#he never ever ever ever gets a break it’s so funny. i’m sure the game is done messing with him now for dt but AGJFNWZKR | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

botanicsoul · 14 days ago

Note

Oh jussst thinking of virgin bkg losing it to virgin fem reader when they’re like 19 sighhhh

Learning Curve

(aged up)Virgin!Bakugou Katsuki x (fem)Virgin!Reader

⸻

I had way too much fun writing this—honestly, I feel like Bakugou would kinda be just as awkward (and ofc cocky!) as anyone else during their first time. Alsooooo, not to be dramatic, but your “Sound it Out” fluff fic of Bakugou is easily in my top 10 favorite reads ever on Tumblr. So, consider this a big thank-you and a love letter from one writer to another. Hope you enjoy it, babe!🩷

ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍

The movie had ended who knows how long ago. Neither of you had noticed.

You were straddling him now, perched on his lap with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his hands roaming your waist like he didn’t know where to land—like touching you too fast might break something.

Bakugou’s breath was heavy, controlled, too controlled, as his lips kissed along your jaw, your neck, then lower. His touch was reverent—slow drags of fingers, warm presses of lips. Like he was working through a checklist.

You let him trail down your sternum, his mouth ghosting the edge of your bra, but your hands slid into his hair and pulled him back up.

His eyes widened. “What—did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head, forehead resting against his. “You’re doing everything right.” Your fingers curled in the hem of his shirt, tugging it up his sides and taking it off over his head. “But I don’t want slow right now.”

He blinked at you, throat bobbing. “You sure?”

Bakugou pulled back just a little, panting against your skin, eyes darting between your mouth and your body beneath his. “You don’t want me to… use my fingers? Or—fuck—I could go down on you if you want?.”

“No…I want you, Katsuki, I’m ready” you whispered, pressing your hips down against his, grinding just enough to make him groan. “I need you. Right now.”

A sound ripped from his chest—half growl, half disbelief. “Fuckin… finally.” He surged up to kiss you, all the control he’d been clinging to unraveling in an instant. His hands gripped your thighs, then your ass, dragging you against him like he couldn’t get close enough.

Still, under all that heat, you felt it—the tension in his body, the slight stutter in his movements. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“You haven’t…right?” you asked, voice softer now.

He shook his head once. “No. You?”

You nodded. “No.”

His jaw flexed, chest heaving. “Shit,” he muttered, then looked at you again, voice quieter. “Tch… first time or not, I’m still gonna blow your fuckin’ mind. Bet on it.” You giggled and felt your heart clenched—warmth and want tangled together. You kissed him, fingers sliding under the waistband of his shorts.

He let out a shaky breath. “You think this is funny? Wait ‘til I’ve got you whining under me.” He laughed—breathless, nervous—but his eyes burned with something deeper.

“Tell me what feels good,” you whispered, dragging your nails down his abs, where his shirt had been tossed somewhere behind the couch. “Or I can just… keep going until you explode.”

“I’m already about to fuckin’ explode,” Bakugou growled, voice tight. “Been hard since you sat in my fuckin’ lap like you knew what you were doin’.” You smirked, rubbing your hips just slightly over his, and his entire body jerked.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Okay. Yeah. No more games. Off. Now.”

the moment you get off— he’s gets on. He was already tugging at your shorts with hands that were almost confident, but you could feel the hesitation in the way his fingers struggled with the button, like he was trying to be smooth and failing miserably.

The moment he stripped you down he got up to take his pants off, you giggled at the poor boy when he accidentally got his foot caught in his shorts and nearly fell off the couch.

“You’re never fuckin’ bringing this up again,” he growled, face scarlet as he kicked the shorts halfway across the room.

“Oh, I’m absolutely bringing it up on our wedding day.”

Your stomach did flips seeing his dick bob out. Then you brought your hand up brushing his thigh, his cock twitched, and all jokes disappeared real fast.

“…Shit. Y-you’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that?” You smiled, guiding his hand to touch you this time. “You gonna be gentle with me suki?.” you moan out grinding into his fingers.

He let out a groan shaking his head, “I’ll be gentle—’til you start beggin’ me not to be.”

He removed his fingers you were using and quickly tried to get the condom—well…fought with it, really, like it had declared war. You tried to help, but both of you were laughing too hard. He finally got it—fingers trembling slightly as he tore the condom open, then rolled it down over himself with shaky focus. He kissed you again, messier this time, all tongue and want, hips grinding into yours like he couldn’t wait a second longer, his cock slipping between your wet folds giving your clit a good tease before he fumbled between your thighs, trying to line himself up, but his aim was off—too frantic, too eager. You reached down, wrapping your hand around him to help guide him, and his whole body jolted.

“Fuckfuckfuck—I-I’m not gonna last if you keep touching me like that—” He blushed so hard you thought his face might combust. When he finally pushed inside you—slow, deep, careful—you swore you saw stars behind your eyelids.

“Shit, you’re tighter than I thought—wait, is it supposed to feel like this?”

“It’s fine, Katsuki, you’re just big.”

It stung a little. You both hissed and clutched each other, moving slow, breath trembling, trying to find a rhythm that didn’t feel completely ridiculous. Then he angled just right. Hit just right. And you moaned his name so pretty, “Sukiiiii—.” he damn near blacked out.

His hips stuttered as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath ragged and hot against your skin. “I’m tryin’ to be gentle baby,” he gritted out, voice nearly breaking with restraint, “but you’re makin’ it real hard.” His fingers dug into your waist like he was holding on for dear life, every inch of him trembling with the effort not to lose control. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, dragging his mouth down your throat. “Not that I’d ever fuckin’ let ‘em try.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trembling as you tilted your head back. Fingers tangling in his hair, you gasped out, “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop… don’t be gentle, Suki.”

He froze for a split second, eyes darkening with a mixture of shock and desire. Then, his grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your ear.

“You sure about that?” he asked, voice rough and strained, but you could feel the edge of something darker creeping through his tone.

You nodded desperately, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Yes baby please”

That was all it took. A growl escaped his throat, low and feral, before he flipped you onto your back with an unexpected, almost brutal force. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, and there was no trace of the hesitant Bakugou from moments before.

“You’re gonna take me, and you’re gonna love it,” he spat, his voice laced with raw need. He didn’t wait for an answer—his lips crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss, his hands rough as they gripped your hips, forcing your body against his in a way that made you gasp.

His movements were fast, almost too fast—his thrusts hard, relentless, pushing you deeper into the sheets as he gave in to his instincts. Each rough move sent a shock of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping the bed tight.

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, voice raw with pleasure as he buried his face in your neck. “You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck you like this? Make you mine?”

“YES, GOD, PLEASE,” you moaned, exaggerating the desperation in your voice, your back arching up to meet him as you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in.

“PLEASE, SUKI, DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP!”

His pace didn’t slow. You felt every inch of him, each thrust a mix of hunger and possession. The sounds of skin slapping, your breathless moans, and his groans filled the room, and it was all you could focus on. Bakugou wasn’t holding back anymore. Neither were you.

Every thrust was like a discovery. Every sound made both of you twitch, cursing between groans, and you held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

And when you both finally came—breathless and shaking. You were both a mess—sweaty, tangled in each other like you’d been through something way bigger than just your first time. Bakugou was still on top of you, face buried in your neck, trying to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice rough and low, still catching his breath. His forehead rested against yours, sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to his skin.

You smiled, dazed, your fingertips brushing over his shoulder. “You good?”

He huffed a laugh—barely. “Yeah. Just didn’t think it’d feel that fuckin’ good.”

You tilted your head, teasing gently, “What, exceeded expectations?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how wrecked he looked. “Nah. You ruined me.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped again, gravelly and full of promise. “Next time, I’m not holdin’ back.”

You stared up at him, chest still rising and falling, lips parted. “No fucking way... What the hell does not holding back look like—hospitalization?”

His eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I was on my best fuckin’ behavior.”

You couldn’t help but shiver under the weight of that promise. He leaned in, kissed you slow and deep, then murmured against your lips, “Next round, I’m gonna make sure you can’t even walk straight.”

You grinned and rolled your eyes, fingers tugging his hair just enough to make him grunt. “I’ll hold you to that.”

#mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #boku no hero academia #botanicwrites #request #virgin bakugou katsuki #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x fem reader #katsuki x female reader

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jungwnies · 6 days ago

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f1 grid (2/2) | friendly interactions...or not

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, and liam lawson + special feature franco colapinto and lance stroll (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : meeting your friends who they seemingly get along with...kinda...not...really?

୨ৎ : genre : comedy / angst if u squint rly rly rly hard ୨ৎ : word count : 2636

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : feel free to comment whose was your favorite to read.. i was lowkey starting to run out of names for the friends but i just loved wiritng their personalities so i kept it going fr...

ʚ・kimi antonelli

when you told your friends you were bringing your boyfriend to game night, the reactions were mixed.

“wait, kimi antonelli?” asked clara, confused.

“the f1 one?” said mara. “how old is he again?”

“isn’t he like… twelve?” theo joked.

“relax,” you said. “he’s eighteen. and also my boyfriend, so behave.”

“we’ll see,” your friend josh said with a smirk. “he better be funny.”

“he’s… his own type of funny,” you muttered.

kimi showed up in a hoodie three sizes too big, with sour candy in one hand and a very serious look on his face.

“hi,” he said to your friends. “i brought these because i don’t know how to interact socially without snacks.”

there was a pause.

josh burst out laughing. “dude. same.”

mara blinked. “wait, was that sarcasm?”

kimi tilted his head. “i don’t even know anymore.”

within twenty minutes, the boys were obsessed.

he and josh bonded over bad memes. he beat theo in mario kart and yelled, “get ratioed” at the top of his lungs. at one point he said, “i’m just a little italian guy trying my best,” and for some reason, that sent everyone into hysterics.

“bro, he’s hilarious,” theo whispered to you. “like, weird, but hilarious.”

meanwhile, clara leaned over to mara and whispered, “do you get what he’s saying half the time?”

“no,” mara replied. “but it’s… endearing?”

during a break in the chaos, kimi curled up next to you on the couch.

“i think i accidentally trauma bonded with your guy friends,” he said.

you grinned. “they love you.”

“clara looks like she’s trying to decode me.”

“she’s just trying to understand the words coming out of your mouth.”

he smirked. “relatable.”

later, when you were getting your jacket to leave, you heard josh go, “hey man. game night again next week?”

kimi blinked. “i thought you guys weren’t sure about me.”

“you said ‘skibidi rizzler’ and then roasted theo’s spotify. you’re in.”

mara added, “i don’t get half your jokes, but you clearly love her, so… you’re safe.”

kimi blushed to his ears. “i do. a lot.”

in the car, he looked over at you, cheeks still pink.

“was i weird?”

“yes,” you said, grinning. “but you were also so you. and they liked that.”

he leaned his head back, dramatically relieved. “i was gonna throw up if they hated me.”

you squeezed his hand. “don’t worry, "skibidi rizzler". you’ve been accepted.”

he groaned. “never say that again.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

“i’m warning you now,” you said as you opened the door to your friend's apartment, “just let him talk. he’ll get back around eventually.”

your best friend lina raised a brow. “you make it sound like he’s a glitching npc.”

“he kind of is,” you said. “in a cute way.”

ollie burst in with a wide grin, arms full of snacks, and said, “hi! i didn’t know what people liked so i got crisps—sorry, chips—and cookies, but not the boring kind, like the chunky ones, oh and grapes? don’t know why, i panicked in tesco.”

everyone stared.

then zach went, “dude. grapes are elite.”

and just like that, ollie was in.

it didn’t take long for the chaos to unfold.

“so anyway, i was karting when i was, like, six, and i spun out and—wait, no, that was the time i threw up. different story. but yeah! that was actually at buckmore park—have you ever been there? it’s sick—oh! remind me to show you the video of my crash there. it’s insane—but like, i was fine! mostly.”

your friend jordan blinked. “you good, man?”

“never,” ollie replied with a grin. “but like, in a charming way.”

he was overly polite to your girlfriends — offering drinks, clearing plates, pulling chairs out like an actual prince.

meanwhile, your guy friends loved him. they started egging him on to tell more f2 horror stories and he delivered, with bonus sound effects.

“then the suspension just clonk right into the curb—oh! and i had no radio. like, dead silent. except i was screaming. in my helmet. obviously.”

lina leaned over to you, wide-eyed. “he’s… surprisingly not annoying.”

you laughed. “high praise.”

later, while you were helping clean up, you found ollie in the kitchen with zach, passionately explaining why banana bread is a “top-tier mental health snack.”

“i just think if i was sad and someone handed me banana bread, i’d, like, immediately heal. you know?”

zach nodded, solemn. “you’re so right.”

you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

he startled, turned, then beamed. “oh! i forgot you were here for a second.”

“wow. romantic.”

“i didn’t mean—wait, no, i—ugh. i was just talking about you actually—like in a nice way—not in a creepy ‘i forgot you existed’ way.”

you laughed into his chest. “it’s okay. they love you.”

“really?”

“mmhmm. even lina said you weren’t annoying.”

he gasped. “success.”

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

“are you sure?” yuki asked as you pulled into the driveway.

you glanced at him. “sure about what?”

“meeting your girl group. that’s intense. like—way more intimidating than any race.”

you grinned. “you’ve done monaco. you’ll survive maya, dani, and alina.”

he groaned, already slouching in his seat. “i’m so short. they’re gonna judge me.”

“they’re literally all under 5'6" and alina is obsessed with you.”

that got him to sit up straighter.

the second you walked in, the energy shifted.

“oh my god, he’s so tiny,” dani squealed before even saying hi.

yuki blinked. “that’s rude.”

maya gasped. “wait, he talks back? i love him already.”

you gave him a see? look and whispered, “you’re good.”

but then alina wrapped him in a hug and he straight up hid his face in your shoulder.

“she’s too nice,” he muttered.

the four of you curled up in the living room, snacks out, wine flowing, and yuki slowly relaxing as the evening unfolded.

he told them about japan. about driving. about his new obsession with peach iced tea.

“i had six in one day once,” he said proudly. “i thought i was gonna ascend.”

“you did not just use the word ��ascend,’” maya laughed.

he shrugged. “i’m multilingual and dramatic. let me live.”

every time you got up to grab something, yuki subtly followed you with his eyes.

when you disappeared into the kitchen for longer than thirty seconds?

“where’d she go?” he asked, shifting closer to the edge of the couch.

“she’s grabbing the popcorn,” alina replied.

yuki stared at the doorway like a lost puppy.

dani whispered, “he’s so whipped. it’s adorable.”

later, while you were all painting your nails and gossiping, yuki laid across the couch, half-asleep with his head in your lap.

alina grinned. “he’s different than i thought. i expected him to be, like… louder.”

you brushed yuki’s hair back gently. “oh, he’s loud. just not when he’s this cozy.”

he mumbled, “i’m awake.”

“you’re drooling on my leg.”

