#i need them to be pulling each others hair again

[mapis-putellas]

𝑺𝒊𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

The soft chime of the bell over your studio door broke the quiet as Alexia walked in, her familiar silhouette instantly drawing your attention. She wore a loose black hoodie and gray sweatpants, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Her eyes found yours, and the faintest smile tugged at her lips as she made her way toward you.

“Hola, cariño,” she greeted, her voice low and warm as she leaned over the counter to kiss your cheek.

“Hi, baby,” you replied, smiling as you wiped your hands on a towel. You’d just finished reorganizing your supplies for the third time that morning, nerves settling into something calmer now that she was here.

Alexia leaned her elbows on the counter, her green eyes roaming the space as if she hadn’t been here a hundred times before. “Estás ocupada?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I kept my morning free since you said you were coming.”

She gave you a small, grateful smile and nodded. “Bien. I want… un tatuaje nuevo,” she said, shifting a little in place.

“Oh, yeah?” you teased, tilting your head at her as you stepped out from behind the counter. “What do you want this time, captain?”

She held your gaze for a moment before tugging her hoodie up just enough to expose her ribs on her left side. Her skin was smooth and tan, and your fingers instinctively reached out to touch her as she traced the spot with her own hand. “Aquí,” she said softly. “Quiero… ‘Siempre.’ In your writing.”

Your brows lifted slightly at her choice, and a small smile tugged at your lips. “Siempre?” you repeated, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. You didn’t need to ask why—both of you said it all the time. It was your word, your promise to each other.

Alexia nodded as she subconsciously leaned into your touch, eyes soft as they searched yours. “Sí. Para ti.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, and you cleared your throat as you gestured toward the back. “Alright, let’s get you set up then.”

Alexia followed you without hesitation, her presence filling the small space of your private studio. She was familiar with the routine by now, sitting down in the tattoo chair as you washed your hands and began to gather your supplies.

“Are you sure you want it on your ribs?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her. “It’s gonna hurt.”

She smirked, leaning back in the chair with an air of confidence. “Puedo manejarlo,” she said, her tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, tough girl. Don’t come crying to me later.”

Alexia chuckled softly, pulling her hoodie off and setting it aside. The tattoos scattered across her arms and back were on full display now, each one carrying its own story. You loved tracing them with your fingers late at night, listening to her whisper their meanings in Spanish while your head rested on her chest.

“Relax,” you told her gently as you approached, marker in hand. You set it down for just a second before picking up some green soap and a razor to remove the minuscule hairs from her skin. “Sit back, lift your arm a bit.” You direct.

She obeyed, her lean, athletic frame shifting slightly to give you access to the area. Once you’d made quick but careful work of removing the hairs, you once again grab the marker. Your eyes focused as you leaned in, your fingers steady as you wrote out the tattoo in your utmost best writing.

“Perfect,” you murmured, leaning back to inspect your work. “Take a look and let me know what you think.”

Alexia craned her neck to see the small outline you’d drawn on her ribs. She nodded once, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Me gusta.”

“Good,” you said, setting the marker aside as you rise to your feet to wash your hands again. Once clean, you slip on a pair of latex gloves and reach for the tattoo gun as you sit back down. You glanced up at her, your tone turning playful. “Now, remember the deal. No pouting about payment.”

Alexia’s lips twitched, and she rested her head back against the chair, watching you with amused eyes. “Besos?”

“Besos,” you confirmed with a grin. “That’s all I’ll accept.”

Alexia laughed, the sound low and warm as it filled the space. “Eres terca,” she murmured, though there was no bite to her words.

“And you love me for it,” you shot back, your voice light as you prepped the machine.

She didn’t argue, simply tilting her head slightly as she watched you work. “Sí, siempre.”

You glanced up at her then, your chest tightening at the soft sincerity in her tone. “Siempre,” you echoed, smiling before turning your focus back to the task at hand.

The low hum of the tattoo machine filled the room as you carefully began the design. Alexia sat still, her expression relaxed save for the occasional furrow of her brow when the needle hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“You okay?” you asked after a few minutes, glancing up to check on her.

Her lips twitched into a small smirk. “Told you… puedo manejarlo,” she assured.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “Alright, Miss Tough Girl.”

As you worked, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Alexia told you about her last match you hadn’t been able to attend, how her teammates had teased her for accidentally kicking the ball out of bounds. You shared a funny story about one of your clients, who had nearly fainted halfway through their tattoo because they’d insisted they could handle the pain.

“Es como Mapi,” Alexia said with a laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “She acts… so fuerte, but when she got her back tattoo, she cried.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you dipped the needle back into the ink. “I’ll have to remind her of that next time she teases me.” You grumbled as you pulled her skin taut with the hand that was also holding the kitchen towel you were using to wipe away the excess ink.

Alexia grinned, her gaze softening as she watched you. “You’re… muy linda when you work,” she said quietly.

Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head slightly, focusing on the tattoo to hide your reaction. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Es verdad.”

You glanced up at her, your heart fluttering at the earnest look in her eyes. “You’re distracting me, baby,” you murmured.

Alexia smirked, leaning her head back again with a satisfied expression. “Good.”

The rest of the session passed in comfortable silence, save for the occasional hum of the machine and Alexia’s soft breathing. When you finally finished, you sat back with a sigh of relief, inspecting your work.

“All done, go take a look.” You said, setting the machine aside and pulling off your gloves.

Alexia sat up slowly before easing herself off of the chair, making her way over to the mirror sat just to the left of her. Her hand immediately goes to her side as she twisted to get a better look, eyes lighting up as she took in the delicate lettering etched into her skin.

“Es perfecto,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the fresh tattoo.

You smiled, leaning against the counter as you watched her. “I’m glad you like it.”

After a few quiet moments, you spoke again.

“Alright, baby, sit back down,” you said, gesturing toward the chair. “I need to wrap it up so you don’t mess it up before you can show it off.”

She chuckled, obeying without protest, though her gaze never left you. “Eres la mejor,” she murmured.

“Oh, I know I am,” you teased, carefully cleaning the tattoo with madacide.

She smirked. “Dork.” she said, her tone playful.

Shaking your head with a small laugh, you reached for the plastic wrap to cover the area. “Well, I could start charging you, you know. Some people pay me a fortune for this.”

Her lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Mis besos son suficientes,” she replied, leaning her head back against the chair.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, securing the wrap carefully over her ribs with some medical tape. “There,” you said, leaning back to inspect your work. “Now you can go and show it off to Mapi and make her jealous.”

Alexia grinned as she pulled her hoodie back over her head, sitting up straight and turning in place so her legs hung over the side of the chair. “Tu besos,” she murmured softly, her hands finding the belt loops of your jeans and tugging you closer.

“You’re very persistent, you know that?” you said as you come to step between her legs, though the corners of your lips twitched as you fought a smile.

“Siempre,” she replied. Her arms wrap around your thighs, just beneath your behind, and pulled you so your chest was flush against her own.

Before you could say anything else, her lips were on yours, soft and warm. She kissed you slowly, deeply, her hands sliding up to your waist to hold you in place. You sighed against her mouth, your hands coming up to rest lightly on each of her cheeks as her tongue grazes the roof of your mouth.

When she finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and you were certain your legs felt a little weaker than before. Alexia smirked at you, clearly pleased with herself, and pressed a final kiss to the corner of your mouth as she pats your ass a couple times.

“Payment complete,” she murmured, her voice tinged with amusement.

You huffed out a laugh, stepping back to give yourself a moment to recover. “Alright, get out of here before I change my mind and start charging you for real.”

Alexia chuckled, standing and stretching her arms above her head. “Gracias, mi amor,” she said softly, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before grabbing her bag.

You followed her to the front of the studio, watching as she pulled her hoodie tighter around herself and adjusted her bag strap.

“Te veré más tarde,” she murmured, lips quirked up into a tender smile.

“See you later, baby,” you replied, leaning up to press a quick kiss to her cheek before she walked out the door.

Once she was gone, you shook your head fondly and went back to cleaning up the studio, humming softly to yourself as you worked. It wasn’t until later, when you checked your phone, that you noticed a new notification from your bank.

You opened it and immediately groaned when you saw the familiar four-figure amount Alexia had transferred to your account, listed under a memo that simply read, Gracias, bebé.

“Alexia Putellas Segura,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as a smile tugged at your lips.

You’d told her time and time again not to pay you, but she never listened. She might have been stubborn, but so were you, and you made a mental note to bring it up again the next time you saw her—right after kissing her senseless to thank her for always showing how much she cared, even when she didn’t have to.

**

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @chelseacult

[ptergwen]

omg can you write a blurb where peter and the reader are in the stage of their relationship where they can't keep their hands of each other and keep leaving hickeys on each other and sexiling their roommates ? love your stuff <3

my place or yours?

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 793

warnings: 18+!, smut (p in v), language

a/n: hehe one of my fave tropes, when everyone's fed up because they can't get enough of each other :D hope you enjoy! and friendly reminder to join my new taglist it's dead y'all lmao

you move your hips against peter's, rubbing yourself against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. you both make noises of content, lips and tongues intertwined. peter helps you take off your shirt and works on your bra next. you smile coyly from above him as his hands find your chest.

"when's harry gonna be back?"

peter's hands massage your breasts, eyes glazed over with lust.

"uh, i don't know... or care."

he leaves a trail of kisses going down between your breasts. you giggle and push his head back playfully.

"but what if he walks in again?"

"don't worry about it, i put a sock on the doorknob... just in case."

you ruffle peter's hair, dipping your head down so your faces are just inches apart.

"you're so extra, pete. you could've just texted him."

"i know, but i really wanted to piss him off this time."

"i feel kind of bad, though. we've been sexiling him a lot lately."

peter moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you forward so your clothed center presses against him. he gives you a cheeky smile.

"so next time we'll go to your dorm and sexile betty."

you scoff at peter and capture his lips in a kiss. he bucks his hips up, into you, needing you. you need him just as bad.

you can't seem to get enough of each other recently, so much so that you'll go at it anytime and anywhere. your friends aren't too happy about it. they either get kicked out of the room or banned from entering.

you and peter finish undressing each other, fast but somehow still not fast enough. in one swift motion peter flips you over and grabs your leg, lifting it up to his shoulder. his dark eyes lock with yours. you nod repeatedly, desperately. he pushes into you with ease, a moan instantly falling from his lips.

"fuck, baby."

you hum happily. peter keeps his hips still for a moment, lets himself fill you up and feel you wrapped around him. he takes the opportunity to connect your lips once again in a slow kiss. you smile into the kiss and curl your other leg around peter's waist, encouraging him to move. he pulls out of you just enough so he can thrust back in.

peter begins to find a rhythm as his cock thrusts into you again and again. he can tell it's one you like by the way you grab at his shoulders and let out soft moans. he holds your leg in place on his shoulder so he keeps hitting the right spot, at the right angle. you can feel yourself drip between your thighs from how bad you'd wanted him and how good he's fucking you.

"pete... feels so good, baby."

neither of you are making any effort to be quiet. peter presses his forehead to yours, hips moving at the same perfect pace. you take his face in either of your hands. you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure. peter brings a hand down to rub your clit, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intensified feeling. he chuckles at your reaction.

"you like that?"

"mm, you know i do."

"wanted to hear you say it anyway."

you groan at peter's cockiness, but god does it turn you on.

"of course you did."

peter continues stroking in and out of you as his middle and ring fingers circle your clit. you crane your neck so you can kiss across peter's jaw, his chin, then back to his lips, his tussled hair tickling your forehead. you give him a look, the look with the eyes that gets him every time.

"harder."

peter brings your other leg up to his shoulders, holding them both in place, starting to pound into you. he groans out a fuck. you arch your back and reach up, hands still cupping his cheeks. you're breathless and he's panting. you want more and more, as much of him as you can take, even more than that.

"oh my god, y/n. shit, baby."

"needed you so bad, pete."

"i’m all yours."

peter takes one of your hands and kisses your palm. you squeeze your intertwined hands, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss.

the moment is interrupted when you two hear harry call from outside.

"again, parker? really?"

he bangs on the door for emphasis. peter stifles a laugh, continuing to thrust into you, making you have to stifle a moan.

"hey, man! respect the sock!"

"yeah. you're a real class act, you two."

you wait until harry leaves to join peter in a fit of giggles. you push some damp hair out of his face, scrunching up your nose.

"okay, yeah. my place next time."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒑

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. smut, rough unprotected sex, arguments, age gap, degrading, slut taming, bratty attitude, choking, pain kink, anal play etc.

summary: sneaking into a club to prove your point that you’re brave enough to catch attention of other men. logan doesn’t like that- you’re his.

+700 𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵. 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉!!! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆!

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

“You just couldn’t help yourself could you?” He grabbed your throat pressing you against the hood of his Chrysler. “N-no” you gripped his wrist gasping for breath. “Grindin and dancin against the desperate lil shits wantin attention huh?” you whimpered as you felt him against you. “I c-can’t breathe” running your red painted nails against his white button up touching his collar. Logan groaned slamming you on top of the hood. Your legs divided as he snuck between them hovering his upper body above you. His fingers firmly holding your throat. “Sluts like you crave just attention. Nothin good just a hole for cock” no longer caring he wanted to choke the shit out of you- hands grabbing a hold of his belt pulling him closer. “I don’t care” sneering as he slapped your cheek with his digits to make you look him deeply in his eyes and when you did you saw something dark. It straight travelled in your belly and your core. “You wet? Tell me, are you fucking wet from dancin and grindin like that?” you nodded giving him a smile. Still holding you down remaining in the same position he lit a cigar. And it was lazily hanging between his lips, the ash would drop on your chest giving you the littlest burn but gosh pain brought your pleasure and Logan was the same. He frankly got off better when you two were arguing and causing each other pain like you for example scratching his back until it bled or digging your nails into the sides of his neck as he fucked you.

Large hand grabbing fistful of your lacy panties which were drenched in your slick ripping yanking them off you with a harshest pull. You yelped, reaching for his belt sitting up as you looked him in the eyes taking his heavy cock out. He groaned as you gripped the base of him leaning down to suck on his angry swollen tip. The saltiness of his pre cum had your tastebuds dancing. He let out a soft sigh taking a hit of his cigar guiding you down on his cock holding your hair. You sucked with a moan leaving your lips until he had enough of your slutty whimpers making him harder needier for your drooling hole.

“Ya mine” the oldman pulled you off the hood of his limo bending you over it so harshly you cried out. Your naked ass to his view he smacked it so hard your toes nearly curled. Biting your lower lip your hands needed leverage so his suit jacket it was. Rubbing his cock between your ass cheeks bumping your back entrance several times pinching your left cheek he groaned hungrily debating whether you deserved pussy filling or some ass fucking for your behavior “please” you begged with a shaky voice, the dress clinging to your body as thin sheen of sweat covered you. “You beggin now?” Pressing your face down on the hood your cheek rested upon it- you spread your thighs ready for either the oldman rubbed the tip of his leaking cock on your back entrance again nearly breaking you in by pushing it inside- wanting to ruin your ass so badly but he ended up slamming in your delicious pussy. Groaning loudly at the feel of your wet hole coating him in your slick. You bit your lower lip shutting your eyes as you whimpered, his large hands pulling your ass out more as your thighs closed together. “Fuckin slut, my slut, howlett slut” he panted battering his cock in and out of you. You moaned gritting your teeth tasting your own blood as you bit your lower lip “dirty old man!!!” You moaned loudly wanting more of him. Gripping your hair with his large hand he pulled your head back leaning over you slamming his hips against your ass“Old man huh? That’s why you whimper like a needy slut on my cock” your lips were agape as you tilted your face to look at him. Suddenly he leaned his hands flat on the hood speeding up his hips snapping them into you the claps and harsh breathing absolutely gave you the rest as you started to cum. Lo followed right behind you making sure he’s slammed in you deeply as he came hovering above you as you held his jacket for leverage to actually keep yourself on your toes which curled as you screamed in pleasure. You felt him pulse and pulse until spilling his warmth in you with a gaspy moan. “I dare you to go back in there, you see these?” He groaned pushing his claws out. “I’m comin’ for blood if you ever pull some stupid shit on me again.” He breathed still buried deep in you slamming his lips against yours. You moaned against his lips wanting nobody just your old man.

-

Thank you for reading. Any mistakes or typos I deeply apologize.

[beaucate]

WITHERING PETALS.

SYNOPSIS. you weren’t normally as sensitive as withering petals, but balancing school and a personal life seemed harder said than done. . . (poly!marauders x reader) response to this request.

WARNINGS. angst. hurt/comfort. muggleborn!reader. reader is mentioned to be of a different house but not specified. reader described as fem but not specified. leg injuries. jealousy. ooc!sirius? Idk I made him a bit whiny here lol

A/N. Sorry this took so long :( life is always so busy and I’m forever grateful! But had to slow down since my creative juices kind of ran out for a moment. I put this through a website similar to grammarly to correct any mistakes and enhance descriptions; tell me if you like it!!

“No, darling. Quidditch has taken its toll on me this week.”

“Can’t do, angel. I love you, but I would rather not spend my weekend on studies.”

You didn’t even bother with asking Remus, knowing that the approaching of the full moon in a week would make you selfish to do so.

The skin of your nails was sore from the constant pulling and fidgeting; you weren’t normally so agitated. But you felt so helpless, as if nothing could possibly stick to your head — as if you were eleven again and seeing spells for the first time, knocking your thoughts unconscious.

They were blameless though, at least in your books. How could you possibly point an accusing finger at them for wanting to be alone? Even if it came at your own expense. But you couldn’t help but detect the sting that placed a home at your heart.

Blinking once, twice, your eyes grazed over the words on the thick book, fingers tracing each syllable with a mouthing of your lips. The atmosphere within the library was as heavy as the documents splattered carelessly over the table, and you wanted to scratch your head red at the sight.

“Are you alright?”

You jumped at the sudden calling, turning around to stare at a blond boy who’s gaze was heavy on you.

Dillon Abbott.

A male Hufflepuff who shared little to no classes with you, you only ever recognised him from his broom clashing against James’ from the quidditch games.

You nodded with a solemn smile, and you almost let the glazing of tears overwhelm your reddened cheeks. “Just a tad bit tired, is it obvious?”

He mimicked the tightness of your lips with amusement, eyes wandering over your tired features. Your hair was unkempt, strings and coils pointing to different directions despite the hair tie clenching them together. Two days worth of mascara clumped up beneath your eyes in a dotted manner, and your lips were plump and dehydrated.

