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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 11 months

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Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Babe wake up, new series just dropped! This is not proofread btw

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, Miguel being jealous? (If you squint), i am mexican but my Spanish sucks so apologies I’m advance, Phantom of the Opera spoilers (???? Through I’d throw it out there)

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 1:The world was on fire

—

“Love me or hate me, Both are in my favor. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.”

The quote was etched into the front of your red hardcover notebook, with gold details covering the edges of the front. The black ink was oddly neat despite how deep you had to indent the words over and over on the cover. Miguel has noticed that you would always write a beautifully tragic quote on the front of all your English notebooks every year.

Last year, the quote was, “Love is blind, and lovers cannot see.”

For sophomore year, “She could have been a poet or she could have been a fool.”

And for freshman year it was, “‘I miss her.’ ‘You’re dead.’ ‘Even in death, I mourn her.’”

The first time Miguel saw it was when you both were in the 7th grade, being paired up to write a report about some random novel that Miguel couldn’t remember the name of. You had pulled out your notebook, that year it was a dark forest green, with the quote being, “But just because I’m not going to wish for it doesn't mean the moth can ignore the flame. It’s in the moth's blood.”

Miguel’s dark maroon eyes rolled to the back of his head, it was almost pretentious he thought, a way to show off how “artsy” you are. He allowed a scoff to escape his plump lips, you simply ignored him as you began to flip through your notes.

You were much more into history, the arts and most of all, Literature, while Miguel was more into science and math. Miguel didn’t understand why you loved it so much, he didn’t think your favorite subjects were nearly as important as his. Who cares what some dead poet wrote a thousand years ago, when he could be the next to make a big scientific discovery? Like time travel or curing cancer. Sure, Miguel still did the work in english and history, and for someone who didn't care for it, he would always do so well, and that drove you up the wall, but Miguel could say the same about you with math and science. Miguel would always tune you out when you would ramble on about some new book you were reading to your friends, or would ignore the way your eyebrow would furrow together and your teeth would bite down on your lips when you’d get to a particularly good spot in your novel, stopping every once and a while to annotate, would scoff at the the way your eyes would stare at piece of art with such fascination and wonder when the class would go to a field trip to an art museum, groan at how’d you always talk about the beauty of old gothic architecture, talking about how the beauty of the buildings was almost tragic.

The key word, would.

As you two grew older, and your competitiveness in your grades became more intense, Miguel couldn’t help but start to wonder what goes through that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to see how the deep corners of your mind worked. What made your brain tick, maybe if he saw the world through your perspective, he would understand you more.

Your manicured hand grabbed your notebook by the bloody red spine, gently gripping it before placing it into your bag, and zipping it up. Slinging it over your shoulder as you turn to talk to your friend who sat next to you, before you both made your way out of the AP English classroom.

You and Miguel had been attending the same classes since you transferred in the 6th grade, both of you attend one of Nueva York’s most prestigious and high-end boarding schools. At first, Miguel didn’t pay you any mind, figured you were just another spoiled brat with daddy’s money, and a trust fund big enough to last you until you find some poor unsuspecting fool to ask for your hand and make you into a trophy wife, like most of the girls who attend the school. But it wasn’t until you had beat his score later that year on the mid-year school wide testing did you get his attention. He could remember it like it was yesterday, he was sitting in class with a near perfect score of 97% written on top of his test answer sheet, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he slid the paper over to his left where Peter Parker had sat.

“I swear man, you’re like, a genius.” Peter grumbled to Miguel as he glanced at his friend’s paper, before at his own which had 78% written at the top. Peter’s hand went up to pat Miguel on the back, but before Miguel could reply, just bearly in earshot, he had heard an unfamiliar voice speak.

“Yeah I got a 99, I wasn’t expecting…” Miguel didn’t catch the rest, but the first part was enough for his whole body to feel hot all over, and make his stomach twist in discomfort. He felt like he was about to go into a state of shock, or rather he was already entering one. He’s never had someone top before, if felt like he was dreaming, well, maybe having a nightmare was a better way to describe it. He couldn’t remember how long he had sat at his desk afterwards, in a weird state of disassociation until Peter had pulled him back to reality. He swore to himself, after that moment he’d never let you top him again.

