it.”

They go down on each other in Adam’s – in their, he’s still not used to it, it feels like a dream – laundry room, giggling, as they pack for the flight to Dynamite, and Adam is beginning to get worried he’s just as excited as Matt.

~

Matt is enthusiastic about everything the next few days. He gleefully takes his sneakers off for TSA, accepts the lack of diet Coke on the plane graciously, and doesn’t say a word when the Lyft is twenty minutes late and has a car that smells like four gallons of cologne. Even Adam’s barely kind enough not to bitch about it. Matt practically bounces his way to the hotel room and to the venue.

“You really are excited for tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

Matt nods fervently. “Also, I’ve had, like six coffees.”

“Six – when?!” Adam asks. He drops his things in the EVP room. “It’s two in the afternoon. When did you even have the time?!”

“When you went to talk to Silver and Reynolds,” Matt replies. He sits on the couch crosslegged, but still tapping his fingers rapidly. “Concessions had a bunch of coffee ready so I kept refilling.”

“There is something so deeply wrong with you, baby,” he laughs, kissing Matt’s forehead. “Chill out a little bit before we go do professional shit, okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble for being weird in public.”

“You like it when I’m weird in public,” Matt says, and his grin goes dangerous. “You really liked it when I was weird when you were doing camera for that one Mox match.”

Adam exhales slowly. “Yeah, but nobody knew you were there.”

“You did,” Matt says, grinning.

“You shouldn’t be so proud of that,” Adam says, kissing Matt’s forehead. “We risked getting fired.”

Matt shrugs. “Yeah, but we didn’t.”

Adam does a terrible job of paying attention to anything during Dynamite. He and the Bucks are backstage only, which means Matt is half in his lap as he studies the cameras and makes calls while Adam presses buttons at his command.

“I really hate how I have to do this now,” he mutters during a commercial. “What happened to me hanging out backstage?”

“We got back together and you got stuck with me,” Matt says. He’s half in Adam’s lap at this point.

“Yeah, and you two made it everybody’s problem,” Nick says, grinning as he mutes his mic. “Now shut up so I can cue music, you idiots.” He’s been in a much better mood for a while. Adam kind of wants to know why, but also thinks he shouldn’t dare to ask.

Adam follows instructions as best he can, but he really needs to talk to Tony about not doing this next time. Dynamite and Rampage finish smoothly, in Adam’s opinion, but Matt’s got some complaints as he drives back to the hotel, with Nick and Kenny in the back seats.

“I just think,” Matt continues, “that if we’re expected to communicate with all members of the roster, everybody should be given a company phone that actually works well, you know?”

“That’s great, Matt, but I asked if you wanted to get a Frosty,” Nick says.

~

Matt dives at him when they close the door to their hotel room, and it’s only reflexes that save Matt from falling to the floor. Adam grabs him at the ass and holds him up on instinct.

“You know well and good I can’t fuck you tonight if we’re going to see Mox tomorrow,” Adam says, dropping Matt on the bed.

He gets giant, miserable booboo eyes in response. “No, but you can suck my dick.” He flutters his eyelashes. “C’mon, I’ve been in such a good mood today.”

“Have you?” Adam asks. He kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the bed with a grin. “Didn’t you bitch at everyone you saw about the shitty company phones?”

“That wasn’t bitching! It was a companywide improvement recommendation!” Matt says as Adam’s hands go for his belt. Adam can feel he’s already hard.

“How are you always – you were rambling about chocolate vs peppermint Frostys, like, five minutes ago.”

“And?” Matt asks as Adam pulls down his pants. “Now I’m here.” He gestures to Adam. “Come on. How else am I ever gonna react when you’re in front of me?”

“Goddamnit,” Adam says with a sigh, eye level with Matt’s dick. “You’re being sweet. Now I have to suck your dick.”

~

“You nervous?” Adam asks, grinning down at Matt. They’ve got all their bags with them, since Mox as offered them to stay the night at the suite after it’s all said and done, and Adam’s just waiting for Matt to knock.

Matt swallows. “No.”

“Then knock.”

“You knock.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “It’s your idea.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Matt says. “Aren’t you supposed to do what I want or something?”

Adam snorts. “Yeah, okay. Then we’ll be out here for hours, baby. It’s your fantasy.” He leans in and kisses across Matt’s cheekbone until his lips reach Matt’s ear. “And your experiment. Go ahead. Knock.”

Matt’s shaky and shivery when he knocks, but there’s not an ounce of hesitation as he does so.

Mox throws the door open a few moments later. “Hey, douchebags,” he says, grinning. “How are ya?”

“Good,” Matt says primly. “Can we come in?”

“Sure, baby,” Mox says, popping the lollipop back between his lips. Adam’s a bit entranced. Mox steps back and Adam follows Matt into the spacious suite. It really is large – an entire living area with a small kitchenette, giant TV. He can see the door to the bedroom open, revealing a giant bed.

“Get comfy,” Mox says, throwing himself on the couch. Adam watches how the pale washed denim stretches across strong thighs, how the Death Jitsu long sleeve tee stretches across his broad chest.