And yet, Dillon could not stop staring.

“Beautiful as ever though, need some help?” He furrowed his brows as he read over the text near you, and you inwardly cringed at the proximity to which he’s near you.

You didn’t hear the cracks of the old wooden floors, nor the scent of herbs and chocolate that hadn’t registered through your nose yet.

And Remus found himself furious.

Days ago was when he’d last seen you. When any of the boys have if he were to be serious. They’d missed you, so dearly it ached their heart.

Sirius was the first to notice.

He’d woken up late as he normally does, and normally he’d be greeted with a sappy smile, and reddened cheeks that heated even further when he’d place a sloppy skin on the soft skin. But three days ago the sky seemed to be as dull as their dorm, and he’d pouted the whole 30 minutes it took him to get up from his bed.

“‘Anyone seen my darling girl? I’ve missed her face all day.” He grunted his way through the hall, a puckered lip and crinkled nose that had lily questioning if he were half dog.

No one bothered to answer the Black’s pleas, not even the whine that was present in his voice was enough to raise the other two boys’ awareness.

Sirius kept huffing till the next day, only seeing glimpses of you to which you dismissed him quickly of. He stood below the stands, watching as James’ jaw clenched and unclenched as he slammed a foot among the metal poles.

James was the second to notice.

His glasses were fogged up from the heat that has stretched itself on the apples of his cheeks, and so he deluded himself into that being the reason he could not see you when his match had started. The boy looked around, and the team stripped in yellow had taken advantage of his curiosity and slammed onto him with the tip of their brooms — splintering his ankle.

And yet, he held hope that he simply didn’t recognise you that day. It wasn’t until they’d tied with their opponents, a tick of his jaw present and eyes wandering aimlessly, did he take full notice of the stadium; your absence loud.

No teasing smile awaiting him, or cherry painted nails in his support to poke his ribs amusingly.

Sirius planted a hand on James’ back, squeezing it with a pitiful look. “Didn’t think we’d lose to the puffs, Merlin.”

James rolled his shoulder, shaking his head, a tantrum willed tone tracing his voice, “is she mad?” He huffed, casting a spell on his bruised ankle, “haven’t spotted her all week, and now she’s missed the game. Don’t think we’ve done anything to warrant that.”

The long haired boy scoffed, “she’s been studying her arse off for that test. She’s real smart, don’t know why I can’t get a hold of her.”

Remus furrowed his brows, watching them walk into the common room with misery carpeted on the lines of their faces. James’ eyes were welled up, and he’d harshly rubbed at his cheeks to gain awareness — refusing to succumb to tears. While Sirius’s bottom lips were puckered, though the tension planted in his fists was evident of his concern.

Remus stood up suddenly, grasping the wrinkled paper from the coffee table before leaving to where he knew you’d stayed. And that’s when he found himself glaring at the boy whose face inched too close to the rose coloured dangling earring he’d gifted you on your birthday.

Your jaw was clenched, and your glare was prominent as it landed on the three boys.

Remus had caused a scene, of course he did. He got the three of you kicked out after his voice aggravated beyond means. The librarian had sent a sharp glare at the three of you, dismissing you out of the library with a snarky remark that left your cheeks as bright as the gryffindor flag. Her pointed finger toward the door made your chest feel heavy with embarrassment, but you didn’t say anything as the boys silently filed out, Remus giving you one last, apologetic glance before turning towards the door.

The common room was silent except for the heavy breathing of the group of you, filtering out the sound of the cackling fire.

Sirius’ brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He caught your eye for a moment before looking away, lips curling into a soft, unsure smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Once the door closed behind them, you slowly turned back to the table, your fingers lightly brushing over the map Remus had thrown carelessly onto the table.

You patted down the small portion of matted hair straying from your ponytail, a tired sigh slipping from your lips. The common room felt oppressive now, as if you hadn’t belonged there and the silhouette reflecting off the fire was highlighted onto the deep aches of your face, as if it had noticed that your discomfort was trying to swallow you whole.

There deep silence only bothered you for a temporary second, and then it was the sting. The hot, uncomfortable feeling of humiliation that rose across your chest, and how you felt as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have —despite their pitiful gazes saying otherwise.

There was so much unspoken tension, and it was beginning to eat away at your insides.

They cared. You could feel it when they were near you—the way they watched over you, the small twinge of James’ eyebrows when your legs shook from exhaustion. But when they pulled away, when they’d gotten distracted by quidditch or their own issues, it felt like you were just... left there, even if their intentions were as pure as daylight.

The desperation clung onto your throat like a mantra begging for its freedom; You wanted to call them back, to beg for their presence, to remind them that you still needed them—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Something held you back, a small, nagging voice in your head telling you that maybe, just maybe, they needed to learn how to see you. Really see you. Not just as someone to check in on when it was convenient or when they noticed your absence.

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your eyes with your thumbs and palms resting on your flushed cheeks. This was unfair, you knew that. It had to be. But it didn’t make the ache in your chest go away. The loneliness that was felt when you were surrounded by them, or worse, when you were ignored by them.

The couch dipped, and this time you didn’t even need to crane your neck to know who it was. The familiar scent of wood of gel made your stomach flip, though it was more from frustration than anything else.

"Hey," James' voice cut through the silence, soft and unsure. He wasn’t quite sure if he should approach you— he hadn’t exactly been the most present lately. "Do you want to talk, lovey?"

You didn’t respond at first. Didn’t exactly know what to say. Instead, you leaned back into the soft pillows, crossing your arms over your chest in a quiet challenge. You weren’t angry at any of them, it was selfish to do, but you were tired — so terribly tired.

James lingered for a beat before moving closer in an awkward manner. The concern that was drawn on his face was unmistakable. His hand hovered near the edge your knitted sweater, his eyes searching your face for any sign of your thoughts.

"Listen, we’ve been stupid," James started, and you could hear the guilt that trickled in his voice. “We’ve been so wrapped up in ourselves-”

“we didn’t even stop to check on you. We shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.” Sirius interrupted, kneeling before you. His hands were rough, dry lines etching his palms, and yet; he grazed your bare knees with a softness that had your heart fluttering.

Your eyes flicked briefly to Remus’ observing eye, then back down to your lap. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” James countered, now so close to you, head lightly pushed down so that your eyes were at level. “It’s really not. And I... I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying all of this on your own.”

Remus’ voice called from the chair he sat on, his usual sharp tone present, yet was laced with an undeniable gentleness. “James is right. We’re sorry. I’m sorry. We should’ve noticed sooner.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Not this genuine, earnest apology. You felt the knot in your chest loosen just a little, though it didn’t completely untangle from the fragile touch of your bones. Their behaviour still nagged on until it hurt, but his words were a buffer, a reminder that they did care — even if they hadn’t always shown it.

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to feel this vulnerable, as if you were a burden, when you knew they would go to the ends of the earth if it meant being back your smile. “I’ve been... I’ve been difficult, too.”

"Don’t ever think that," Sirius said, his hands cupping your chin tenderly, thumb caressing your hot skin. His eyes softened as they met yours, voice taking on that deep, sincere tone you rarely heard from him. "You’re not difficult, love. You’re… important. And we should’ve made more of an effort to show you that. To make sure you’re okay. You deserve more than... than this."

There was a pregnant silence that followed, the tension slowly melting between the four of you as they each found their way to be near you. Remus, who had followed after the others, leaned against the hand of the couch, palms grasping yours, and his eyes dark with concern, though there was a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips.

“We’ve been idiots, and we’ll to make it right,” Remus said gently, his words a soft promise. “But we’re here now, and forever and ever, and we’ll stay as long as you need us.”

It was the first time in days that you felt like you could breathe again. You didn’t feel so alone, and you could feel your lips tugging upwards when James’ frames made contact with your fluttering lashes, lips leaving a wet tinge on your brows. “You can start by brushing my hair.”

[stvrnioloslvt]

fingers, a matt sturniolo blurb

ও

you sighed, tossing again around the bed, restless. no matter how much more tired you got, you just couldn't seem to fall asleep like you wanted, which was weird, really, considering you had spent the last two hours playing twister with the triplets.

and now, everyone laid in their own bed sound asleep, while you had to battle with the stupid ache between your legs. you didn't even know why you were in the mood all of a sudden, it just hit you right as you were falling asleep.

you pushed your thighs together harder, hoping to soothe the ache at least a little. you knew that the only way to get rid of it was to touch yourself, but you would never do it in someone else's bed, while said someone softly snored right next to you.

so all you had left was to push through it and wait for it to go away alone, praying it wouldn't take another hour.

you pressed your face in the soft pillow, carefully rubbing your legs together. next to you, matt blabbered something incoherent in his sleep before his eyes slowly peeled open, blinking tiredly a couple times to focus his eyes on you.

his hand reached for your shoulder, gently shaking you. you turned your head towards him, whispering confusedly "what's wrong?"

"i was going to ask you the same thing," he replied, the second half of the sentence being muffled by a yawn, a hand lazily rubbing his eyes. fuck, why was he hot even when half-asleep?

"nothing, just can't sleep," you said, sighing as once again you restrained yourself from sneakily reaching your hand between your legs and giving yourself the release your body craved.

matt shifted closer to you, slightly lifting up the duvet in the process, noticing right away your thighs rubbing against each other, your hips bucking up in the process almost imperceptibly.

his hand drew comforting circles on your hip, his lips immediately finding yours. you sighed into the kiss, melting in his arms. slowly, matt's hand travelled lower, pressing in the plump flesh of your thigh.

his other arm snaked around you, pulling you closer to his chest and hugging you tight.

he gave your thigh a little squeeze before his fingertips pressed tentatively on the wet cotton shorts you were wearing, drawing soft circles over your clit.

you gasped at the contact, eyes rolling back as you finally got the relief your body wanted so desperately. you hid your head in the crook of his neck, his skin muffling your needy moans as his fingers dipped inside your shorts and panties, running up and down your slit to collect your juices before circling your clit.

"fuck," he mumbled, his other hand locking in your hair and keeping you close there, "is this what you needed, doll?"

you nodded, your cheeks burning in embarrassment while you lightly nipped at the warm skin of his neck as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them skillfully just like you liked it, stroking your walls just right.

your hands fisted the shirt on his chest, your moans turning into whines and whimpers as matt worked you closer to your orgasm.

"i know, doll, i know," he cooed, lovingly caressing your head while his fingers thrusted in and out of you, slick noises filling the room. "just needed daddy's fingers, mh? is that why you couldn't sleep?"

you nodded, too far gone to even put together a couple words together, your mind completely blank. nothing in that moment mattered, aside from the blissful feeling washing over you unexpectedly hard, leaving you a whimpering mess, tired and worn out, trembling in matt's arms.

you whined as the boy gently took out his fingers, fixing your clothes before slipping said fingers in his mouth to suck them clean.

"feeling better, doll?" he asked, watching lovingly as your eyes slowly became heavy and hard to keep open, your ragged breath turning into a soft, slow rhythm. he smiled, wrapping both arms around you before he let himself fall asleep.

© stvrnioloslvt

ও

ও so, I got uh... carried away. I also have a daddy kink. yeah.

[bitchface24-7]

HIS CONCUBINE(S) - VIKTOR X READER + JAYCE

synopsis: you followed Viktor to Zaun as he heals the ill and hurt from their pain. You’re his best friend, one of his partners, and now you’re a concubine. You're also Viktor’s right hand, the second leader of the commune. You couldn’t ask for a better life.

warnings: suggestiveness, getting walked in on, persuasion (damn, there goes this timeline), Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m (+ Jayce 😏)

p.s. again, this came up in conversation with @darlingmel (they changed their user) our convos are wild. If anyone wants to chat and fan girl/boy about arcane and our lovelies, I'm all for it :)

This wasn't expected. Everything that occurred before this very moment wasn't expected. But it’s nothing you'll ever complain about.

You two have built a commune, a safe haven for the people of Zaun. As Viktor heals them of all illness, aches, and pains. He's all powerful, he's kind, he's inspiring.

He's yours.

When he left the lab you secretly followed him. He caught you, obviously and quietly asked, “Why’d you come with me?”

You easily replied, “Because you need me.”

And he didn't refuse. He didn't deny it, and with that, you two made a safe spot for people who just want to live their lives in peace.

Viktor's changed a bit, but you still love him. It’s a bit staggering sometimes, but when it’s just you two it’s like nothing changed.

Except for the fact Viktor is much more touchy now.

A hand wrapped around your waist, on your hip, a hand gripping your bicep, your thigh. His hands moving up and down your sides, your back, a hand casually placed between your thighs.

The two of you are showing more skin than ever before. Viktor with his blanket dress held together with leather straps and a pin, you with your loose bottoms that sinch around your waist and cover your genitals, your legs completely exposed, with a small loose top to match.

Everyone knows your importance to The Herald. Your place at his side.

Everyone knows you're his partner.

Your other partner is about to find out as well.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The two of you are making out like teenagers in your shared space of the commune. Groping and caressing each other desperately, Viktor takes off your loose shirt and gazes appreciatively at your chest. He flicks a nipple and you gasp in pleasure, he can’t help but smirk at you.

“So sweet for me, so needy. So perfect.”

You grind your hips against his and appreciate his body, his smooth purple skin, the metal bits attached to him, his tiny waist, his long hair.

The two of you are so consumed in each other that you don't hear someone enter your space, until you hear a gasp and a massive crash.

The two of you pull away quickly and look to the side, and see someone you didn't think you’d ever see again; it’s Jayce.

And he's gapping at the two of you.

“Jayce, you came.” Viktor states, his voice smooth and happy. You look to Viktor and he nods as you get off his lap, his handmade gown undone and pooling at his tiny waist; his chest bare for the world to see.

You casually walk to Jayce, the only part keeping you modest being your loincloth. Your chest is exposed, your jewelry tinkling as you walk to your other partner, the one you thought despised you two. The one you thought was lost to you two.

“Jayce, you’re here! I never thought I'd see you again!” You exclaim as you rush up to hug him. He's dirty, smells a bit off, and looks exhausted.

He's still handsome.

He slowly hugs you back and you feel him shiver as your shoulder gets wet. Oh… he's crying.

That won't do.

“Come with me, let's get you cleaned up.” You say sweetly as you guide him out of the commune, slowly tying your top back on. Jayce looks over his shoulder to stare at Viktor, who just lightly smiles at him and nods softly, “Go. I will be right here when you come back.”

Jayce goes without a fight.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hum as you set the bath up, steam slowly spreading across the room. The scent is nice and light, a bit sweet as well. A nice mix of lavender and vanilla.

Jayce slowly undresses and hesitates when removing his leg brace, you help him and guide him into the warm fragranced water. He groans as he sits and appreciates the warmth of the water, helping his sore muscles.

“Do you need any help at all?” You ask quietly as you watch Jayce carefully, he looks at you and his lips thin in contemplation. “I can wash my own body. I'd need help with my back and hair though.”

You nod and hand him the soaped up cloth as he washes his arms, you get a cup and fill it with water, asking Jayce to tilt back his head; he does it easily.

A lathered hand of shampoo starts to massage his head and Jayce whines, pushing back into your hands, your eyebrows furrow, “What happened to you Jayce? You're different…”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you're not. You're tired, you're hurt, you're leaning into my touch like a cat appreciating the sunlight.”

Jayce sighs sadly, “I don't know. I fell into a cave, my hammer fell onto my leg, I felt like I was going insane.”

You quietly look at him as you rinse the shampoo out of his hair, adding conditioner, and taking the rag to wash his back as Jayce just sits there.

The silence is broken by a whisper, “What is this place?”

“This is a commune for peace. To be healed, cared for, to be hidden from the war.”

Jayce inhales sharply and looks to you over his shoulder as you rinse his back, “What do you all do here? I saw a garden and… a forge.”

You smile as you tilt his head back and clean his hair one last time, “We’re self-sufficient. We cleansed the soil for prime gardening, and we make everything ourselves.”

“Why a forge?”

“Because we miss you Jayce. We love you, and we wanted a reminder of you; even when you're not here.”

Jayce’s exhale is choppy at your statement, “You two looked pretty cosy.”

You laugh at his indignant tone, “No need for jealousy Jayce, there's only two people Viktor wants by his side, and the other finally came to us.”

Jayce looks at you like a kicked puppy as you lightly kiss his cheek, “Time to change your clothes. I won't let you wear those dirty rags anymore. Its time you experience some comfort after what you've been through.”

Jayce lets you dress him up like a doll without fuss before leading him back to the commune.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor truly hasn't move from his spot. He only gets up when he sees you and Jayce. He sashays toward you two.

“Come, relax. I believe a long sleep is what you desperately need Jayce.”

Jayce huffs a laugh as Viktor puts a hand on his shoulder, slowly crawling up to cup his nape. Running his fingers at the back of his head. Your hand is still clasped into one of his.

He slumps into the bed, and damn near passes out in milliseconds. His eyes peer open as you and Viktor take a spot on each side of the exhausted man.

Viktor is carding a hand through Jayce's hair as you trace his face lightly with the pads of your hand, dragging them down his neck and chest.

Jayce sighs in content as you two take care of him. He's needed this, desperately.

“Sleep Jayce.” Viktor quietly states as he plays with his hair, “We’ll be here when you wake up.” You sweetly add as you look to your other partner.

Jayce's eyes slowly shut as his breath evens out, the two of you don't stop lightly touching him until you're certain he's asleep.

“He came.” You quietly say, your voice tinged with awe. Viktor smiles lightly at you, “He did.”

“He’s staying.”

“He is.” Viktor consents to your demanding tone. As if he'd let Jayce leave. He's his other partner, he won't let him out of his sight.

Hopefully Jayce complies.

If not... You'll make him.

He belongs to the two of you after all.

😏😏😏 oh to be Viktors concubine as he's the herald.

p.s. Your outfit is inspired by Chel’s from “The Road to Eldorado” (2000)

[dollettiee]

𐔌 . ⋮ 𝓖𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

୧ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨ . . . platonic yandere! gi—hun is your father ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

୧ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑/𝐒 ୨ . . . gi—hun x f! sick chubby reader

୧ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ୨ . . . mdni. yandere, brief mentions of reader coughs blood, takes place in squid game season 1, gihun's protective personality is so so so unbearable i wanna throw up :(, reader is implied chubby, platonic yandere, lmk what i missed!!