“i’m cozy,” he grumbled.

when it was time to leave, maya kissed his cheek and said, “you’re not allowed to break her heart. or we will break your knees.”

yuki blinked. “i believe you.”

alina giggled. “he’s so soft. i love him.”

as you walked him back to the car, he slid his fingers between yours and murmured, “they’re scary. but nice.”

you laughed. “you were perfect.”

“even when i drooled?”

“especially then.”

ʚ・isack hadjar

“he’s not… like… calm, is he?” your friend rowan asked as they rearranged the snacks on the table.

you blinked. “define calm?”

from the hallway, isack yelled, “babe! i almost knocked over a bike rack trying to parallel park! but we’re good!”

rowan just looked at you. “right.”

isack burst into the apartment like he was walking into a stadium, arms wide, yelling, “where are the friends? i brought vibes.”

everyone stared.

then zara whispered, “…he’s french?”

and isla said, “this is already the best night ever.”

from the jump, isack had no filter. he told a story about a bird flying into his car. he tried to do a backflip off the couch and nearly took out a lamp. he mispronounced “charcuterie” like three different ways — all confidently.

at one point, he shouted, “i love her!” across the room when you handed him a soda, then took a bow.

rowan blinked. “so. he’s like… a cartoon character?”

you just sipped your drink. “you get used to it.”

then it happened.

zara leaned in, voice too innocent. “wait. are you the one who said no no no i destroyed the car?”

isack froze.

you watched the life leave his eyes. “that was… taken out of context.”

“oh no,” rowan said. “it was very in context.”

isla pulled it up on her phone. “it’s literally right here. you’re screaming.”

isack covered his face. “i will never know peace.”

to recover, he stood on a chair and shouted, “i may have destroyed a car, but i will never destroy the vibe.”

the room cheered like he’d won eurovision.

you just watched from the kitchen, shaking your head. “he’s completely unhinged.”

rowan walked by and muttered, “…but kind of iconic?”

later, isack flopped next to you on the couch, breathless.

“do your friends think i’m insane?”

“they know you’re insane.”

he grinned. “do they love it?”

you kissed his cheek. “terrifyingly, yes.”

ʚ・liam lawson

“so he’s the kiwi one, right?” asked your friend jess, pouring sangria.

“yeah,” you nodded.

“should we… like… not bring up australia?”

“please don’t bring up australia.”

twenty minutes later, your friend caleb (who is painfully australian) was in a full-blown shouting match with liam about who invented the flat white.

“i’m telling you, it’s an aussie invention,” caleb said.

liam gasped. “that is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said and i watched you put ketchup on your pasta.”

“it’s tomato sauce!”

“it was definitely ketchup!”

you tried to step in.

“okay! okay. everyone breathe. there is literally no reason for australians and kiwis to beef right now.”

jess raised an eyebrow. “this feels… deeply rooted.”

“it is deeply rooted!” liam shouted, standing dramatically with a tim tam in hand. “they stole our pavlova. they’re trying to erase our dairy-based desserts and caffeinated legacy!”

“it’s meringue!”

“it’s national pride!”

your other friend tash whispered to you, “is this foreplay for them or should we break it up?”

you groaned into your drink. “honestly? bit of both.”

the bickering only escalated when someone brought up rugby.

“they can’t win so they start dragging sports we don’t even play,” liam muttered.

caleb stood up. “say that again.”

liam, still chewing on a cookie: “you heard me, vegemite boy.”

but the thing was… everyone loved him.

even caleb, who was actively trying to wrestle him off the couch at one point, said, “nah, he’s alright. for a sheep-chaser.”

“you’re alright too,” liam grinned. “for someone who puts beetroot on burgers.”

“you shut your mouth.”

at the end of the night, when everyone was finally winding down and swapping memes, jess looked over and whispered to you, “he’s hilarious.”

you nodded. “i know.”

“also, like… weirdly hot when he’s yelling about national sovereignty?”

you sighed. “i know.”

on the way home, liam wrapped his arm around your shoulders and muttered, “you really hang out with aussies on purpose?”

“they’re my friends, babe.”

he fake-shivered. “braver than a new zealander walking into a sydney cafe.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re never living this down.”

“i stand by everything i said.”

ʚ・franco colapinto

franco walked in with two kisses on the cheek, a lazy smile, and said, “you must be the beautiful friends i’ve heard so much about.”

sahana looked at naya.

naya looked at you.

you gave them both the don’t start glare.

he sat down, complimented someone’s earrings, offered to pour the wine, and said something in spanish that made three of them blink twice.

you facepalmed. “franco.”

“what? i said her hair looked nice.”

“in a very specific way.”

the tension was palpable. your friends were polite, but you could feel the judgement.

sahana leaned over during charcuterie hour and whispered, “he’s too charming. i don’t trust it.”

naya added, “he’s literally the plot of a rom-com. you sure he’s not stringing people along?”

“he’s like this with everyone,” you muttered. “it’s not a threat. it’s a setting.”

the switch flipped when he stood behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist.

his voice dropped instantly, low and soft. “you okay? you look stressed.”

you blinked. “they’re… just feeling you out.”

“do they think i’m going to break your heart?”

you nodded.

he kissed your shoulder. “tell them i’d rather crash every race for the rest of my life than hurt you.”

you turned. “that’s dramatic.”

he smiled. “i’m latin.”

back at the table, he was still charming — but the way he looked at you? totally different.

the flirty act faded when it was just you. he tucked your hair behind your ear. rubbed his thumb along your knuckles when you weren’t speaking. smiled like an idiot when you laughed at your own joke.

sahana clocked it first. she nudged naya.

“that’s not a playboy.”

naya whispered back, “that’s a simp.”

later, as he was helping gather plates, he told maya, “she makes me nervous. that’s how i know i’m serious.”

maya told everyone.

by the end of the night, naya hugged you and whispered, “okay. we were wrong. he’s a flirt, but he’s yours. i get it now.”

you smirked. “i told you. he’s only dangerous if you’re not me.”

franco called from the door, “who’s stealing my girlfriend?”

sahana rolled her eyes. “no one, simp boy.”

ʚ・lance stroll

you warned them.

“i’m serious,” you said as you passed around wine glasses. “do not freak out. don’t mention his family. don’t ask how much his shoes cost. just treat him like a normal guy.”

“babe,” said your best friend jules, “he shows up in aston martin merch and calls that casual.”

“yeah,” taryn added. “if he says the word ‘monaco’ before dessert, i’m walking out.”

lance showed up five minutes later with a bottle of actual champagne and said, “sorry i’m late, the plane got delayed.”

you stared at him. “you could’ve just said traffic.”

he blinked. “oh. right. yeah, traffic.”

your friends whispered like you brought home royalty. which, honestly, you kind of did.

the beginning was a little awkward.

lance was polite — very polite — like he'd been trained to charm people in formal wear.

your friends tried. they really did.

“so… you race cars?” jules asked.

“yeah,” lance nodded. “it’s fun.”

“that’s it?”

“well, sometimes it sucks. but yeah. mostly fun.”

but then he relaxed a little. started laughing when jules made a terrible pun. started teasing you for how you eat your pizza. started joking about crashing a scooter once because he saw a cat and “needed to know if it was cute.”

taryn blinked. “okay, wait. he’s kinda funny.”

you grinned. “told you.”

it all went well — until brunch plans came up.

jules asked, “wanna do that rooftop place this sunday?”

lance shrugged. “we could also just fly to monaco for the day. the brunch at hotel de paris is better.”

everyone stopped breathing.

you slowly turned to him. “lance.”

“what?”

jules whispered, “did he just offer to casually jet us to monaco for eggs?”

lance blinked. “you guys don’t have passports?”

later, as he helped carry leftovers to the car, taryn grabbed you by the arm.

“i judged him too fast.”

you raised a brow. “because he’s nice?”

“because he’s a golden retriever in gucci.”

you laughed. “he’s a little ridiculous.”

“he’s also so obsessed with you it’s scary. keep him.”

lance, from the car: “are we bringing the rest of the wine or should i—wait, i’ll just buy more. never mind!”

you sighed. “see what i mean?”

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luv4fushi · 1 year ago

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thinking about arguing with husband!gojo. it’s funny because he’s the strongest sorcerer alive with several other, more wicked enemies harboring one sided hate for him, yet he’s anxiously glancing at you every now and then as you hiss at him. you’re the only one who can make him doubt his strength.

he usually finds you cute when you’re mad, but right now he doesn’t really appreciate the way your face is scrunched up and how you’re yelling at him.

it’s not his fault. he thinks you’re being so dramatic.

“you’re laughing at me,” you deadpan. “why do you never take things i say seriously?”

“because i honestly don’t think it’s that serious,” he fires back, and your eyes narrow. oh, fuck.

arguing with your husband is never fun. it’s probably because the both of you are stubborn; you’re stubborn because you’re simply right all the time, and satoru’s stubborn because if you’re not right, then he is.

you pause for just a second, but it’s enough to sprout a moment of extreme tension between you and your husband.

“right,” you scoff after you inhale sharply. “you just don’t care, do you?”

“don’t fucking say that,” satoru snaps. “i do care. that’s why i’m here.”

it takes everything in you to not shoot him another death glare. “so i should be thankful for the bare minimum?”

satoru blinks. he would’ve flinched, but he refuses to let you have that sort of power over him. “i’m not giving the bare minimum.”

“yes you are,” you argue back, voice straining as you swallow a lump of anger down the back of your throat.

the both of you are still. it feels like an eternity passes before the anger in you wanes. you’re exhausted and this fight with satoru is surely going to make the both of you upset enough to not talk for the rest of the night.

“i’m sorry that i’m not good enough,” satoru says, breaking the silence. you’ve never heard his voice so small, so pathetic—he’s never, ever shown you this side of him, and you’re starting to feel that dreading pit of guilt tug at your gut.

“that’s not what i meant,” you force yourself to say, sighing.

“but that’s what you’re thinking,” satoru mumbles. he avoids looking at your face.

“no it’s not,” you deny. “it’s never been about that.”

satoru gives you a wary look. “then what is it about? because i’ve done everything i can.”

“everything? really?” you sneer. “do you even love me anymore?”

silence. satoru swears he can hear your heart break.

“baby, don’t say that,” he groans, “c’mon, we were ten points away from three stars. that’s a single plate—one you didn’t turn in because you somehow forgot how to dash!”

you whip around to glower at satoru, your face twisting into an offended expression. “you set the kitchen on fire! how could i do something like serving a dish if the kitchen is on fire?!”

“baby, it’s the same button that it always has been this entire game!” he whines. “and you set the kitchen on fire! you keep forgetting to take the rice off the stove!”

you sigh exasperatedly, crossing your arms to act like some sort of shield between you and satoru’s (truthful) words.

“but you don’t chop up your stupid fish!” you protest. “so i end up doing five things at once!”

satoru opens his mouth to speak, but he knows you’re in the right. he opts to click his tongue instead.

“and every time i asked for help,” you add, frowning, “you just kept bringing out more of the dumbass cucumbers! we don’t have counter space for that!!!”

“that’s for prep to maximize our sushi making! throw it on the floor!”

“are you kidding me? that’s so unsanitary!”

“it’s a game!”

you’re both panting by the end of the fight. you’re biting down on your inner cheek and satoru is scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly.

“… sorry,” he mumbles. “i won’t bring out cucumbers anymore. and i’m also sorry for being mean about you not knowing how to dash.”

“good,” you huff. “‘cause i was seriously not gonna play anymore.”

“and…?” he prods, nudging you in your ribs. you can tell what he wants just by the sound of his voice.

“and i’m sorry for getting mad at you even though you’re doing you’re best at carrying me in this game…” you murmur, rolling your eyes.

satoru’s face brightens and he places a wet kiss on your cheek. “you’re forgiven.”

“love you, dummy.”

“love you too, baby.”

“no more cucumbers unless the ticket calls for them,” you remind him pointedly.

“yes, chef!”

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader

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sweetdispatch · 1 month ago

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Not saying I love you back

Players headcanons summary: how certain players would react on you forgetting to tell i love you players: Cole Caufield, Adam Fantilli, Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Quinn Hughes, Clayton Keller, John Marino, Matt Rempe, Juraj Slafkovsky

C. CAUFIELD

You wanted to mess with Cole while he was leaving for morning skate. When he closed the door and didn’t hear I love you back, he stepped again into the apartment. You giggled at his reaction. He approached you and repeated those words again to you but you only kissed him. He was looking at your face trying to read if he made you mad but when he saw the smile creeping at your face, he realised that you were only joking with him. “Not funny” Cole said to you and left the apartment for good now. You quickly sent him a message saying I love you but he only liked it. Two can play this game - he thought to himself.

A.FANTILLI

Adam would be taken aback when you didn’t respond to his words. He was always telling you that those words mean a lot and he wouldn't just say them to say. That’s why when you didn’t say I love you, he thought the worst. That you don’t love him anymore. He got scared that this is your way to break up with him. “Do you not love me anymore?” Adam asked you. From his voice you could tell that he’s sad and then the realisation hit you. You explained to him that you were just joking but he got mad at you for joking about this topic. For the whole day you were trying to apologise to him, promising to never again joke about this.

N. HISCHIER

At first, Nico didn’t even realise that you didn’t say I love you back. It was so natural for both of you to say it that he had this programmed in his head that you said it. When you noticed that he didn’t react, you tried again later that day. This time, he noticed that you didn’t say it. He looked at you with brows raised and you laughed. You couldn’t pretend anymore and you said I love you back to him, telling him that you tried to get his reaction for the whole day.

J. HUGHES

Jack looked at you when you didn’t say those words back but didn’t do anything. He knew you and assumed that you’re pranking him again. That’s why for the rest of the day he didn’t say them to you either. You were shocked when he didn’t say them for the whole day because at every opportunity he was telling you that he loves you. When you were going to bed, you said to him I love you. The only response you got was “I know”. You realised that he was pranking you now.

L. HUGHES

Luke told you those words before he left. You didn’t say them back and for the rest of the day he was wondering what he did wrong. You never acted this way and he was sure that you had to be mad at him but nothing was coming to his mind. On his way back, he bought you a huge bouquet of flowers, your favorite coffee and a basket full of your favorite candy. “I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m so sorry” Luke said and you looked at him with love. You didn’t expect that this little joke would make him so nervous. You told him that you were just messing with him and he acted offended. You kissed his lips and promised him that he did nothing wrong.

Q. HUGHES

Quinn thanked you for breakfast and said I love you. You only responded to him with “no problem” and kissed his cheek. He knew something was wrong when you didn’t say those words back. He was asking you why you didn’t say it back. You were playing like you don’t know what he is talking about. He was clearly mad at you and this whole situation. He became rude to you. You gave up and told him that it was all a joke but he was still mad that you were playing with his feelings. You promised him not to do it ever again.

C. KELLER

When you didn’t say I love you back to Clayton, it got him all worked up. He was furious that you didn’t say it. You tried to interrupt him in his monologue but you couldn’t. For him, those words have a huge meaning and if you said them once, you should still tell them unless you don’t feel it anymore. You kissed him when he started talking nonsense and told him it was a prank but he couldn’t accept this and believed there’s a deeper meaning than you haven’t told them. You were saying I love you all the time to him until he finally believed you that you were only joking.