Adam swallows. Maybe he’s just as eager for this as Matt.

“Well,” Matt says. “I’m, um. Off to take a shower.” He brushes down his shirt. “I’ll see the two of you in a minute.”

He stops off, one of his bags in his hand, like he already owns the suite, his shirt flying behind him back into the living room.

“He always like that?” Mox asks, stretching out.

Adam nods. “Always.”

“Seems exhausting,” Mox says, grabbing the remote.

“Sure fuckin’ is,” Adam says, laughing. “Put on the show from last night. Matt was in charge of cameras and I want to see if he did a good job.”

The two of them watch the first match and two promos of Dynamite before they hear someone clear their throat, rather insistently, from the bedroom.

“You need something, princess?” Mox yells.

“Yeah,” Matt yells back. “It’s about time.”

“You just turned the shower off, so don’t get bitchy,” Adam calls, and he rolls his eyes at Mox.

Mox grins. “God, you two are gonna be so fun.”

Adam feels a chill wash down his body, a mix of anticipation and Mox’s words.

Matt, inexplicably, is dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of soft looking sweatpants. “Alright,” Matt says, stretching his arms out and tucking his hands behind his head. “Here I am.”

“Here you are,” Adam says. He can’t resist walking over and kissing Matt, just a little one, before stepping back to stand next to Mox.

Matt pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes darting from Adam to Mox. The attitude, the cockiness, starts to fall off of him like sheets of snow from a roof, revealing Matt’s pretty-eyed desire laid bare.

Nobody speaks. Mox and Adam stand next to each other, unmoving. Adam hates to admit it, but he wants to follow Mox’s lead on this one.

“Is – isn’t anybody gonna come over here?” Matt asks. He wiggles. “You’re just staring at me like – like you want to eat me alive or something.”

“That what you want?” Adam asks.

Matt presses his lips together, eyes flicking from Mox to Adam. “Not quite.”

“Yeah?” Mox asks. “Tell me what you’re looking for, Matt. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Matt exhales. “E-everything?”

“I want to hear every detail that you’re thinking off,” Mox says. His eyes flick to Adam, who nods. “Or else we’re not doing it.”

Matt nods. “Yeah, that – that’s fair. Gotta make sure we’re all in agreement.”

Adam laughs. “Baby, I love you so much, but you’re making our threesome sound like a business deal.”

“I mean, it kind of is,” Matt says, shrugging. “Only instead of credit cards, it’s dicks. And instead of a cash register, it’s me.” He flares red. “Oh, boy.”

“Did you just get turned on by talking about money?” Mox turns to Adam. “What the fuck is wrong with him?

“That’s the wrong question,” Adam says, and he walks over to the bed so he can smack roll Matt over and smack his ass. “The question is what isn’t wrong with him.”

“I am right here,” Matt grumbles, but he’s got a little smile on his lips.

“Tell ya what,” Mox says, falling into the chair. “How about you lay down on the bed and tell us while you touch yourself?” Mox pats the arm of the chair. “Come on over, Cowboy. Bet you’re used to riding.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.” But Adam walks over and makes himself comfortable on Mox’s lap, flinging a leg over the arm of the chair.

“You two are too big for that chair,” Matt says, licking his lips as he stares. “Way too big.”

“Is this anxiety coming through?” Adam asks. “Because if this is a metaphor –”

“Is not,” Matt scoffs. He takes off his shirt like he’s offended at the suggestion. “Mox, you don’t know this, but Adam and I have been practicing.”

Mox chuckles, a warm rumble on Adam’s back. “Practicing?”

“If that’s what they call it then we should be experts by now,” Adam mutters.

“Maybe not – oh – maybe not practicing, I guess, but I’ve been working myself up to this, and I have been able to take the biggest one we have with Adam,” Matt says. He seems cocky, proud of himself as he pulls down his sweatpants. He’s already hard, pretty red cock curving up toward his belly as he steps back and lays down on the bed. “I mean, not to be a dick, but you can’t be much bigger than that one, based on our previous encounter.”

“He always talk like that?” Mox asks, lips by Adam’s neck, and it is distracting as hell that his arch rival’s lips are brushing against his skin while his boyfriend is jerking off on the bed. “He really does make everything sound like a business meeting.”

“You get used to it,” Adam says, grinding back on Mox’s lap. He can play dirty, too. “You gotta lean into it. Treat it like a corporate role play or something.” He grins. “Baby, show Mox what happens when I call you Mr. Jackson.”

Matt exhales, entire body rolling as he fucks up into his fist. “That’s not fair,” he murmurs. “I’m trying to explain a fantasy here.”

“Then explain it,” Mox says. “We ain’t got all day.”

That is an absolute lie, and all three of them know it. Mox made sure this suite was available until 11am tomorrow for this exact reason, and yet Matt nods, turning his glassy eyes over to Mox and Adam.