୧ 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ୨ . . . i hope hes not ooc in this one, i love him i s1 hes so hamster coded :((❤ requested by @lianobody

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 cut through you like a blade, but you hardly noticed it anymore. your body was a constant ache, your legs shaking with every step, your chest tightening with each breath. a harsh cough shook your frame, and blood spilled from your lips ─ your body betraying you in the most cruel way possible. the blood was a reminder, a bitter reality you couldn‘t ignore. you were sick, and you were dying, but you had no choice but to keep going.

you had joined the game for one reason ─ to pay for the medical treatment you couldn‘t afford. each day felt like a battle for survival. you could barely stand, your chubby frame weighing heavily on your already tired body. the food you ate did nothing to satiate the emptiness inside you. it didn’t fill the hunger in your chest or stop the slow, painful march of your illness.

but gi—hun . . . gi-hun had been there since the beginning. like a quiet, unwavering presence, always watching over you, making sure you didn‘t fall too far behind. you didn‘t understand why he cared so much about someone like you. you weren‘t strong. you weren‘t capable of much. but gi─hun, with his quiet eyes and gentle smile, always made sure you were okay.

“hey, take it easy,” gi─hun‘s voice reached you softly, a tone of concern laced through it as he gently caught you by the arm when you stumbled again. his grip was warm, steady. safe.

you barely had the strength to look up at him, but you could feel his gaze, always fixed on you, always worried. his hand brushed your hair away from your forehead, his touch almost tender, like a father trying to comfort his sick child.

“you‘re pushing yourself too hard,” he said, his voice low, gentle. “you need to rest. you don‘t have to do this alone. i‘m here to help you.”

he had said that from the start, and you knew it wasn‘t just a casual offer. his words held a weight to them, like a promise he couldn‘t break. gi─hun wasn‘t like the others. he never demanded anything from you. he just . . . cared.

“i‘m fine─” you tried to argue, but the words caught in your throat, the sharp pain in your chest reminding you how untrue they were. your body was failing, and you were too tired to keep pretending otherwise.

“you don‘t have to pretend for me,” gi─hun said, as if reading your thoughts. his hand gently rubbed your back, offering comfort. “i‘m not going anywhere, i‘ll make sure you‘re safe and taken care of.”

you wanted to protest, to say that you could make it on your own, that you didn‘t need his help ── but as he looked at you, his warm eyes filled with quiet devotion, you felt that familiar sense of guilt wash over you. you weren‘t strong enough to fight it. gi─hun was here, and he wouldn’t leave you.

he pulled you closer, his large, warm hands settling on your shoulders, steadying you. there was no urgency in his movements, no force. just a gentle pressure that made you feel like you could finally breathe again.

“you‘ve been so strong, trying to get by on your own,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “but it‘s okay to rest now. it‘s okay to let someone else take care of you.”

he didn‘t pull away, just kept holding you as if trying to shield you from the world. the way he looked at you was so protective, so tender, like a father watching over a sick child. his care was suffocating, but it was also comforting in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“i know you‘re scared,” gi─hun whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “but you don‘t have to be afraid. i’m here. i‘ll keep you safe. no one will hurt you.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from something else. gi─hun‘s words had a strange possessiveness to them, something deep and hidden beneath the surface of his affection.

“you‘re not alone anymore,” he continued softly, his hands gently brushing your hair back from your face, like a father trying to soothe his sick child. “i‘ll protect you. i’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

the words were quiet, but there was an intensity behind them that made you shiver. gi─hun wasn’t just offering comfort. he was claiming you, in a way you didn’t fully understand.

“but . . . i don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered, your voice trembling. your sickness, your body, it felt like a burden you couldn‘t shake off. and now, with gi─hun‘s possessive care, it only seemed to weigh heavier.

“you‘re never a burden,” gi─hun said firmly, his voice soft but full of certainty. “you are my responsibility now. i‘ll make sure you‘re never alone again.”

his words weren‘t harsh, they weren‘t demanding. they were warm, gentle, like the embrace of a father who was determined to protect his child, no matter what. his gaze never left you, his hands never left your body. he was there, constantly reminding you that you were his to care for, his to protect.

“let me take care of you,” gi-hun whispered, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “let me be the one who keeps you safe.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you, the warmth of his hands enveloping you. you were too sick to push him away, too tired to resist. and deep down, despite the creeping unease, there was something comforting about the way he held you.

you weren‘t alone. not anymore.

and for the first time, you weren‘t sure if you wanted to be.

© all rights reserved ! headers/layouts does not belongs to me ! don‘t copy, plagiarize or modify my works. all works are taken in a form of fiction, do not condone any problematic behavior. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

[knavesflames]

High sex with Arlecchino

(Poll result again lol)

Hello………. I have nothing to say this time. Enjoy mwah

Word count: 629

Contents: weed, strap, it’s cute but you’re both high

Nsft utc!

All that can be heard above the sound of the rain was heavy breaths and soft sounds of pleasure. You sat atop Arlecchino’s lap, her hands on your hips guiding you up and down over her strap that she swore she could feel as if it were a part of her own body.

“Come here,” she says, taking another hit of the cart beside them on the nightstand. She gently grabs your jaw and pulls your face towards her, softly exhaling the vapor into your mouth. She can feel her eyes getting redder, and see yours grow to be the same color. “You feeling it hit, pretty girl?” She asks, pressing your body flush against hers and looking up at you like she was all that was holy to her. All she got in reply was a soft “Mhm,” before your hips began moving up and down, greedily seeking pleasure, chasing it, even. It drove Arlecchino insane, made her want to give more and more. Her hips thrusted up slightly to meet yours as you grinded down onto her cock. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she leaned back onto the wall behind them, moaning out a soft call of your name.

“Feels good, Peruere,” you murmur in her ear, using your nails to gently scratch at her scalp. Your whines drive her crazy, making her groan every time your dripping cunt enveloped her cock.

“Keep going, pretty girl, please,” she practically whines, surrendering to the high that was washing over her, her body practically buzzing from the drug coursing through her veins. Your moans make her throb, almost threaten to make her cum right there. Your nails gently scratch down her back, leaving faint red marks in their wake, and they make Arlecchino whine into your neck, thrusting up into you again and again, desperate to chase the pleasure she so badly craves. It’s pathetic, really, in the way that a dog looks up to its master with those pleading eyes.

“You’re so pathetic for me,” Arlecchino mumbles, watching you get closer to your orgasm with each little moan and whimper that escapes from your lips getting ever the more desperate.

“I need you so bad,” you whimper, hiding your face in her neck and clinging to her so tightly as your body continues to buzz and burn under her touch. Arlecchino swears she can cum just like this, that she doesn’t want it to end. You just feel too goddamn good around her to ever possibly stop.

“Mm, I know,” you murmur to her, leaning down to leave a bite mark on her neck. Oh, that drives her insane, making her thrust up inside you even harder, losing all sense of restraint.

“Please let me cum inside you,” she begs, whimpering at each movement over the toy as if it is a part of her, “Please.”

“Cum inside me,” you whisper, lightly tugging at the back of her hair until she moans pathetically, hips stuttering as they try to keep thrusting into you. It ends up pushing her over the edge as well, whimpering a string of curses in foreign languages, mixed with praises of your name. By the end of it all, the sound of rain overtakes you both, with you lying against Arlecchino’s chest, listening to her heartbeat. You spend a while like this, just lying in each other’s embrace, like time stopped just for them.

After a bit, you feel Arlecchino’s hand slide up to your chest as she leans up to kiss you, then kiss your neck again. You feels a hand touch your arm as you look down at her with a stupid grin on your face.

“Now what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 13 FIRST MEET

Y/N stormed into her bedroom, yanking open the closet door with a dramatic motion. “I’m such a moron!” she exclaimed, her voice teetering between frustration and panic. “I can't handle all this damn thing.” She began pulling clothes off hangers, tossing them carelessly onto the bed as if the act of packing could somehow ease her nerves.

Martin, standing awkwardly by the door, opened his mouth to say something but quickly decided against it. There wasn’t much he could say—he’d never seen Y/N in such a state before. It was a mix of chaotic energy and raw vulnerability that left him unsure whether to step in or stay out of the way.

“I can’t believe it,” Y/N continued, more to herself than anyone else. “Carlos and I haven’t seen each other in nine years, and now I have to go back to Spain to get my other baby!” She turned to Martin, her expression a mixture of exasperation and despair. “I’m not mature enough for this.”

Martin suppressed a grimace and stayed silent.

Y/N grabbed a coat from the closet and draped it over her arm, her motions quick and restless. “I wouldn’t be so nervous if I was still married to him! God, we both made this stupid agreement to never see each other again and start a life...” Her words trailed off as she reached for a glass of wine on the nearby table and downed it in one gulp. “Look at me, Martin,” she said, turning back to her butler. “Have you ever seen me like this?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but Y/N cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t answer me,” she said sharply, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something—anything—to focus on.

At that moment, Matheo appeared in the doorway, barely able to hide the amused grin spreading across his face. He’d been listening to his mother’s frantic rambling from the hallway and found it equal parts hilarious and endearing.

“What if he doesn’t recognize me?” Y/N muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She ran a hand through her hair, her voice softening as she added, “It’s not like I’ve changed that much...” She paused, catching sight of Martin’s skeptical expression. “Forget what I said, Martin. Don’t answer that question either.”

“Ma’am Matheo said to me that his father still handsome.” Martid said while trying to clean the mess.

She paused for a moment, lost in her memories. “Matheo was right. And as I remember his gaze was always so warm. And every time he looked at me, my stomach felt like it was hosting a butterfly rave.”

Martin trying stop his face into a wide smile. That was definitely more information than he needed.

Matheo, biting his lip to keep from wide smile outright, decided it was time to step in and rescue Martin from his mother’s whirlwind of emotions.

“Mom, I’m ready!” the boy announced brightly, stepping fully into the room.

Y/N barely glanced at him, too busy adjusting her coat and muttering under her breath. “Me too... well, almost.” she gestured vaguely toward the mess of clothes and an almost-empty suitcase lying forgotten on the bed.

Matheo raised a brow and folded his arms. “Your suitcase is literally empty.”

Y/N looked at the chaos around her, then at her son. “Ah, yes… Well, I’ll sort that out later. Don’t worry about it.” She waved dismissively before changing the subject with practiced ease. “Sweetheart, have you called your father yet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Matheo replied, his tone impossibly casual. “We talked. He said he’s really nervous to seeing you again.”

Martin shot him a sharp look, eyebrows arching in disbelief at the obvious lie.

Matheo pressed on, undeterred. “Anyway, he said he’s waiting for us at the Mandarin Oriental Ritz Hotel in Madrid. Noon today.”

Y/N froze for a moment, her expression caught between surprise and mild panic. “Wow. That’s… really early,” she muttered. Then, with a burst of nervous energy, she turned to Matheo. “Baby, can you do me a favor? Go with Grandpa and buy the plane tickets while I clean up this—” she gestured wildly at the room. “—absolute disaster?”

Matheo nodded, already halfway out the door. “Okay, Mom.”

As soon as the boy left, Martin stepped closer, leaning in to whisper, “Liar…. Liar….. May your nose is going to grow like Pinocchio’s.”

Matheo, still in earshot, turned back to glare at him. “Shhh!” he hissed, silencing him with a quick gesture before disappearing down the hall.

Martin rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he turned to help Y/N. This reunion was shaping up to be even messier than the room.

*****

“Martin,” Y/N began, her voice shaky, “can you do me a favor? It’s… a bit out there. Strange, even. But I know you’ve always been more than a butler. You’re practically family.” 

Martin raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. 

“What I mean is…” Y/N hesitated, running a hand through her hair, “…can you—” 

“Help you with all this madness?” Martin cut her off, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “You don’t even have to ask twice.” 

Y/N didn’t even give him a moment to breathe before launching forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Martin. Tears threatened to spill as he choked out, “You’d do that? For me?! Oh my god, Martin, thank you. I don’t even know how to repay you. And you don’t have to go as my butler, you can come as—” 

“A friend?” Martin finished for her, smiling warmly as he patted Y/N on the head. 

“Exactly!” Y/N sniffled, pulling back and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. 

Martin’s tone turned teasing, “No problem, Y/N. But… not to be annoying, if you want my opinion, you might want to reconsider your outfit. If you’re meeting your ex, maybe wear something a little more… you know… provocative?” 

“Provocative?” Y/N repeated, squinting in confusion. 

Martin sighed dramatically and walked over to the closet, rummaging through its contents like a man on a mission. He emerged a moment later, “Here. Wear this. Trust me,” Martin said confidently, pointing at the pile, which consisted of a  beige-colored Jacquemus backless silk dress. “This? It’ll turn heads.” 

Y/N glanced skeptically at the clothes, then back at Martin. She let out a resigned sigh and muttered, “Fine. I’ll take your advice.” 

An hour later, Martin stepped out of the house dressed in a sharp, unfamiliar outfit. Gone were the usual casual vibes—he looked polished, modern, and effortlessly cool. 

When Y/N dad emerged a moment later, his jaw practically dropped. 

“Wow,” was all he managed, though his eyes said everything. 

Even Grandpa, who was usually unfazed by such things, looked stunned. “My daughter,” he whispered under his breath as he saw Y/N. 

Y/N straightened her coat nervously, then turned to her dad. “Wish me luck?” 

His dad pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “I think I’ll just pray,” he said finally, shaking him head. 

“Yeah, that’s probably better,” Y/N quipped, shooting her a quick grin before heading toward the car. 

Matheo lingered in the doorway, looking a little lost as he watched Y/N leave. He quickly turned and hugged his Grandpa. 

“Promise you’ll visit me?” he asked softly, his big eyes filled with hope. 

His grandpa face softened as he cupped his cheek. “Of course, little gentleman. I’ll always visit you. Now go to your mom before she has a nervous breakdown.” 

Matheo nodded, flashing him a quick smile before hopping into the car. The ride was quiet at first, a mix of nerves and anticipation hanging in the air. Y/N drummed her fingers on her knee, staring out the window, while Martin leaned back, arms crossed like he owned the moment. 

“Ready for this?” Martin asked casually, breaking the silence. 

“No,” Y/N admitted, her voice small. “But let’s do it anyway.” 

The car rolled down the driveway, leaving behind Grandpa, who stood waving with a knowing smile on his face.

****

The Mandarin Oriental Ritz Hotel was buzzing with life that afternoon, a vibrant energy filling the luxurious lobby. Meredith stood near the grand entrance with her parents, her gaze darting towards the towering clock that loomed above. She clutched her phone, refreshing it anxiously, before turning to her father with an air of confidence she clearly didn’t feel.

“It's almost noon. He’ll be here any minute,” Meredith announced with a bright smile, although her fingers tapped nervously against the marble counter. “Dad, please… be nice to him. Carlos is everything you’ve ever wanted for me—and, well, he’s that rich.”

Her father smirked, an amused glint in his eye. “If he’s that rich, I’ll be the nicest man in the world.”

Meredith rolled his eyes but grinned anyway, her attention snapping back to the revolving doors just as a tall figure stepped through, flanked by an entourage that could rival royalty. There was Carlos, his sharp jawline highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the windows, leading his family with a confident stride. Even Sammy, their family’s enormous dog, trotted in like he owned the place.

“Oh great, the whole family is here,” Meredith muttered under her breath, though her lips curved into a practiced smile. Straightening her dress, she strode towards her fiancé, who greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Carlos, you finally coming,” Meredith said, her voice laced with faux enthusiasm. “And you brought… everyone. How… nice.” Her eyes landed on Sammy, whose wagging tail and massive stature immediately drew concern. “Oh, Sammy… at a hotel? Really?”

Carlos smirked. “Matheo didn’t want to leave him home alone.”

Meredith crouched down, forcing a grin as she tentatively reached out to the dog. “Hey there, boy…” she cooed, her tone sugary sweet.

Sammy, unimpressed, growled menacingly, his teeth bared. Meredith flinched and stumbled back as the dog barked. From the sidelines, Mattia snickered, while Chessy whispered a gleeful, “Good boy,” under her breath.

Chessy, turned her attention to Meredith’s parents with a disarming smile. “So… these are your parents?” she asked smoothly, her tone polite but carrying just a hint of amusement. 

“Yes!” Meredith beamed, gesturing eagerly toward her parents. “Mom, Dad, meet Carlos Sainz—the love of my life.” She lingered on the last words, as if daring anyone to argue.

Her parents stepped forward, the mother radiating warmth as she extended her hand. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Carlos,” she said, her voice honeyed with hospitality. “We’ve heard so much about you.” 

Carlos responded with charm, his Spanish accent softening his words. “The pleasure is mine, Señora.” 

“And this,” she added, turning toward the younger boy, Mattia standing beside Carlos, “is their adorable son, Matheo.” 

“Adorable,” Meredith’s father echoed with an awkward chuckle, though his tone suggested he was still trying to figure out the dynamic. 

Mattia, wearing a small, satisfied smile, gave a polite nod but said nothing. 

Carlos chimed in, as if sensing the awkwardness. “Actually, it was Matheo’s idea to meet here. Very clever of him.” 

Mattia, standing off to the side, looked ready to combust from the sheer effort of keeping his expression polite. He managed a tight smile at the group, though the sharpness in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

Meredith’s mother, dressed in an effortlessly chic silk blouse and wide-leg trousers, leaned down slightly to address Matheo. “Hi, baby. You can call me Aunty.” 

Mattia’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ 

*****

Before the awkward tension could deepen, a sleek black limousine pulled up to the entrance. Out stepped Martin, adjusting his sunglasses with his usual flair before opening the door for his boss. A bare foot promptly kicked him in the chest.

“The hand, ma’am…” Martin grumbled, catching his balance with an uneasy smile.

Out stumbled Y/N, looking devastatingly elegant in a beige-colored silk dress that clung to her figure like it was custom-made (because it was). Her golden earrings caught the sunlight as she took a swig from a vodka bottle, finishing it off and casually tossing it over Martin. Martin scrambled to catch it just in time.

“Wow, what a ride! Don’t you think?” Y/N slurred, grinning as Martin knelt to help her with her strappy designer heels.

“First time I’ve seen you drink like this, Ma’am,” Martin muttered.

Y/N chuckled, the sound light and airy. “First time I’ve had vodka. It’s… not bad!”

Matheo, who had been watching the entire debacle, buried his face in his hands. “I’m doomed.”