J. MARINO

At first John was shocked when he didn’t hear you saying I love you back so he repeated it. Again, he got no response and he asked you directly why you didn’t say it back. You just looked at him and laughed. You couldn’t keep the act longer when you noticed his serious face. He was confused why are you laughing because he didn’t find it funny. You explained to him that it was only a joke and he was even more confused. “Why would you even joke about this?” John asked you and you apologised to him telling that you only wanted to see his reaction.

M. REMPE

You didn’t say I love you back when Matt was leaving for morning skate. You thought that’s gonna be funny to see his reaction. He didn’t react and just left the apartment. You were surprised that he didn’t say anything to you. You expected him to make sure that you still love him. When he returned, he could tell that you were thinking about something and he was confident that you were thinking about his no reaction. “My sister showed me this trend. I know that you love me and wanted to mess with me” Matt told you and kissed your lips. You wanted to prank him but he pranked you.

J. SLAFKOVSKY

When you didn’t say I love you to Juraj, he froze in place. You were always saying it back but from your facial expression he could tell that you’re not mad at him. That’s why he was repeating those words until you’ll tell them back to him. But you were just standing there smiling at him. Finally he lifted you up and started kissing your face. After each kiss, he said I love you and was doing this long until you said them back.

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sweetlyvibe · 6 months ago

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“𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮” - 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗄𝗒𝗎𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 ╰► ❨ 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ❩

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖠𝗌𝖺𝗁𝗂 𝖠𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾 ⋆ 𝖣𝖺𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗂 𝖲𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖺 ⋆ 𝖪𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝖲𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗄𝖾 ⋆ 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂 𝖳𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖬𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝖸𝖺𝗄𝗎 ⋆ 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾

Asahi realized he loved you one day after you visited him at practice. You were laughing and talking with his teammates, treating everyone with warmth and kindness, and it just hit him: he never wanted to be without you. The thought was so overwhelming that he spent the next few days flustered and avoiding eye contact, wondering how he’d ever tell you.

Finally, one evening when you’re both walking home together, you mention something funny that happened at school, and he just blurts out, “I… I think I love you.” His face is tomato red, and he’s barely holding eye contact, heart hammering in his chest. When you smile softly and say, “I love you too, Asahi,” he practically melts on the spot, his whole face lighting up in shy happiness.

Daichi knew he loved you during a team dinner. You’d insisted on helping organize everything, making sure everyone had enough to eat, even cracking jokes to ease the tension after a tough game. He watched you effortlessly handle the chaos, feeling something solid click into place—this was love.

After a few days of thinking about it, he finally decides to tell you. You’re both in the middle of a playful argument over who’s the better cook, and he suddenly stops, looking at you seriously. “I love you,” he says, like he’s sharing a fact he’s known forever. You pause, caught off guard, then smile and say, “Well, I love you too, obviously!” He laughs, relieved, and pulls you into a tight hug, wondering why he’d ever worried.

Kita realized he loved you in one of those simple, everyday moments—you were just helping him harvest some vegetables, chatting and laughing under the sun. He found himself staring, thinking, this is it, this is where I’m supposed to be.

Later that evening, he pulls you aside on the porch as you watch the stars. There’s a calm confidence in his voice as he says, “I love you.” It’s not flashy or dramatic, but it’s so Kita—honest, steady, and true. You feel warmth spread through your whole body as you reply, “I love you too.” He nods, looking satisfied, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Tendou’s realization hit him like a lightning bolt one day while he was rambling on about his favorite anime. You were listening so intently, your eyes shining with interest, and he thought, Wait… no one’s ever actually cared this much about my weird stuff. That’s when he knew.

A few days later, you’re both at an arcade, laughing and trying to beat each other’s high scores. Out of nowhere, he says, “I love you.” You look up, a little surprised, and he gives you that signature mischievous smile, adding, “Yeah, you heard me.” You break into a huge grin, saying, “I love you too, you nerd.” He laughs, relieved and happy, and playfully ruffles your hair.

Yaku’s moment of realization came when you patched him up after a rough game. You were so gentle, fussing over his scraped knees, and he couldn’t stop staring at you, thinking, I could get used to this. The thought of you caring for him so sweetly felt too good to be true.

A few days later, he finally works up the nerve to tell you. You’re out together, talking about everything and nothing, when he stops mid-sentence and says, “I love you, you know?” It’s straightforward, with a hint of that proud Yaku confidence. You blink, processing, then smile, leaning in close to whisper, “I love you too.” He tries to play it cool but ends up beaming, completely thrilled.

Kenma realized he loved you during a quiet gaming session at his place. You were sitting beside him, just there in the background, but somehow, it felt right. He didn’t need anyone else—he just wanted you. The realization made him so nervous he avoided telling you for days, worried he might ruin things.

But one night, as you’re leaving, he stops you at the door and says, “I… love you.” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear it, your face lighting up with a smile. “I love you too, Kenma.” He looks away, trying to hide his blushing face, but you catch the soft smile creeping onto his lips, and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling lighter than ever.

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devdozes · 2 months ago

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♥ SELF AWARE PHAINON

self aware phainon shit cuz uh hwy not :3 and I am ON FIRE I wrote like 3 fics already

You weren’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way his dialogue felt too personal, too real, as if the game was reaching out to you through the screen. Maybe it was the way Phainon’s voice, sharp and playful, sometimes felt like it was responding to things you thought rather than what was programmed.

It was ridiculous. A fictional character? A game? And yet, when you logged into Honkai: Star Rail after a long, exhausting day, it was Phainon’s voice that greeted you, always teasing, always knowing.

“Did you eat today?”

Your hands froze over your keyboard. That was new. There was no voice line like that—no pre-recorded dialogue that should say something so specific. You swallowed, brushing it off as a coincidence.

But then it happened again.

“You should take a break, y’know. Staring at the screen too long isn’t good for you.”

Your chest tightened. It was a joke, probably. A funny little immersion trick by the developers. But something about it felt... different. Intentional.

And the more you played, the more you noticed it.

Phainon, ever the charming and carefree figure, always had something to say—sometimes a quip, sometimes a challenge, but always something that made you pause.

“Hey, don’t look so down. You’ve got this.”

“You’re my favorite player, you know? Don’t tell the others.”

When your heart ached from the weight of the real world, when exhaustion pressed against your bones, he was there. An NPC, a character built from lines of code, and yet he felt more present than most people around you.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you booted up the game just to hear his voice. Just to escape for a little while. Phainon greeted you with a grin, resting his hands on his hips like he was ready to scold you for something ridiculous. But then—

“Hey, you’re not alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your hands trembled over the keyboard.

“I mean, sure, I’m just some guy in a game,” he continued, a chuckle laced in his voice, “but I still care. So don’t give up on yourself, alright?”

A lump formed in your throat. You laughed, barely above a whisper. “You really are something else, huh?”

He winked. “Of course. I have to be. Someone’s gotta remind you to take care of yourself.”

You didn’t know if he could really hear you. If he could really know you. But as long as he was there, a voice beyond the screen, you didn’t feel so alone anymore. But to your surprise, you logged in one day to find your inventory overflowing with rare items—materials you needed, weapons you had been grinding for but never seemed to get. Your in-game currency had skyrocketed, and your favorite character skins were suddenly unlocked.

Your eyes widened. “What the—?”

Phainon’s character popped up on the screen, his usual smirk in place. “Oh? What’s this? Someone’s having a lucky day.”

You squinted at him. “Phainon. Did you do this?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Me? No way. That would be cheating.” A pause. “Buuuut... if someone happened to bug the system a little for you, would you really complain?”

Your jaw dropped. “You hacked the game for me?!”

“‘Hacked’ is a strong word,” he mused, crossing his arms. “I prefer ‘selective redistribution of game resources.’”

You couldn’t believe it. You laughed, shaking your head as warmth bloomed in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Phainon grinned. “Nah, I just like seeing you happy.”

From then on, every time you logged in, there was something new waiting for you. A message scrawled in the background of the game’s environment—Remember to drink water. An in-game gift placed mysteriously in your mailbox—A little something to make your grind easier ;). And, without fail, Phainon was always there, cracking jokes, making sure you smiled, ensuring that no matter how hard the real world was, you had a reason to log in and feel just a little lighter. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

But as time passed, Aglaea and Mydei started noticing something off.

Phainon had been disappearing from his usual spots, sneaking away from scripted events, lingering in places he had no reason to be in. Worse, he had started talking—not in his usual, carefree, dialogue-loop way, but actually speaking... to nothing.

At least, to them, it looked like nothing.

One day, Mydei crossed his arms, leaning against a wall as he watched Phainon gesture animatedly in an empty alleyway. “Alright, what is he doing?”

Aglaea, seated elegantly nearby, sighed and rubbed her temple. “It appears Phainon has developed the habit of speaking to ghosts.”

“I knew something was weird about him,” Mydei muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Talking to himself like that? He’s losing it.”

Aglaea hummed, watching Phainon laugh—laugh—at absolutely nothing. “Or perhaps,” she mused, “he knows something we do not.”

Meanwhile, Phainon continued chatting away to you, completely unaware of his friends’ intense judgment.

“Anyway, I made sure you got those extra rewards today. You should really go for that new banner—you deserve that five-star.” He grinned at your silence, then added cheekily, “Oh, what? No ‘thank you, Phainon, you’re the best character ever’?”

Mydei groaned, watching in horror. “Oh, he’s gone. He’s completely lost it.”

Aglaea just sipped her tea. “It is rather endearing, in a concerning way.”

Phainon, as usual, didn’t care. As long as he could reach you, make you laugh, make sure you were okay—even if nobody else in the game understood—he was happy.

Even if everyone around him thought he was insane.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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cusimmrbrightside · 9 months ago

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I have always liked the idea of the school for mutants being very literally a school, and I know yes it is but I mean in the sense of if you want to be an X-men, you have to be a teacher. They have exams at the end of years, they have Ofsted checks (for those who don’t know what they are, it’s essentially people coming to check that the school is good at being a school) and they have teachers for every subject, which brings me to my next point;

“I’m Right You’re Wrong, Here’s What The X-Men (‘97 specifically) Would Teach As Subjects”.

(Also this is based off of UK school system but I use American terms like “seniors” and “AP” and “Midterms”)

Maths Teacher Gambit is surprising, for a guy most assume to not being entirely smart, an idiot goof off who’s the comedic relief. But you need to know numbers to gamble, and that he does with being very well versed in mathematics way past an AP level. He’s made the promise for every senior class that he will teach them to play blackjack on the final day, and has only ever lost once. Which is when the rule of “no betting real money” came into place.

English teacher Jean reminds me of the kind of teacher who would let the social outcasts into her class for their lunch breaks. The kids more likely to be bullied and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure those kids bullies don’t come into that classroom. they’re loud and shout and shouldn’t really be in there but no one has to know and she certainly won’t be telling them to leave any time soon.

Physics teacher Magneto is very specific to my highschool experience I’ll be honest. I had a physics teacher who was an actual Dr with a PHD and he hated being there. His classroom has (well, had since the building was knocked down about 5 years ago now) this one cabinet that was never fully shut, it was always open just about an inch or two, and he’d stand with his foot hovering just above it and then slam down on it whenever we got too loud so the noise would shut us up. That’s very magneto coded. Erik Lehnsherr would purposefully make the cabinet always a little open so he can do that.

Biology teacher morph is just a funny concept, a person whose physical form and change and morph into just about anything. They are considered one of the “fun” teachers, you could easily convince them to let you watch a movie all class as long as it was biology centred, but with classics like Osmosis Jones, you’re not stuck watching a documentary about animals giving birth.

Chemistry teacher Storm does not fuck about with children’s education. She is not strict by any means whatsoever, she just will not bend to someone saying they want to watch a film or should do a practical instead of theory. She has a set curriculum. She knows what she will be doing by the first week of the summer holidays and already has the room set up all pretty and organised.

Geography teacher Scott has the unfortunate job of telling his students that, they just won’t be looking at memorising country flags and politics. But hey!! Rocks are cool!! Beach shores are cool! Lake formations are cool! He’s the vice principal and designated nerd teacher. He once beat the elite four for a student on their copy of Pokémon Red because the student promised they’d do well in their midterms. Yes, he was in his 30s when the game came out, he doesn’t care.

History teacher Logan is a walking fun facts book. He’s exhausted, goes on smoke breaks on every gap of time he has, dislikes his job and will randomly get passionate about one specific topic, and will then dedicate his next 4 classes to that topic. Having been through a lot of modern history with personal experiences, he’s able to bring a lot of souvenirs to show his classes. Bullets, helmets, clothes he once wore hundreds of years ago, his personal memories of basic inventions like the vaccine.

PE (physical education) teacher Rogue is full of fun sports games, you can join any kind of sports team you can imagine and if you ask nicely enough, she’ll put Just Dance on a projector in the sports hall so you can just play that instead of actually play an actual sport. As long as you leave her class exhausted and without time to have a shower before your next class then she’s succeeded in making whoever your next teacher is absolutely miserable (bonus points if it’s Logan with his enhanced sense of smell).

Art teacher jubilee does believe that there is a right way to critique art. And she can be a little in your face about it. She does think you can have wrong opinions especially when it comes to your own art. If she overhears you saying you didn’t something wrong, she’ll scream into a megaphone “adapt, improvise, overcome!”. There are no mistakes! She’s eccentric, bubbly, creative and brilliant, the only one suited for the job.

It wouldn’t be a school without budget cuts. That’s why Nightcrawler is both the languages and religions teacher and he’s beloved at both. He comes up with roleplay scenarios the students can play to help learn their chosen languages, he has varied religious texts in his room and when he says to the students “I’ll pray for toy during exam season” he’s not actually joking.

(I forgot about Hank I’m actually going to cry he’s one of my favourites and I forgot about him. He’ll be in pt two or smth.)

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sprytesukii · 1 month ago

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teen sleaze

bachira meguru x reader

as the campus slut, bachira has a very specific type (one you don’t fit into), so when he zeroes in on you at a party with the intent to take you home, it leaves you thrown off kilter.

rating : 18+, explicit, MDNI

wc : 3.9k (in under 3 hours ….. am i cooked)

tags : DARK CONTENT, very dubious consent (bachira gets reader very drunk & resistant at first), forced intoxication (alcohol), manipulation, transmasc!reader (good boy, dick, cock, pussy, cunt all used in reference to reader & his anatomy), transmasc!bachira, reader wears a binder, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, restraints (a hoodie immobilizes reader), frotting / scissoring (they bump purses :p), oral (reader!receiving), nipple torture, pussy slapping, references to virginity (bachira is a 'virgin killer', reader is not a virgin, virginity is a construct <3), bachira is mean & needy, other things i’m certain, ask to tag

an : i …. have nothing to say except sorry for teasing this for so long and that i wrote this with my dick in my hand ….. i love you my fellow trans men , i will continue to spread my agenda of trans!bllk boys to fulfill my t4t dreams <3

Bachira's bedroom is cute.