“I want you both inside me at once,” he says, eyes locked onto Adam. “I want you both,” he pauses, and Adam knows he’s steadying himself to look at Mox when he says it, “to fuck me at the same time.”

“Yeah?” Mox says. He slides his hand into Adam’s lap. “Feels like the Cowboy’s into it.”

“You are, too, jackass,” Adam replies, rolling his ass against Mox’s hard cock. “Don’t get to uppity about it.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

Adam stands and pulls his shirt off over his head. “Matty, hands off.”

Matt takes his hand off his dick. “Why?”

He grins at Matt, then grins back at Mox. “We can’t let Mox get started here without a show, can we?”

“Oh!” Matt says. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I can do that.” He makes little grabby hands, and Adam wants to fuck him silly right now. But they have plans. “C’mere.”

Adam leans over Matt and kisses him deep, keeping his body away from Matt’s as he licks into his mouth, as he marks a few claims over Matt’s skin. Mox will share his body, sure. But Matt will always, always be Adam’s.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mox murmurs. Adam can hear rustling. “Look, you two both know you’re hot as hell, but this feels illegal to watch or something.” Adam thinks Mox has shucked all of his clothes. “Fuck.”

Adam slides his hand down Matt’s thigh and digs his fingers in the way he know gets Matt all whimpery, hiking his leg up. Matt drops his head back and moans.

“That one was on purpose, wasn’t it,” Mox says. Adam can hear his breathing. “Jesus Christ.”

Adam laughs. “Yeah. He’s good at being a pretty little performer.” Adam leans down and kisses Matt again, gently. “You ready, baby?”

Matt nods, determination in his eyes. “I got this.”

“Pretty little performer,” Adam repeated, voice no more than a murmur as he brushes Matt’s hair from his eyes. “One set of eyes on you isn’t enough, is it? You need two people all over you.”

Matt whines like he’s trying to get more contact.

“You want him over here too?” Adam asks. He bites at Matt’s neck. “Can’t get enough. Greedy son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Matt pants. “Greedy. Want both of you. C’mon.”

Adam feels the mattress dip as Mox sits on the bed next to Matt. “Pretty little thing,” he says. “Just wants to be used, huh?”

“Absolutely.” Adam pulls back to see Matt’s chest heaving. “One dick’s not enough for him. He’s gotta be split open by two.”

Matt whines. “This is fun and all, but I really, really want to get railed now, okay?”

“You know that’s not actually what you want,” Mox says. “Say what you actually want.”

Matt flames red. “I want you two inside of me at once.”

“That’s better,” Adam says. He grabs Matt by the hip and flips him over. “But first, we gotta get you ready.”

“I got an idea,” Mox says. He slides down the bed and palms at Matt’s ass. “You like getting eaten out?”

Adam rolls his eyes at how Matt immediately shifts so his ass is on display. “Yes,” he deadpans. “Yes, he does.”

“Cool,” Mox says, and he dives in.

Adam’s never gotten to see Matt’s face when somebody’s tongue is in his ass, but it’s almost as desperate and open as when he’s getting fucked.

“You like that?” Adam asks.

“Yes,” Matt hisses. “Yes, I – oh my god.”

“Tongue’s not just good for talking, huh?” Adam says. He leans in and kisses Matt, awkward as their faces are pressed into the mattress, but Matt doesn’t seem too upset about it.

Mox makes sloppy, slurping noises, eager and goal oriented, and Adam’s got no choice but to rip off his pants and stroke his dick about it.

“Please?” Matt asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

“No,” Adam says. “You have to wait. I’m not putting my dick in your mouth when you specifically asked for it in your ass.”

Matt pouts for a second, then gasps. “Oh, Mox, right there.”

“Yeah?” Mox says, and his beard is shimmering with spit. “There?”

Matt nods. “I can take another finger, c’mon.”

“When’d that happen?” Adam asks. He’s not confused, exactly. But.

“About a minute ago, when you were fucking around with him,” Mox says. “He took it so pretty, too.”

Adam can tell when Mox adds another finger by Matt’s face.

“You use the –”

“What do you think I am, an amateur?” Mox asks. He picks up the bottle, already with a sizeable amount missing, and wiggles it with his free hand. “Of course I used lube.” He must do something interesting with his fingers because Matt gasps. “Didn’t I, Matt?”

Matt nods. “Okay, this is fun, whatever, but this has been too much teasing.” He grabs at Adam’s arm until Adam falls so he’s half slumped on the pillows. “Get in me.”

“You are not ready,” Mox says. “Like, maybe for one.”

“Exactly,” Matt says, and he swings a leg over Adam’s hips and sinks down on Adam’s cock so fast it’s almost impossible. Matt exhales so deeply and so thoroughly it’s like he’s surfacing from a riptide. “There we go.” He rocks a little, like he’s getting used to the size of Adam. “Okay. Mox, go ahead.”

Adam and Mox meet eyes over Matt’s shoulders, and Adam sees his befuddlement mirrored in Mox’s eyes.

“When the fuck did you get the idea you’re in charge?” Mox asks. “And, no, hold on.”