But that was a hard promise to keep. Because whether he'd like to admit it or not, you were good, always keeping him on his toes. You were almost like a breath of fresh air for him, albeit a painful one, like the first shallow breath after almost drowning. Before you , Miguel was growing content, growing bored, no other student was anywhere close to his GPA, even the second best at the time, he felt simply untouchable, but then you came along, and you changed everything for him.

At first, he saw you more as a pest, an annoying little fly that kept buzzing around no matter how many times he had tried to swat you away. Upon your first time formally meeting with Miguel, you were polite and civil, the kindest smile on your face as you stuck your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself to him. Miguel just glanced at your hand with a sour, unamused expression on his face, before his eyes wandered back up to your face and he just let out a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a scoff before turning and walking away, leaving you confused and a little bit hurt from his unfriendly and quite frankly rude actions, you decided to just brush it off, maybe he was having a bad day and wasn’t in a good mood. So a few days later you tried to approached him again in hopes for a better interaction, only for those hopes to get squashed when he basically told you to fuck off, rolling his eyes and ignoring your presence once again as he walked past you, “accidentally” shouldering you in the process. You decided to stop trying to be nice to him after that.

For about the first year since you transferred, you and Miguel simply pretended the other didn’t exist, neither would approach or interact with the other unless absolutely necessary, the only constant reminders of each other's presence was when one would beat the other during tests, report cards, etc. Eventually the plain out ignoring shifted to fleeting glares and glances, eye rolls and snarky remarks muttered under both of your breaths, both of yours already rocky relationship with each other becoming more and more intense and open as you both got older, neither finding the energy to even attempt to tolerate the others presence anymore. So now you and him were stuck in this repetitive circle with each other, but neither of you were doing anything to stop it.

—

“I’ve already told you Gabe, I’m not going to give you my notes from last year. Read the book like everyone else.” Miguel sighed, stuffing his free hand in his pocket, his other hand holding onto his backpack strap, walking to the housing building across the campus of Nueva York’s Preparatory Academy, where he and his younger brother shared a room.

“But Miggy!” Gabriel whined, his lips coming out in a pout, and Miguel’s nose scrunched in annoyance at both the nickname and the high-pitch tone of his brother's whine. “What’s the point of me being brothers with one of the top students at this school if I can’t steal your notes! Besides, I've tried and I just can’t get into it. Who would have thought that Frankenstein would be such a boring book, and don’t get me started on how the paragraphs are set up!”

“And that’s my problem because?” Miguel’s eyebrow quirked up, sending Gabriel an unamused look.

“Look Miguel, you might not get it from my point of view, but it’s very difficult for me, being your brother. From an academic standpoint I mean. The teachers expect me to have the same intelligence as you. I'm not stupid, don’t get me wrong, I’m just not on the same playing field as you. Also, I don’t like reading.” Gabriel shrugged.

“And what makes you think that I do?” Miguel retorted with an eyeroll, opening the glass doors to the housing building for his brother before stepping in himself and shutting the door behind him.

“Well didn't you get an A+ on your report about the book last year?”

“No. I got an A-.” Miguel grumbled, and after a moment, Gabriel’s expression perked up a bit, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“Oh riiight, that one girl got an A+, what was her name again?” Gabriel said in an almost teasing tone, before throwing out various names at Miguel that were similar to yours, obvious bait to see if his brother would bite, and he did.

“It’s (Y/N).” Miguel corrected with a hash glare.

“Oh, right, right.” Gabriel’s lips went up in a slight smirk, his hands going into his pockets to fish out the keys to their shared dorm room. “Maybe I can ask her to help me, I mean she’s a bookworm, right?”

Miguel didn’t answer the question, not completely sure if it was rhetorical or not, choosing to stay silent as they finally stopped in front of their room.

“I could ask for her notes, maybe take her out for some coffee as a thank you.” Miguel’s face scrunched with annoyance at the implication, his brother knew how much you two disliked each other, and a more sound part of his mind was telling himself that his little brother was just pulling at his leg, but that didn’t stop him from the draggers he glared at Gabriel.