While the other family was busy with their own plans, Meredith stood in the center of the beautifully decorated venue, eyes scanning the room with approval. “I think the room is perfect for the wedding. It’s not too big, not too small. It really is perfect," she declared, her voice full of pride. "The guests will be amazed. Carlos, how about they wait for us by the pool while we go upstairs to relax?" She turned to her parents, who nodded in agreement, seemingly unfazed by the chaos that Chessy and Mattia were dealing with over their dog, Sammy.

Mattia, meanwhile, struggled to keep Sammy under control. The dog had other plans, tugging hard on the leash and dragging Mattia along. “Where do you want to go?” he asked quietly, his voice strained as he tried to regain control. Sammy, however, was on a mission, and Mattia had no choice but to follow. Chessy, clearly unnerved by the situation, trailed behind them with a nervous glance.

Carlos, noticing the commotion, he trying to help his son, but Meredith with her sly smile she leaned closer. “How about we check out what our honeymoon suite looks like?” she suggested, her tone dripping with flirtation. Before Carlos could reply, she linked her arm through him, ready to explore.

****

Meanwhile, in another corner of the venue, the other family was making their way toward the elevator. Y/N, however, had just stepped out of it, looking a bit disheveled. “Oops, I forgot my bag,” she announced, turning on her heel and heading toward the reception desk. Matheo and Martin exchanged exasperated looks, clearly concern with Y/N’ absentmindedness.

Back by the lobby, Mattia and Chessy were still wrestling with Sammy, who seemed determined to cause as much trouble as possible. Suddenly, Matheo’s eyes widened with delight as he spotted the dog. “Sammy!” he called out, his voice full of excitement. The dog, equally thrilled, broke free from Mattia’s grip and bounded toward Matheo. Martin yelped in surprise as the massive dog leaped up, but Matheo was unfazed, embracing Sammy like a long-lost friend.

As Mattia tried to catch his dog, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving him and Chessy stranded. Before he could process what had just happened, Y/N appeared out of nowhere, sauntering toward them in a dangerously elegant outfit that screamed old money.

Mattia’s jaw dropped. “Mom?!” he blurted, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief. Chessy, sensing the awkwardness of the moment, turned away, pretending not to see.

Y/N, seemingly unfazed, offered a breezy smile. “Matheo, my love, you didn’t have to wait for me. I can get to the room by myself.” her voice was soft, but Mattia couldn’t ignore the faint whiff of alcohol that accompanied her words.

“Matheo, wait upstairs while I relax, okay?” Y/N added, ruffling Mattia’s hair in a way that felt both affectionate and dismissive. Mattia grimaced slightly but said nothing as Y/N strolled away, her stride as confident as ever.

“Hey, Matheo,” Y/N called over his shoulder. “Were you already wearing those clothes on the plane? I don’t remember...” her voice trailed off as he nearly collided with a boy carrying a vase full of roses. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, sidestepping awkwardly before disappearing down the hall.

Mattia turned to Chessy, his face pale. “She’s drunk. My mom, never had more than two glasses of wine in her life, she is drunk. And today of all days.”

Chessy stifled a laugh, placing a reassuring hand on Mattia’s shoulder. “Relax. Let’s just stick to the plan.”

On the other side, Carlos and Meredith were oblivious to the chaos below, completely absorbed in each other. Meredith leaned against the elevator wall, his tone teasing. “Whoever invented the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign deserves a medal.” Carlos chuckled, pulling her closer, but his playful expression faltered as his eyes caught something beyond the closing elevator doors. There, standing in the lobby, was Y/N. Her golden earrings shimmered, her silk dress flowing with an effortless grace. Y/N offered a small wave and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The elevator doors shut, cutting off the view, but Carlos’s mind raced. His stomach dropped, and his heart pounded in his chest.

What the hell just happened?

prev chap

[emoisthenewemu]

Homie Hopper! Pt.2

Bonus: Senior Year!

College MHA boys x F! Reader

Pt.1 here!

In which after getting your little heart broken, you get passed around your local University’s hottest friend group! Everyone needs those slutty College years!

Cw: SMUT, problematic behavior, p in v, lots of different kinks n stuff, i went overboard a bit on Todorokis and Shinsos, sub! Shinso, name calling, reader has female anatomy, reader essentially gets passed around

A/N just wanna say idk why shinso has to be the villain it just felt right😞sorry bae ily

Shoto Todoroki as The Pretty Boy!

-Shoto Todoroki, who is friends with the whole group you ran through last year (and still hook up with on occasion) but doesn’t come around much

-Shoto Todoroki who you had no idea lived right around the corner from you-in a much nicer neighborhood with his brothers

-You run into him on a late night run to the convenience store, in an oversized hoodie with bling on it, it catches his eye as he peruses the aisle next to you

-Shoto Todoroki, who makes you so nervous you cannot even make eye contact as he says a friendly hello to you. You know each other and would occasionally bum off one another’s notes after a missed class. He’s the Pretty Boy and everyone knows it, himself included.

-He thinks it’s cute to watch you squirm. He’s always made you nervous, it was obvious. He likes the way you fiddle with your necklace, his eyes darting down to the unzipped part of your hoodie that shows cleavage.

“I like your sweater” He compliments.

“Oh thanks! It’s super cute, right? I just bought it!” You exclaim excitedly.

“Mhm super cute” He nods nonchalantly and simply waves goodbye, leaving you all but twirling your hair alone in the aisle.

-He never had to try hard with girls, he probably could have just asked you that first night to come home with him and you most likely would have said yes. But he likes the chase, watching your face get hot and eyes flick down to his grey sweatpants. He knows what he is doing.

- So he keeps it up a little longer, choosing to subtly flirt with you on these late night run-ins. His compression shirts get tighter, sweats hanging looser on his hips.

And you, well your shorts get even shorter and sweaters begin to grow more unzipped.

-Shoto Todoroki, who finally asks if you want to head back to his place with him to ‘watch a movie’. You agree of course, and he keeps an arm wrapped around your waist the whole walk home making small talk about school of all things. If only you knew the perverse images flashing in his head.

You walk past his two hot older brothers-who are sitting on the couch watching some action movie and smoking a blunt. You wave politely and Shoto rolls his eyes at the way they do not even attempt to conceal the way they are checking you out.

Oh well, he’ll just have to fuck you loud enough for both of them to hear.

-Shoto, who always gets what he wants. You’re on top of him, kissing his neck and chest, jerking him beneath his sweats as he grips your ass-smacking it occasionally. “So impatient” He tsks as you roll his sweats down.

“Cant wait for this dick, can you?”

You shake your head no and he grabs you by the hair, pulling you close for a sinful kiss. “Use your words”

“Want you to fuck me….you’re so hot” You whine and he kisses you again, biting at your lower lip.

“Good girl”

-Shoto Todoroki, who has your legs folded in such a way that it hurts. Your ankles and wrists bound by his hand as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Of course he has good dick, he’s perfect, even his dick is pretty!

-He is groaning and cursing on top of you, free hand going to choke you and pinch your nipples.

“Mm, Shoto!”

“Yeah say my fucking name” The bed is creaking and slamming against the wall, if you weren’t so fucked out you would worry about his brothers being able to hear. But obviously he doesn’t care about that.

“Shoto!” You whine, squealing when he snaps! his hips so meanly. It hits that spongy spot that makes your tummy feel funny. “Too much, too much!”

The two of you had established a safe word, icyhot. And you had yet to mutter it so he ignores your complaints, slamming into you like he would die without your pussy.

-“Stop whining” He finally releases your wrists, pushing your ankles all the way to your ears as his strokes try to find their own rhythm. This position has you squeezing him so tight it’s hard to move sometimes. “You wanted this shit, huh? Always staring at me in class”

You squeal, his calm voice grounds you in a way. Even if his words are filthy. “Wearing those slutty little clothes to the store. You walk around like that?”

“Just wanted you t’look at me” You whine, his eyes go down to his cock disappearing into your folds. He’s so deep and you’re so wet, your slick almost suctions to his thighs-leaving a sloshing noise every time he pulls his hips back.

-“M’fucking looking” He nods, jaw agape and panting like a fucking dog. “Can’t take my eyes off this slutty pussy”

“Gonna watch you cum on this dick” He speaks determinedly, eyes glazed over with something feral as his thumb goes to rub your clit. “Know you want to”

-“Yesyesyes!” You cry out, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets. The sounds are downright pornographic-his own grunting and the occasional moan mixed in with the wet noises from your sloppy pussy.

He’s close, and you are too.

-His thumb begins moving faster and you’re starting to shake. He watches your stomach quiver, forcing your legs down even though they try to break free of his grip. You’re certain there will be bruises left over tomorrow with the way he holds onto you.

-“Cumming Shoto!” His eyes never leave the way your release comes spilling out, onto his thighs and stomach. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, watching you come undone before his very eyes.

He doesn’t even realize he forgot to put a condom on, now actively shooting ropes inside of you-he can’t remember the last time he came this much.

“Don’t worry, m’on the pill” You mutter, lazy eyes fluttered closed as he softly thrusts into you.

His heart drops, what a shame.

-Shoto Todoroki, who misses you when he moves away. He always hearts your stories and slides up on your posts and promises to come and see you. But he never does.

Hitoshi Shinso as The Shitty Ex!

-Hitoshi Shinso, your ex boyfriend who comes knocking (banging) at your door one night. He’s on his knees spewing bullshit about how the time apart made him realize how much he needs you.

It only took sleeping with half of the girls at his College to understand that.

-But he regrets it! He feels so stupid and terrible so ‘pleasepleaseplease take me back! Im sorry!’

“These other girls could never love me the way you do!”

-You laugh right in his face, arms crossed as you look down in disgust. “Are you high?”

“Whatthefuck no!” He hides his face in his hands with a big sigh. He looks…..pathetic. Eyes baggier than usual, messy purple hair as he finally gives up on the kneeling and sits back against the wall. Pulling out his vape, he hits it, all the while looking you in the eye. “I just miss you”

You roll your eyes, sitting down right next to him and snatching the puff into your hands. “Hitoshi…I think you’re just lonely”

He stays quiet as he thinks of what to say. It seems all words are lost on him. “I would do anything”

“Anything?”

-For some terrible, sick reason seeing him so whiny does something to you.

You suppose you have Denki to thank for what happens next.

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose whole body twitches when you deny his release for the second time. He’s whining, hips bucking up into your touch as you jerk him lazily, hand barely wrapped around his cock.

“Say it!”

“No!” He shakes his head furiously side-to-side, ears and chest turning red with how flushed he is. His chest heaves up and down.

“Then you don’t get to cum” You let go of him and his hand immediately to shoots out to grab yours, pulling it right back to the place he needs you the most.

“M’sorry” He whimpers, eyes scrunching shut as he imagines you giving him what he wants. How fat his load would be, you would be so pleased with how much he has built up for you! He feels so embarrassed and ashamed, it’s all so dirty. The worst part of it all is how fucking hard he is.

“I’m sorry! Been so bad! Soso bad-fuck!” He shudders when you grip him tight, but that’s just it. You do nothing else, causing him to take matters into his own hands.

He starts fucking your hand, so needy and sloppily as he moans and groans about how bad he’s been. “I’m a bad boyfriend! I’ve been so bad, need you t’punish me!”

oh. You didn’t tell him to say all that.

- Hitoshi Shinso, who cums on the spot with the loudest groan you have ever heard in your life when you slap him across the face. It wasn’t even hard or anything, he just liked it way too much.

-Hitoshi Shinso who does not shut up when you start riding him-nails raking down his chest. You’re honestly annoyed because you still hate him! You just wanted to use him the way he used you!

“Shut upp” You groan, cupping his mouth as you try and tune out his words. The moans are hot, his yapping not so much. “Never said you could talk”

Holy shit he had no idea he would ever be into something like this. Your words make his eyes roll back, gripping onto your hips like he might lose you as he beings to fuck you back.

“Fuckk!” You cry when he pistons his hip in tandem with yours-allowing himself even deeper inside you, reaching all the way into your special spot.

-You throw your head back, so lost in the feeling of trying to meet each other’s movements that you take a hand off his mouth. Your hips rolling sensually over his, an unmistakable sloshing sound forming between the two of you.

“Pussy’s so good. Missed it so so much, mygoddd” He rests a head on your tummy, his lower half stuttering and twitching in an attempt to get more of you. “Loveyouloveyoulo-“

“I said shut the fuck upp” You stop, looking into his wimpy eyes that are so full of emotion. He keeps fucking you, but you grab his face to make him look at you. “You want me to gag you?”

You honestly meant it as more of a warning. But the way he frantically nods yes tells you everything you need to know.

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose whole body trembles when you grab the pair of panties that had previously been discarded and stuff them in his mouth. The whites of his eyes are the only thing you can see in between tufts of sweaty hair. It doesn’t stop the noise of course. If anything he becomes even louder than before.

At least he’s not talking.

-“Mmmm yes….much better” You coo, hips moving up and down so fast you can hardly think. You are soo glad your roommates are out of town.

Mostly because they would be so pissed that you’re fucking your ex!

-Hitoshi Shinso, whose moans and whines get louder the closer he is to finishing. His muscular body is drenched in sweat-abs and chest messy with his cum.

His arms absentmindedly wrap around your waist, thrusting up into your pussy as he chases his release. And a rough tug of his hair when he hits a certain spot deep inside is enough to make him finish again.

-Hitoshi Shinso, who is an absolute mess-his body feels so weak and hot. Sweat covers him entirely, lungs gasping for air as you slowly ride him. For a moment you think he might pass out with how exhausted he looks.

Taking the panties out of his mouth, you push some of his hair out of his face. He leans into your gentle touch. “You okay?”

“Yeah” A breathless whisper is all he can get out as you both catch your breath. And then he kisses you, so passionately and full of want that your teeth knock together for a second.

His hands slide their way down to your hips, guiding you to slowly move up and down. You whine at the ‘draaag’ of his thick cock inside your walls. Mouth open as you look down and listen to the lewd noises. Even worse is his cum dripping out of you-making a mess.

“Use me”

-Hitoshi kisses you again. “Use me to make you cum please, please. Wanna watch you do it”

- You do what you’re told, using him until you’ve cum twice and his body is limp, sprawled out across the mattress.

That is until you throw his clothes at him and tell him to get the hell out of your apartment.

-Hitoshi Shinso, who for some reason is surprised you are making him leave so soon. He mentions something about cuddling but you shut that down completely. Walking out into the hallway-he just has to ask.

“Where the hell’d you learn all that?”

- You giggle in response but the smile is wiped right off your face when you spot your favorite friend group rounding the corner!

“Toshi’ whatsup man!” Denki is the first to say hello, dapping him up with a sly smile. “S’been a while”

Shinso is still looking at you, he doesn’t understand why you look so scared.

“Sub bro” Sero daps him up in between bites of whatever snack he got at the store.

The boys look at you. You look at them, you look at Shinso like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment you forgot they all went to the same High School.

And Kirishima, who is usually quite friendly only nods and passes by your ex without a second glance back. This surprises Hitoshi.

And Bakugo, who was never very nice to begin with does not even look at the man you use to date-only you with his perpetual mad face, he makes a point of stretching his body uncomfortably to get by him without touching your ex.

And Shinso watches the way they all say hi to you, the lingering touches, the change in their voices as they greet you. He certainly notices when Denki and Sero (being the messy bitches they are) give you a kiss on the cheek before entering their friends’ apartment. Kirishima gives you a half hug, looking back at Shinso with an unreadable expression on his face.

-Although unsurprisingly Bakugo decides to be the pettiest, hugging you tight. “You good?” He whispers in your ear.

And you nod, assuring that your ex was just on his way out and you’ll call your neighbor should any problems arise. He accepts that answer.

-Katsuki Bakugo bids you farewell with a slap on the ass, right in front of your ex boyfriend’s eyes. You don’t miss the evil smirk on his face as he closes the door, leaving you with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth.

“You fucking kidding me?! You fucked him?” Your ex boyfriend looks so pissed and also a bit like he might cry. “And Kirishima! Why the fuck was he looking at me like that?! You fuck him too?!”

Your silence is the only answer he needs but as he now stomps down the hall the wheels in his head turn. The whole encounter was so weird and awkward that it makes him think. And the more he thinks, the more afraid he is to accept the truth. Hitting the button to the elevator, he looks back at you for the final time in his life.

“You fucked all of them, didn’t you?”

-Hitoshi Shinso, who cries on the drive home.

And last but not least!

Izuku Midoriya as The Unexpected Freak!

-Izuku Midoriya who is the smartest guy you know! The two of you had a few classes over the years and he carried you through quite a few of them. You always thanked him with coffee and sweet treats though so he never minded!

He’s such a cutie patootie! Although the two of you don’t see much of each other anymore seeing as he’s busy trying to complete his double major. You heard that he also does volunteer work on the weekends with kids and the elderly! How sweet is that?

-Izuku Midoriya, who does not hesitate to help you out when you ask him to tutor you for one of your finals. With the end of College right around the corner-you are desperate to pass.

-The two of you study for a while, although he finds himself a bit distracted. He heard about you and Shinso and well, Bakugo happened to tell him how much of a slut you are-you’ve slept with quite literally all of their friends. So he imagines sweet little you who has always seemed so cute and innocent completely fucked out beneath his friends, whining, begging for more.

Your perfume smells so sweet and flowery, you’re sitting closer than you ever have before. In a tight little shirt and pretty pink sweats that hug your thighs in the best way possible. I mean, how could he not be distracted?

-You ask him a question but he doesn’t answer-too zoned out on the pink lacy bra peeking out beneath your top. He can only see it because of how close you’re sitting and he blushes once he realizes you caught him staring!

“You okay Izuku?”

“Yeah…..I just wanna see something really quick”

-Izuku Midoriya, who has you on your knees mere minutes later-choking on his fat cock. Tears streaming down your face as you gag, attempting to pull off and breathe.

But he doesn’t let you, a firm grip of your hair is enough yo keep you in place. His large hands-that you were staring at earlier cup your head when he starts to fuck your mouth.

-The gargling and gagging noises are downright obscene as he fucks your throat roughly. Sniffles and whimpers as you try to catch whatever breath you can.

-Izuku Midoriya is quite vocal about the way you suck his cock, taking many moments to admire you. His dirty words and actions downright shock you. Who knew such a sweet boy had such a freaky little side to him??

“Mmm doing so good pretty girl, m’dick looks sooo good in your mouth”

“So sloppy baby. You like having your mouth stuffed, huh?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full pretty, s’bad manners”

“Hah….look at you slurp this dick up. Never expected you to be so nasty yn”

-Izuku Midoriya who rubs his girthy, wet cock all over your face-slapping you with it lightly. He spreads it across, precum mixed with saliva and tears as he slaps the tip on your lips.