“A finger, obviously,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “Come on. You want in on this, right?” He rolls his hips masterfully and Adam can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. “You really want to wait?”

Mox bites his lip. “Jesus. You’re a fucking terror.”

“Isn’t he?” Adam says. “It’s great until it isn’t.”

Matt shrugs, throwing his hair over his shoulder. It slaps Mox in the face, but Matt doesn’t seem to even notice. He rolls his hips again.

“You gotta quit that, baby, or this’ll be over way too soon,” Adam says.

“Quick on the draw, Cowboy?”

“You shut the fuck up,” Adam says, glaring at Mox. “Nobody asked you.”

“Pretty sure your boyfriend asked me.”

“Would you two stop the measuring contest and start competing to see, like, who can fuck me better?” Matt asks. “Jesus. I thought I was the most annoying person in this room.”

“I hate it when you’re self-aware and still manage to insult me,” Adam says, but he leans up to pull Matt for a kiss.

He gasps into Matt’s mouth when he feels something brush up against the base of his dick and then alongside of it. Mox’s finger is careful, tentative, but such an unbelievable shift of experience that Adam might get addicted if he’s not careful.

“That’s – oh,” Matt says, shifting. “Okay. Yeah, that’s a lot.”

“Thought you could take Adam and the other dildo or whatever.”

“The dildo doesn’t move on its own, and it isn’t attached to a big, annoying bitch,” Matt retorts.

There’s a smack and Matt grins, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” Mox grumbles.

It takes ages. Mox is incredibly meticulous, Adam is still and concentrated, and Matt, bitchy and demanding as ever, doesn’t let up the litany of complaints and demands for more.

Finally, after what seems like years, Mox is set up behind Matt, his thighs spread over Adam’s as he presses along Matt’s back.

“Are you ready?” Mox asks. “If there’s any problems –”

“There won’t be,” Matt promises.

“Matt,” Adam says, grabbing his face and turning him to look into Adam’s eyes.

Matt nods. “I’ll say. I promise.”

“Good boy.” He yanks Matt down for one last kiss. “He ready, Mox?”

“I think so.” Adam’s never seen such concentration written on Mox’s brow before. “Alright, Matt?”

“Do it,” Matt says, punctuating with a deep exhale.

Adam drops against the headboard as he feels the blunt head of Mox’s cock slide in next to him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes.

Matt braces his hands on Adam’s chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Adam reaches up, brushes his knuckles against Matt’s cheek. “You okay?”

Matt nods. “Just – it’s so much.”

“In a good way?” Mox asks, voice tight.

“An amazing way,” Matt says. He wiggles his hips and Adam feels – fucking hell, he can feel Mox’s cock rub up against his. “Oh, this is great.”

“Do you want me to move?” Mox asks.

“Yes,” Adam and Matt say at the same time.

Mox chuckles. “Don’t have to be so eager for it, you two.” Adam can’t see much but Mox’s face, but he can feel when he pulls his hips back then pushes in further. Matt whines. “Okay, mostly you.” Mox leans in and pulls Matt’s hair back from his face. “Taking two at once like the best hole there is.”

Matt whines, dropping his head. “I wanna move,” he says, “I – but I can’t. I feel – this is –” He cuts off as Mox pulls just a little further back. “Oh, god, I can’t do anything.”

“Is that a good thing?” Adam asks. He glances down and Matt’s leaking like a broken faucet, still hard as a rock.

“It’s amazing,” Matt says, “like – like I have to – like I can’t – it’s up to you two.” Adam can tell he’s trying to say something else but can’t get the words out, so Adam twitches his hips just the tiniest bit and both Matt and Mox yelp.

“Goddamnit, Cowboy,” Mox growls. “Get your hips back on the bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Adam says, but he does, as slow as he can, settle his hips back down flat. Matt’s eyes roll back.

“I – Mox,” he says. “Move. Do – please?”

It’s not like how he’s used to it, with Matt. Mox keeps adding lube when he pulls out and it’s getting everywhere, and Matt’s hands stay on Adam’s chest, arms, stomach, bracing himself and digging in nails. It’s slow. It’s intentional. And it’s incredible.

“I’m so proud of you, Matty,” Adam murmurs, and he reaches down to stroke at Matt’s cock. “Look at you. I knew you could do it, but I didn’t – you’re so good at this.”

Matt’s eyes flutter shut at the praise. “Yeah, I knew I could, too.”

Mox snorts. “The fuck have I gotten myself into…”

“Matt, obviously,” Adam replies, stroking Matt with the end goal in sight.

Something about the phrase does it for Matt, and he comes with a whimper, quiet for the first time of his life, as he paints Adam’s chest and stomach. The way he clenches around Mox and Adam, tight and hot and – fuck. Adam’s not even done much, but he needs it.

“Matt, you okay if I…?”

“Yes,” Matt says to Mox. Adam feels like he’s being tormented, still and powerless as he waits.