“Don’t even think about it. Hasta la mira mal a esa niña, y estás muerto. ¿Entiendes?” Miguel hissed, his voice dropping an octave with the threat. (If you even look at that girl wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”)

Despite his older brother’s threats, Gabriel’s smirk only turned into a wide grin, before he put his hands up as I sigh of surrender, his keys dangling with the motion before he unlocked the door, and walked into the room, Miguel following closing the door behind him.

—

“I don't understand anything about this, (Y/N).” Your friend, Mary Jane, or MJ for short, groaned as you both sat down in one of the school's many libraries, school supplies sprawled on top of the mahogany desk. It was fairly empty, today, but you both took space in one of the empty study rooms to keep from making too much of a disruption from anyone else who might go in, the repeated sound of rapid tapping of MJ’s mechanical pencil hitting the desk as you catch her biting her bottom lip in frustration.

“I know.” You giggled with a small smile, putting your hand on her forearm in an attempt to comfort her. You both have been at it for about 3 hours now, your English teacher had assigned everyone to write a 2,000 word essay about the book being read in class Romeo and Juliet. You’ve already read and watched the play a million times so you knew the back of your hand.

“Like I understand that, they fall and love and die and stuff, but all the jokes and the symbolism and stuff-“

“That’s why I’m here, MJ.” You grinned at your friend, and she just scoffed at you with a friendly smile, a smile you returned, before getting up from your seat with a small stretch. “I’ll be right back, I'm going to go stretch my legs.” You told her, which only got you a hum in response, before you slipped out of the small room. No matter how much time you’ve spent in this specific library, (it’s your favorite one) you’ll never get tired of the earth and wood-like tones that filled your senses whenever you would enter in the building, the four old walls always filled you with such warmth, they were like a second home for you. You let out a deep content exhale as your black Mary Jane heels tapping quietly against the old wooden tiles of the library floor. Mindlessly wandering with no real destination in mind, but making sure you don’t stray too far from the study room, it wasn’t difficult to lose your sense of direction in the make-shift corridors made from old bookshelves. You turn a corner without thinking, a hand goes up , gently brushing the spines of the books as you continue walking. What genre section were you in?

Your steps came to a halt, taking a step closer to the shelf as you grabbed the book your hand was resting on. Your lips came up in a soft small smile as you read the title of the book in your hands.

The phantom of the opera.

Oh how you loved the story, you’ve watched both the movie renditions and the stage version countless times, but you’ve read the novel more than you’ve watched all three combined, but your copy sadly got ruined when you dropped it in a puddle of water while on a walk, and haven’t had the time to get a new copy. Was it bad that if you were in Christine’s shoes, you would have picked Erik over Raoul?

Your fingertips opened the door, flipping the pages until you landed on the page you were looking for.

Hardly breathing, he went up to the dressing-room and, with his ear to the door to catch her reply, prepared to knock. But his hand dropped. He had heard a man's voice in the dressing-room, saying, in a curiously masterful tone:

"Christine, you must love me!"

And Christine's voice, infinitely sad and trembling, as though accompanied by tears, replied:

"How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!"

Raoul leaned against the panel to ease his pain.

His heart, which had seemed gone-

“Why am I not surprised I’d find you here?” The sudden words interrupted your reading. You didn’t need to lift your eyes to know the source of the voice, the slight accent and the deadpan tone gave it away.

“Hello to you too, O’Hara.” You replied, your eyes not lifting, your hand flipping to the next page despite no longer reading the words on the pages anymore, you weren’t going to give Miguel the satisfaction of knowing he had your attention. The act didn’t last very long though when his finger went up to lift the book up to read the cover, your gaze going up to finally look up at him, a bored expression on your face, a tsk leaving his mouth when he realized what you were reading.

“What?” You question him, wanting to know what that reaction meant, you closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

His lips come up to a smug smirk.

“That you find that shit romantic.” He stated like he knew it was a fact, and you’d rather die than admit to him that you did, in fact, find it romantic. “Don’t act like you don’t, I can read you like a book. No pun intended.”

Your face came to a scowl, instead of entertaining him with a response, you crossed your arms and slightly leaned against the bookshelf behind you.

“What are you even doing here Miguel? You don’t even like reading.” He didn’t entertain your question with a response either, rather he just shrugged, and took a step closer, his hand going up to rest against the self, his hand was right next to your head.

“Do me a favor?” He asked, but his tone came out more like it was a suggestion rather than a request.