“So fucking nasty, bet you’d let me fuck your throat till’ you can’t talk anymore”

-“You look so pretty like this” His toes are curling as you guzzle him up, pulling off with a loud pop every now and then as you go give attention to his balls. “Shitshitshit gonna cum all over your messy face. Gonna ruin your pretty makeup, yeah?”

-“Ohhh yeah, just like that” He sighs in relief as he takes control again by pulling your hair, guiding you up and down. “You’re a good cocksucker….wish I knew that sooner”

-You’re sososo horny. Seeing someone so endearing act so filthy really has you going. You’re sucking him off like you’ll never get a taste of it again. You speed up your movements, flipping between downright suckling on the tip and swirling your tongue around it.

It seems to be working, judging by the way his knees (and dick) twitch. His moans get louder, breaths beginning to grow more shallow.

-Izuku Midoriya who begins jerking off before painting your face white with ropes of his hot cum, eyes stuck on the way your fingers pick up a bit of it and you lick them clean.

“S-shit. I needed that” He admits.

-Izuku Midoriya who promises that if you pass your final with a higher than 70 percent, he’ll fuck you!

[shouyuus]

Yeahhhhhh I'm gonna need the mutual cockblocking with Vi, yup.

based off of this ask. PHEW alright so uh, bullet points today bc /pops open another bottle of champagne/ it's that kind of day:

is it rly called bullying if u and vi r bullying each other and ur both like... into it? (neither of u are being subtle, everyone can see the yearning and they're all either super invested in when ur gonna hook up or tired AF of ur shit)

pitfighter!vi who glares at anyone who tries to chat you up at the bar that you frequent after all her fights (u volunteer at the dingy little clinic two doors down from the fighting ring and she thinks ur too naive for the mouth you've got on you -- and you do have a mouth on you dear sweet god), pays the bartender extra to keep an eye on you and double dose whoever is trying to chat you up that night bc hell be damned if vi'll see you leave with any of these weird fuckers

loris is so over vi's tantrums whenever you push yourself between her and someone she's sweet-talking; he knows that vi's just doing it bc she knows that the moment you see her reach out to push the hair of out of another girl's face, you'll be shimmying your way over and wiggling between them, pressing your tits up against the bar, snagging the drink that vi was gonna offer her potential hookup (and yeah, what if vi ordered a drink she knew you'd like better? huh? that's got nothing to do with anything)

"why don't you just take her home?". vi squinting at loris in the dimness of the alley behind the bar, "wh-what? i don't want that -- that conniving little... rabbit -- i like someone who's a bit more bite -- or... whatever." loris hitches an eyebrow, watching vi with a deadpanned look before sighing, "yeah. whatever you say."

whenever your friends ask you why on earth you're so hell bent on keeping vi from hooking up with a rando, you'd frown and huff and "you should see the way she comes into the clinic every other day -- i'm -- i'm doing a public service! she's gonna ruin whoever she gets her hands on and -- and i've gotta watch out for the sisterhood, yknow?" cue all ur friends rolling their eyes, "uh-huh. yeah. right."

the one night that vi manages to get someone halfway to the door, you catch them right before vi manages to lead the girl out into the street, draping yourself across vi's back, giggling as you loop your arms around her neck, "vi! i was looking for you everywhere -- you promised we could hang out after your fight tonight -- did you forget again?" you purposefully stumble into the girl she's with, knocking their hands apart. vi grimaces, narrowing her eyes as she rounds on you, intent on telling you off when she catches sight of what you're wearing -- a black leather skirt that barely kisses the tops of your thighs and a tiny little red croptop that leaves nothing to the imagination, dark fishnets criss-crossing up your legs (her mouth waters at the thought of ripping them apart to bury her fingers in your cunt) --

"uhm... friend of yours?" her would-be date asks, clearly a bit put-off as she looks you over. you pull your face into a girlish pout, batting your lashes at vi, "aw... are you doing this to get back at me for the other night? i said was sorry -- would you feel better if i let you eat me out in the back alley again --"

at that point, the girl vi's with pulls away and vi barely tries to get her back before rounding on you. the dopey grin slides off your face and your eyes glitter like shards of broken glass as vi growls at you, yanking you behind her till you're both in the dim alleyway behind the bar, the thick metal door slamming shut behind you

"what the fuck is your problem?!" she asks. you roll your eyes, scoffing, "whatever the fuck is yours. i've told you that you're supposed to be resting, and you never listen --" "i come to you so you can stitch up my face not so you can give me life advice --" "well i won't have to much of your face to stitch up if you keep on going like this cause you're gonna get yourself killed!" "why the fuck do you care?!" "cause it's my job!"

vi groans, jerking away from you to kick at an already toppled over trashcan, the metallic clank of it ringing through the narrow street

"you don't get paid to cockblock me at the fucking bar --" "and you don't get paid to spend all your winnings bribing the bartender into double-dosing all my potential dates!" vi whirls around then, eyes wide, "i -- i don't know what the hell you're --" you let out a wild shriek of laughter, "oh please! you're not subtle -- and you don't think pete and i have known each other for way longer than he's known you?"

vi huffs, folding her arms defensively over chest, glaring down the alley at the thing strip of light cresting in from the street out front, "that's -- those people -- they're not good for you. they'd --" she swallows hard, "they'd hurt you -- chew you up and spit you back out and --"

you cock your eyebrows, "you don't think i know that? i am from the lanes too, yknow."

vi scowls, "then you should start acting like it."

"what?" "nothing." "no, seriously -- what is it with you?" "nothing! god fuckin' -- forget it -- i'll find another bar to --" "violet."

her eyes jerk up, "how -- who -- how'dyou know my name?"

you sigh, rolling your eyes, "your friend? loris? he told me after the first time you punched a guy for trying to talk to me. you're probably too drunk to remember but --" vi shakes her head, "no i -- i do -- that guy was an ass -- i knew him from back when i used to run jobs for -- well, doesn't matter much now but --"

"i can look after myself, violet," you say. vi scoffs before she can stop herself, "yeah. okay." you sigh, leaning back against the bar's back door, "or are you just so caught up in needing something to protect that you don't see it?"

vi very nearly flinches. "what?"

you purse your lips, "i said what i said." "yeah well, say it again." she closes the space between you both in a few quick strides, crowding into your space, slamming a palm against the door next to your face. to your credit, you don't even blink.

there's a flicker of something behind your eyes that licks fire along the length of vi's spine; "i said -- you should find some other little puppet to work out your problems on because i'm done --"

she's kissing you before you can finish your sentence, and there's nothing caring or gentle about the way she bullies her tongue into your mouth and licks along the backsides of your teeth, nothing kind or caring about the way she yanks you forward by the back of your neck till you're sure you'll be able to feel the ghosts of her fingers against your skin for days and days to come

you moan into her, biting down hard on her bottom lip, grinning when the harsh, metallic tang of blood seeps across your tongue. when she pulls back, you're both panting, and you've never seen her eyes so dark, so hungry and crowded with sharp, thunderheads of lust

"mm, that's one way to shut you up," vi muses, running a thumb along the line of your jaw. you grin, a slanted, fox-sly thing. "admit it, you've been wanting to do that for ages."

vi's lips curl; she leans in close enough for you to taste the cheap whiskey on her breath as she says, "sure, and so have you."

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Not sure if this is too far but maybe some dads best friend mixed in with close calls and very rough stuff if ya know what I mean 😏

Stained

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Tags:  rough sex, degrading name calling (slut), mentions of a facial, cheating (soz Lucille), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, semi-public sex

It happened again.

By now, Negan knows the routine. Argue. Say shit neither one of them can take back. Lucille kicks him out or else Negan reaches his limit and storms out. Make up later. It’s their pattern.

But tonight is different. 

They were supposed to go to a friend’s house for dinner, which threw a wrench in their usual routine. A part of Negan still wanted to go. Sure, he dreaded the tension-filled conversation, Lucille throwing in her usual passive-aggressive digs, but there was a silver lining: he could vent afterward. He needed to. To someone who’d actually get it, without the sugar-coating.

Negan has been friends with your dad for years, long enough to know they could trade a few sharp words and move on without it turning into some dramatic scene. Sometimes, Negan could really use that kind of blunt, no-nonsense talk with another guy. 

But hell, he wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with you either. You always got his humor and honestly, you were the only one who could make him laugh without trying so damn hard.

Instead of your home, he finds himself at a bar. Lucille was quick to call dibs on going solo to your parents house, not wanting to deal with Negan in front of friends. 

He left without another word, driving to the local watering hole like a man on a mission.

The bar is the usual kind of dimly lit place that doesn't ask questions. Negan doesn’t need questions tonight. What he needs is a drink and a distraction.

He settles onto a chair by the bartop and orders a whiskey, the burn of it going down smoother than he expected.

Lucille’s parting words echo in his head, the sharpness of her dismissal stinging all over again. The way she had shut him down so easily, almost like telling off a child. Negan can feel the frustration creeping back in. He could’ve used a laugh tonight but instead, he’s stuck here. 

Alone, as usual.

On a typical night, Negan hates how quiet the bar is. He can’t stand silences, everything about it gets on his nerves. The patrons are too tight to even cough up a quarter to play a song on the jukebox. It always feels like the kind of place where the air is thick with nothingness and every minute stretches on longer than the last.

Negan doesn’t have the luxury to brood over that on this particular night. Instead, the loud chattering of a group of girls fills the bar, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

Just a handful of them crowd around a table, all bright-eyed and wide smiles, laughing as though the weight of the world hasn’t yet found them.

His brow furrows as he watches them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not doing anything wrong but the racket they’re making feels invasive in the normally subdued space. 

Every time they laugh, the sound hits him like a hammer to his skull, ringing in his ears. It’s like a constant, steady hum of disruption. Negan can appreciate a little noise and some new life in the place, but tonight?

Tonight, it’s too much. It’s frustrating him. He takes another swig of his whiskey but it doesn’t quite block out their high-pitched, frantic laughter. 

One of the girls spills a drink, and the others burst into a fresh round of giggles, the kind that seems to echo through the entire room. 

He’s about to look away when another girl quickly picks up the drink and continues to say something. She's sitting across from the others, leaning forward and talking animatedly, her hands flying through the air with each word. 

One of her hands subtly goes to her thigh and she tries to discreetly yank down her dress. 

Negan wonders if women know they don’t need to wear tight mini dresses or the crop tops to get laid. But he supposes that’s the joy of being a  youngster. They do stupid shit, wear stupid shit, drink stupid shit. Some grow out of it while others still say stupid shit and end up drinking alone at a bar.

His eyes flicker over her figure. Negan can’t see her face, the angle of her head and the way her body is half-turned away from him hides it. 

Negan doesn’t mind. He can still appreciate her thighs and the curve of her ass from his seat at the bar. Her hair and back covers most of her upper body too so Negan can’t appreciate any titty action just yet.

His fingers drum against the bar and he catches himself, realizing that he’s staring. He quickly looks away, taking another drink of his whiskey as if the liquid will wash away whatever was just stirred up inside him.

In a way, Negan’s glad you’re not like that. You’re pretty without all the extra shit. Since elementary school, you've never been the type to crave attention or stand out in a crowd. Yet you're not the kind of introvert who keeps completely to yourself either.

You fall somewhere in the middle, comfortable with who you are without needing to put on a show for anyone.

There’s been plenty of times you’ve been the most entertaining thing to Negan at your parent’s dinner parties. He loves the witty remarks you toss his way and how you both quietly poke fun at the evening while the others remain oblivious. Those little moments are the highlight of his night.

But, of course, there are also those other times. When a careless comment from your father or mother hits a nerve and you retreat into yourself, disappearing into the background. Negan can always tell when that happens; the sharpness in your eyes dulls and the sarcastic remarks you usually offer him vanish. 

He wonders if you’ll be disappointed tonight, when it’s only Lucille who arrives for dinner. You make the dinners bearable for him but surely you reciprocate that feeling. Both of you are as thick as thieves in your own subtle way.

The woman he’s been checking out stands, saying one more quick thing to her friends before she turns and heads for the bar.

Maybe it’s because you’re already clouding his thoughts that seeing you in person hits him even harder. He’s imagined you a thousand times, with your quiet demeanor and the casual clothes you wear that make you almost invisible.

The mental image of you is so vivid, it’s like you’ve been etched into his mind… yet here you are, so different than that.

You do the same action that you did earlier, yanking down the end of your dress as it threatens to ride up your thigh. Negan lets out a gulp, not sure how he feels at the fact that he’s been checking out his friend’s daughter.

Turning back to say something to your friends, you let out a laugh as you clog along in your high heels to the bar. 

This is exactly what you needed. A night away from all your worries and stresses… and your parents. 

Besides, you're an adult now. You’re allowed to have fun! Whether that be crazy golf, drinking until you need your stomach pumped or smoking whatever. No matter how much guilt or pressure your parents try to put on you, tonight is yours. You’re no longer bound by their expectations. You can take a break from being the person they want you to be and just be.

Maybe that’s why the words “Lydia found out her boyfriend cheated so everyone was going to go over to hers and cheer her up!” came out of your mouth when you told your parents you couldn’t stay for dinner instead of “We all want to go out and down tequila shots!”.

Whether your actual reasoning would’ve worked or not, it doesn’t matter because they let you out with no more than a remorseful look as you left to help your heartbroken friend.

“Get more salt sachets!” a giddy Lydia calls out as you clip-clop up to the bar. 

You’re so caught up in your own little bubble of excitement that you barely notice the guy at the bar. You wait beside him, leaning on the counter and waiting until the bartender comes over. When you feel his eyes linger, you glance his way, wondering if you’ve found some fun for the night. 

You look over, pre-emptively batting your eyes lashes everything seems to slow down. There, standing just a few inches away, is Negan. Your dad’s friend. 

You freeze for a moment, excuses caught in your throat, as you realize that it’s not just the familiarity of his face that’s throwing you off. It’s the way he's looking at you. Negan’s expression is unreadable but the way his gaze lingers has a weight that catches you off guard.

You try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. What is he thinking? How long has he been standing there? And why, of all people, did it have to be him?

You hate it. On one hand, you want to ignore him. Maybe give him a nod of acknowledgment before pretending like you’re not in front of someone you’ve known since you were a kid. 

But on the other hand, you know what Negan’s like and the last thing you want is for him to loudly draw attention to your… friendship? 

Ushering yourself closer, you hurriedly whisper “What are you doing here?!”.

Negan struggles to maintain his composure, forcing himself to keep his eyes on your face instead of letting them wander. 

“What am I doing here?” His jaw clenches as if readying himself to barrage you with questions “What are you doing here, dressed like that? Are you drunk? Do your parents know you’re here? I swear….”.

You scoff defensively, glancing down at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Oh so I can’t go out with friends but you’re allowed to drown your sorrows?”.

Negan doesn’t even entertain your question, immediately waving it off. “That’s not the damn point,” he hisses “I’m not the one with my tits out and stumbling around a bar!”. 

He shoots some other patrons a glare as they try to eavesdrop, making sure they keep their eyes to themselves. You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. Maybe your dress is a lower cut than what you’d usually wear but your boobs aren’t about to pop out of the thing!

“You— you can’t talk to me like that!” despite how your face flushes, you stand your ground. You’ve always known Negan to be raunchy but not once has he ever spoken to you like this before.

"Can't talk to you like what?” Negan doesn’t give you the time to ponder that rhetorical question, crossing his arms as he continues to lecture you.

“You think you look appropriate right now? You think your parents would approve of this outfit?" his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m out with friends, not at dinner with my parents!” You defend, deciding to add in your own jab “Besides, I thought you were at theirs tonight, having dinner with Lucille… not drinking alone”.

Negan can’t keep still. He’s too antsy, wanting to shake some sense into you but trying to stay cool in public.

With an elbow propped up on the bar, Negan points a finger at you “Watch it, before I haul your ass outta here”.

This is the closest you’ve ever seen Negan to real anger. Whenever he’s been at your house, it’s always been the aftermath of it you’ve witnessed. His sullen mood and Lucille’s small comments at him whenever the conversation allowed; both of them handling their simmering frustration in their own way. 

To not only witness his anger first hand, but to have it directed at you… you’re not sure if you want to pout or get on your knees right then and there.

You scoff, trying to seem unbothered. “Enjoy your drink, I’m going back to my friends,” you say it with just enough sass, turning to retreat back to your table.

You know it’s a pointless endeavour. 

Negan won’t allow it. And you know it.

His hand snakes around your upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Oh no you don't,” he tugs you back, urging you to face him again “we’re leaving. Now”.

You were hoping for a little more time here, a bit more back-and-forth, rile him up before hopefully breaking down those stubborn walls. 

“You can leave, but I’m not!” you snap, digging your heels in.

He leans in close, his anger flaring back to life as his voice drops into a dangerously low growl. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart, I’m telling you” the pet name slips out like a command, making something tighten in your chest. 

“You’re drunk, you’re dressed like a goddamn slut and you’re not staying in this bar another second”.

Is it bad you can feel the heat between your legs as he degrades you? How is it your dad’s friend, someone you kinda considered your own friend too, is calling you a slut so easily? And why does he keep trying to steal quick glances at your chest?

Heh, well, you know the answer to that last question.

Still, you play your part and you slap his arm. “Don’t call me that! Jackass” you say with a defiant huff.

His eyes widen but Negan doesn’t acknowledge the slap in the way you wanted him to. Instead of continuing to bicker, he grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and throws it on, his movements sharp. 

“Jackass?” he repeats, clearly not amused.

“Yes! You’re acting like a major jackass!” you fire back, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in your voice. 

Negan grins, that mocking, almost wicked smile spreading across his face as steers you away from the bar.

“Yeah, and you know what else I am?” he asks “The one dragging your drunk, barely dressed ass out of this bar before you make a complete fool of yourself”.

He starts tugging you toward the exit. “I had like… two drinks!” you protest, stumbling slightly to keep up.

But just as he’s about to drag you out the door, you use all the momentum you have to shove him into the door right next to the exit. 

The ladies toilets. 

Your friends giggle as you both disappear from sight, assuming you’re hooking up with the stranger. They’ve always known you have a thing for older men but little do they know who he really is…

Negan stumbles into the bathroom, his mind still trying to process how he went from the exit to somehow ending up in here instead. His brow furrows as he takes in the situation.