Mox rolls his hips gently, the head of his cock catching against Adam’s, and Adam can barely handle it. It’s taking more restraint than he knew he had not to go wild. Instead, he swipes at the come on his chest and offers messy fingers to Matt, who takes them into his mouth eagerly.

“I hate how hot you two are,” Mox grumbles, voice tight. But then he grunts and Adam feels his dick pulse against his own as he gently, slowly, rocks his hips. The press against Adam’s dick, the feeling of Mox’s come next to him inside of Matt. He didn’t think he was that close, but, then again, there was once a time where he didn’t think he’d be with Matt again, either.

He closes his eyes and has to force his hips still. “I’m – oh, god, I can’t – I want to, but I can’t –”

“Are we accidentally edging you?” Matt giggles. He tilts his hips back and Adam feels Mox slip his softening dick out.

“Yes,” Adam answers. “Matty, please, I have to…” He can’t even speak. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he knows how close he is, how badly he needs to come.

“Are you begging me?” Matt asks, and Adam opens his eyes to see Matt on top of his, grinning and gleeful. “Is this a role reversal?”

Adam wraps an arm behind Matt’s back and flips them, slamming Matt to the mattress. His dick is painfully hard, he’s so close. “Can I fuck you?” he asks before sliding back into Matt. He knows Matt might be sore, sensitive, not able to do anything further. He hovers, as still as he can get himself. He knows he might have to find some other way to get off. But he has to. He can’t wait anymore.

“Please fuck me,” Matt says, eyes soft, and Adam dives back in.

He can feel Mox’s come around his cock like last time, easing the glide, and it’s over in seconds. He lets out a hoarse cry as he buries himself deep inside of Matt, adding to Mox’s mess, dropping down on shaking elbows.

He feels a hand on his back, calloused and huge. “Damn, man.”

Adam lifts his head. “Hmm?”

“That was some fucking wild restraint,” Mox says. He rolls to the side of the bed, laying next to Matt and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’ve never seen anybody simultaneously out of his fucking mind and steady in my life.”

Adam shrugs, still breathing heavily. “Not gonna hurt him,” Adam mutters, dropping his head back down. It’s too much work to keep it up. “Never gonna hurt him again, if I can help it.”

Matt sighs and runs his fingers through Adam’s hair. “Love you, too.”

Mox groans. “How did double penetration turn fucking tender? I hate both of you.”

“You do not,” Adam says, and he finally can steady his muscles enough to pull out of Matt at the slowest pace possible, his cock stinging with oversensitivity. He falls to the side with open arms and Matt dives into them, clamoring onto Adam’s chest like an eager starfish. Mox scoots in to fill the space, lining his body against Adam’s.

“Hey,” Mox says. “You good?”

Adam nods, sleepy but sated. “Different than I expected. You’re a bitch even when your cock’s next to mine. I’m surprised.”

Mox shrugs. “Meeting the energy of the room, you could say.”

Matt lifts a weak arm and flips Mox off.

They lay like that, cozy and quiet, for some time. Adam finds his mind wiped, his body tired, and his anxiety gone. There’s not enough energy left in him to feel it. He trails fingers up and down Matt’s spine, knuckles along Mox’s chest. It’s almost too comfortable. He might need to find an excuse to do something like this again, just to reach this feeling afterwards where things feel this comfortably blank. He’ll start thinking up experiments when he has enough brain power to remember his own name.

When he hears little snuffles he thinks Matt’s fallen asleep, which would mean waking him up which is always unpleasant. He exchanges a little smile with Mox, who raises an eyebrow. Adam shrugs.

A few moments later, Matt finally stirs and sits up.

“So,” he says, smiling a little sleepy but with light in his eyes. “How do the two of you feel about spitroasting?”

“Can we recover from the first threesome first and then talk about the next one?” Adam asks, pulling Matt’s hair away from his face. “The king of one track minds, I swear.”

“There’s a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom,” Mox offers. “Speaking of recovery, you know.” He tucks some of Matt’s hair behind his ear, gentler than Adam expected. “You’re gonna be sore for a while, babe.”

Matt turns a little pinker.

“You just called him babe,” Adam says, and he hears laughter in his voice. “Be careful. That’s how the two of us ended up together the first time.”

Mox stands up and stretches. Adam’s no longer above watching that scarred, beautiful body as it moves, lean muscles under decorated skin. He figures fucking his boyfriend alongside Mox makes all boundaries disappear. “I’ll hear that story someday, I’m sure,” he mutters. “But let’s go check out that jacuzzi.”