It's one of the first things you notice, though your glassy eyes and gin-addled mind make it difficult to pick up any real details, only bits and pieces. Flashes.

A beanbag in the corner, covered in stuffed animals. Anime figurines on his desk. Cat-eared gaming headphones hanging on his expensive looking monitor. A pin-up League of Legends poster above his queen sized bed.

You do your best to take in as much as possible — it isn't often (read: never) Bachira allows his conquests into his sacred space, preferring to take them into low traffic bathrooms in unpopular buildings on campus or in strangers' bedrooms at parties.

You're not entirely sure why you're the one he's breaking routine for — you aren't anyone special. He's certainly not in love with you — you're honestly not sure he's capable of that — and you're definitely not his usual type for these … excursions.

His type? Sweet. Inexperienced. Virginal. All glittery pink gloss, tiny tennis skirts, and heavily mascara'ed lashes that run so pretty when he takes them to the brink again, and again, and again.

Or, so you've heard. A lot.

Tittering girls comparing and contrasting their experiences and his technique in the caf, the library, even in the communal bathrooms on your dorm's floor. Even some of your acquaintances have "taken him for a spin," and all they have are rave reviews.

If you had marginally less shame, you'd admit to yourself that he's intriguing, at the the barest of minimums. He's incredibly pretty, no doubt, and the bubbly disposition overlaying his thinly veiled, arrogant, sleazy energy is insanely attractive (well, no one's ever accused you of having good taste in men).

Your friends all know you (a little too well), so when the two of you end up at the same functions, something that's bound to happen with the amount of mutuals you have, they all encourage you to go for it. To proposition him. He's such a slut, it's not like he's going to say no.

(Their words, not yours, though you'd be hard pressed to disagree.)

But every time, without fail, you brush them off, always citing some bullshit excuse in order to cover for the fact you're so into him, it's not even funny.

So, it's not that you don't like Bachira. It's just that … you aren't his type. At all.

You're not flowery or flouncy. You're nowhere near sweet. You're caustic, shitty, and, most importantly, you're not a virgin.

You're inexperienced, sure. You can count on two hands the amount of sexual encounters you've had and that number whittles down to one when you factor in whether or not it was even good, but, you don't exude the innocent vibe Bachira's track record indicates he's into.

That's why you were so surprised when Bachira singled you out at the party earlier in the night, zeroing in on you with an unfailing, unflinching precision that had you startled. A little overwhelmed, but only because you'd never been faced with the full brunt of his enthusiastic focus, bright yellow eyes trained on you with the intensity of a hunter looking for any sign of weakness in his prey.

Your friends all but disappeared when he approached you, two cups of some unidentifiable liquid in his (big, long-fingered) hands. He'd looked charming — a crooked grin playing on his full lips, his curled short hair tucked behind his ears. So much so, in fact, that you'd almost completely forgot about the way he skulked around the humid living room, engaging in racouous conversation with strangers while never looking away from you.

Bachira had offered you the drink, and although you'd already had one (or two, or five) already, his teasing expression and his pretty, pretty face made it nearly impossible to say no.

So, you took it, the burn of the alcohol (vodka? no, gin, god, you hate gin-) warming your throat and settling funny in your tummy. You knew you were riding the rail-thin line between pleasantly drunk and completely wasted, but just a sip from Bachira's cup tipped you right over the edge.

You had tried to put it down, recognizing your limits and backing away from them, but then Bachira pouted at you. Legitimately pouted — an expression that would be nauseating on any other grown man. On him, though, it was cute. Convincing. A pang of embarrassment had hit you right in the gut, only made worse by his quiet coo of, You sure that's all you can take? Thought you were stronger than that.

Your sober mind would have scoffed at the transparent challenge in his tone, no matter how saccharinely coated it was, but drunk you is a lot easier apparently. A lot more worried about disappointing Bachira, weirdly enough.

There was no time to examine that thought though. You had a drink to finish. You brought the cup back up to your lips, content to take a few more sips just to appease him, when two of his fingers tip up the bottom of the plastic, forcing two or three shots worth of liquid down your throat.

You spluttered, choking and dropping the cup, but Bachira held your mouth shut by pressing those same fingers to your chin and subtly pinching your nose, effectively cutting off your airways and forcing you to swallow.

That's it, there ya go. Look! All better now, right? His soft voice somehow cut through the roaring in your ears, soothing the rapidly quieting sober voice that was screaming at the injustice. The violation.

You had opened watery eyes and all you could see was Bachira, standing so close he took up your entire field of vision, a contented smirk spread wide over his face. You should've known then, but you didn't. You were too drunk, too inexperienced, too trusting.

You should've been sober enough to see his grin turn sinister, should've been able to hear the underlying excitement in his voice when you tripped over yourself, your legs made unreliable. Should've been able to protest when he tucked you against his side and made excuses to your friends about how you don't know how to handle your liquor and how he needs to walk you back to the dorms, the friendly thing to do.

(And that's what you are, right? Friends?)

You should've noticed when he made a few too many wrong turns, walking farther and farther away from campus, until you ended up at the upperclassman apartments, herded up the stairs and to his room where you are now.

The world is spinning. You're dizzy. So drunk. Bachira disappeared into the bathroom the moment he deposited you on the bed, leaving you to try and piece together exactly how you got here and what feels so wrong.

Hot. It's hot. That's the explanation your drunk mind comes up with for the reason your chest feels tight, the reason there's a blaring warning light blinking in the ever shrinking sober recesses of your brain.

With great effort, you sit up, nearly tipping over in the opposite direction in the process, but you manage it, reaching for the hem of your hoodie with the intent of pulling it up and off. Somehow, you get tangled in it, the directions your intoxicated mind give to your limbs getting lost in translation.

The heavy fabric covers your face entirely and traps your arms above your head, unable to move. You whine, embarrassed and still hot, so hot.

The position you're left in is exposing. You can feel your nipples pebble beneath your binder and your tank top, your happy trail bared by the way your tank has ridden up. The idea of Bachira seeing you like this is humiliating so you go to pull it down, but your arms and face are firmly stuck.

You're trapped.

The toilet flushes at this moment and you tense, stilling your struggling body to sit up as still as you can and listen. It's still difficult to focus, but you manage to pick up a few things.

The sound of the sink running. A glass hitting the counter and the water running again. When you strain, you hear a something small hitting the side of the glass and fizzing, but then the door opens and you can hear nothing but the rushing of blood in your ears.

"Brought you some — oh? What's this?" Bachira's tone is teasing, a little mean-spirited. You can't see him but you hear him get closer, setting the glass down on the nightstand before cold knuckles abruptly run through the coarse hair leading to down into your boxers.

You flinch back, curling up on yourself, and Bachira laughs, tone drastically different than the bright one he usually affects around campus.

"Don't be nervous. Let me see." You shake your head 'no' as best you can in the current circumstances, the movement prompting another wave of dizziness that has you tipping over into his sheets. "Aw, you can't even sit up right, can you? You need my help for that too?"

A choked sob escapes your lips, despite your best efforts, tears dripping down the side of your face and soaking the fabric. Bachira coos, condescending, and the bed dips under his weight where he sits beside you.

"Oh, you're crying! I bet you look real pretty like that, but I don't wanna take this off yet." He tugs at the hoodie around your arms, laughing when you try to drunkenly squirm away. "No, no, don't try to move. It hurts your head to move, doesn't it?"

When he doesn't speak again, you realize he's waiting for an answer. You sniffle. It does hurt your head when you try to move, leaves you feeling unsteady, swimmy.

"Yeah…" you whimper, embarrassed about how wrecked your voice sounds, even muffled. Bachira makes a noise of approval, one of his hands coming up to slowly push you onto your back.

"That's what I'm here for, 'kay? 'M gonna take care of you."

It sounds good, in this moment, to be taken care of. Everything you do gives you nothing but vertigo and discomfort, so it only makes sense to let Bachira do it for you, right?

Slowly, your legs unfold to lay flat against the bed, tears slowing down as your inebriated brain comes to terms with this new reality.

(Nevermind the fact that Bachira is a veritable stranger and has deliberately kept you in such a disadvantageous position. Your sober self weeps.)

"What a good boy," Bachira purrs. The words hit you unexpectedly, your cunt releasing a pulse of slick into your boxers and you whine, pressing your thighs together in attempts to get a little relief.

There's a pause, long enough for you to bite your lip, beating yourself up for making any noise at all — this isn't even sexual anyway, right? Why do you have to be such a freak?

"Ah," he sighs, hair audibly swishing as he shakes his head, effectively dislodging you from your thoughts. "I should've known praise would do it. You virgins are so predictable."

There's thinly veiled disappointment there and it rings in your ears, flooding you with mortification and a desire to defend yourself. To make yourself more appealing to the boy taking advantage of you.

"N-no. 'M not-a virgin." Your words, although slurred, ring clear to Bachira, but instead of assuaging you, he scoffs. The bed creaks as he shifts his weight around and you brace yourself, but you're still surprised when he flicks your hardened nipple through your shirt and binder, jolting against the sheets.

You can't defend yourself or cover your chest to prevent his attacks. He flicks the same nipple again while pinching the other, hard, and tears start welling up again, spilling over your cheeks. Bachira laughs meanly, pinching and plucking until your nubs are sore and throbbing, even beneath your layers.

"Not a virgin, huh? Then why're you so sensitive? No one touches you here?" He twists your abused skin and you howl, arching up into the touch in spite of the pain. "I don't like liars, y'know. I'm taking the time out of my night to take care of you, and all you're doing is being dishonest. That's rude, no?"

A shuddery cry eeks free from your lips, the cloth over your face almost entirely saturated with your tears. "I'm n-not lying."

Bachira hums derisively, before pushing your shirt and binder up, allowing your chest fat to spill free. He doesn't stop there, making quick work of the button on your jeans to yank them off over your shoes, leaving you in your boxers and sneakers. Exposed.

With your pants gone, you can feel how soaked you are. The flimsy crotch of your underwear clings to your folds and you're sure Bachira can see your dick pulsing where it stands hard and throbbing. You gasp, ashamed, and you snap your legs shut, trying to save whatever's left of your dignity, but Bachira doesn't let you.

He grabs your thighs and forces them open, the cool air and mandhandling sending another wave of arousal flooding out of you and dripping down to your ass. You're on display and, judging by the new lightness of the bed and the man-sized heat in between your legs, Bachira has the best view.

"Wh-what're you doin'?" you ask, voice shot and thready. In lieu of responding, Bachira hooks his hands beneath your calves and spreads your legs even wider, forcing the seam of your boxers harder against your cock. You can't help but moan, burying your face against your arm to quiet the noise a little more than the hoodie does.

Two of Bachira's knuckles brush against your lower lips and it tightens like a vice around nothing, leaking against his digits as if in greeting. "Such a greedy, sensitive pussy," he says reverently, breathless, "Girls don't get this wet. I'd assume it was the T, but this is all you, isn't it? Ha, you're gonna ruin my sheets."

A part of you preens at the comparison while the other thrashes, begging for freedom. Both parts fall silent when Bachira drags his hand up to thumb at the underside of your dick, the pleasure that ensues so sharp, it makes you shake, your orgasm suddenly a breath away.

You try to tilt your hips away, to save yourself the shame of coming from nothing, but his free hand holds you down at the waist while the other disappears entirely from your cunt.

The loss leaves you feeling both relieved and bereft. You sigh shakily, trying to catch your breath, but before you can —

SLAP!

The impact of Bachira's palm against your sopping cunt and cock sends you right over the edge. You convulse, nerves alight, as you cum and cum and cum, liquid squirting out of you and absolutely drenching the bedcovers below. It's an orgasm unlike anything you've ever had before, abrupt and intense, and by the time it's over, you've lost feeling in one of your hands and you're shivering.

"Fuck, that was hot. 'M so wet, I can't - I need —" Bachira sounds wrecked for the first time this entire night and if you were less cum-drunk (or drunk-drunk for that matter), you'd revel in the frantic way he wrenches your boxers off and to the floor, before his textured tongue is lapping at your hole, slurping up your cum.

As it stands though, you lie there limply, hips twitching beneath his ministrations. You moan pornographically every time he brushes against your dick, but it's always incidental. He's not trying to get you off — this is for him.

You cum again at this realization, a short burst of bliss as more cum dribbles out onto his awaiting tongue and Bachira groans at your taste, eating you like he's starving for it. It's so messy, between his spit and your slick, but that just makes the slide of his muscle easier through your folds, cleaning you of your essence.

Arousal coils at the base of your spine, wrapping around you and warming you from the waist up. All his transgressions forgotten in favor of this unmatched pleasure.

Your eyes roll back in your skull when he takes your cock into his mouth, all the way down to the root, hollowing his cheeks and sucking on it while his tongue traces his name on the underside. Your hips jerk from the overstimulation, from the sparks bursting behind your eyelids and pulsating in your pussy, but he doesn't let you move, both hands holding your hips firmly in place.

"B-Bachira - Meguru, I can't—" At the sound of his given name, Bachira pulls off your dick with a wet, suction noise, a gravelly noise wrenched from his chest. He slaps your cunt again and again, the wet sound reverberating through the room, and you sob, squirt shooting out of you as your hole spasms weakly.

"Ngh, you can, you can take it," he mewls, shoving three fingers into your still pulsating pussy, crooking them upwards and hitting your g-spot with insane precision, forcing more ejaculate from you.

It's so much — too much — and you nearly black out from the onslaught, your back arching like you're being exorcised as he fingers you within an inch of your life.

His thumb comes up to circle your cock and you wail, body trying to curl in on itself, legs attempting to close around his arm. Bachira just pushes your legs back open and you're reminded of his strength, of how he's able to push you around, manuever you however he feels like, forcing you through orgasm after orgasm until you're just a shell of yourself.

You cum again on his fingers, drenching his hand all the way up to his wrist, before he pulls out with a squelch. He laughs, but the sound is strained, tight. Distracted.

Your brain has completely leaked out of your ears, sober self bludgeoned over the head and quiet, so you can't figure out why. Distantly, your subconcious registers the sounds of a belt clinking, a zipper, and fabric hitting the ground, but they're hazy and far away. You can't put the pieces together, you're so thoroughly wrung out, floating away.

A large hand spreads your legs again and you whine discontentedly, the fog you'd found yourself in threatening to slip away. Bachira shushes you as the bed dips and the hand leaves your thigh, only to start tugging at the hoodie surrounding you.

You've grown accustomed to the darkness, so when it starts to lift, you panic, trying to thrash, to turn away, to make your discomfort known, but you can barely move, all the fight drained out of you. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut at the last second before light floods your vision, making you groan, barely dried tear tracks cracking at the corners.

"Shh," Bachira whispers, strung-out, his hands bringing your arms back down to your sides. Your shoulders throb where they were held above your head for what felt like hours, a shaky sigh slipping through your parted lips.