Before he can say a word, you speak, your voice steady but firm “Negan, I’m not leaving”.

He steps closer “Yes. You. Are. We’re leaving. Right. Now”. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you’re already one step ahead. You sidestep him, narrowly avoiding his grip.

“No!” you exclaim, more forcefully than you intended. Hoping to get through to him, you soften your tone, offering a sliver of vulnerability. “My parents don’t know I’m here… they think I’m just at a friend’s place” you admit.

Your words hang in the air, a soft confession of rebellion. But Negan’s response is as expected—he rolls his eyes, the action exaggerated as if he’s heard this excuse a thousand times before. 

“I don’t give a fuck if your parents ground you for a year!” He snaps, his voice low but intense “You’re not staying here dressed like that and acting like this”.

“Acting like what? Having fun?”.

His jaw clenches. “By acting like you’re only worth a quick fuck in the backseat of someone’s car,” Negan replies, the words carrying a weight that makes your stomach sink.

The insult stings, but you refuse to back down. With a small scoff, you shake your head and tilt your chin up slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that when you were young?” you challenge.

Negan’s expression falters for a split second, his lips twitching as if he’s about to crack a grin but he maintains his steely expression. 

He exhales sharply through his nose, his stance stiffening. “I did it because I’m a guy,” he mutters, his tone clipped “so it’s different”.

“That’s misogynist,” you point out as you cross your arms, unintentionally making your cleavage more noticeable.

For a moment, you catch Negan’s gaze flickering downward before snapping back up to your eyes, his face strained. 

His lips press together in a tight line, his eyes briefly closing in frustration as he fights to maintain his composure. “Fuck, can you just…” Negan gestures vaguely at you “Cover up or something?”.

Without waiting for an answer, Negan turns away, running a hand through his dark locks. 

You let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t bring a jacket,” you say flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

He mutters something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch. With a dramatic huff, he whips off his leather jacket. “Of course you didn’t. On top of everything else, you want to get hypothermia too” His voice drips with exasperation.

Negan turns back to you, holding out the jacket, his eyes briefly look to your chest again before quickly darting back to your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You catch the slight pause, the way his gaze betrays him, but you choose not to acknowledge it— at least, not directly. You stare him down, not hiding the smirk plastered on your face. Then, in one swift movement, he practically hurls the jacket at you. 

“Here,” he says, the word a little too resigned.

Instinctively, you catch the jacket, but you don’t put it on. Instead, you hold it in your arms, letting it drape over them as you roll your eyes at his comments. 

“I’m not some delicate little flower,” you tease, your smirk becoming playful “maybe I like it rough”.

The words slip out without thinking, a little too flippantly, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Maybe those two drinks were enough to get you tipsy after all.

Negan’s eyes narrow at you and you can see the gears turning in his head. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe disbelief, but before he can say anything, you catch the faintest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He steps closer, his imposing frame shadowing you as he leans in. “Damn, you’re something else,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming presence he has, but for the first time tonight, you feel a small shiver run up your spine. 

“Rough, huh?” His words are like a threat, his tone smooth and dangerous.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, and suddenly, he has a firm grip on your hair, tugging it just enough to pull your head back. 

“Ow! Negan!!” You whine, your voice a mix of surprise and irritation. Good job at proving you like it rough.

He loosens his grip, but his fingers stay tangled in your hair, holding you captive in his gaze. He stares down at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost possessive “But this? Telling me you like it rough? Tsk, tsk, tsk”. 

Your heart skips a beat at the admission, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. The words settle in your chest, warm and electric, and for a split second, everything else fades away. 

Negan thinks you’re gorgeous. 

You can barely process it but you don’t get a chance to let the moment settle. His fingers tighten in your hair again, this time with purpose. 

“There’s a difference,” he growls, his voice rougher now, “between making eyes at some random guy at a bar and teasing a man who actually knows what to do with you”.

You swallow hard. His grip on you, the way he towers over you, his scent— all of it feels like a pressure you can’t escape. You can barely breathe.

“And you…” You pause, testing the waters “You know what to do with me?”.

And then, possibly the most un-hot thing happens. A toilet flushes. The sound is loud and sudden, causing you both to freeze. It comes from one of the stalls at the end of the room and it’s quickly followed by the drunken shuffling of feet and a zipping noise. 

Without a word, you and Negan lock eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between you in that single, charged moment. 

“Shit,” Negan mutters under his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair, but now pulling you toward the nearest empty cubicle with urgency. 

“Ouch!” you whisper, batting at his hand and making him untangle his hand from your hair. You barely have time to shoot him a glare before he’s guiding you into the small space, his body close behind you.

Just as the cubicle at the end of the room unlocks, the lock to your cramped cubicle slots into place with a soft click.

For a moment, you both hold your breath. You’re pressed together in the cramped space, his chest against your back, your bodies flush together.

You hear the drunken patron stumble, mumbling something unintelligible as they turn on one of the taps and start washing their hands. You both hold still, waiting for the heavy footsteps to move away. Negan holds you against him, one hand on your waist to keep you close. 

Although that’s not the only thing that’s touching you. 

It’s hard not to notice the unmistakable press of his semi-erect cock nestling against the curve of your ass. It feels firm yet pliant, a promise of things to come. 

Turning your head just enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy zoning into some spot in the stall door as he listens intently to the patron outside.

His brow furrows just slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening as he focuses. You can tell he's strategizing, weighing up different excuses in case he’s caught in the ladies room. Negan’s lips are pressed together, a slight tension around them, but it's not a scowl. 

Deciding you want some attention, you press your ass back slightly. You hear a grunt.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” he huffs. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he looks down.

Through the thin walls, you can hear the drunk go on their way, their footsteps slowly fading as they stagger out of the bathroom. The door swings shut with a final, echoing creak. 

As if to prove his point, Negan moves his hips forward, forcing his erection against your ass. He’s harder than you thought and you shudder at the mere size of the thing in his pants. 

He makes a quiet, pleased sound against your ear as his hand trails up your waist, teasing passing the side of your breast before settling on the back of your neck. 

“Fuck, you're responsive…” He pulls back slightly, making sure you can still feel him.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask softly.

He chuckles, his voice low and husky. “It's a dangerous thing, darlin,” he squeezes your neck teasingly “Nothing good ever comes from being too responsive... unless you're trying to drive a man wild”.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m trying to do” you push back against him again, this time bending your body slightly to really accentuate your ass.

Except all that does is encourage your dress to ride up your thighs again, stopping just before your ass. Grabbing his leather jacket from your arms, Negan tosses it up on the stall door before moving to your thighs.

Negan isn’t a one to waste time, especially when it comes to taking advantage of certain situations. Bringing both hands down to your thighs, he helps you dress by tugging it up in one swift movement. You let out a gasp as the cool, thankfully air conditioned bathroom making the skin on your ass get goosebumps.

“Negan! I-“ you move to turn away so he can’t see your ass but Negan’s one step ahead this time.

 Looping an arm around your torso, he makes sure you keep the squirming to a minimum. With his other hand, he brings it down between your legs and presses a finger against your panties.

He holds you in place, bent at the hips and ass against his crotch. You can feel the dampness of your panties against your heat. The wetness seeps into the fabric, making it stick to the lips of your pussy. 

“Fuck me, you are soaked!” with no qualms about modesty, Negan swipes the tacky panties to the side and gets a feel of your folds himself. 

You stop a moan from escaping, not wanting to be too eager. "Goddamn, you're a sticky little mess, ain't ya? All wet and sloppy, just fucking dripping” he teases your hole, momentarily pressing a finger to it but never dipping inside.

Hoping to gain some control, you go to stand up straight. The thoughts of looking into his eyes as he fingers you is more appealing than your view being the wall of a bathroom stall.

But Negan isn’t as fond of the idea. The arm looped around you quickly makes its way to your back, forcing you to stay bent. You let out a scoff as the side of your face smushes against the wall. 

“Negan, what the fuck?” You whine, blindly throwing one of your arms back at him “If you’re gonna finger me, at least let me enjoy it!”.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabs your arm and presses it against your back, restraining you before he continues his exploration of your pussy “I get to decide how the fuck we do this”.

You quieten down when you feel a finger trace your folds, spreading your wetness around. “You this much of a slut for every guy or am I just lucky?” He asks, chuckling at his own thoughts “Your friends were cheering like this is a usual thing for you”.

Before you can reply, Negan plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, his thumb grinding against your clit. “I— ah!” You mewl, trying to give a coherent response “N-no, never!”.

Negan picks up his pace, loving how you give in, basically slumping against the wall. “See, doll, I want to believe you. I mean, I don’t know that many sluts that get this fucking wet from just a little grinding… it’s shameful, really” he curls his fingers to hit the perfect spot, making your squirm.

“But in saying that,” Negan continues, his breath hitting against your neck as he leans closer “I don’t know that many modest gals that wear something like this”. 

Deciding you know better than to repeat your mistake and move again, Negan takes his hand off your back and paws at your chest instead. But in true Negan fashion, he needs to up his antics.

Tugging down the low cut neckline of your dress, you hear a ripping noise as he pulls at the fabric and forces it down past your bra.

“Huh… surprised your modest enough to wear a bra” he comments, quickly rectifying the situation. Without warning, Negan roughly shoves the bra cups up, freeing your tits completely. "Fuck, look at these," he growls, appreciating the sight of your breasts spilling out. 

The fingers he has working your hole pause and retreat, much to your disappointment. You take the opportunity to turn around to face him, starting to feeling a crick in your neck from being smushed up by the wall.

“Asshole, you tore my dress“ your voice is laced with frustration, although that may be from how much you want him to stop teasing and fuck you already. 

With an amused scoff, Negan goes to hold up his hands in surrender. His fingers glisten with your juices. “I’m trying to be a gentlemen here, doll” he chuckles as he defends himself.

You fight the urge to cover yourself, knowing that’s what he’s waiting for. He wants to see that shy side, to see you blush and get flustered. 

You glare at him instead “How is this being a gentleman?”.

“Well, I coulda just ripped it clean off, but I left ya some dignity,” Negan smirks, crowding you again. You’re left no choice but to back into the wall, holding your glare as you look up at him.

“And I've fingered ya before fucking ya which is pretty damn noble” he adds, seeing you battle between staying annoyed and wanting to blush. You open your mouth to complain but a loud moan comes out instead as Negan pinches one of your nipples.

He thumbs your hard nipples, chuckling as they perk up even more under his touch. “Damn, always knew you’d have a good pair on ya," he muses “fuckin’ perfect”.

Negan doesn't hesitate, leaning down to engulf one nipple in his mouth. He sucks hard, letting his teeth graze the sensitive bud as he kneads the other breast roughly. Groaning around your nipple, he switches to the other, assaulting it with the same fervent enthusiasm. 

With a grunt, Negan grabs your thighs and hoists you up, pinning you against the wall with his muscular body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms going around his shoulders.

Negan grinds his still clothed cock against your bare pussy, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. 

The rough denim of his pants provides no comfort, each thrust of his hips pressing his erection directly against your sensitive clit. "You feel that?" He asks against your tit “Want you to beg for it, gotta hear ya saying it”.

You have no hesitation. There is no reluctance to beg for him, not when you’re this close to getting what you thought would always be a wet dream. 

"Please, Negan, I need it!" you beg, your hips bucking against his pants in desperate attempts to get friction. “I’ve wanted you for so long, to fuck me in my bedroom o-or on the dinner table! Fuck, anywhere! I don’t care!”.

That seems to convince him. Reaching down and fumbling with his jeans, Negan has his cock out in record time. He grips the base, stroking it a few times as he lines it up with your soaked pussy. 

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the tip barely peeking out from between your folds. Negan slowly eases in, allowing you to adjust to his massive size. 

You writhe and moan against him, trying to keep your body relaxed as he enters you. Trying your best to keep eye contact, you let out a string of whimpers as he fills you completely. 

"Damn, I actually fit," he says, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. Negan pulls out carefully, as if testing the waters before plunging back into your needy pussy with vigor.

"Holy fuck, even tighter than I imagined. Built for my dick, aren't you?" he grunts, starting to fuck you hard.

Each brutal thrust of his hips drives his thick cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you wide open. "Fuck, you're so tight it feels like my dick is splitting you in half. Love it. Fucking love it" Negan rambles on and grabs your thighs, spreading them as wide as he can.

"Fuck, Negan... you're so..." you try to speak "ah!”. It’s all too much in the best way possible. That delicious ache of being so thoroughly penetrated, the feeling of absolute fullness with each deep thrust.

"More... fuck me more..." your hips arch up to meet his thrusts, trying to keep up.

Negan angles his hips upwards, hitting that spot inside you over and over as he pounds into you. "Look at me," He growls, "Look at me while I break you in half with my dick. You like that? You like feeling so stuffed?"

“I-I've never been this full before…” you say with teary eyes.

Negan notices your body tensing and shuddering beneath him, your pussy walls starting to flutter wildly around his thick cock. "Holy shit, there it is... Your cunt's squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice. You gonna cum on my dick?".

The pressure is building to an unbearable point, your entire body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Your mind goes blank, unable to answer his question as he hits that perfect spot.

Just as your orgasm hits, Negan feels your pussy clamp down around him like a silken fist. "Holy fuck..." you gasp, back arching as pure pleasure courses through your veins. 

Your entire body quakes, inner muscles milking his cock as you ride out your intense orgasm. You dig your nails into his shoulders, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Negan grunts, fucking you through your intense orgasm with deep, deliberate strokes. He can feel your pussy spasming wildly around his shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. As the last waves shudder through you, he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with in the light.

He lets you stand for a moment but you legs are so wobbly, it’s difficult to support your weight after that intense orgasm.

Before you can even catch your breath, Negan grabs your shoulder roughly and forces you onto your knees. Your body complies in an instant, unable to fight against such force.

Your knees ache as they hit the bathroom floor but that’s the least of your concerns. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock, lips parted as you anticipate him coming all over your face.

"Fuckin' hell, such a pretty face..." He strokes his throbbing cock with his fist, ready to explode.

But instead of aiming for your face, Negan aims his cock at your chest, unleashing a thick, hot load of cum all over your tits. He groans loudly as he paints your breasts with his seed, the warm liquid dripping down between your cleavage and seeping into the fabric of your dress.  

“Next time you’re either swallowing it or you’re getting a facial courtesy of yours truly” he informs you, although the only piece of information you truly savor from that is ‘next time’.

Doing the gentlemanly thing, he grabs some tissue from the toilet paper dispenser and hands it to you. You dab at your chest, knowing the dress is a lost cause and will probably have to be thrown out later. 

“Help me up?” You ask, somewhat shyly once you’re done.

Taking your arm in a much more gentle grip than before, Negan helps you up, subtly looking over your chest to make sure you’ve wiped off all of him. “You feeling alright?” he asks lowly, as if remembering the public place you’re both in. 

You blink, giving yourself a moment to calm, your body still humming with the aftermath. “That was…” you pause, collecting your thoughts, “...wow.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he slips his leather jacket off the stall door. “Well, that’s a better response than I expected,” he says with a smirk, draping the jacket around your shoulders and gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. Without a word about how the jacket nearly swallows you whole, he zips it up, pulling it snug to cover your chest. 

This is a completely different side to the Negan you’ve seen tonight. This is the Negan that gives you a small, reassuring smile after your parents throw some off handed insult your way. 

The two of you stand close, your breaths mingling. Slowly, the space between your faces narrows, as if drawn by some unspoken pull. You gently tilt your head, just enough to bring your lips into alignment with his. 

The kiss is a tender brush. Featherlight and hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss you’d expect before going at it like a bunch of animals… not afterwards.

The kiss lingers, still tasting of warmth and something unspoken. Pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his, you can feel the soft touch of his lips still tingling on yours. You mutter against his lips, almost sheepishly “Can you drop me home?”.

His lips curl into a quiet smile, a slight glint in his eyes as he nods. “Considering I didn’t get to finish my first glass of whiskey, yeah I should be good,” Negan gives you a playful look.

Unable to help yourself, you give him a small smile. It’s not as seductive or teasing as the ones you have given him previously. In all honestly, it feels like Negan has fucked the seductiveness out of you– if that’s even possible.  

“... So this wasn’t some drunken mistake?” you ask coyly. 

Negan wraps an arm around your shoulders as he unlocks the stall door and carefully guides you out. ”Wear a dress like that the next time I’m at your parents for dinner and you’ll find out” he replies with a smirk. 

Besides his tousled hair, Negan still looks fine. He’s not dishevelled or out of breath or having trouble walking… all things you attribute to yourself.

Negan notices your state too, keeping his arm around you as you subtly leave the bathrooms and head for the exit. If it’s even possible, Negan pulls you closer, guiding you out like a drunk that’s had one too many. His presence is possessive in the gentlest of ways.

You give your friends a knowing look as you both leave, one that says you’ll explain everything later.

The sound of drunken chattering and laughter fades as you step out into the night, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the parking lot. 

When you reach the car, he opens the door for you with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving yours as you slide into the seat.  A few moments later, Negan slides into the driver's seat and the engine rumbles to life. 

The car doesn’t even get out of the parking lot before Negan’s hand finds yours. The ride home is quiet. He doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence between you feels relaxed.

Every now and then, his thumb gently brushes across the back of your hand like a quiet reassurance. He doesn’t mention the contact, simply letting it linger. 

 The soft, rhythmic motion of the car becomes like a lullaby and with every mile, the weight of the night lifts just a little more. Every so often, you glance over at him, his face relaxed. When your eyes meet, he offers a smile and you sleepily return it.

Negan doesn’t pull up directly outside your house. Strategically stopping his car a little down the street, he sighs.

“Hate to say it but I’ll need that jacket back,” he gives you a once over, as if to memorize what his leather jacket looks like on you.

Fiddling with the zipper, you mumble “So I’m supposed to walk in there with a ripped up dress?”.

He laughs at that, shaking his head before reaching into the backseat. “Here, I know it’s dirty but it’s the best I can offer,” Negan hands you a sweatshirt. 

The sweatshirt is faded, its fabric softened from years of use. The sleeves are slightly frayed at the cuffs and a few small holes hint at its age. On the front, several dark oil stains mark where hands have wiped off grease, probably from Negan when working on his motorbike. 

But most importantly, it smells like him.