“Why would I do that?” You scoffed.

“Don’t make me beg, muñeca.” His tone dropped an octave. Despite the pet name, his voice was filled with nothing but coldness. (Doll)

“Don’t give me ideas.” You teased. Your lips twitched up slightly.

“If my brother comes to you and asks to take you out, go ahead and say no.” That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, but you slowly nodded your head regardless, deciding to not ask what his brother said to him that would make him come up to you about that. His hand came back down to his side as he took a step back “Good. How’s the essay coming?”

The sudden topic change you off guard a bit, but you quickly recovered, since it was something you’d both been more used to talking about, your studies.

“I’m almost done, I’ve mostly been just helping MJ with hers.” You explained, as you stood up straight again. “You?”

“Same, if it weren’t for Peter I probably would already be finished with it.”

“Don’t stress about it too much, O’Hara.”

“Oh, why not?”

You smiled.

“Because I'm gonna get a better grade on my paper anyways.”

—

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isawken · 2 years

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how i got invited to a council meeting for the world's oldest professional clown organization: a reflection on the value of weird niche interests and shooting your shot

it is 2 PM EST. i work from home- i've taken my work laptop to set up in the bedroom along with my personal laptop. i shouldn't be away for more than 30 minutes. call it a late lunch. i've made sure my Zoom icon has been changed from the little gif of a monkey from the video game Ape Escape wiping his ass with a towel over and over again to the far more respectable default icon. i've put my full first name as the username in place of "snart". i am very, very nervous. 2:01 PM. i always wait exactly one minute before hopping into a meeting i'm nervous about. i hate being the first one in a call. the burden of initiating casual conversation is one i particularly hate.

i enter the zoom room key and passcode and enter the meeting.

=================================

those who know me irl or follow me on twitter know that i'm like, really into clowns. i could (and probably will one day) write an entirely different thinkpiece on the reasons why this happened to me. i have not always been Clown Guy. i never hated them, but never loved them, until around 2018 when i started really getting into jesters. the interest in clowns was a lateral move at that point. this makes a lot more sense in my head than in real life, but whatever. you get the point.

i started doing clown make up, getting clown supplies, doing clown photoshoots for fun. a neat little creative outlet. then, as with all of my fleeting interests, i started consuming everything i could about the history of them. and my fleeting interest became a full blown fascination.

one of the more interesting things i learned about was clown eggs. short version: in the 1940s a dude named Stan Bult decided to make a clown organization. and as part of this clown organization he integrated a fun hobby- painting and adorning chicken eggs with the visages of famous clowns, and later, members of the organization itself. these eggs were a staple of the org until Stan's death in the 60s. The practice fell to the wayside for a couple decades, then was rebirthed in the 1980s, with a new group of chairclowns and a new artist. it is once again a staple of the organization, and one i am enamored with. the crazy part about it all is, Stan Bult was a chemist. not even a clown.

=================================

i am on the phone with Dee Dee, the lead chair of the organization. on my application i mentioned extensive social media usage, and she emailed me a few days after approving my application one evening asking if i'd be interested in helping out the organization with their social media presence. i'd be a fucking dunce to say no. she tells me about the current person in charge of their various social medias. she likes her, she says, pausing to add a tone to the next part of her sentence. it's the kind of tone you use when you are expressing dissatisfaction to someone and you're confident they'll commiserate your feeling. "but, she's not even a clown."

i give a very diplomatic (noncommittal) "ah, yeah."

=================================

it is a tuesday summer night and i am drunk, and i am filling out an application for a clown egg before i lose my nerve. i already have my signature make up. i'm actually really proud of it. red lips, blue nose, yellow eyes. red yellow and blue freckles. a red circle, blue square, and yellow triangle pattern above the eyebrows and under the eyes. red yellow and blue checkered button down with cowboy fringe on the chest. a tan stetson given to me by my grandfather. a gaudy clown face bolo tie. i did a pretty good job if i do say so myself.

i send the photos along with the application, 100% confident i will get rebuffed because i'm not a "real" clown. i do get rebuffed, but not in the way i expect. the person fielding applications, Dee Dee, instead gently asks me to submit a membership application first, then she'll be able to send in the order for the clown egg. she says my face design is very cute. i fill out the application and send it back in immediately.

a few days later and i'm sent an email saying my membership fee payment has been processed, and welcome to Clowns International! attached is a PDF of a hilariously simply-edited membership card. it's a sharp, bright red. it features my full name, my clown name, my signature, and my membership number. i'm clown number 22011. text in italics at the bottom of the card says "Members in Good Standing must show cards on request for all CI meetings."

i really hope i can go to one of those, i think to myself, giddy at this eyesore of a rectangle and what it means to me.