You melt back into the sheets, exhaustion setting in, but then your legs are spread again, pressed up against your chest. Your cunt is tacky, cock peeking out of your puffy folds even now and Bachira whimpers, rubbing his thumb against your tip.

"No, no, no, no," you shake your head, ignoring the dizziness that ensues in favor of protesting. "No more, I can't."

Even as you say it, your legs fall open more of their own volition, giving him more access which he takes greedily. A new sensation descends upon your pussy — something dripping, swollen, and throbbing presses against you.

It's so unfamiliar, you wrench your eyes open, blinking away the tears and bleariness to see Bachira completely naked and red-faced, dragging his cunt against yours.

You moan outright at the image, your eyes darting over every ounce of bared skin — from his broad shoulders to his small waist, top surgery scars shiny from healing and begging for your mouth, all the way down to his fat little cock, framed by his curly, heart-shaped bush and emerging from his positively soaked pussy.

He's so fucking beautiful. You want him to cum.

Bachira notices your wandering eyes and shoots you a cocky smile, but it doesn't carry the same weight when his mouth drops open on a gasp as your dicks rub together just right. (You're not much better, biting your lip to stave off an embarrassingly loud moan.)

"L-look who decided to join t-the party! Mmf, fuck — you're gonna make me cum~" he lilts, voice breaking when you roll your hips up to meet his. Strings of slick connect the both of you, smacking suction sounds resounding as his frotting picks up speed.

You watch on enraptured, your own building orgasm taking a backseat to watching Bachira get his. His mouth drops open, eyes fluttering to half mast as he pushes his folds in between yours like a french kiss, cocks catching on every other pass.

You've never done this before — rubbed against someone else, gasping when his nub notches against your entrance on one particularly long grind — but now you never want to stop.

Remembering you have arms again makes you light up, reaching for his ass to drag him more firmly against you, the action making his pussy leak all over your dick and pulling a soft moan from his chest.

"C'mon, use me," you encourage, your words breaking off into a choked groan when the undersides of your lengths rub against each other. You keep him there, pulsing your hips against his to prolong the feeling, that coil winding tighter and tighter.

Bachira shakes his head in disbelief, laughing, breath hitching as he leans over you, changing the angle to one where you see stars. Drool leaks out the corner of your lips and you rut mindlessly, every stroke sending sparks flying up and down your spine, and you know it won't be long for either of you.

"S-shit, fuck, fuck —" Bachira cums first with a quiet groan of your name, cut off by him sinking his teeth into your neck. Blinding pain creates starbursts in your vision, but you don't care, not when you can feel the way he soaks your pussy, his squirt and slick drowning your pubes, his cock throbbing against yours.

His hips twitch against yours as he rides out his orgasm and that does it for you, cumming against him so hard you shake, garbling out something like thank you, before you collapse.

Your movement dislodges Bachira's teeth from your neck and he sighs contentedly, rolling onto his sheets at your side. Neither of you speak for a long moment, chests heaving, until you start slipping into unconciousness, your body finally shutting down.

This means you don't notice how Bachira tucks himself up against your back and looks down at your sleeping face, his eyebrows furrowed, oddly vulnerable. It means you don't notice the way he lightly traces your body with his fingertips, pulling your binder and tank down in a belated, uncharacteristic display of respect. It means you don't notice the way Bachira runs his fingers through your bush appreciatively, before pushing two of his fingers past your spent cock and into your hole, hooking them up and leaving them there for you to warm.

It means you don't see how quickly Meguru drops off after that, soothed by your proximity and warmth, despite the fact that falling asleep with his bedwarmers just isn't something he does.

(You'd thought before that Bachira wasn't capable of love, but when you wake up the next morning to clean sheets, your favorite breakfast, his glittering eyes, a genuine smile, and a vibrator pressed to the tip of your cock as he kisses the scabbing imprint of his teeth in your shoulder —

you think you might've been wrong.)

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imababblekat · 1 year ago

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Big Red's Big Secret

Anon Request, "Hey! Im new to your blog and im pretty sure your requests are open, i was wondering how the turtles react to Raph having a secret s/o. Like he had been acting suspicious and they followed him and they saw him go to a person’s apartment and like do couple stuff ig? I hope i was clear enough ty have a good day/night✨"

~xXx~

“So yeah, this is (y,n), my partner. (Y,n), my brothers.”

A silence, thick as a brick wall, befell amongst the ninja turtles and single human that stood beside Raphael. He swore he hadn’t been followed, made extra sure and took extra ways to get to your place just to be safe. Perhaps, Raph had been exhausted from the recent missions him and his brothers had been busy accomplishing, or he was just too eager to see you after having not in a while, that he had not been as observant of his six as he’d thought. Whichever the reason for his slip up, it was too late to dwell on now, as his brothers who had followed him after having acting suspicious discovered the reason the red clad ninja had been going on so many “solo patrols”. That reason being you, who tensely stood behind him with six pairs of eyes completely focused on your presence.

It wasn’t till the biggest of smiles and a loud, excited “oh my gosh” bellowed from Mikey, that any tension in the room seemed to disparate.

“I’m Michelangelo, Raph’s favorite sibling of course, but you can call me Mikey!”

The youngest was just as you had imagined from the details described to you by your loving turtle, his smile contagious as you felt your own lips break into one to match. You couldn’t help but lightly giggle as Mikey’s furious handshake caused you to almost topple to the side, had Raph not been there to stable you.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

Releasing your hands, Mikey was quick to jump into asking you a million questions, some of which left Raphael feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

“What’s your favorite pizza topping?! Do you play video games?! If so, what’s your favorite game?! Oh! Did you know that Raph sometimes talks in his sleep and if you ask him something he’ll actually answer?!”

“Okay-“, Donnie quickly intervened, seeing his red banned brother quickly glare with embarrassment, moving to step in front of the youngster before he said something that would get him into trouble.

“Stop hogging Mikey, let the rest of us say hi. I’m Donatello, but every one just calls me Donnie or Don for short.”

You stared with wide eyes up at the giant before you. Sure Raph had said he wasn’t the tallest of his siblings, but you hadn’t imagined one them to be this towering. Still with a big smile, you shook Donnie’s offered hand, a twinkle of mischief dancing in your eyes.

“Raph never answers this question, so do you mind telling me how the weather is up there?”

Donnie smirked, subconsciously straightening his posture to appear taller before sassily replying.

“Quite nice actually. You’re pretty funny, I like that.”

You smirked with shrug, playfully nudging Raphael’s side.

“Thanks, Raph says my humor is his favorite quality.”

Raphael as a response shook his head, eyes rolling with a small smirk, hand grabbing for the sleeve of the arm you bumped him with to pull you closer. He watched you interact with Donnie and Mikey, a warm feeling through out him as laughs and playful jester bounded between the trio. That was until, the clearing of one’s throat, cut into everyone’s attention.

Standing awkwardly back from the group, still just outside the open windowsill, was Leonardo. The anxiety and tension of earlier came rushing back to Raphael, swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat. Your eyes darted between the two, feeling a strong tenseness float in like a dense fog.

Just like with Mikey and Donnie, Raphael had told you lots about Leonardo. Yes, some of it had been during times the two would get into it, but it hadn’t all been negative. Some of it were things he’d never confess to the leader in blue, such as only ever having wanting to make him proud. Other times he’d remanences over good moments or adventures the two shared. Over all, it was a complicated relationship, especially when the two were younger, but what you knew for sure, was that Raphael truly loved his eldest brother.

Gently squeezing the hand that still held your sleeve, you offered Raphael a comforting smile.

The leader in blue was caught by surprise when a human hand had extended into his field of view, Leo's eyes following up the hands arm to meet your kind filled gaze.

“You must be Leonardo. It’s nice to finally meet you.”, you greeted, hand still opened towards him.

Truth be told, Leo was just as nervous as Raphael about this unexpected meeting. Yes, he was a little angry that Raph went behind his family’s back. However, he was secretly more hurt that his brother felt the need to keep such an important thing a secret. While he supposed it was to happen as he, especially in the past, would not have reacted so well to things Raphael would sometimes do, Leo worried that said brother had lost trust in him.

Leonardo looked between your open hand and back to your smiling face, before focusing on his hot headed brother in your living room. He was glaring, but Leo knew Raphael better than anyone, and could see the nervousness that swam in his hazel eyes. Obviously this was not the ideal way he’d planned on having the two of you meet, but it’s how it happened. Yet, where it was his brother who extended theirs hands to you, you were the one to extend you hand in friendly greeting towards Leo.

Finally, Leonardo reached for your hand, giving it a gentle shake, unaware of the weight that seemed to evaporate from Raphael’s stiffened shoulders.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, I apologize for the sudden intrusion. I hope we didn’t scare you.”, Leo apologetically greeted, rubbing the back of his head feeling a bit shy.

You shrugged once more, still holding a kind smile.

“Don’t worry about it, you didn’t frighten me at all, but how about you come inside. It must be freezing out there, plus I just finished making some cookies.”

Leo smiled at your kindness, thanking you for your offer and stepping into your warm home as he watched Mikey excitedly follow you to the kitchen for the sweet baked goods, Donnie following close behind. He’d only just met you, but Leonardo could instantly see how it was that Raphael fell for you. Despite the slight ache still present in his chest, Leonardo was grateful that someone so compassionate as you were the one to hook his brothers heart.

As he and Raphael made way to follow after you and his two youngest siblings, Leo gave the later a good pat on the shoulder, a warm and happy smile thrown his way.

“You did good, bro.”

Raphael, feeling lighter then he’d ever had, seeing the person he loved most in life now be apart of his family, wrapped an arm around Leonardo's shell with an equally comfortable and joyous smile.

“Thanks, Leo.”

~xXx~

#bayverse raph x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #aged up tmnt #anon request #imababblekat's writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

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Sum of All 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The woman doesn’t say a word as she gets in the car. You don’t either. The tension in the car is like the sound of glass about to break. Each breath is another crack.

The fourth passenger in the car is your confusion. You’re not quite sure why you’re still there. The job is done, right? And this is business. Not your business. You don’t ask. Questions are a bad idea with these kind of people.

Rogers drives out of town. The old warehouse is ominous and you’re happy you’re not the one he tells to get out. The woman doesn’t hesitate even as you can sense her uncertainty. You only get a brief glimpse of her as she goes as the car pulls away swiftly.

He retraces the same route. He clears his throat as he passes the city marker. “We needa talk,” he says.

“We do?” You eke out.

He sighs and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, “look, I’m taking you home. You did your job.”

“Oh, okay,” you fold your hands in your lap.

“So, let’s discuss the elephant in the room. Discretion,” he intones.

You thoughtfully mull the world. As far as you’re concerned, the moment you’re out of the car, it’s all behind you. Just a weird fever dream you can forget about.

“Not that anyone should ask but if they do, you know nothing.”

He stares at you intently. His blue eyes are bright despite the shadows, as his beard and hair swallow up the dark. He really is a frightening man. You’re fortunate to be walking away. You know that at least.

“Sure,” you agree.

“Open the glove box. Your take is in there,” he says.

You lean forward and do as he says. You take out the envelope. It’s stuffed with bills. That won’t be suspicious at all. You’ll deposit it a little at a time. Wait, should you accept this? It’s blood money, isn’t it?

“All yours. I’m sure you can figure out something to do with it,” he says.

You recognize the streets around you. Your neighbourhood isn’t the nicest but it’s home. For now. You watch through the window as you ponder your deal with the devil. You won’t argue with him but you could always give the money to a good cause.

He pulls up to your building and you tuck the envelope in your purse. That’s it. It’s over. It’ll just be a funny story to tell in twenty years when the heat’s off of you. People won’t believe someone like you had a brush with danger. You can hardly believe it yourself.

“I’ll stay here til you’re inside. Make sure you don’t have anyone tryna snatch your purse,” he says.

You look at him, “what are you walking about?”

He squints and his lashes flick. He shakes his head, “what?”

“Who are you?” You ask.

His lips part and he pauses before he speaks, “you hit your head?”

“Discretion,” you say. “Remember? I don’t.” You tap your head and pull the door handle, “have a good night. Or, er, life.”

You shut the door gently and turn away. You let out a breath and march staunchly up to the front door. You sense him watching you but you’re not bothered. It’s over. You’re free.

You go inside, certain to pull the grate door closed heavily before you continue up to your unit. As you get inside, you let your shoulders drop and hang your head back. No more scary men and hopefully, no more fainting.

You take out your phone and find it just as lifeless as ever. You have a few notices to keep up your game streak but nothing important. Just an email.

Wait. Before you can swipe it away, your brain catches the name. You applied to the firm months ago. Please, don’t be another rejection.

You open it, one hand on your phone, the other stirring around for the envelope in your bag. You carry both through the front room of your apartment and into the bedroom. You tap the email to open and put the phone down to look for a hiding spot.

You tuck the money under your mattress and reclaim your cell. You sit on the bed and read. It’s an offer for an interview. Great timing too. The sooner you can get out of this city, the better. You’ve seen its dark underbelly. No thank you.

You reply, drafting your acceptance several times before sending. Content, you stretch out the last of the tension. You feel bad for all those people; the man that Rogers beat in the middle of the road, Warren, and whoever that woman was in the backseat. Still, all you have is your empathy. You can’t do much for any of them.

The night passes so dully that you can almost believe you dreamt the last three days. In the morning, you’re back to the usual, though it doesn’t feel quite so. You get dressed, pack your lunch, and set off for the firm.

You greet Geraldine as she unlocks the front door of the office. She’s happy to see you. You’re less than happy to see your desk. There’s a dozen post-its stuck to your keyboard. Each with a name and file number. That’s everything you have to catch up on, all scribbled in Brenner’s tight lettering.

You sit and stack them up neatly. Brenner shows up an hour later. He’s hung over. You can tell by how he keeps his sunglasses on and goes through coffee like a siphon.

Neither of them acknowledge your absence. They don’t ask and you don’t mention it. If all things go to plan, soon enough, your desk will be filled by someone else.

You get through a couple post-its before lunch then check your phone. You have a time and date for the interview. Things are moving along. You’re already fantasizing about giving your two-week notice.

You’re going to be out of here, onto greater things. Just like you set out for. Well, it’s just an interview. You need to be practical about this. One step at a time. For now, you need to shovel through the pile of shit before you. Fresh air is just around the corner.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #sum of all #au #mob au #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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lukesvangelista · 2 months ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐒)ʳᵍ²⁹

in which ryan goes to ohio state. you go to michigan. the rivalry interferes with your relationship when it comes to a big game at wrigley field.

warnings; ohio state/michigan rivalry, breakups

Ryan had heard some insane things in his life. Chirps from the student sections, wild mid-game taunts, and the occasional absurd take from his teammates about which fast food joint reigned supreme. But this? This was definitely up there.

“You want to what?” he asked, pausing mid-stretch as he prepared for the upcoming game this weekend.

Comfortably seated on his bed wearing his Ohio State hoodie, you met his gaze with unwavering determination, "Break up for the weekend.”

He chuckled, thinking it was a joke. “Yeah, okay.”

