#like if u watched the series and you wanna know what i think about something pls. hmu
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ooooogh i need someone to send me asks about analyzing aspects of utena fr fr
#like if u watched the series and you wanna know what i think about something pls. hmu#im 💥💥💥💣💣💥💥🔥🔥🔥🧨🧨🎇🎇💥
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omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!
EVERY INCH 2
2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader
follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3
SERIES MASTERLIST
A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm.
WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N.
SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.
You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day. You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror. He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .
Yeah, his cock. You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry.
It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie. You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted. You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone. Your phone is still on silent from the theater.
The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"
"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you.
You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."
"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."
"What do you want?"
"I asked how you liked the movie."
Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight. "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively.
"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . . Missed a great kill."
Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion.
He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”
"wishful thinking," you reply.
Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”
You’re not even going to argue.
“How was your date?"
"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.
"You didn't look interested.”
"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.
"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”
You freeze.
He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"
You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"
"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.”
You scoff.
". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"
"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."
"Pervert."
“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.
"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.” His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special. “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”
You look out your window, which faces the woods. "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains. You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you.
“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?”
Are you that predictable?
“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly. His breathing becomes audible. “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . . . .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on.
“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.”
Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal
“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You lie there clenching your thighs together.
“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together. “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on.
“Yeah, that’s it . . .”
You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast.
He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.
You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock.
"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.”
He’s right about that. You close your eyes as you touch yourself. You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?
“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.”
"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.”
You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core.
“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?”
You turn up the intensity of your vibe.
“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl. Swallowed it right up.”
“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”
“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.
“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops.
“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”
You’re getting close. “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting. You need a shower.
—---
You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.
“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.
“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”
You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears. There’s nothing you can do. You squat down, hugging your knees. There’s no good option.
The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.
“My turn, baby." The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment. Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked. He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see.
The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you. One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife. He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.
He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”
You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.”
“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower. He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak.
He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle. “Coulda had it how ya wanted.”
The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen.
“Now you’re gonna take it right here.” He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down. “You’ve put me behind you after all.” He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick. He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.
“Who are you?”
“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.
“What do you want?”
“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds.
He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh. You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it.
The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now. He pants as he thrusts into you harder. “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel.
“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly. “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.”
He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.” He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you. You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own. Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load. He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core. You can’t help but moan and sigh.
“Good girl,” he says.
His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants.
------
Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on. He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.
“Now where’s my knife.”
“I don’t have it,” you claim.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“It’s mine.”
“The cops have it.”
“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”
You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe. You look behind him toward the toilet.
He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.
NEXT: PART 3
--------------------------
Please engage (reblog/comment) if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.
Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.
Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹
@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.
Slasher master list
@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07
#ghostface x reader#ghostface smut#mickey altieri x reader#billy loomis x reader#ethan landry x reader#ghostface x you#slasher fanfiction#danny johnson x reader#cw noncon#slasher smut#tw noncon#ghostface#slasher fucker#toxicanonymity ☠️#mickey altieri#ghostface ☠️#every inch ☠️#dark fic
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ falling out of love
fans think that you and tom are falling out of love after filming for ballad of songbirds and snakes and you don't post about each other much, so you show them that it's far from the truth.
[heres to 2024 coming soon. this is not part of my ongoing series but a little something else to hold you all over. never proofread, just vibing. btw just watched salt burn and I’m scared of barry now]
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
liked by… rachelzegler, joshandresrivera, hunterschafer & others
tomblyth: the vibes are green
893k likes 398k comments
user: he’s so happy!!!
user: um, where’s yourusername?
user: that’s definitely not yourusername
user: they don’t have to be around each other all the time
user: they haven’t been seen together in ages ☹️☹️
user: if they break up I’ll cry myself to sleep every night
user: my man looks so good
user: maybe she just didn’t want to hike (i wouldn’t)
user: 😍😍
user: he’s active again!!!!
user: I miss them
user: where’s yourusername
user: daddy 🔥🔥🔥🔥
user: just wanna know who the girl he’s with is, i just wanna know
user: is that the necklace yourusername gave him?
user: y’all are obsessed!!!
user: let my man live
liked by …. florence.pugh, austinbutler, jaimieflatters & others
yourusername: packing only the essentials
901k likes 650k comments
user: packing?
user: what do you mean packing, where you going?
user: hotmamma
user: I love u
user: where’s tom
user: where is she going? to tom
user: is she leaving tom?
user: I love her whole vibe
user: I hope she’s going to go see tom 😔😔
user: why is she always slaying, it must be so tiring to be her
user: tomblyth
user: tomblyth
user: tomblyth
user: I can’t lose my third set of parents plssss
user: hearts breaking rn
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
user: rip tomblyth and yourusername, I’ll miss you
user: cosying up??? they’re literally just talking
user: it was bound to happen
user: tom!!!! cone get ur gurl
user: crying in the club rn
user: not believing in anything until they confirm
user: I can’t believe it; i won’t
user: love is dead
user: as long as they’re happy
user: they were probably pr for the hunger games and it’s been over two years, who cares now
liked by… jaimieflaters, sadiesink_, zendaya & others
yourusername: that’s a rap on me and my Malibu dude!