=================================

i enter the zoom meeting.

"Oh, there she is!"

i am greeted by a short row of older men and women. i am guessing the youngest aside from me is probably in their 40s. the oldest looks like they could be 80. Dee Dee starts right in.

"So that's what you look like under your makeup! Everybody, this is who I was telling you about, Ken____. She's a bit of a new clown, and she's agreed to help us out with some of our social media."

Dee Dee references a "blog" that i run. i am immensely thankful that she never asked to see my twitter account, and no one else on the call asks either. they just take my expertise on faith. well, faith, and the spiel i give them about how consistent posting will result in increased engagement, and how best to go about engendering social media growth. i throw out plans for posts- history threads, cute memes or art spotlights, posts highlighting members' eggs. the older ones just nod along, but one in particular is very enthusiastic. he tells me he had a tiktok recently get a million views of him and a clown buddy chasing each other in tiny cop cars. i nod along.

the tiktok guy and the guy managing the facebook argue for 30 minutes about whether or not to focus more on social media presence or maintaining the current membership. they go in circles until finally moving on to the horse hospital event (still not sure what that's about) and annual Grimaldi funeral service (i'll make a different post about that one day). then the newsletter. then some other random updates i zone out on. it has been almost 2 hours. i have my work laptop on the bed next to me and am covertly answering emails while the clowns bicker.

turns out even british clowns are exactly as grumpy as regular british people. who knew.

=================================

i am very good at making plans. i love nothing more than making a document detailing actions and ideas in a concise, clear manner. i make a social media treatment, detailing plans for potential posts and even fully written out history blurbs with pictures that can be adapted into threads or instagram posts. i send that out. Dee Dee asks me to follow up with the facebook guy and the twitter/insta girl. the facebook guy just straight up gives me access to twitter. the twitter/insta girl does not respond to any emails.

i've been posting on their twitter account for 6 months now. it's right here if you want to take a look at it. not to brag (lol jk this is definitely a brag), but i've just about doubled their followers in that time. the instagram girl still hasn't given me any log in info, despite my gentle offers to "help" with insta posts. i also notice it has not posted in about 2 years now. i am an interloper, a newcomer. she is the daughter of one of the chairclowns. i am sitting on this information for now. the last thing i want is to instigate a clown war with an old british person. i'd lose for sure.

=================================

i'm not a "real" clown. i don't do parties, i don't work at a circus. i don't think i ever will (i'm only 28 though, who knows what the future holds). all i do is clown around on twitter for people's amusement. but over the last two years i have gained so much understanding and respect for the profession, and all i want to do is share that. i have another board meeting with them soon. i am very curious how this one is going to go. Dee Dee has mentioned a few times how she wants to meet me in person one day. this is all kind of a charade- i am waiting for the day when they realize i'm not an active working clown in the traditional sense, and they kick my civilian ass out. i really hope i get a clown egg before that. it's been about 9 months and no word though, so my hopes aren't exactly high. i go back and forth on whether or not i deserve one. and then i remember that the founder of the whole organization was never a clown. he just really liked them. and it's lasted about 80 years now.

this whole clown thing has been one of the most positive forces in my life over the last few years. i'm sure most of you know how fun it is, to dive headfirst into a new obsession. it's fun to share it with people- most are immediately at least interested if not just bemused when i bring up clown stuff. and it gave me the confidence to apply to a fucking clown organization and get a membership card and become one of their social media managers and holy shit how fucking insane is that??? even if this blows up, even if i get kicked out and never get my egg and it all burns to the ground, that is something i can keep in my heart forever. that is a story i can whip out at any party for the rest of my life, and get chuckles. i may not be a real clown, but i'm definitely addicted to getting chuckles like one.

anyways, the moral of the story here is to apply to whatever your version of a world renown clown organization is. get drunk on a tuesday night and shoot your shot. and even if it doesn't go great you can always make a fun story out of it. or a really, really long post on tumblr.