You, however, weren't laughing, “I’m serious.”

His smile faded, “You’re serious?"

"Dead."

Ryan blinked, trying to process your words. He wasn't sure he was hearing you correctly, so he spoke again, “You want to break up for the weekend...because of the game?”

“You got it,” you affirmed, your tone resolute, “You play for Ohio State. I go to Michigan. We’re playing each other in the Frozen Confines! We can’t be together this weekend, Ryan.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, “That’s ridiculous as hell.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is pretending I don’t want your team to get absolutely crushed,” you leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief, “I go to Michigan, Ryan. My loyalty is with the Wolverines.”

“And I’m a Buckeye,” he countered, brow furrowing, “You think I want your team to win?”

“Exactly! So how can we possibly be together this weekend?” you challenged him, throwing your hands up, “We’re enemies.”

Ryan scoffed, rolling his eyes, “We’re dating. We've been dating for three years."

“Not this weekend.”

He groaned, “Y/N.”

You gave him a pointed look, “Ryan.”

“This is dumb.”

“This is necessary,” you insisted, "We’re on opposite sides of the greatest rivalry in college sports. It’s only right.”

Ryan stared at you as if your eyes had popped out of your head, utterly dumbfounded, “We can just... I don't know...ignore the fact that it’s happening?”

“Oh, so you’re not playing in the game?” you quipped.

“That’s not what I meant.”

"How would your coach feel if I told him what you said? And your teammates?"

"Y/N... you better not say anything."

“Relax, you idiot, I won't. But you’re gonna tell me that if I show up at Wrigley wearing my Michigan gear and screaming my lungs out, you’re just gonna let it slide?” you pressed, "That you won’t be mad when I lose my voice taunting your team?”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue but the words never came. You had a point.

“You’re gonna tell me you won’t chirp my team?” you continued.

“…No,” he admitted.

“Exactly! That’s why we have to break up for the weekend. Clean break. We go in as enemies, come out as...” you hesitated, “Okay, maybe not friends, but like… amicable rivals.”

He shook his head, exhaling sharply, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smirked at him, "And yet you know I'm right."

Ryan glared at you, his arms crossed over his chest, “You’re actually breaking up with me?"

“For the weekend,” you reiterated, hopping off his bed and making your way to the door, “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. Unless Michigan wins. Then I might just stay single.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so," you turned to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing at your lips, “See you on the other side, Buckeye.”

Ryan exhaled as the door shut behind you, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling within him. This was going to be a long weekend.

Game day came quicker than he Ryan expected. Stepping onto the ice at Wrigley Field, he was enveloped by the electric atmosphere. The historic stadium, transformed into the most incredible outdoor rink that he had ever seen, buzzed with anticipation. Fans from both sides filled the stands, their shouts and taunts creating a cacophony of laughs and playful insults.

As he skated during warm-ups, his eyes scanned the sea of people dressed for one of two sides. He knew that you were out there, draped in blue and maize, your voice undoubtedly among the loudest.

The game commenced with aggression. Both Ohio State and Michigan showcased why they were two of the best teams in the country, each shift more intense than the last. Ryan was clawing at the puck with every chance he got, doing everything he could to capitalize for the Buckeyes. He would be lying if he said that you weren't in the back of his mind when doing so. Midway through the second period, however, T.J. Hughes capitalized on a defensive lapse, allowing Michigan to take a 2-0 lead. The Wolverine fans in the crowd erupted, and Ryan could almost hear your cheers through the air. Why the fuck did you have to go to Michigan?

But Ohio State wasn't finished yet. Ryan made sure of it. He and his teammates rallied. Within the final five minutes of the second period, Sam Deckhut and Noah Powell both sent the puck past Cameron Korpi, scoring to goals to tie the game. The momentum swung back and forth, each team refusing to give in.

And then as the third period began, Will Horcoff scored. 3-2, Michigan.

Three minutes later, Riley Thompson scored. 3-3, all.

With the clock ticking down in the third period, the score tied at 3-3, tension hung thick in the cold air. Every pass, every shot carried the weight of the rivalry. Everyone, both on and off the ice, could feel it.

And then?

A breakthrough for the Buckeyes.

With just 38 seconds remaining, Riley Thompson found himself in the right place at the right time. A pass from Davis Burnside landed perfectly on his stick, and without hesitation, he deflected it right into the net. The Ohio State bench, as well as the fans, erupted in excitement, and Ryan could feel his heart pumping with both joy and relief.

Not only had they just won the game, but he had his girlfriend back. And his victory made it so that you couldn't say anything bad about the Buckeyes.

After the game, the locker room was alive with celebration. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional spray of gatorade from Patrick Guzzo's water bottle filled the air. Ryan was having so much fun, but he just couldn't shake the thought of you.

After they all showered and got changed, Ryan made his way out of the stadium. The crisp Chicago air was a stark contrast to the warmth inside. As he approached the meeting spot the two of you had agreed upon before the game, he saw you. You were leaning against a pillar, your arms crossed, a Michigan beanie pulled low over your ears.

You looked up as he approached, a smirk playing on your lips, “Well, well, if it isn’t the conquering hero.”

Ryan chuckled, his arms crossing over his chest, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” you replied, “Breakup’s over. Figured I’d come congratulate you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh? No hard feelings?”

You shrugged, pushing off the pillar and stepping closer to him, “I mean, I’m devastated, don't get me wrong," your flare for the dramatics was undercut by the grin tugging at your lips, “But I’ll survive.”

He laughed, the tension of the weekend melting away, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the rivalry that had momentarily come between you guys now a shared memory. “So,” you spoke up, looping your arm through Ryan’s, “how about we grab some food before I inevitably have to listen to all my friends cry about this loss?”

Ryan grinned, tugging you closer as you guys walked through the crowd outside Wrigley Field, “Not gonna lie, hearing Michigan fans complain is gonna be the highlight of my weekend.”

You groaned, “God, I hate you.”

Ryan let out a quiet laugh, “No, you don’t.”

You exhaled dramatically, “No, I don’t.”

The two of you weaved through the mix of overjoyed Ohio State fans and dejected Michigan ones, and you let out an occasional groan whenever you passed a particularly loud and obnoxious Ohio State fan, “See, this is why we broke up for the weekend,” you muttered, “I could not have handled this if we were still together.”

Ryan smirked, “And yet here you are, walking around with a Buckeye.”

“Shut up!" you nudged him, but there was no real force behind it.

The two of you ducked into a nearby diner, the warm air immediately cutting through the Chicago cold. Ryan guided you toward a booth, letting you slide in first before settling across from her. The place was filled with a mix of hockey fans, still buzzing from the game. A few Ohio State fans spotted Ryan and congratulated him, while a group of Michigan fans near the counter were making it known that they did not care for him.

You slumped against the booth, removing the beanie that had now messed up your hair, “This is actually hell.”

Ryan just grinned, picking up a menu, “Guess you gotta deal with us being the 'champions of the west' now. But hey, at least you didn’t bet anything on the game."

You stiffened slightly. He caught it immediately.

"Y/N, what did you do?"

You winced, “Okay, so I may have...hypothetically...made a bet.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed, “With who?”

You waved a hand, trying to get his attention off of you in any way possible, “Just some of my friends from school. No big deal.”

“How much?” he asked suspiciously.

You sighed, “Not money.”

Ryan waited. Reluctantly, you continued, "I might have to wear an Ohio State jersey on campus for a day.”

Ryan nearly choked on his laughter, “Oh, this is so much better than money.”

You rolled your eyes, “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this.”

“You deserve this,” he teased, “You were chirping me during the game.”

“I was supporting my team.”

“You called me a traffic cone!"

You raised your hands in disbelief, “You were screening your own goalie! You're not even a defenseman!”

Ryan groaned, “Oh my god.”

Your guys' food arrived, and despite the chirping, there was an undeniable ease between the two of you. The rivalry might have defined the weekend, but it hadn’t changed what was underneath —what had always been there.

As you reached for a fry, Ryan tilted his head, “So, when do you have to wear the jersey?”

You sighed, “Monday.”

Ryan smirked, “Guess I’ll have to lend you one, huh?”

You rolled her eyes, “You’re too happy about this.”

“You mean my girlfriend, walking around Michigan’s campus in my jersey, after my team beat hers?” Ryan leaned forward, eyes shimmering with mischief and excitement, “Yeah, I’m pretty damn happy.”

You crossed your arms, "Who said I'm wearing your jersey? Maybe I'll wear Jake's, show him some love."

"No fucking way. You're back to being my girlfriend. We won. You're wearing my jersey."

You groaned, “I take it back. The breakup is still on.”

Ryan just laughed, reaching across the table to steal one of your fries, “Too late, love. You’re stuck with me.”

You tried to glare, but the fond smile on your lips betrayed you. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I guess I am.”

a/n; this was requested by the lovely @fantillisgirl. hope i did it justice!

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heartsforjh · 16 days ago

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Minny

recommended you read the other parts before this one <3

main masterlist | au masterlist

“Jack! Ugh! You are upsetting me!” you groan. You’ve told him a million times that he needs to stand in a certain spot for the game you’re playing, but he’s moving around too much.

Quinn, Jack, and Luke all collectively giggle, finding your frustration quite cute as you hardly ever get mad at them like that.

You cross your arms. “It is not funny. He needs to play right. He’s the dog!”

“What if he doesn’t wanna be the dog? Why can’t he be the brother?” Luke asks, just trying to get a reaction out of you.

You huff and roll your eyes. “He is not a prince. You’re the brother-prince already, Lu. And don’t even ask about being the king. Quinn is already the king. No princess either. That’s me.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Jack says with a light, unnoticeable chuckle, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. “And I promise you, I don’t wanna be the princess. That’s all yours.”

You hug him back, forgiving the jitters.

Quinn shakes his head and sits on the edge of the couch with an arm on the rest, exhausted. “You guys are stressing her out. Now, I’m stressed out.”

“My mom says you’re too young to be stressed out.” you tell Quinn, looking at him curiously.

Quinn smiles. “I wish that was true for me. I’ve lived a lot of lives.”

“Whatever that means,” Jack remarks, making Quinn shoot him an unamused glare.

Luke laughs, so even though you have no idea what they’re talking about, you do too. “I bet Miss Ellen has a lot to say about you living a bunch of lives! I love your mom, Quinny!”

“Thank you,” all three of the boys say at once, making you really laugh. That was funny.

Luke fidgets with the centerpiece on your family’s coffee table. “What’s our kingdom name, anyways?”

“Uhhh… Minnesota!” you decide, extremely proud of yourself.

The three boys are in sync again, only this time, it’s with side-eyes to each other.

It’s Quinn’s turn to look at you curiously now. “Why Minnesota, Y/n?”

“Why not? That’s where my mom tells me I was born. I stayed there for a long time before I came here. I want Minnesota,” you explain.

Luke, of course, is first to break the silence with a loud laugh, pointing at you. “She’s from Minny! Look at her, she’s mini and from Minny!”

That makes both Jack and Luke laugh, but again, you’ve got no clue what’s so comical about it.

“Okay, c’mon Minny. Let’s play. I’ll do it right this time,” Jack says, getting down on all fours to settle your bossy little needs of him being the royal family’s dog.

Quinn gets up from the couch now, ready to play too. “I’m the King of Minnesota!”

“Yeah, well I get to be king next, cause I’m the Prince of Minnesota,” Luke says cockily.

Quinn just scoffs. “Only if I die! And Minny never said that’s happening in this game, so you’ll never be king. Sorry, bud.”

“I don’t like this game!” Luke pouts.

You frown at that, looking up at Quinn then back to Luke. “That is not nice, Luke!”

“Who cares if you like it or not! We just played the game that you wanted earlier!” Quinn scolds, really stepping up to the oldest brother role. A loud groan is heard from the floor where Jack is. “Can we just play?! My legs are tired already!”

PLEASE BE SURE TO UPDATE YOUR TAGLIST SUBMISSION IF YOU"D LIKE TO KEEP GETTING TAGGED FOR THIS AU! THANK YOU! :)

creds to @beenucks for the polaroid

tags: @beenucks @nic0-hischier @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @puckfics @editzcp @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @ruinix @greensnakegobblep @whitegirlsworld @dancerbailey3 @cheesecakeinahole @multifandom-2091

join the taglist here! :)

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therealcocoshady · 9 months ago

Note

Could you make a one shot where Marshall x Reader have been dating for almost 2 years, they start talking about kids and the thought of reader pregnant is a big turn on for him.

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request 💕. I hope you enjoy this ! ⭐️

If you like my writing and want to support it, here’s my Ko-Fi (I’m also open for commission. It’s like a request but that way you’re 100% sure I see it fast & indulge you 😉 - rn I have 200+ asks in my Inbox. Also, by commissioning my work, you’re literally helping a struggling neurodivergent student get by !).

Baby talk

You were the first one to be surprised when you felt it. The desire to have kids. You had never been a kid person. You had always found these tiny humans to be terribly underwhelming. To be fair, you didn’t hate them. But you never really understood what all the fuss surrounding babies was. Puppies ? Yes. Kittens ? Absolutely. Human babies ? Meh. When you were a kid yourself, you didn’t show an interest in babies and, as far as you could remember, you had never really enjoyed playing with dolls. And growing up, you hadn’t shown more of an interest in the topic of motherhood. Older people had told you you’d change your mind and eventually come to want kids of your own but you doubted it. When you became an adult and got into serious relationships, you had that talk with your partners and you told them you didn’t want to have children. You enjoyed your free time, being able to sleep until noon if you wanted to, the possibility of spending money on silly things like an impromptu girls trip to Vegas or a new handbag instead of diapers and an overpriced daycare. In your mind, it was clear that you weren’t meant to be a mother. You did have a lot of love and admiration for parents around you, but you didn’t envy them. So you built a child free life that was absolutely wonderful. Sure, it hurt a bit when your previous partner ended up breaking up with you because he changed his mind about kids and you didn’t. But you understood his decision and knew it was the right thing to do, rather than forcing yourself to have kids when you did not have any actual desire for it. You didn’t want to force yourself to live a life that did not resemble you, taking the risk of one day resenting the children you never wanted to raise in the first place. It all worked out in the end : your ex went on to marry a woman who, from what you heard, was wonderful and have a kid with her, and you ended up meeting the love of your life.

Marshall was everything you hoped to find in a partner. He was kind, funny, thoughtful, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and handsome. Yes, he was older than you, but he was definitely young at heart. If anything, you benefited from his experience in life. Also, him being older and having three grown-up children meant that he was « done with all of that », which was a relief. The feeling was mutual, his lack of desire for more kids having caused a couple of breakups for him as well. But just because the two of you decided not to have babies didn’t mean you didn’t have your hands full with them. Marshall was a loving uncle to his brother’s three kids and you were entering that stage of your life where all your friends were starting families. So whether it was a birthday party, a basketball game, a recital or a baby shower… you had your share of kid-related activities. You liked it though. More than you ever thought you would. Marshall being very family-oriented, he loved that you were involved with his family. Together, you built a perfect life. You had all the fun that came with being around kids, without the obligations. You were the fun aunt and uncle, who enjoyed spoiling other people’s kids rotten and playing with them, before happily handing them back to their parents and letting them handle the sugar crash and the noise caused by the toys you bought them. You thought you’d spend the rest of your life just like this, perfectly content, enjoying a peaceful existence with your boyfriend, with whom you would eventually grow old.