As you take off his jacket and put on the sweatshirt instead, Negan gives you some privacy and looks away. “Are you coming in too?” You ask, gently placing his jacket on his lap once you’ve changed.

Taking that as his signal to look, Negan gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not tonight, darlin,” he replies “think Lucille would chop my nuts off with your mom’s fancy silver if I showed my face”.

“You two are fighting that bad?”.

Negan shrugs “Same old, same old”.

You try not to fidget with the frayed sleeves of his sweatshirt, not wanting to pick at it right in front of him. 

“And… this?” You focus your attention at simply inspecting the sleeves instead of picking at them “I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a drunken mistake but still… I get it if you wanna pretend like it never happened”.

As much as you wanted quick reassurance, you’re met with silence. 

Negan leans back in his seat, taking his eyes away from yours and looking at the street. Up ahead, he can see the porch light on to your parents house. Although, he doubts Lucille will be leaving anytime soon. She’ll probably stay late, try to wait it out until Negan has drank himself silly and fallen asleep.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” he says with little emotion “It ain’t right. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone in a ten mile radius would call me all sorts of names if they knew about it…  fucking your friend’s daughter is a whole mess”.

You stay quiet, unsure whether you should just get out now.

“But shit, if you wanted to suck my dick right now, I wouldn’t say no,” he chuckles “it’s a fucked up thing to say but I wouldn’t mind something like this happening again”.

That puts a smile back on your face. Getting ready to leave, you say “Maybe if you come to dinner next time, I will suck your dick”.

Negan watches you with narrowed eyes. Of course you’d be able to make his dick twitch again, making him feel like a teenager that could get it up over and over again. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns as you get out.

“Good,” you hop out of the car, giving him one last flirtatious smirk before going “I hope you do”.

Closing the door, you strut along the pavement, your heels clicking as you go to your house. Walking has never seemed so hard, not only because of your shoe choice but from the aching in your gut and your legs wobbling more than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you try to do your best to walk straight, knowing Negan is watching. 

When you get to the front door, you give Negan one last glance before disappearing inside. He wait a few moments before starting up his car and leaving. 

The first thing you hear is a chorus of polite laughter from the dining room. Great, looks like they’re still in the midst of dinner. Before you have a chance to debate if you could get upstairs without them hearing, you hear your father call out your name.

“Is that you?” He calls out.

Reluctantly, you walk in, lingering by the doorway. Your parents to turn in their dining chairs to face you. Whereas Lucille has you right in her line of view. She offers you a gracious smile as you enter.

“I thought you were staying at Lydia’s tonight,” you mom says, eyeing your sweatshirt and what appears to be a skirt. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on how short it is.

“Eh, Lydia talked things out with her boyfriend so they’re back together again,” you lie casually “you know how they are; fight, break up and make up”.

Lucille casts her gaze down slightly, as if your words hit a little too close to home for her. You shift uncomfortably. 

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you’re hungry” your mom says, blissfully unaware.

“I’m ok,” you give her a smile “I think I might just shower and head to bed early”.

“Alright,” she already waves you off, turning back in her seat “if you’re sure”.

You don’t linger, giving them a polite nod before leaving. It’s only when you turn to leave does Lucille look at you again. 

She’s never believed in coincidences. And she’s never believed you to be into repairing cars. She knows the faint stains on your sweatshirt, mainly because she’s the one who spent hours trying to scrub them out… only for Negan to reward her with new stains on the damn thing. 

Nodding along with whatever it is your father is saying, Lucille’s mind strays further and further from the dinner and to Negan instead. 

Something’s happened. What exactly, she’s not sure. But you’re involved and so is her damned husband.

—————

A/N: thought I’d put in a quick note just to say thanks for reading and apologies for disappearing all month! My family almost got scammed out of 11k (it was insane) but!! More importantly!! I got seriously bad writers block so apologies if this fic is a little choppy, I’m still getting back into my stride!!

[chrisstvrns]

𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜.𝐬.

warnings: unresolved angst, secret pregnancy, breakup, abandonment, decision of being a single mother, please let me know if i missed anything! 

word count: 3,333

part one | part two | part three | part four

oh, you were so excited. since you were a little girl you dreamed of being a mother. and when you started dating chris six years ago, you knew you wanted him to be there with you. you wanted to grow old with him, raise kids with him and watch your grandchildren grow up.

and now here you were, standing on the front porch of chris’ childhood home in boston, barely standing still as you anxiously yet excitedly fiddle with your rings. buried deep in your spacecamp wellness tote bag was the biggest secret, that in this moment, nobody besides you and God knew of. 

you had texted chris, telling him that you needed to talk. within seconds, he answered, agreeing with you. you didnt know what he needed to talk about, but you had to tell him. 

you knock on the door, the door immediately being opened by chris, who had a serious look on his face. you reach for his hands, gently taking them in yours. 

he gives you a weak smile, pulling you close as he kisses your forehead, leading you inside. you walk into the living room, flashing nick and matt a quickly smile as they hurry out of the room, odd looks on their faces as they leave you and chris alone to talk in the now quiet house, since his parents had gone out. 

“okay, so. i need to tell you something.” you reach for chris, who ignores your reaching arms, sitting next to you, a bit of a distance between you as he buries his face in his hands. 

you knew how he was. when chris got like this—quiet, tense, distant—it meant something was weighing heavy on his heart. something he’d been thinking about for a long time, probably rehearsing how to say it in his mind for days, if not weeks. your chest tightened as you watched him, his elbows propped on his knees, fingers threading through his hair like he was trying to steady himself.  

"chris?" your voice came out softer than you expected, your excitement from moments ago quickly being replaced by a gnawing pit of dread. you reached out again, but he didn't look at you. his silence said more than words ever could.  

he sighed, dropping his hands and finally meeting your eyes, and that look—God, that look—hit you like a punch to the stomach. his eyes, usually so warm and full of love, were clouded with guilt and something else you couldn’t quite place. regret, maybe.  

"i—" he started, then stopped, his jaw tightening. "i don’t even know how to say this." his voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel the tears welling up in your own eyes, unbidden, your throat tightening in response.  

"chris, just say it. whatever it is, we can figure it out, okay?" you tried to sound steady, but your voice wavered, betraying the panic clawing at your chest.  

he shook his head, leaning back and running his hands through his hair again. "i don’t think we can figure this out. that’s the thing," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

your stomach dropped.  

"what... what are you talking about?" you asked, even though you already knew. you needed him to say it, to rip the band-aid off, even if it would tear you apart.  

he looked at you then, really looked at you, and the pain in his eyes was almost unbearable. "i can’t do this anymore," he said finally, his words deliberate, each one cutting deeper than the last.  

your hands fell into your lap, your heart shattering into a million pieces. "what do you mean? you... you can’t do us anymore?"  

chris nodded, swallowing hard. "i’ve been thinking about this for a while," he admitted, his voice raw. "and i hate myself for it, but... i think it’s better if we end things now before we hurt each other more."  

"hurt each other?" you echoed, your voice trembling. "chris, what are you even saying? we’re not hurting each other. i love you."  

"and i love you too," he said quickly, his voice breaking. "but sometimes love isn’t enough. i feel like i’m holding you back, like i can’t give you what you deserve. you deserve someone who... who’s better at all of this than i am."  

you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "that’s not true. you’re everything to me. why are you doing this?"  

he reached for your hand then, and you almost pulled away, but you couldn’t. even now, even as he was breaking your heart, you craved his touch.  

"because i don’t want to be the reason you lose yourself," he said, his voice steady now, like he’d convinced himself that this was the right thing to do. "i’ve seen it happen before, and i can’t let it happen to you. i love you too much for that."  

you opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that this was a mistake, but the words wouldn’t come. deep down, you could see that his mind was made up. the stubbornness that you loved about him was now the thing that would tear you apart.  

chris stood, his hand lingering on yours for a moment before he pulled away. "i’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "you have no idea how much this hurts me."  

“chris, stop. you.. you cant do this, not now..” you whisper, youre heart breaking as he stands up, beginning to walk away.

you softly chase after him, reaching for his arms, tearing streaming down your face. he faces you, gently taking your hands in his. 

“i love you, baby. so much. but im doing this because i love you. i see the hate you get from my fans, and it kills me. it kills me so fucking much knowing that i cant do anything to stop it, no matter how many things i say to them. "and that's why i can't let this keep happening," chris said, his voice cracking as he looked down at your hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your trembling fingers. "you don’t deserve any of this. you don’t deserve to feel like you have to fight for your place in my life. none of it’s fair to you."

your chest tightened, and the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over. "but chris, i don’t care about any of that. the fans, the hate, the comments... none of it matters to me. you’re what matters. you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered."

he let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back his own tears. "but it should matter, baby. you say it doesn’t, but i see it. i see how it wears on you. you’ve stopped posting your art, stopped sharing the things you love because you’re scared of what they’ll say. i see how you smile less. and i can’t... i can’t live with knowing that i’m the reason for that."

"you’re not the reason for it," you argued, your voice desperate, shaking. "those people don’t even know me, chris. they’re just looking for someone to blame because they can’t have you for themselves. that’s not on you. that’s on them."

he shook his head, his grip on your hands tightening. "it doesn’t matter if it’s on them. it’s still happening because of me. and the longer we stay together, the worse it’ll get. you think it’s bad now? it’s only going to get harder. i can’t stand the thought of you going through that for me."

you felt your knees weaken, like the weight of his words was pressing down on you, suffocating you. "but don’t you see, chris? you’re worth it. we’re worth it. i don’t care how hard it gets, i’ll fight for us. i’ll fight every single day if it means i get to keep you."

his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at you, his expression torn between love and heartbreak. "and that’s what kills me the most," he whispered. "you shouldn’t have to fight for us. love isn’t supposed to be like this. it’s supposed to be easy, and safe, and full of joy. and i... i can’t give you that right now. not the way you deserve."

"you’re wrong," you said, your voice barely audible, your heart breaking with every word. "love is worth fighting for. you’re worth fighting for."

he gently starts walking you toward the door, the fight to not cry visible on his face "you don’t understand, baby. this is me fighting for you. this is me trying to protect you from everything that comes with loving me. i don’t want you to look back in a few years and resent me for all the pain you went through just to be with me."

"i could never resent you," you said, your voice firm despite the tears streaming down your face. "never. you’re everything to me, chris. please, don’t do this. don’t throw us away because of something we can get through together."

he closed his eyes, his head bowing like he couldn’t stand to see the pain in your eyes anymore. "i’ve already made up my mind," he said softly, and those words hit you like a knife to the chest. "this is the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do, but i’m doing it because i love you. because i want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

"you are my happiness," you cried, your voice breaking. "don’t you get that? you’re all i need."

"and you’re all i’ll ever love," he said, his voice heavy with finality. "but sometimes love isn’t enough."

he leaned in and kissed your forehead one last time, his lips lingering there as though he was trying to memorize this moment, to etch it into his memory forever. when he pulled away, you saw the tears streaming down his face, and it shattered you even more.

"i love you. im sorry" he whispered, his voice trembling as he softly pushed you out of his front door, his heart heavy with regret 

you stood there, frozen, your entire world crumbling around you as you watched him slam the door in your face. your hand instinctively went to your tote bag, clutching it like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. the secret you had been so excited to share—the little piece of him you were carrying, the piece of both of you—was now a weight you didn’t know how to bear alone.

"chris," you called out one last time, your voice a broken sob as you hoped he’d open the door again "please. the baby.." you whispered, your voice barely audible, a plea that hung heavy in the air.

but he didn’t say come back. he didnt open the door. you heard his footsteps get farther away, meaning hes going up to his bedroom, leaving you alone with nothing but memories of the past six years, the echo of his absence, and the secret you hadn’t been able to tell him. 

you stood there, staring at the door that had just closed in your face, your breath caught somewhere between a sob and a gasp. the cold, boston air of january nipped at your cheeks, but it didn’t register. all you could focus on was the weight in your chest, the ache that had settled there as you stared at the house in front of you.  

chris’ house. the house where it all began.  

your eyes drifted to the porch below you, the same porch where you’d sat together as kids, eating popsicles in the summer and talking about everything from your favorite cartoons to your wildest dreams. you remembered how he’d teased you about the way you always peeled the wrappers off your popsicle sticks, how his laughter had filled the air and wrapped around you like the warmest embrace.  

your gaze lingered on the window to the living room. you could almost see the two of you, years ago, sprawled out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between you, arguing over which movie to watch. he always let you pick in the end, even when he pretended not to care about the cheesy rom-coms you loved so much.  

and the backyard… God, the backyard. you could still picture the two of you running around barefoot, him chasing you with water balloons until you tripped and fell into the grass, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. it was in that backyard where he’d kissed you for the first time, his lips brushing against yours so softly you thought you might’ve imagined it. but you didn’t. it had been real. and it had been everything.  

now, those memories felt like ghosts, haunting you as you stood there, clutching your tote bag like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. how could he do this? how could he shut the door on everything you’d built together? on all the years, all the love, all the promises whispered under the stars?  

your eyes drifted to his bedroom window, and your heart clenched. you remembered sneaking in and out of that room, climbing the trellis late at night when you just couldn’t stand being apart for another second. the way he’d pull you into his arms the moment you made it inside, his voice low as he whispered, “you’re crazy for doing this, you know that?” but his smile always told you he didn’t mean it.  

now, the window was dark. no light, no sign of him. just an empty, hollow void where he used to be.  

you took a shaky breath, your hand instinctively going to your stomach as the weight of your secret pressed down on you. how could you have been so excited just moments ago? how could you have thought this was going to be the happiest day of your life, when now it felt like your world was ending?  

tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. you stood there, rooted to the spot, as if leaving would somehow mean letting go of everything. of him. of the life you’d imagined together.  

your mind replayed his words over and over, each one cutting deeper than the last. “i can’t do this anymore… you deserve better… this is me fighting for you…”  

you wanted to scream, to bang on the door until he opened it and let you in. until he saw that you were still standing there, ready to fight for him, for you, for everything you’d built. but you knew it wouldn’t change anything. his mind was made up.  

and so you stayed, your feet frozen to the porch as you stared at the house that held every memory you’d ever shared with him. the house that had once felt like home.  

but now, it felt like a stranger’s. cold, distant, and unreachable. just like him. 

yet, back in the house, chris was a wreck. he broke up with you. he was sitting on his couch, face buried in his hands as nick makes his way back downstairs 

“did you.. do it?” nick asks, sitting next to his brother. 

chris couldn’t bring himself to lift his head. his hands trembled as they covered his face, tears streaming through his fingers. he nodded weakly, barely able to get the words out.  

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i did it.”  

nick let out a low breath, leaning back against the couch as he crossed his arms. he didn’t say anything right away, just studied his brother with a mix of pity and frustration.  

“and how do you feel now?” nick finally asked, his voice cautious, careful not to push too hard.  

chris shook his head, his hands dropping to his lap as he stared blankly at the coffee table. “like shit,” he admitted, his voice raw. “like i just ripped my own heart out.”  

nick frowned, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “then why’d you do it? if it’s tearing you up this much, why push her away?”  

chris sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. “because she deserves better,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “she deserves a life without the hate, without the constant pressure of being with someone like me. she says she’s fine, but i see it, nick. i see how it’s breaking her, and i can’t… i can’t keep doing that to her.”  

nick studied him for a moment, his brows furrowing. “and you think this is what’s best for her?”  

“yeah,” chris said, though his voice wavered, as if he wasn’t entirely sure himself. “i mean.. it has to be. right?”  

nick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, man, i get it. you think you’re protecting her, and maybe you are in some ways. but breaking her heart? breaking your own heart? that doesn’t sound like protection to me. it sounds like you’re running away.”  

“i’m not running away,” chris snapped, his voice rising before he quickly deflated, his shoulders slumping. “i’m not. i just.. i love her too much to keep putting her through this. i don’t want her to hate me one day because of all the shit that comes with being with me.”  

nick tilted his head, his expression softening. “and what if she never would? what if she meant it when she said you’re worth it?”  

chris shook his head, his eyes welling up with tears again. “it doesn’t matter. i made my decision. it’s done.”  

nick leaned back, letting out a long breath as he watched his brother unravel in front of him. “you’re stubborn as hell, you know that? but you’re also an idiot.”  

“thanks, nick,” chris muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  

“no, seriously,” nick said, leaning forward again. “you’re sitting here, miserable as hell, and she’s probably out there feeling the same way. and for what? because you think you know what’s best for her? maybe—just maybe—you should’ve let her decide that for herself.”  

chris didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he stared at the floor. nick sighed, standing up and giving his brother a pat on the shoulder.  

“you’re gonna regret this, chris,” nick said quietly, his voice laced with a mix of sympathy and frustration. “and when you do, I hope it’s not too late to fix it.”  

nick walked away, leaving chris alone on the couch, the silence of the house pressing down on him like a weight. he sat there for what felt like hours, replaying the moment he’d closed the door in your face, the sound of your voice—broken, desperate—echoing in his mind.  

“please. the baby…” 

the words hit him like a freight train, and he shot up from the couch, his heart racing.  

“the baby?” he whispered to himself, his mind scrambling to make sense of it. had he heard you right? had you really said…  

panic set in as the realization washed over him. if what you said was true, then he hadn’t just broken your heart—he’d walked away from something so much bigger, so much more important.  

without thinking, chris grabbed his keys and bolted out the door, his chest heaving as he searched the street for any sign of you. but you were gone.  

“damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the porch. he needed to find you. he needed to know if what you said was true, to explain himself, to tell you he’d made a mistake—a huge, life-altering mistake.  

but deep down, he feared it was already too late. 

he goes back into the house, now pacing his kitchen, periodically sipping from a can of pepsi. 

“could’ve jus’.. yeah, she could’ve just been callin’ me ‘baby’, i mean, she always did.. shes not.. theres no way, she cant be..” he rambles, running his hand through his hair, his whole body nearly shaking. 

you? you were already back home, crying your eyes out in bed as you held the test in your hand. were you really going to raise this baby on your own?

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: nearly threw up writing this

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

find other parts of this series here

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Congrats on 3K! I love your writing!

Could I get pop music: Tangerine + "You look really good in my shirt."

SKY'S 3K CELEBRATION

thank you so much for supporting me! 💞

~ 🎶 ~

The mission was simple enough—pose as a married couple, blend in at a high-profile gala, retrieve information, and get the fuck out.

Simple. Easy. But you and Tangerine had never been good at pretending, especially when it came to each other.