~

Mini Playlist: Greedy - Ariana Grande 3 - Britney Spears FUCK - Snow Wife Your Wish Is My Command - Kim Petras

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO REBLOG, I WAS PACKING TO MOVE 🙂‍↕️ always these r my comments on my first AND SECOND read through because im actually obsessed with them ⬇️

also the two songs i've been playing on repeat for this fic is everytime by ariana grande and y.d.l.r by tory lanez. take from that as u will 😌

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

i cannot tell u how giggly i am rn

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

i love this so MUCH SO SO SO MUCH

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

i unfortunately do not know what a slapshot is

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

YOU TOOK MY IDEA AHHHH 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

ohmygodohmygodohmygodddd

Bang!In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

As he FUCKING SHOULD I AM LITERALLY ON THE EDGE OF MY SEATTT

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

choose me love me fuck me (who said that)

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

his jealousy is RADIATING and i’m eating all of it up

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

sometimes yes pls prove how obsessed u r w me

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

my favorite part of hate sex when they r LIARS

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

HES SUCH A DICK

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

OH I FUCKING LOVE HERRR

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

HE DOESNT EVEN LET HER ANSWER why is this so hotttt

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

i’m so quiet bc i’m so into this 🫣🫣🫣🫣

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

ONE FUCKING CHANCE

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

he’s INSATIABLE

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

YKW FUCK U I WILL

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

so u give me earth-shattering smut and emotional angst? screw u

💌 i am absolutely enamored by the way u wrote their tension, how rafe fucking banged against the plexiglass and DARES her ohmygod i melted in a fucking puddle. ur smut was absolutely hot scorning riveting AND I WAS SO SURPRISED BY THIS MANS STAMINA LIKE CAN WE CATCH A BREATHE ugh ☺️💘 u did my req so much justice n gave me sm inspo i must write now

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle. Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you. This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. But tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, well, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus. You weren’t here for Rafe, not anymore. You loved hockey. You loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace.

Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth. The game was just about to start, and the arena lights dimmed slightly, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

And then, as if the universe was personally trying to screw with you, you saw him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid confident smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team. His dark blonde hair peeked out from under his helmet He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever. You couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him. 

He always had to be in charge, on and off the ice.

He still had that same cocky swagger that made you wanna scream… for entirely different reasons now.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. Probably because you’d never let him run you out of your favorite game. Not even if he was captain now. This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex. But it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized… You’d put on Rafe’s jersey. 

His number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, sure. But you loved Rafe a little more. Or, you used to. Or, well, maybe that was still complicated.

The puck dropped, and the game started. For a while, you tried to focus on the action. Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he thought he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, like he knew you were there. And maybe he did

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up. That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And then, just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen. Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t exactly embarrassed, but this was... awkward. 

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, could see his lips getting closer, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass. His eyes were locked on you, jaw clenched.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat. He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. The look on Rafe’s face as he stood on the other side of the glass?

That was what had your pulse racing. You could barely focus on Elijah anymore. The way he laughed, oblivious, made your stomach churn because Rafe—Rafe—was staring like he owned you. He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his. 

And you hated that you still kind of liked it.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words. Silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew exactly how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working. He wasn’t just playing hockey—he was playing with you.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him.

He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was almost infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, with his stupid intense eyes, all but daring you to move on. Why did he have to look at you like that—like he knew you were still his.

The breakup had been brutal, the kind of messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful. And now here you were, months later, still dealing with the fallout. 

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you. The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but all you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah, but your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could practically feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore. You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. You could practically hear Rafe’s teeth grinding from across the glass. Good. If he thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned the place—and you—then he deserved to stew in it a little.

But, of course, he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, like he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah. His shoulders were tense, movements a little too aggressive, like he was about to snap.

You tried to focus on the game again, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You hated this. You hated that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him. Why was it so hard to let him go?

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. Every hit was harder, every pass sharper. It was like he was playing angry. And you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

But then, with less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated. He slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off. He stood over the guy, glaring down at him like he was ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer. You knew exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at Rafe, but his eyes weren’t on the ref. They were still on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet. The arena was buzzing, the crowd getting rowdy, and for a second, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched, jaw set—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face. Your heart was racing, your body tense. Elijah had leaned back in his seat, totally unaware about everything.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

You didn’t answer. Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair like he didn’t just about murder a guy on the ice. You could feel his eyes on you, even from all the way across the rink. You hated it. You hated that he could still get to you like this.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, not to the score, not to the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, about the way he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers. Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, you could feel the tension building in your chest. It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe.

And you knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, still clueless. But you were distracted, scanning the crowd without even realizing it.

And then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, still in his gear, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight. He didn’t even pretend to care about the people around him—his gaze was dark, intense, like a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your gaze, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving. “Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was low, casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring Elijah completely. "Didn’t even stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool. "It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. He took a step closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably. "You didn’t used to leave so soon," he said, voice dripping with that familiar cockiness. "Used to be the last one out."

Because you’d always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, trying to stand his ground. "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, before landing back on you.

"Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

He glanced at Elijah briefly, his gaze cold and dismissive, then back at you. “You sure about that?” he asked, “Because it doesn’t look like it.”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now. Not with Elijah here. Not after everything.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at Elijah’s arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated. But Rafe wasn’t having it.

He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow. “Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off quickly, your voice tight. “Let’s just go.”

But Rafe wasn’t about to let it go. 

“Yeah, Elijah,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.” His eyes flicked to you, dark and daring, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with the same fire.