#clown #clowns #clownblr #long post #kenposting #my ask box is open if you have any questions about my weird clown shit

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sturnwritess · 7 months

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Things always end PT.4

warnings: angst, drinking, smoking, betrayal, end of friendship, cussing, panic attack, and sobbing.

=======================================

"okay, chris is asleep upstairs." you say to nicole, "oh ok, well I'm going to head out to hang out with my date," she says "oh okay, well have fun!" you respond in a cheery voice.

She walks out of the apartment, you go upstairs to check on chris and he's sound asleep. You leave the room and hours pass by.

2 hours pass by

You get a notification from Life 360, It's from Nicole's location. You open the app and find that she's at Matt's house, You thought it was a mistake since you and matt shared a Life 360 and it just got mixed up.

You closed the app and opened it up again, your heart dropped at the sight. It wasn't a mistake she was at his house, you felt like your airway was closing up. You felt as if your heart had stopped beating, you fell down to the ground with sobs escaping your mouth.

That sound woke chris up, making his heart skip a beat. He ran down the stairs and found the sight in front of him almost broke his heart, he ran to you. He saw you sobbing on the floor curled into a ball, "hey y/n, i need you to breathe for me.

Just breathe." you listened and started breathing, as you tried catching your breath the thought came back instantly. You escaped back into sobs as you cried in chris's arms, "c-chris, n-nicole is with matt." you say trying to catch your breath. "what, are you serious y/n" he says. "h-how could she do this?" you say.

"Y/n, you need to get up." he says as you gather your thoughts and sit up, he says "we are going to drive over there, okay?" you nod in response.

As chris drove your car over there he gives you a glance of sympathy, he saw how drained you were. As you got to the house, you ran up the driveway to the front door. You storm upstairs with chris's keys in your hand.

You unlock the door with chris straight behind you, as you went up the stairs you walked into the kitchen to see matt and nicole kissing, "what the fuck." you say. Matt and Nicole look towards you with a slack jaw, "y/n" matt says looking at you.

"are you fucking serious nicole?" you reply. "y-y/n" "don't you fucking dare speak to me ever again nicole" you say while cutting her off. "nicole, your shit is going to be on the front lawn, you can move in with matt for all i fucking care." you say.

"y/n, don't you think that's a little much?" matt chimes in. "oh fuck off matt, all you ever do is hurt y/n. so shut the fuck up." chris says. "dude what the hell is your weird obsession with y/n"

matt says. "dude, fuck off for once in your goddamn life matt. all you ever fucking do is hurt me, you never loved me matt." you say, "y/n don't ever say that bullshit again, i l-loved you and i still do."

"oh don't hit me with that bullshit matthew." you say, "I'm just gonna leave." nicole says. "stay." chris says with anger in his tone. "he's right nicole, it fucking involves you now since your such an attention whore." you say.

"fuck y/n i'm sorry but stop treating me like shit!" nicole replies. "how is that possible nicole, you betrayed me in the worst way possible so sorry if i'm not all cheery." you say.

Nicole just stands there silently, "fuck this i'm out of here, i never want to see your face again matt." you say, you grab Chris's wrist and drag him outside and make way to your car.

You start your car and chris says "y/n if its alright i'd like to stay home tonight." great, "uhm yeah I don't mind" he gets out of his car and you speed down the street and started driving home.

20 minutes later

You finally arrive home and get to the door and unlock it, you instantly make way to your kitchen and grab a bottle of vodka. You walk upstairs to your room and open up the nightstand drawer next to your bed and pulled out the joint and made way to your window opening it.

You find a lighter from your bathroom and hang off the window from the outside, you light the joint and inhale. Inhale after inhale you decided to be done, you smudge the joint off the window ceil rubbing out any flick of ash.

You get to your bed and pick up the bottle of vodka, and you open up the top and poured the warm feeling down your throat. You decided drinking half of the bottle is enough not wanting to push your limits, but then you remember all the pain that occurred and decided to drink the rest of the bottle.

When you got done, your head started to pound from everything regretting how much of the bottle you drank. You pick up your phone to dial.....