871k likes 0comments
[comments restricted]
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
‘It’s so over,’
trending on twitter
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
liked by… tomblyth, rachelzegler, jamieflaters, tomholland2013 &others
yourusername: tom and I falling out of love, a compilation
1.1m likes 832k comments
user: oh it’s so back
user: she really said stop it!
user: parents!!!!
user: THANK GOD
user: taking the toaster out of the bath rn
user: goals
rachelzegler: you guys are so cute I’m gonna throw up
user: the fourth picture hello?!?!?!
user: damnnnnn
user: THANK GOD IM SO HAPPY
user: stfu enews
user: he’s such a gentleman in every picture but the fourth
user: I just knows he’s packing
zendaya: ❤️
user: planning the wedding
user: twitter lied!!
liked by … yourusername, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera & others
tomblyth: falling out of love? more like falling in love with every single day that passes. I love you
tagged: yourusername
1m likes 750k comments
user: AHHHHHHHH
user: the posts!!!! the posts!!!!!
user: I just know they picked out these photos together
user: I love them
user: they’re giggling and kicking their feet rn
user: this is the cutest damn couple ever
user: I know they’re so in love because look at like these pictures, so darn cute
user: two years going on forever!!!
user: they could never make me believe you guys were over
user: they were literally probably just laughing off the rumors
user: they had us in the first half, ngl
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
‘Oh it’s so back!’
trending on twitter
#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#tom blyth#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#tomblyth#tom blyth x you#x yn#social media#love#in love
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hi! can u write caitlin clark x reader where caitlin is dating a popstar like as big as taylor swift? pls and thank u
# END GAME
pairing: caitlin clark x popstar!reader
word count: 2493
warnings: none !
summary: caitlin acting like an obsessed fangirl when she shows up at your concert.
⭑ from lani: this is the oldest ask i have in my inbox and ive been tryna clear out reqs so bear with me y'all!! also here is a link to the full piano version of end game from the eras tour if yall wanna watch that 😋
masterlist !
“GOD, I ACTUALLY have no idea why i’m like, nervous,” caitlin smiles shyly as she thinks out loud. she was currently being recorded for “full court press,” a docu-series that featured her story along with kamilla cardoso’s and kiki rice’s.
the director wanted to get some shots of caitlin being a normal civilian (whatever the hell that means), so he instructed the videographer to follow her around this weekend. and it just so happened that this was the weekend she had tickets for your concert. your twenty-second concert of the tour. let’s just say it was no coincidence that you chose iowa city as the twenty-second show.
right now, she was in the front seat of her family’s car while her older brother, blake, drove them to the venue. caitlin’s phone was currently connected to the car’s aux so she, of course, had to play your music. she had an entire playlist for only your songs, but she would never tell that to anyone. not even you.
“yeah why are you nervous? you just need to like, chill,” her brother says.
“this is my first time seeing her perform since…y’know,” she smirks, hinting at her secret relationship with you.
she shoots a mischievous look to the camera, knowing full well that the audience that would watch this wouldn’t know for sure what she was talking about.
“remind me how you got us free tickets again?” blake fake-questions. he knew about the relationship, each of your families did. but for the sake of the camera recording their every move, he eggs caitlin on.
“i’m close…with her um…management,” she lies as she picks up her phone to text you. the time read “5:04” meaning it was only a few hours until you went on stage.
both of you were ecstatic to see each other here for the first time in months. with caitlin being busy with her basketball career and you traveling constantly on tour, it was difficult, to say the least. that’s one of the reasons tonight was special.
when planning out your tour, you requested that iowa city would be reserved for the twenty-second show of the north america leg and that it would be held at kinnick stadium. the reasoning behind it being the twenty-second show was obvious, as it was your girlfriend’s coveted jersey number.
the motivation for choosing kinnick stadium was that it was where you first met caitlin and where she broke an outstanding record with her team. you were one of the 55,646 people attending the iowa vs. depaul women’s basketball game in 2023. it became the most-attended women’s basketball game in history. you managed to get courtside tickets to the game and ended up getting to talk to caitlin after the win, which obviously led to something more valuable than friendship.
“have you ever talked to her? i heard she’s actually a fan of you,” her brother smirks.
“i’ve talked to her once in person,” she starts, lying of course, “it was actually here at kinnick when we played dupaul. she was in the audience, which was really cool.”
“oh that’s sick, actually. what about online? y’all don’t text or anything?”
“we do but, y’know, we’re not that close,” right as caitlin says this she receives a text from you saying the camera men were cleared for the show as long as they only recorded caitlin, not the show, “she just texted me actually,” she smiles big at the notification as she reads the text out loud. “how far are we from the stadium?”
“about ten minutes.”
“okay cool. i’m so excited, dude, you have no idea.”
“you’re such a fangirl,” blake laughs.
“okay we should have enough footage for now, we’ll start recording again once we get there or once the show starts,” the cameraman says from the backseat.