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway, your body practically vibrating.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door. 

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the anger, the unresolved pull between you two. And maybe it was the way he still had that stupid hold on you, the way your body responded when you shouldn’t want it to.

Or maybe it was the fact that you’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the dimly lit hallway that led to the locker room. The second the door closed, you spun around, shoving him in the chest hard. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe barely flinched, his gaze smoldering as he crowded you against the wall. 

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, and not just because Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did— God, why did he have to be so damn close? The scent of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the game, sending your mind spiraling. He was overwhelming, and you hated it. You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended. The way his blue eyes were boring into yours, like he could see through all your bullshit, wasn’t helping.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.” 

He stepped closer, caging you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away. And he knew it.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him. But even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them. The truth was, part of you had always been his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he could read every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin’ about me all night.” His breath was hot on your skin, and you hated how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched as you tried to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, to leave you alone, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin. The way his body hovered over yours—it was like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t spent the last few months trying to forget him.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your stomach. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had. But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Don’t—”

But he was already kissing you, hard and rough like he owned you, like you were his and his alone.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. His hands were on you, grabbing at your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, to slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans. 

This was so wrong, on so many levels. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Rafe didn’t back off. He was staring down at you like you were his next meal, like he’d been starving without you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

Rafe’s grin widened, wicked and knowing. He leaned in again, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did.

“Oh, you will.”

And God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You wanted to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face. But instead, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, and it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing soft or sweet about this. It was all heat and frustration, months of unresolved anger bursting out in one chaotic, messy kiss.

His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy. He groaned, low and rough, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you yanked him down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, rough, and you hated how much you craved him, like you were still his.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be.

But every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head back as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart, and it pissed you off that he still had that power.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. His mouth was on you, hot and demanding, and for a moment, it was like nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so damn wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again. Like you hadn’t been apart at all.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe muttered against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. You did want this. You hated that you did, but fuck, you couldn’t lie—not to him, not to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, and for a split second, you thought maybe you’d find some kind of resolve, some way to pull yourself back from him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy. And that was it. Your last piece of control vanished, and you were lost in him all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to break free of him.

Rafe pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, breathless and flushed. “Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still tangled in his hair. It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

You could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was suffocating in the best way, and you hated yourself for how much you wanted it.

How much you wanted him.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, your breath hitching when his mouth moved down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was rough, low in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “But I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and whatever you were going to say was swallowed by the heat rushing through you. You hated that he still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—” Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body. You clutched at his shirt.

“This what?” he taunted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes intense. “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath. You hated that he was right. Again.

Always.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving. Not yet.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitched. This was dangerous territory. You knew that. 

“Last chance,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again—harder this time, angrier, like you needed to prove something to yourself. And maybe you did.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one rough motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were everywhere—on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same reckless urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed, “No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing you down on the bench, his body heavy against yours.

Everything was messy, and rushed, like neither of you could get enough. Like you were trying to erase the months of distance, of frustration, in the way you kissed him back, bit his lip, tugged at his hair.

 You hated how much you needed this. 

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathless and wild.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

Rafe’s mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. And body, traitorous and weak, responded like it always had.

You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made it all hotter, more intense.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, teasing, barely touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch. Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, deep and slow.

You gasped, your head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the right way. Your body responded immediately, hips jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed slow circles over your clit, making your legs tremble beneath him.

He sped up, his fingers thrusting deeper, faster, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, his fingers driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. The tension inside you was coiled so tightly, so close to snapping. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He thrust his fingers harder, faster, until your body gave in completely. You hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months. Nothing could get you off properly. Your walls clenched around his fingers the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your nails leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you trembled beneath him, lost in the sensation.

But he didn’t stop. He slowed down just enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks. When you finally caught your breath, he pulled his fingers out, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, just enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you—hard, hot, and ready—and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment. He lined himself up, teasing you just enough to drive you crazy.

Before you could respond, he pushed into you in one hard, deliberate thrust. Your gasp turned into a low, breathless moan as your back arched, your hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you, was overwhelming, almost too much, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you breathless, gasping for air. 

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you like he was trying to remind you who you belonged to.

And you hated how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled, his voice rough as he thrust into you, each movement deep and brutal.“Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body was betraying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night since we ended.”

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but instead, a moan escaped your lips as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched against his, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built, every nerve in your body on fire.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe growled, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, the way his body pressed into yours so perfectly, the heat of his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you managed to gasp out between breaths.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn, sworn, you were done with him.

You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him. That was the part that pissed you off the most.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast your knees hit the bench before you could react.

“Rafe—mmh,” you gasped, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood of the bench. You barely had a second to brace yourself before his hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He was already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, teasing, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, hating how desperate you felt, hating how your body responded to him like this. “Fuck, Rafe, stop teasing—”

“You want more?” he cut you off, voice dark and dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, just enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “You’re gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

 “You can act tough all you want, but I know how much you want this,” he gritted out, his cock sliding against your folds again, torturously slow. “I know how much you need it.”