______________________________________________________________

a/n: buda bub bub bubb

@mattsnymphette@matts-k1tten@mattsgirlie@mattsmunch@mattestrella@chrattenthusiast@chris-girl@chrisslut25@chrissolosa@chrisloyalgf@chrissturnlover@carolinalikesthings@sturnioloshacker@sturniol0s@sturniolosluvv@sturniolopowers@loveesiren@lovingmattysposts@strawberrysturniolo@mattitties

#Spotify #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #angst #sad news #matt sturniolo #matt x reader #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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monsterfuckerconfessions · 1 year

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Backrooms™

I think I only discovered this recently, or rediscovered since I'm pretty sure that knowing me, I might have had this thought process before but have just forgotten it. I think—no, I know I would love to be fucked in the backrooms by the backroom monsters. Just thinking about it right now while I'm at work waiting for cases to come in makes me wet. Imagine being stuck in multiple levels of the backrooms before you realize that no matter how high of a level you get, there's no escape. I watched a video that said death in the backrooms mean escaping, and escaping in the backrooms are impossible, so you will just respawn to level 0, but with respawning comes the wipe out of everything you learned in the previous backroom levels you had been on. Imagine realizing half way through maybe level 158 that escaping is pointless. Of course, you had long since encountered the entities, some of them hostile, some of them friendly, some of them not taking any notice of you. Then the realization that there's nowhere for you to go dawns on you, and that you'll forever be stuck there. There's no one else as sentient as a human being around you, but we all know that one of the keys to survival is procreating. I think I've always liked the feeling of helplessness in these situations. Humans are more of monsters than the entities in these levels, anyway. At first, you resist the call of your flesh but what if at one point, your fight or flight instincts go haywire? Your flight response (the one you've been using all along since you respawned) goes offline, so it's all fight response now. However, your constant juggling between paranoia and fear and your brain running at 100 mph just shuts off the fear in your brain in your state of delirium and strips you down to your most basic survival instincts. Again, to procreate. I would like to imagine myself just shutting down all the fear receptors in my body and just... let the course of this unnature take you. The entities are hostile at first, as they normally were, but you stopped giving fucks a long time ago. Imagine a ravager ape finding you at level 803 trying to fuck yourself with your small measly hands. It is baffled at first, but then the scent of your perpetual horniness and the slick running through your legs from touching yourself with all paraphernalia you find in each level catches its attention. It cannot smell your fear—again, you've lost it a long time ago. It can only smell your horny thoughts and your chaotic thoughts of breed breed breed. In your state of ecstatic delirium, you don't register its presence until it has its grasp on your legs and spreads them wide. It leans in and tastes the arousal straight from your core and you think finally! it's gonna breed you and fuck you until you're nothing but an incoherent mess of fuck fuck fuck and please please please with your eyes rolled back and your hands trying to touch yourself to match the pace of its tongue or cock or anything it wants to use fucking you until it wishes, maybe breed you if it has eggs or wants to pump you full of its seed. You don't want it to end, you just want to be speared on its cock or tongue until you can't think of anything else and your mind goes blank. Ah, I just want to noclip into the backrooms and be fucked by a backroom entity.

#monsterfucker confessions

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giulianatheordianycatgirl · 8 days

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Whiteboard doodles me and my @kizomu did :3 (I had so much fun btw)

#ape escape #ape escape 2 #ape escape 3 #psychonauts #spike ape escape #jimmy ape escape #kei ape escape #yumi ape escape #raz psychonauts #razputin aquato #Razputin Aquato psychonauts #doodles #whiteboard fox #pink monkey ape escape #monkey pink ape escape #pink monkey #monkey pink

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kizomu · 7 days

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random satokaru doodle i did in a whiteboard yesterday :P

might even post my favorites!! there's some that i like :3

#fanart #digital art #doodle #ape escape #ape escape satoru #ape escape hikaru #satoru #hikaru #kei #jimmy #satokaru #whiteboard fox

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rvlwrttn · 2 years

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Good Enough

Idol: Joy (Red Velvet)

{ Angst, Fluff }

Summary: It’s not easy being in a relationship with your school’s it-girl. Especially with so many people vying for her attention.