Tangerine was insufferable, with his cocky smile and how he always thought he knew better than you. He had a habit of making everything difficult and you loathed him for it.

Or that's what you'd convinced yourself.

But now here you are, standing in a hotel room, trying to figure out how to make this fake marriage work without ripping each other's throats out.

"You sure you can pull this off without causing a scene, love? Or will I need to save your arse?"

You narrow your eyes at him, not amused by his teasing. "I am more than capable of doing my job without you hovering over me, Tangerine."

He smirks, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. "Hm, ya, we'll see."

You knew his pride was the only reason he had agreed to this charade. The only reason he had reluctantly gone along with being your husband for the night.

Idiot.

Eventually, you throw yourself into preparations, doing your best to ignore the way your stomach flips as you dress up, pinning your hair back. You try and ignore that ache in your stomach as your mind races. Why does the idea of being this close to him feel so different this time?

You shake the thought away.

Once you walk into the gala together, the loud music plays and all your doubts melt away as you focus on playing your role. You link your arm through Tangerine's, letting the tension between you both become just another part of the game.

It's easier this way—to pretend and to do it well if you pretend it's a game. But Tangerine's presence next to you makes everything feel weird. The constant pulse of his body against yours, his sharp scent lingering in the air, it's intimidating.

"Remember, we're a happily married couple," he leans in and whispers in your ear, his voice low, mocking. "Don't screw this up."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and you keep your faint smile. "I know what I'm doing, Tangerine. Relax."

The night continues on and every touch, every smile, every glance between you and Tangerine feels like something more. When the two of you dance, there is no avoiding the way his hand hovers over the small of your back, or how you could feel the warmth of his chest as he pulls you close, his grip tight and possessive, like he's trying to prove something.

Something to himself.

You can barely focus on the mission as his eyes lock onto yours, his gaze a little too intense, a little too interested in you. When a man accidentally bumps into you, his shoulder colliding with yours and send you falling forwards into Tangerine. The latter clenches his jaw and glares at the drunken man.

"Oi, dickhead, watch yourself. That's my wife you're shoving into."

The title rolls off his tongue easily and he pulls you closer. He looks at you, stroking his large palm on your shoulder as the man scrambles away. "You okay, love?" Tangerine asks, real concern behind his voice.

You nod, still flustered.

My wife.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

At the end of the night, once the gala is over and you'd managed to talk to your target, gaining his trust and then retracting the information, you stand in the hotel room once again.

Tangerine shrugs his suit jacket off, sighing. His usual coldness is replaced by a quiet tension.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he says, his tone much softer now.

You turn to face him now, nodding silently as you look around the hotel room for your pajamas. You thought you'd left them in your suitcase. You pause, realizing you must have forgotten them.

You meet Tangerine's gaze as wordlessly he hands you one of his clean shirts.

Quickly, you disappear into the bathroom to change. When you return, he's still standing there and his gaze darkens when he sees you in his white chemise, the sleeves rolled up as the collar

Tangerine doesn't say anything for a long moment. His eyes never leave yours, like he's searching for something. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he takes a step closer.

"I hate to admit it, darlin'," he murmurs, "but you look bloody damn good in my shirt."

For a moment, you almost let yourself believe him—believe that softness in his voice, the way he seems to finally acknowledge something more between you. Something that has always been unspoken.

But the old, familiar barrier returns just as quickly, and you pull away. You refuse to let this man hurt you. "This is just business, Tangerine," you say, pulling up the collar of his shirt as your voice wavers. "Thank you for your shirt, but this—it's business," you add quietly.

He clenches his jaw, hiding his true emotions as he gives you a small smile. "Yeah. Business. What did ya think it was?"

You clench your jaw, letting his words sink in. The way he looks at you, the way his hand brushes against yours as he disappears into the bathroom, makes you realize something inside you has shifted.

And you hate that you don't hate it.

[boldchaoswhite]

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐂𝐬

Hellos! Back at it again with some love for my Sebastian peoples! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here! Divider by: @adornedwithlight Enjoy!

In General:

Sebastian is the kind of person who would stand by you through thick and thin. He’s the first to defend you, whether it's against unfair professors, or judgmental peers.

He has a protective streak, but it's never overbearing. He trusts his partner to hold their own but always keeps an eye out, just in case.

Sebastian loves teasing you, especially when he knows it’ll make you smile. If you’re ever feeling down, he’ll pull out all the stops—bad jokes, exaggerated impressions of classmates, or silly faces behind Professor Sharp’s or any teacher's back.

Seeing you excel at something makes Sebastian absolutely beam with pride. Whether it’s a flawless potion, a jaw-dropping spell, or a perfect score in flying class, he’s your number one cheerleader.

He’s definitely the type to brag about you to anyone who’ll listen: “Did you see them out there? Absolutely brilliant!”

Sebastian thrives on a little friendly competition. He adores dueling with you, always pushing you to test your limits while trying (and sometimes failing) not to hold back.

If he loses, he’s a good sport—but he’ll definitely want a rematch. “Best two out of three, love?”

He loves little gestures, like sneaking you notes with charming scribbles or leaving flowers on your desk before class. He’ll deny it was him, but his smirk gives him away.

He’s a big fan of cozy library dates where you both “study,” though it often turns into him whispering stories and making excuses to lean closer to you.

Exploring the Forbidden Forest or sneaking into restricted areas of Hogwarts becomes ten times more fun with you. 

Despite his playful nature, Sebastian opens up deeply with you. He appreciates your ability to listen and offer advice, especially when he talks about his family or the struggles he faces.

 If someone compliments how well you two complement each other, he’ll beam and say, “That’s us—a dynamic duo.”

He’s the type to memorize all the little details about you—your favorite places, the way you take your tea, or the way your face lights up at certain spells. He uses this knowledge to make you feel special daily.

Sebastian finds it exciting and endearing when you take the reins, whether it’s planning a date, initiating a duel, or calling him out on his antics. He’d grin and say, “I don’t mind letting you take charge…this time.”

He’s fiercely proud of your accomplishments and doesn’t hold back in bragging about you to anyone who’ll listen.

If anyone speaks ill of you, he’s the first to step in, protective and fiery. He’s loyal to a fault and refuses to let anyone disrespect you.

Like him, you’d also have a protective instinct when it comes to his well-being, especially if he's putting himself in dangerous situations or not taking care of himself.

If you two ever argue, he’ll pace and brood for a while but always returns with an apology, doing whatever it takes to make things right.

Sebastian spends a good chunk of time agonizing over how to make it up to you. Should he bring you a gift? Write a letter? Apologize in person? He debates every option and inevitably decides he just needs to see you.

He’ll try his best not to make the same mistake twice. He knows his pride and impulsiveness can get the better of him, but he’s determined to grow for you.

Sebastian is the definition of a physical touch person. Whether it’s casual or intentional, he loves to be close to you in every way possible.

He’ll rest his chin on your shoulder while you’re reading or writing.

If you’re sitting on a couch or the grass, his head is absolutely in your lap. Bonus points if you play with his hair—it’s his favorite thing.

Loves putting an arm around your waist when standing near you, a quiet way of saying, “You’re mine.”

Constantly reaching for your hand (even if it’s just to hold it for a second while walking side by side.)

Sebastian has absolutely no shame when it comes to reaching over and snagging a bite of your meal or treat.

He grins at you with a playful “What? You weren’t going to finish it, were you?” even if you were clearly mid-bite

However, he’s the type to offer you the last bite of his food as a peace offering. He acts like it’s no big deal, but it secretly melts his heart when you accept it.

If you’re lounging together, Sebastian will drape himself over you like a blanket. He doesn’t care if it’s practical, he just wants to be close to you.

He’s the type to grumble if you need to get up for anything: “No, no, you’re not allowed to move. I’m comfortable.”

Whether it's a hand on his arm, a kiss on his cheek, or you curling up next to him on the couch, Sebastian loves it. He craves the closeness, even if he doesn’t always show it.

When he’s tired, Sebastian becomes even more affectionate, mumbling soft compliments into your ear and pulling you closer.

Sebastian has a knack for knowing your favorite treats and often sneaks some your way during breaks or after classes.

You’d tease him playfully, calling him out on his pride or over-the-top gestures, but you always make sure to remind him that you love him exactly as he is.

(Okie random little visual thing from a movie, remember that scene from Little Woman (2019) when Laurie gets Jo a drink of alcohol and he stands in front of her to make sure she isnt seen. That scene SCREAMS Sebastian to me…honestly multiple scenes in that movie reminds me of Sebastian.)

When Sebastian is jealous, at first, he tries to play it cool, but his body language gives him away. His jaw tightens, his arms cross, and his gaze sharpens a bit as he watches the situation unfold.

He’ll quietly assess the person causing his jealousy, as if measuring up to them. He’s confident, but he still wants to know what he’s “up against.”

He’ll turn up the charm and make sure you’re reminded of why he’s your guy. Whether it’s showcasing his talents in a duel, cracking a clever joke, or casually slipping an arm around your waist, he’s subtly saying, “They can’t compete with me.”

He’s fiercely loyal, and jealousy brings out his protective side. If someone is making you uncomfortable, he’s quick to step in.

While jealousy might spark a reaction, Sebastian would never try to control or stifle you. He respects you too much for that and trusts you deeply, even if he’s wary of others.

If you’re scared or shaken, he’ll soften completely. He’ll hold your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away any tears, and speak to you in a soothing voice.

He won’t leave your side, staying close enough that you can feel his warmth, as if his presence alone can protect you from anything else.

If you’re sick, Sebastian transforms into the most doting and attentive caretaker you could ask for. His usual mischievous energy is channeled into making sure you’re comfortable, well-cared for, and maybe even a little spoiled.

The moment he notices you're feeling unwell, he’s there, asking you if you need anything, his voice laced with worry. “What’s wrong? How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

Sebastian, despite his usual fierce nature, would likely try to make you a comforting meal or brew a healing potion. He may not be the best cook, but he’s definitely trying his best!

If he’s really stressed about you being sick, he might get a little moody, but only because he hates seeing you in pain. (Sulky Seb is funny to me XD)

You’d always be there for him, supporting him through his battles, whether it’s his internal struggles or external challenges.

You'd understand that he sometimes hides his vulnerability and encourage him to open up, assuring him it’s okay to lean on you.

You’d also be quite empathetic, recognizing when he’s bottling up his emotions or struggling internally. You’d always be there to gently coax him into talking about his feelings, ensuring he knows you’re not going anywhere.

You enjoy the playful side of your relationship with him, and it brings out a more lighthearted side of both of you.

Nicknames:

Sebastian has a talent for coming up with affectionate nicknames.

Love: His go-to when he’s feeling soft and romantic.

Sweetheart: Reserved for when he’s trying to comfort or cheer you up.

Starlight: A nod to your brilliance, whether in academics, magic, or just how much you light up his life.

Boss: When you take charge or get your way, he’ll smirk and say, “Alright, boss, what’s next?”

Shortcake: If you’re shorter than him, he’ll use this teasingly. Bonus points if you’re feisty about it.

Minx: If you’ve managed to outwit or distract him, he’ll say this with a smirk and a glint in his eye.

Princess/Prince: If he’s doting on you or spoiling you, he’ll call you this, sometimes sarcastically, sometimes genuinely.

My Dove: Reserved for private moments, when he’s feeling especially tender.

The Better Half: He’ll use this jokingly, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Snacker: If he catches you sneaking food between classes, he’ll say this every time.

Firefly: If you’re glowing with excitement or passion about something, he’ll call you this.

Big FEELS:

When everything goes quiet and his thoughts are left to swirl around the painful memories, that’s when he can’t keep the walls up anymore. There are nights when he simply breaks down, overwhelmed by emotions he tries so hard to keep in check.

Even if he was completely alone, he’d try to stifle his sobs, not wanting to admit just how much he’s hurting inside. His tears would come in soft, quiet bursts, and sometimes it feels like he’s trying to “cry it out” in silence.

Sebastian would never admit that he needs comfort or help. He might brush off your concern with a quick joke or a sarcastic comment. But when you reach out to comfort him, to offer him a hug or just a hand to hold, it would be the thing that breaks him down.

There’s a part of him that’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to be happy. He’s made mistakes, and the weight of those mistakes hangs over him. His guilt is constant, and there are nights when it’s so overwhelming that he can’t ignore it anymore. Even if he’s surrounded by friends or loved ones, a deep, gnawing voice tells him that he’s unworthy of their care.

Slowly, he’ll let himself be vulnerable in front of you. He might not be able to speak the words at first, but his actions will show that he’s starting to trust you with the parts of him that scare him the most. He’ll allow you to hold him, touch him, and be there for him in a way that he’s never let anyone before.

He won’t ever want you to pity him, but knowing that you accept him fully—imperfections and all—will be something that deeply touches him.

When the pain of missing Anne becomes too overwhelming, Sebastian often withdraws into himself. He might go silent, retreating into his own thoughts, distancing himself from everything around him. His pride won’t allow him to show how deeply affected he is, so he’ll keep everything to himself, even if it’s slowly eating at him.

When the silence gets too much, he’ll be the type to walk around the castle at night, trying to clear his head, but it’s always there…

The guilt he feels over not being able to protect Anne, especially when her condition worsens, is crushing. He constantly blames himself for not finding a way to cure her, not being strong enough to stop whatever happened. Even though he tries to push these thoughts away, they linger, festering in the back of his mind.

On the surface, Sebastian might act like he’s fine, but inside, he’s constantly at war with himself. He’s angry at the world for being so unfair, at himself for being helpless, and at the helplessness he feels every time he looks at Anne’s condition.

He is short-tempered or moody, especially when people ask about his sister or bring up anything remotely related to her.

Sebastian doesn’t need words to feel comforted. When he misses Anne, he needs quiet reassurance. He needs someone who will just be there with him, not forcing him to talk but offering a presence that lets him feel understood.

If you’re aware that he’s struggling with the weight of missing Anne, you might find ways to show him you’re there without pushing him too hard. Maybe you sit beside him in silence, offering a gentle touch or a soft hand on his back, allowing him to lean into you if he needs to. 

 You might tell him, “I’m here. Whenever you need me.” It’s a simple statement, but to him, it’s a promise that someone will always be by his side.

Despite how much he misses Anne and how emotionally vulnerable he feels, Sebastian’s instinct to protect those he cares about is powerful. If you notice that he’s struggling or offering more intense gestures of affection or protectiveness, he’s silently asking for your patience.

like as last time i said: If I think of more ill post them here, hope you enjoyed! Love you all~! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here!

[kxtsukixoxo]

hey so this is my first time requesting and idrk how to word this lolz 😓💔.

OKAY SO I HAVE AN IDEA OF PRO HERO!BAKUGO SMUT AT A GALA??!?!? like maybe a lil makeout before the event which leads to bathroom sex later on (^-^)

I REALLY DONT KNOW??!?! YOU COULD DO ANY CHARACTER YOU WANT OBVI (* >ω<) HAVE A GREAT DAY/NIGHT/AFTERNOON !!!

- ☆

HI LOVELY! i hope you like it! :3

needy

۶•ৎ katsuki x fem!reader

۶•ৎ tw!public sex, nsfw, minors dni!

۶•ৎ stealing glances of each other, after your heated makeout session in the car, your husbands not sure if he can wait til you two get home.

“do we really have to attend this useless gala?”

“don’t be stupid kats! ofc we do!” you playfully hit his chest, your husband and you sat in the back of the limo as you two drove to the huge gathering. pro heroes need a break every now and then right? katsuki definitely disagreed, hence the reason his agency reached out to you, his wife, to convince him to socialise among these other heroes.

Katsuki whined like a small child, crossing his arms as he sulked “don’t be a big baby!” the hotheaded blonde continued to pout. sighing at his stubbornness, an idea popped into your head. cupping your husbands cheek, you pulled him in for a kiss. it definitely took him by surprise, but he adjusted quickly. the slit in your dress making it easy for you to move, you were now straddling katsuki as he held each side of your waist, kneading the soft skin like dough. his teeth nipping at your lower lip, the lewd sounds and pants drowned into the music emitted from the radio. just as his hands were about to move down and cup your ass-

the car came to a halt, “we’re here!” your driver exhaled “dammit” Katsuki was pissed. beyond pissed. you giggled as you noticed the obvious tent in his pants “good luck soldier” you pressed a kiss against his cheek as he helped you out of the car. reporters complimenting, as to what a gentleman he is, being able to tell how much he loves his wife just by the way he looks at her. you two made your way into the huge hall, greeting your friends, you were glued to Katsukis side as he spoke to all of your old friends from UA, his grip on your waist was hard and firm. Katsuki leaned into your side, and whispered into your ear “i hope you know im hard as a damn rock right now, and that dress isn’t helping at all” you giggled and hit him in the arm

the night went on, playful glances from each other as you two mingled among the other pro’s. Uraraka and you were deep into a conversation and just as you were about to answer her, you heard your phone ring.

dismissing yourself from your friend group you made your way towards the bathroom, “kats i cannot believe-“ cut off by his lips smashing into yours, katsukis hands cupped your cheeks as your legs wrapped around his waist, carrying you towards the bathroom sink. “i can’t wait any longer, i need to feel you now” he muttered inbetween pants, your arms draped over his shoulders pulling him in closer as he kissed you again while he unbuckled his slacks.

“turn around for me baby” you flipped over as he pulled your dress just over your ass, landing a smack on your ass, causing you to whimper “quiet down doll, we don’t want the rest of them listening to me fuck you hm?” katsuki pushed your panties to the side, pressing his cock against your entrance. “please kats-“

“mmm what’s that?”

“need you so bad-”

“atta girl”

he slowly sunk into you, watching your eyes roll back, admiring your panting figure in the mirror. katsuki grabbed your hair with one hand, yanking it while the other held your waist. “god, (y/n) you’re fuckin’ sucking me in” your soft whimpers and katsukis pants and groans filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. “m’ gonna cum!” katsukis thrusts grew wilder and wilder, rushing you to your high. “fuuuuuck that’s what i’m talkin’ about” he watched your cum drip down his cock, finally pulling out, turning you over and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“we should start attending more function” a grin plastered across his face. “what, just so you can fuck me in the bathroom?” he chuckled and held you closer. “you know me so well baby” you rolled your eyes, “there’s a reason why i’m your wife y’know” you muttered.

•••

“where were you two!” kaminari called out as you two approached the huge group. “katsuki had a bit of a problem” you replied, scoffing at your statement, katsuki pulled you closer, leaning into you.

“we should definitely do that again”