Before you could snap back, he thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one brutal stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench, and Rafe didn’t even give you a second to adjust. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, faster this time, deeper.

The angle had you seeing stars. The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter, more intense. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips moving back to meet his thrusts even though your mind was screaming at you to get a grip.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, his voice low and rough as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your legs tremble. “So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had you on the edge in seconds. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, higher and higher until you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped, his voice thick with lust. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, tried to keep some control, but it was useless. He knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt the pleasure rising fast, threatening to consume you.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, faster. “Come for me, baby.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you so hard your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, your walls clenching around him, and Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, relentless, brutal, until your entire body was trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in. 

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.” 

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you." 

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in. 

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

[hisiggy]

I sit on my brand new bed and dream about ways to kill myself something I know I’ll never do or at least in this moment in time I know I won’t . Right now I have a body that works which I am so lucky for but being grateful is for optimists and I am nothing of the sort . I have this endless need to be needed

I sit in  my school full of spoiled kids from Brooklyn who haven’t experienced a thing in their life ( at least I think so ) they are mostly incredibly boring and far too optimistic for my liking. I love to hate, it brings me joy unimaginable to piss someone off for reasons that truly don’t matter. It is a joy that cannot be replicated and to watch their reaction of squirming and delusions is like a reality show where you only get the best parts.  My brain is turning into rot . I say these things to anyone and feel like I should be locked up in a cave I’m crazy I think or at least that’s what these kids tell me I become it for them something like an art piece too real that I can’t detect it. I’m only like that around people I feel no need to impress because they’ve already made up their mind about me .

People have always hated me but never for anything real always for something such as becoming this cartoon character that I feel I must become . I hate silence there’s something about dead air full of teenagers who think they’re better than you that makes me want to give them something they don’t want : a problem . I’m crazy , I admit to it most of the time but I don’t think anyone understands the scope. I got sent away for it and the scary thing is I think it made me worse . I had normal depression but I was so dumb . In mental hospital is where I learned the fastest way to kill yourself is to cut yourself. Hot dog style not hamburger. I saw kids getting taken away and kids beaten the shit out of them by full grown adults .

I’m a problem my existence is something I  want to understand but never I will. I sat in my bed last night watching alien workshop skate videos listening to drumless rappers who are able to put their pain to art . Sometimes I feel I only put my pain into pain. I feel stupid I so desperately need human connection to feel the warmth that I think everyone feels. I fall in love with people seconds and years after meeting them and fantasize but often give up knowing that love is something that feels impossible at the moment. They say life will get better and I think that’s true for a lot of my people but not for me the circuits in my brain don’t work unless my 100 dollars of medication are on I vision a gun shooting me  directly in mouth and I swallow the bullet and scream for help but there’s nothing I can do I love life I hate it . PLEASE  KILL  ME . xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

kathy acker used to write and masturbate I often think about the inclinations of masturbation like the men these days are doing we are all always rotting so is are brain . Jack skelly follows me on instagram and lives on my bookshelf I had to cut the lines out of my college essay about being too high and reading his book in Tompkins square park . I become normal under the influence almost as if it has the reverse effects no one should ever let me ramble but they do and I love them for it . I often think how stupid my problems are and I think that is the most helpfull thing I can do . I think about the kids getting their lives ripped apart  in Palestine at the moment and they are still able to smile at least a fake one and I am not. I’m so prententious

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I want to die I’m reading a book and I enjoy it. it’s written by Lena Dunham’s best friend does that make me not cool does that make me one of the bushwick fagotts who think their all that and move here from Ohio . I imagine myself in 30 years living in my car somewhere in the middle of nowhere smoking packs of cigarettes with all my money spent on odd vhs tapes and records and Ephrema that no one else seems to care about I hate New York and what’s its becoming I sat and listened to navy blue looking at clips of New York from when I was a kid and crying it wasn’t as good as it feels I was just a kid I still am I got kicked of my statistics class for not talking yet everyone always wants that to happen i never shut up I envision my self slamming my head into a door and blood trickling down until I drop I used to be scared of these thoughts but I’m not anymore they are almost like a sadistic lullaby , that at some point this will all stop

I’m scared pls don’t admit me back into belluve it’s not fun drugs are funny till they’re not and it’s all fun and games till you get fat and everyone’s skinny I want eating disorder that makes me skinny is that bad to say everyone’s too pc and I hate it not because I’m someone who wants to go on rants about people who don’t deserve it but It leaves no room for emotions the emotions you won’t say I remember watching the videos of the people falling out of the building during 9/11 in the sixth grade I think it plays on a loop in my head PLEASE KILL ME. Ok bye  bye pls don’t read this even though I’ll post for the world to see  “goodbye horses im crying over you”- q Lazzarus everything fades I hope I do too plz don’t help me I’m feeling better now the meds are kicking in thank god for scientists kill the politicians and to all goodnight . My crush is Stevie buscemi and Ronald McDonald is my savior I love you Lindsay Lohan but that’s a story for another day FUCK YOU. And the credits role

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