- - -

Note: Hello, hello! Excited to put out a new Joy fic, based on a request which I lost. *Face palm* Hope y’all enjoy!

“Hey you two!” You watched your girlfriend embrace the students. Both had smiles that were just a little too bright for your liking.

Joy, being the social butterfly that she is, was willing to talk to just about anybody that approached her. That was what made her so magnetic. At least, that’s what you assumed.

It also didn’t hurt that she looked like she’d escaped from a fashion magazine.

You never imagined that Joy’s beauty would bother you but here you were. Dating the school’s it-girl had its perks for sure but having to share your girlfriend wasn’t easy.

Falling for Joy was never in your plans. But it had certainly been in hers.

When you first met her, you had wanted to get as far away from her as possible. You knew being with a girl like that would only bring trouble and you hadn’t wanted to get sucked in.

She was beautiful and you wanted nothing to do with it.

And besides, you couldn’t possibly be her type, so why entertain such silly thoughts?

Little did you know, you were exactly her type and she made sure to let you know it.

...

“Wow, you’re even hotter up close.”

These had been the first words Joy had said to you. You’d been assigned as partners for a class project and she’d come to sit beside you.

“Uh...” Not the most eloquent response, but it was the best you could do.

“I’m Joy. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

You shook your head.

“It’s Y/N, right?”

You nodded.

Huh, you had thought to yourself, she knows my name.

“Of course I know your name!” She laughed, noticing the confused expression on your face.

“Right!”

...

After that day you hadn’t stood a chance. Joy was charming, funny, and intelligent. She wasn’t the arrogant party girl you had expected her to be.

She’d asked for the key to your heart, and you had gladly given it to her.

Up until a few weeks ago you had been content with her having this key, but lately it seemed like she had forgotten she had it.

Every day some idol-looking guy or girl would come up to you, asking you about her. What kind of flowers did she like? Did she like chocolate? Was she single?

The look on their faces when you told them she was your girlfriend was always disheartening. Not even in your AP Philosophy class did you see so much confusion on someone’s face.

It was worse on dates.

Every person that tried to hit on her was rewarded with friendly conversation from Joy. Great for them, not so great for you.

It had come to a point that if Joy got to talking with someone, you knew the date was over and resigned yourself to being the third wheel.

Not one to bring up problems or conflict, you pushed your feelings of annoyance down along with that tiny yet still present fear of inadequacy. It wasn’t until you were pushed to your limit that you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Joy was being her flirty and charming self, making you feel like the luckiest person on earth. She had her arm wrapped under yours, leaning slightly against you and pressing kisses to your face, here and there.

But like moths drawn to a flame, a group of older boys approached you and your girlfriend. Joy greeted them with a smile but with the way they were side eying you, you knew you were unwanted. So, you kept walking.

“Y/N! Wait up!” You heard Joy’s footsteps coming after you, but you continued.

“Y/N, wait!”

You stopped with a huff. “What is it Joy? Your suitors back there not good enough for you?”

She looked taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean even though you’re my girlfriend, I feel like I’m your damn chaperone whenever we’re out in public together!”

“Chaperone? You’re not serious, are you?” Joy said incredulously.

“Oh, I am dead serious, Sooyoung.” She flinched at the use of her name.

“You let everyone in, let everyone take away my time with you, everyone!” You held back tears. “Obviously I’m not enough for you!”

Joy gasped. “How can you say that?”

She grasped your hands tightly in hers, looking pleadingly into your eyes.

“Y/N, please believe me when I say you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Really?” You looked up at her, your eyes shining.

“You are more…than enough for me.” Her voice broke. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel you weren’t.”

She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, I was just…scared of what might happen if I did.” You murmured.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to hide anything from me, Y/N. You can talk to me.”

You sighed. “Deep down, I know that. But my insecurities were eating me alive, Joy.”

“Well, I’ll just have to show you how perfect you are for me then.” She said, before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

The group of boys, who had been watching from afar, decided to use this moment to interrupt once again.

“Hey Joy! As we were saying, we wanted to invite you to-”

“Sorry,” you interrupted. “But I need to walk my girlfriend to class before we’re both late.”

He quickly shut his mouth, looking at the rest of his friends in confusion.

Arm in arm you walked away, a smug smile on your face and a proud one on Joy’s.

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