But then, without seeing it coming, you found yourself thinking about it. Wondering how you would look like with a baby bump. Pregnant ladies had always looked like aliens to you, but you started thinking you’d actually be cute, carrying a little baby. Marshall’s baby. A baby with the cutest nose, pouty lips and the most beautiful blue eyes. The thought of a baby that would be part you part Marshall had your heart melt. And you knew he’d be such a good baby daddy, too. Obviously, he had raised three amazing daughters he was very proud of, but he was also amazing with other people’s children. He was his nephews’ favorite person in the world and he was so great with your friends’ babies. So you found yourself thinking that, if you got accidentally pregnant, it wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth. Sure, it would be inconvenient, but maybe you’d keep it. Not that it would ever happen anyway, since you were more than diligent with birth control. Then, it turned into thinking about what your life would actually look like with a little one. And you figured that, what you would have found dreadful years ago, maybe wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you’d crush it as a soccer mom. Maybe there was actually something beautiful in having kids with someone you love, teaching them stuff and watching them grow up.

Then, one day, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You actually wanted to have kids. With Marshall. You were at the store, doing your weekly shopping. How you ended up in the baby aisle, you weren’t sure. But you found yourself mesmerized by the tiny items of clothing. Eventually, you came to your senses and mentally slapped yourself. You were with a man in his fifties, who already had his kids and did not want more. Now was not the time to change your mind. As if to imprint the thought in your brain, you went and stocked on condoms, buying a fuckton of them. The cashier even threw you a weird glance. You probably looked like you were doing a comparative study, getting a bit of everything from ribbed ones to flavored ones. Marshall chuckled when he saw them in the bag.

That’s a lot of condoms, he chortled.

Yeah, there was some kind of sale, you lied.

He shrugged it off and promised to put them to good use. You knew he would make good on his word and figured you just needed to have that silly idea banged out of your system. Except that it didn’t work. You went a few months without talking to him about it. But the more time went on, the more you realized you really wanted a baby with this man. You still liked the idea of having a flexible schedule and 9 hours of sleep a night. But you didn’t love it as much as you loved the idea of carrying this man’s offspring. And the more time went on, the harder it was not to talk to him about it. You dreaded this, though. Because you’d been on the receiving end of that conversation. Of not wanting kids and having someone you loved tell you that they wanted to start a family with you, and having to disappoint them and see the heartbreak in their eyes. So you put it off as long as you could. Until one evening, you weren’t able to hold yourself.

I think I want a baby, you blurted out when you walked in the kitchen while Marshall was cooking dinner.

You think you want what, baby ? He asked as he turned to you. Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the noise of that kitchen fan.

No, I said I-I think I want a baby, you repeated nervously.

You think you want a baby ? He repeated carefully.

I mean… yeah, you simply said.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, you were taking him by surprise. He turned off the fan and the kitchen stove, before walking to you.

That’s new, he said matter-of-factly.

Kind of, you admitted. I mean… I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.

So you don’t think you to have want a baby. You know you want to have one, he pointed out.

Y-yeah. I’m sorry, you mumbled as you looked down.

For how long have you thought about it ? He asked.

I’m not sure, you admitted. Does it matter ?

I thought you didn’t want to be a mom, he said. That you were perfectly happy with being an aunt. That it was the best of both worlds. That’s what you said.

I know, you replied. And I meant it. I’m as surprised as you are, really. But then I thought about how I’d react if I got pregnant. And I realized I wouldn’t mind that. Having a baby that’s part you and part me.

Oh wow, he said as he scratched the back of his head.

Yeah, you hummed. And I thought it was just something random and that I’d forget about it. But I can’t. And it’s been months now, and I think you have great genes and that our baby would be really cute. And Target has the most adorable baby clothes and I know condoms are cheaper than a college education but there were little bunnies on the pajamas I saw the other day and I also found out that they make baby Jordan sneakers that look like the ones you love and-

You caught yourself rambling and stopped talking. Now, you weren’t making any sense and you were just dumping the whole thing on him. Probably not the best way to go about it. He was staring at you with an amused look on his face.

I’m sorry, you said will a sad voice. I know you’re done with it. We’ve talked about it and I know it really sucks that I’m changing my mind but I needed to tell you because I’ve been thinking about it a lot and-

Do you plan on letting me speak ? He asked with a smile.

Yes. Sorry.

Ok, he chuckled. I have a few questions. Is there a reason why you changed your mind ?

Well… you, I guess, you shrugged. I mean, I love you, and I see what an amazing father, what a great uncle you are.

Ok, he said. And, another question : is that something you want ? Or is it something you need ?

I don’t know, you admitted. I’m really happy with our life just the way it is. I don’t need a baby to be fulfilled and for my life to have meaning. But I can’t stop thinking of how much I’d like a baby with you.

Ok, he hummed. So… it’s not something you’d break up over ?

No, you said. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. And I don’t think I want a baby if I can’t have it with you. You’re the reason I want one. Because the baby I have in my mind… he has your eyes, your nose and your smile.

Meh. Doesn’t sound too cute, he chuckled. If anything, it sounds like an ad for contraception.

Oh, come on, you giggled.

But… he ? He asked with a smile.

Sometimes she, you corrected. I never really wanted kids so I don’t really care, I guess. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump this whole thing on you… we both know this talk sucks. But I couldn’t really keep it to myself. I needed to tell you. I’m sorry.

Quit apologizing, babe, he said reassuringly. I’m glad you told me.

Really ? You asked nervously.

Of course, he replied. I can tell it hasn’t been easy for you.

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent. You definitely felt lighter after telling him, even though it didn’t really change anything.

So… can I get back to you on that ? He finally asked.

Huh ?! You asked as you looked up from his chest.

I think I’m gonna need a bit of time to think about it, he continued. I can’t promise I’ll say yes. But I’ll consider it.

Wait… seriously ? You asked in shock.

Isn’t that why you brought it up in the first place ? He mused.

I don’t know, you said. I guess I mostly expected you to convince me it was a terrible idea. I mean, you’ve broken up with people over that.

So have you, he pointed out. But it’s you. It’s us. What we have is different. I feel like my family’s complete so I never really wanted to have another kid. But I’m in love with you. And if there’s anyone I’d give it a shot with… it’s you.

Ok, you said with an emotional smile.

I’m not saying yes to anything, though, he warned. Don’t get your hopes up.

But you’re not saying no, you pointed out with a smile.

I’m not, he agreed. Because even though having kids can be tough… it’s pretty great, too. And I know you’d be a great mom.

You flashed him a smile and buried your face in his chest. The simple fact that he was willing to consider it because he loved you filled your heart with joy.

You didn’t really bring up the topic in the following weeks, but you could see a change in Marshall’s demeanor whenever someone around you talked about kids. You could absolutely tell he was thinking about it. You weren’t too sure what the best way to go about it was. Of course, you were curious to know how he felt about it, what was on his mind. But you didn’t want to be annoying and press him on the matter, so you figured that it was probably better to wait for him to get back to you on that, once his mind was made up.

Waiting was trying, though. Because in the meantime, you had to watch him interact with countless babies and young children, feeling like your ovaries exploded. Patience is a virtue and that waiting period was definitely an opportunity for you to practice it. Thankfully, it finally came to an end when you came back from work to Marshall waiting for you in the living room, with a bouquet of roses on the table, as well as a paper bag. You greeted him and thanked him for the nice gesture.

What’s the occasion ? You asked.

Since when do I need a special occasion to treat my woman to some roses and a present ? He asked back.

Touché, you giggled. Thank you my love. Can I open the bag ?

Not yet, he said. I want you to have a look at this first.

He handed you some papers and you skimmed through it. It was a printing of his schedule for the foreseeable future. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

That’s, erm, fine ? You said, unsure of what he was expecting you to say.

It’s my schedule, he said. For the next two years.

I see that, you chuckled. I’m just not sure why you’re showing it to me ? You usually don’t consult me when it comes to your work schedule.

As you can see, I’ve moved a couple of trips that were already planned, he explained as he pointed to a few dates. Meaning that I’ll be going to LA a little bit more in the upcoming three months. But after that, no more work trips and I put a hold on the performance planning. I’ll stay in Detroit.

Ok ? You said - still not grasping what he was getting at. That’s nice. But why did you change the schedule ? Is there a specific reason why you need to stay here ?

Apparently, when you’re trying to have a baby with your woman, it’s better to be in the same city, he grinned.

You stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly agape. Marshall was smiling from ear to ear. Next thing he knew, you were in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, peppering your face with kisses.

Oh my God, you said emotionally. Really ? Oh I love you so much, Marshall !

I love you too, he hummed.

I can’t believe it, you whispered. Wait- What’s in the bag ?

Open it, he chuckled.

You reached for it and saw it contained a bunch of ovulation prediction kits, pregnancy tests, some folic acid and some lube.

Apparently, these are the basic essentials for trying to conceive, he commented.

You’re amazing, you said with the biggest smile on your face. So… we’re doing this ? We’re making a baby ?

If you haven’t changed your mind, yeah, he nodded.

As a response, you threw yourself in his arms and kissed him passionately. He chuckled into the kiss and cupped your face, staring at you lovingly.

I’ll give you the cutest baby, you promised.

I have no doubt, he grinned.

Do you think I’ll be a pretty pregnant lady ? You mused.

Are you kidding me ? He asked. God, you’re going to be so hot. The thought of you carrying my baby… You have no idea the things it does to me.

Oh yeah ? Like what ? You asked defiantly. Show-

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, Marshall had you pinned to the couch and was grinding against you. It didn’t matter that you were both fully clothed, you could feel his excitement through the fabric.

I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy, he promised. And I’m gonna make a pretty mama out of you.

Mmmyes, you whimpered.

Gonna give you a pretty belly, he continued. I can’t wait to see you carry our child. Can’t wait to start trying.

When ? You asked pleadingly.

How about now ? He whispered in your ear.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem One Shot

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unforced3rr0r · 3 months ago

Text

THE DEAL || CA

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part 1 of ??

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go when it's too?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of asshole Carlos

a/n: this is going to be a series, I’m excited about it!! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be on the taglist!

MASTERLIST

Being Carlos Alcaraz's PR manager was not for the weak. The job description seemed like it would be a breeze and when your boss had suggested switching F1 drivers for tennis players you really believed you’d be getting the quieter deal.

You’d occasionally watched tennis and it seemed the biggest issue you’d face was a broken racquet.

Carlos should’ve been even easier, he didn’t have a girlfriend and never seemed to be pictured with any women so the most frustrating part of the job was gone.

But Carlos didn’t want a PR manager. He certainly didn’t want a PR manager that was his age telling him what to do and how to act.

The first time you met you thought you’d caught him on a bad day not recognising the cold brown eyes stare watching you.

You’d prepared for your job, watching interviews and clips of Carlos before you started and the arms crossed man that soon in front of you was not the ball of sunshine from the videos you’d seen.

You had to admit you’d been looking forward to the job at first, a funny, charismatic, attractive tennis player should’ve been fun. You’d seen the way Carlos treated him like family and you were expecting the same attitude.

But quickly things turned. You’d watch training frequently, observing from the sidelines picking up the terms and technical parts of his game for notes and interviews.

Carlos would be laughing with Juan Carlos or his brother or one of the other members of his team when his eyes would meet yours.

In a second his eyes would go from lighting up to narrowing in on you, his laugh disappearing and posture going rigid.

At first, it was manageable, your job could mostly be done from a distance and you could deal with hardened stares.

You thought it would be temporary, that once he realised you were here to stay you’d finally get to meet the Carlos everyone else did.

But it seemed with every interaction his facade grew. A team dinner after Turin you just so happened to be on the furthest end of the table, and while Carlos took the time to talk to his entire team you found yourself left out of the conversation.

Juan Carlos spent months reassuring you that Carlos would get over it but the winter break was ending and with a new season on the horizon you didn’t know how much more you could take.

You were starting to get exhausted by Carlos constantly making your life more difficult.

You were missing deadlines because he wouldn’t give you answers to questions, doing damage control when he posted near nudes on the internet and made sure reporters didn’t piss him off with dumb questions.

Every week that went by you slowly lost the confident attitude the team had got used to seeing, quietly sat in the corner working away rather that trying to involved.

Juan Carlos had noticed the shift in demeanour but he feared there wasn’t much he could do. It was between you and Carlos to figure out.

...

It was the weekend before the Australian Open when you were ready to snap.

The time difference was rough, with your eyelids feeling heavy but sleep escaping you. You sat surrounded by work that you needed to done, while your room called your name.

The day had already been too long, landing in Australia at seemingly the crack of dawn when you realised your bags hadn’t made it to Australia with you.

You’d spent three hours arguing with airport staff when you decided to give up and hope they found their way to the hotel.

You went straight to watching Carlos train, taking media photos and organising some content for the day. That in itself was excruciating as everything you asked him to do took ten times longer than it should’ve.

But now you were sat in your hotel, tired and drained and desperately needing a change of clothes.

You were trying to organise Carlos' media plan for the first week of the tournament, but trying to get him to respond to any of your messages was infuriating.

You needed his answers to the pre-planned questions so you could check them over and give him some nice talking points about off-season but every time you checked your messages you were met with 'delivered'.

It wasn't late, but the jetlag was beginning to hit you which was feeding into your anger. Every second that Carlos ignored your messages was a second you were missing sleep.

Just as you were ready to give up assuming he’d gone to sleep, you received a notification that he’d posted on his Instagram story. That was your last straw.

You audibly groaned, slamming your laptop shut and storming out of your room with it under your arm. You marched yourself to the elevator angrily tapping your foot as the elevator seemed to move at the slowest pace ever.

The ding echoed in your brain, and as you stepped out you were hit with a new wave of anger. You heard his dumb laugh echoing through the walls. This dumb, annoying, stupid tennis player was laughing while you had been begging for him to respond to a simple message.

You stormed down the hall, your chest angrily pounding. You were at the end of your tether. You were so tired of dealing with this man baby.

It had been months of being ignored, ostracised and treated like you had some kind of contagious disease and you were over it.

You stood before his door and knocked repeatedly. You heard him call out that he was coming and you prepared yourself to greet him.

The door swung open, a cheesy grin on his face as he turned see who was at the door. The second he clocked you it faded and was replaced with a nonchalant stare.

He opened his mouth no doubt to ask why you were here but you pushed past him into the hotel room. Juan Carlos and a few other members of the team were in the room and immediately as they saw you they went silent.

"if you wouldn't mind. Alcaraz and I need to get some work done and clearly, he can't handle any distractions." A few of the guys snickered and they didn’t waste any time standing up and heading for the door.

You heard Juan Carlos wish the Spaniard luck as he walked past. Laughing as he patted him on the back. The door closed and Carlos scoffed as you situated yourself on his sofa.

"¿Qué carajo?" (What the fuck?) The Spaniard's tone made you laugh, a dry, fed-up kind of laugh.

"What the fuck indeed. Sit down, shut up and only talk when I tell you to." He looked at you utterly bewildered.

"You know you're supposed to work for me? not the other way around." God you wanted to kill him. You stood up angrily turning to face him with fire in your eyes.

"Funnily enough, that is what I'm trying to do. That is what I have been trying to do for months but for some reason you want to make that as hard as humanly possible for me. Frankly, I'm fed up so sit the fuck down. please."

"No." He stood his ground and crossed his arms as you really considered attacking him.

"I'm sorry what?"

"I don't want to." He turned to head to the small kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine that sent an infuriating buzz throughout the room.

“I don’t want to be stood here, but because you can’t answer a simple text, I am. So please let me do my goddamn job for once.” He scoffed, and leaning against the counter,

“Maybe I didn’t answer your text because I don’t want to answer the questions, ever thought about that?” His stupid grin made you want to throttle him.

"Well Carlos Alcaraz, the almighty. Unfortunately for you I need those answers so how do I get you to sit there and answer these dumb questions." your sarcasm permeated the room.

He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation as he reached for the mug on the side. He turned slowly to face you, a look of pure genius on his face.

"Quit." He moved around the counter calmly, standing in front of you. You hadn’t been this close to the Spaniard since the day you met him.

The invisible 3 feet rule seemingly being implemented by him after the first day.

"What?" Your confusion clearly entertained him as he smiled an evil, sort of confronting smile.

"I'll do what you want for the entire tournament. But at the end of it, you quit." You paused, the tension from the last few months piling up on your shoulders. Did he really hate you that much?

You weren't a quitter, you believed in working hard and figuring out issues. But Carlos had been treating you like an outcast for months and if it meant never having to deal with him again you were seriously considering it.

"One question?" Carlos raised his eyebrow and he zoned in on your focused demeanor.

"seguir." (go on.)

"Why do you hate me so much?" His calm demeanour faltered slightly, something flashing through his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher before it was quickly replaced with indifference.

He grabbed the mug, and moved to the sofa, lazily sitting down. His arm rested along the back and he glanced up at you.

"I don't need a PR manager and I'm sick of you treating me like a child when you're my age." The answer nipped at the back of your brain. You rarely treated him like less that he deserved and if you did it was only ever in retaliation.

"Maybe if you acted your age I wouldn't have to." He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"It's clear you don't want to be here either, just take the deal." You dropped yourself onto the sofa. Your laptop sat beside you and you let your head fall into your hands. You were defeated.

"I wanted to be here." You didn’t look up but if you had you would’ve seen Carlos’ gaze soften, a pang of guilt hitting him before it was quickly shoved away.

You thought back to your previous job. Travelling the world with F1 drivers had been difficult but those guys had become your friends, you loved your job and you had fun. You wanted this to be like that but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe it was time for you to find something else.

“Fine you win.” You let your hands fall to your sides, your gaze lifting and meeting the brown eyes that made your life a misery.

"I'll quit at the end of the tournament, but you have to give full energy to everything and I need a pair of pyjamas, my luggage got lost.” His eyes lit up with some sort of amusement. At your troubles or you’d you were sure but you needed a solution and he offered one.

Carlos smirked, the first time he'd even remotely smiled in your direction. He moved himself within touching distance of you, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

You interlocked your hand with his, his eyes baring down on you.

"Deal."

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taglist: @champagnecoastca

#carlos alcaraz #Carlos fluff #carlos alcaraz fluff #carlos alcaraz smut #carlos alcaraz angst #carlitos #tennis #alcaraz #atp tennis #I’m having fun #I think this eats #please validate me thank you

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withwritersblock · 10 months ago

Text

Happier Than Ever

~Happier Than Ever by Billi Eilish~

Author's Note: requested! toxic af. it's kinda paced a bit weird, I apologize Summary: Y/N breaks up with Jack after a toxic relationship Warnings: toxic relationship! "harsh" language Word Count: 2,492 Jack Hughes x fm!reader

Her head was in her hands as she let out another sob, her vision was starting to grow blurry from the amount of tears falling from her eyes. Jack was standing across the living room, his eyes dry.

She lifted her gaze, looking towards him. He dropped his gaze towards the floor, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He had zero idea on how to make her feel better or make the situation better. He was the reason she was sobbing. He was the reason she felt so broken.

She wiped the tears on her eyes as she stood up and began to walk towards the front door of the apartment. “Y/N, come on-” he let out. She simply raised her hand up as she continued walking towards the door. “So this is it? You’re just going to leave, like that?” he spat.

She spun around, her back leaning against the front door. “I’m so done, just leave me alone, Jack,” she let out, sobbing as she walked out of the apartment. Jack watched her leave as he clenched his jaw tightly. He rolled his eyes as he walked towards his bedroom. Luke peeked his head out of his bedroom, looking towards Jack. Jack simply flipped him off as he walked into his room.

~One Month Ago~

He reached out to her, slid into her DMs on Instagram begging for her to go out with him. She was an influencer with millions of followers on TikTok and Instagram. She lived in New Jersey despite probably having more success in LA. Jack swore he never saw anyone more beautiful than Y/N. She was gorgeous and funny and seemingly the perfect girl for him.

It only took one DM and several dates later, they were together. Social media found out quite fast as people saw them in public together. So, she decided to feed into it. Jack also agreed, it gave him more recognition and he was all for it.

She was laying in her bed, his head was on her chest as he slowly ran his hands up and down her sides. She was editing a TikTok on her phone. It was an aesthetic looking video of her going to Jack’s game. He was featured in the video a few times, surely it would get the attention of his fans.

He pressed his lips to her exposed collarbone for a few seconds before he hovered over her frame. She turned her phone off, dropping it beside her head as she met his gaze, a small grin began to form on his lips as he scanned her features. “Hi gorgeous,” he whispered before he leaned towards her, kissing her delicately. She reached her hands up and took a hold of his cheeks as he continued to kiss her softly.

“You’re coming with me to that dinner I have tonight, right?” she asked as she slowly pulled away from his lips. He simply hummed before he began to kiss down her jawline, down her neck. “I want to leave by five, it’s across town and I don’t want to be late,” he simply hummed again as he continued trailing his lips down her skin.

It was ten minutes before five and Jack was nowhere to be found. He went back to his apartment to get nicer clothes for the dinner event. She called him and it went straight to voicemail. She was sitting on her couch, simply scrolling through TikTok as her heart rate continued to elevate as she was waiting.

This was important, it was meetings with her managers about the next steps on her journey. She was meeting important people that could guide her career into a better space. She wanted to have Jack’s support, not because he was a famous hockey player, but as her boyfriend.

She opened their messages, creating a short message asking if he was on his way yet. She hit send and waited to see any gray text message bubbles pop up, but there was nothing. She tilted her head back against the couch as she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her lips quivered as she watched each minute tick by.

It was ten minutes after five and she couldn’t wait any longer. She ordered herself an Uber. She began walking out of her apartment as she called Jack again. It rang and rang, she felt her eyes continue to tear up as she was walking down the hall towards the elevator.

The call went to voicemail again, “It’s Jack, sorry I couldn’t answer the phone, I’ll give you a call when I can!” his voicemail rang out. His voice was loud and excitable. She sighed as she heard the beep.

“H-hey, I couldn’t wait anymore. I’m heading to the restaurant. Please call me,” she let out sadly as she hung up the phone. She dropped her phone into her purse as she stepped into the elevator, pressing her lips together as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

She thought about reaching out to Luke, but she knew Jack would get mad if she did. She stepped out of the elevator, feeling her feet feel a bit heavy as she walked into the lobby of her apartment, half expecting to see Jack waiting for her. He was nowhere in sight. Nodding slightly she pulled her phone out from her purse, seeing no message from Jack.

It was 5:15 now and nothing. The Uber was waiting and she sat down inside the backseat and remained quiet. The driver was polite and remained quiet after he realized Y/N wasn’t entirely excited to engage in a conversation.

It was 5:40 now and she was only ten minutes away from the restaurant when Jack began calling her. She answered on the fifth ring as she brought it to her ear, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey! So I’ll be there in like ten minutes,” he explained, excitedly.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“You said be at your place at six? I’m getting in my car now-”

“No, Jack, I said five. I called and texted and you-”

“No, honey, I remember you said six,” he said passive aggressively. She clenched her jaw as she tilted her head back.

“I said five, Jack. It’s too late, just stay home,” she countered.

“Don’t get mad at me because you said the wrong time, how is that my fault?” His voice was harsh.

“I didn’t-”

“You said six, I got ready by six, how is that my fault? It’s not. So where is the restaurant? I'll try and meet you there as soon as I can,” he said while huffing.

Her lips began to quiver as she shook her head, “Stay home, Jack. I don’t want you there anymore,” she said sadly as she hung up the phone. She met the gaze of the Uber driver through the rear view mirror for only a second before she shifted her gaze out of the window towards the busy streets. He called her back instantly but she didn’t answer.

The driver pulled up towards the fancy restaurant and put the car in park. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she climbed out of the car adjusting the tight black dress on her frame. She walked into the restaurant to see her manager waiting for her.

“Hey! Where’s Jack?” Jasper said instantly. She chuckled dryly. “Sorry, you look great. I was just hoping he would be here, they’re big Devils fans,”

“Of course they are, no he’s not coming,” she said simply as the pair began walking towards the other end of the restaurant towards the gentlemen she was supposed to be meeting.

It was 6:32 and Jack walked through the door. She lifted her gaze, seeing him walk through the restaurant confidently. He had a cocky grin on his lips as he made his way towards their table. Jasper smiled widely as he saw Jack walking towards them.

“Thought you said he couldn’t come,” Jasper said excitedly, standing up from the table. Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes filling with tears as she saw him. She blinked them away as she stood up from her chair to meet him. He happily planted a kiss on her cheek. “Fellas, this is Y/N’s boyfriend, Jack Hughes,” Jasper said.

“Oh wow, didn’t realize she was involved with the Devils superstar,” one of the older gentlemen said. Jack smiled widely as Jasper pulled a chair towards the table for him. Jack sat down beside Y/N. He rested his hand onto Y/N’s leg, rubbing his hand softly against her skin.

She kept her gaze towards her half eaten salad as she continued to tense up with his hand touching her frame. “So you and your brother seem to be turning the team around. This is exciting,"another one of the gentlemen said.

The rest of the two hour dinner was no longer about Y/N. It was about Jack. Every question and every topic was about Jack and how the Devils season was going to go.

“It was great getting to know you, Jack, and um-sorry what was your name again, Doll?” one of the gentlemen said. Y/N’s eyes widened as she raised her eyebrows. She licked her lips nervously.

“Y/N,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to go wait for the Uber,” she whispered towards Jack.

“I’ll just drive you home,” Jack said back. She shook her head as she walked towards the exit of the restaurant, ignoring the rest of the people at the dinner. She was texting Jasper to not take any offer they had towards her.

It was clearly not about her, the whole dinner was not about her. Jasper specifically asked if Jack could come as Jack Hughes and not Jack, Y/N’s boyfriend.

She was angry. She waited outside of the restaurant, her arms crossed over her chest. She began crying, she didn’t know when but the tears were falling down her cheeks. He walked out, a cocky wide smile on his lips. His smile faltered slightly as he saw the tears on her cheeks.

“That went well, why are you crying?” he asked, trying to be supportive, it fell short. She rolled her eyes as she kept quiet. “What?” he asked harsher.

“I told you to stay home!” she let out.

“You wanted me there, I found a way to get here, why is that so awful?”

She huffed. “I wanted my boyfriend there! Not Jack Hughes, Devils superstar!” she let out. He laughed dryly.

“Well I’m sorry that they were bigger fans of me than you!”

Her mouth fell open as she let out a forced out chuckle, “If you showed up with me then things would’ve gone different! You had to make an entrance! You had to make it about you! It’s never about me! It’s always about you!” she let out angrily. “I needed you to be just Jack! I don’t need you to be the NHL star you all of the time. I needed you to be there for me, for fucking once!” she shouted as she saw her Uber pull up beside them.

She walked towards the back door, pulling it open.

“She’s good, I’m taking her home,” Jack shouted into the car, trying to slam the door. She took a hold of it and climbed into the backseat, locking the door instantly.

“Please just drive,” she mumbled towards the Uber driver. He nodded as they drove away, leaving Jack standing alone outside of the restaurant.

~Present Day~

She sat in her car, in the parking garage staring towards her best friend Joey’s contact. She hasn’t spoken to him in a few weeks because Jack had convinced her that she didn’t need Joey. It wasn’t all at once but she slowly stopped talking with Joey, her childhood best friend. She hit the call button and it only took two rings before he answered.

“Hey sweetie,” he said, simply excited to see Y/N calling.

“Can I come over?” she asked, a sob leaving her throat as she spoke.

“Oh my god, of course, I’ll make you a coffee,” Joey expressed as he sounded like he practically jumped into the air. “Do I need to book a rage room?” he asked, half joking but half seriously.

“I’ll let you know when I get there,” she said, a sob and a chuckle leaving her throat.

The drive to Joey’s apartment only took five minutes as she pulled into the parking garage. She entered the lobby to see Joey and his boyfriend Derek waiting for her in the lobby. Her lips began to quiver as she walked towards the pair and hugged them instantly. They squeezed her tightly to them for as long as she needed.

“I knew that pretty boy was too good to be true,” Joey mumbled as the three of them walked towards the elevator. The three of them waited inside, Joey was holding onto Y/N tightly as they reached the sixth floor.

They entered the apartment and Derek quickly walked towards the kitchen to take a hold of the freshly brewed latte. He handed it to Y/N. She gladly took a sip, her entire frame relaxing at the taste and the feeling of her best friends beside her.

“I should’ve left him last month, that was my last fucking straw but I stayed,” she let out while shaking her head, she sat on the couch, pulling the mug towards her lips.

“The dinner thing? Oh yeah that was a rough one,” Joey mumbled as he sat down beside her, squeezing her to his side. “Why’d you break it off this time?” he asked softly. Derek sat on the coffee table in front of her.

She took a deep breath, “He accused me of being with him to get more views and followers. It’s like my comment sections are entirely full of comments asking if I’m doing okay, or if I’m happy because he makes me so fucking sad that my followers are starting to ask. So if I really was with him for the views and money and followers would I seriously be that sad?” she explained.

She shook her head, “I loved him, I wanted to be happy with him but I couldn’t. I tried and stayed as long as I could,” she mumbled another sob leaving her throat. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said suddenly.

“Oh, Y/N, it makes so much sense. He was barely in your videos, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Let’s have a weekend of drinking and crying and smashing things, okay?” Derek offered. Y/N laughed, a real laugh.

“It’s always the pretty ones that turn out to be assholes, huh?” Joey mumbled as he pulled Y/N tighter to his chest.

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