“sounds good, thank you,” caitlin replies as another text from you pops up on her screen.
my fav girl: can’t wait to see you babe i added a surprise to the setlist for you ☺️
my cc bby: omg no u didnt im alr so excited ur hyping me up even more
my fav girl: ur gonna love it trust 🫡
my fav girl: okay wait i gotta go get ready but ill see u soon!! love u!! 🤍
my cc bby: love u too ill see u out there!! 🤍
———
“i still can’t believe we’re here right now this is crazy,” caitlin says as she looks around the stadium that has started to fill with fans, “welcome to the ‘hits different’ world tour!” she motions to the stage behind her as she smiles at the camera with her arms up in the air.
your album “hits different” became a huge success in the past year. the internet buzzed with anticipation prior to the release and followed through with the praise the second it came out.
your fans posted reaction videos, theories, edits, the whole nine yards to show their appreciation. your songs were heard on radios, at bars, in school talent shows, literally everywhere.
the album was about growing from the mistreatment from former partners and finding true love again after too many instances of hurt.
and right at the center of your inspiration was caitlin. even before you began dating in private, she was your best friend who comforted you through your big breakup. she lifted you up when you felt like you could never get up again.
you poured your heart and soul into the album, expressing all your deepest emotions - positive and negative - through the power of your writing.
you won multiple awards for the project, including vmas for your creative music videos and grammys for your productions. the whole world knew your name. it was everything you ever wanted. but there were downsides.
aside from the expected criticism and hate comments, you faced more serious problems. you started receiving intense backlash for some of the lyrics in your song that dissed your exes, and some people didn’t like your boldness. they retaliated, making it seem like you were the villain despite being so badly hurt from your past relationships. people claimed you were “crazy” and a “drama queen.”
fortunately, the speculations and assumptions only empowered you further. the only thing you had to say to those comments was: “remind me, who’s worth billions of dollars and taking the world by storm right now?”
“where are we sitting, cait?” blake asks.
“we’re in the vip section actually which is insane.”
“dude how did you get vip pit tickets??”
“no, not in the pit, we have our own tent on the floor, i think.”
“no way, bro, you’re lying.”
“i swear! look, see! oh my god our names are on chairs!” she runs over excitedly like a little kid at a playground. the whole experience is making her giddy, acting like a proud mom or teenage fangirl.
“how did you swing this??”
“i have my ways,” she winks at the camera, “the show starts in like an hour so we can chill and maybe get some food? i wanna say hi to other fans and see how they’re feeling.”
and with that she’s rushing back out of the tent and up the stairs to the concession stands swarmed with fans. it’s like she forgets she’s famous too because she gets surprised when her own fans spot her and ask for pictures.
———
“how you guys doin’ out there?” you say into your mic as you walk across the stage to your piano. you hear a raging storm of cheering in response, “sounds good, sounds good,” you laugh. there’s truly nothing you loved more than performing and interacting with your fans.
“so…” you start as you begin to play a few chords softly, “tonight is a very special night for me, for this tour. it is the twenty-second show and we are here in iowa city and i don’t think i could feel any happier,” you beam as you hear more enthused cheers.
“there are many reasons why tonight is special but the most important being…this is where i first met my partner.” the loudest set of cheers yet. your fans were always up to date with your life. they knew boundaries, of course, but they couldn’t help their curiosity.
they cared about who you were with, there was no denying it, and they knew how you loved to draw your inspiration from your relationships. right now you only had one person in mind, but they had yet to figure out who it was exactly.
“and i wanted to give you all a little…gift, per se. let’s just say that i started working on a new album-“ an insane volume of screams cuts you off as you shake your head and laugh. “aw thanks! okay anyways, i’ve been very excited to post for you guys tonight and to see my partner who, yes, is in the crowd, so i wrote a little song.” more screams.
“-and i wanted to get your opinions on it! so here we go, this is the acoustic version of a new song called end game.”
you begin to sing an altered version of the upbeat song over the hums of the piano. the stadium was the quietest it had been all day as fans listened attentively to your lyrics.
little did you know, caitlin was having a mental breakdown of excitement. her face was as red as a tomato and she was practically shaking.
she loved when you would mention her but not mention her. she loved knowing that your relationship was just yours at the moment. she loved knowing that no one could take it away from you. she loved knowing that you were only hers.
and right now, as you make your way through the song, she’s paying close attention to your words. this whole announcement was news to her, and she assumed it was the surprise you had mentioned earlier. she was grinning ear-to-ear as she listened to your voice echo throughout the stadium.
she was entranced by you. the delicate yet passionate tone of your singing, the beaming smile on your flawless face, your bubbly conversations with the crowd - everything.
you had her full attention as you practically declared your love for her in front of thousands of people - millions if you wanted to count the fans that watched through live streams.
she was so enthralled that she didn’t even notice the cameraman pointing his equipment in her direction, capturing her hypnotized expression as she simply smiled watching you on the big screen. the viewers of the documentary would then know who she had fallen so hard for and who you dedicated many of your songs to, but she didn’t care.
all she cared about was you.
———
“thank you so much, iowa city i love you and we will see you all next time! get home safe please!!” you say into the mic as you begin to walk offstage. the sound of wild cheers, fireworks, and confetti cannons fill your ears.
as the final song of the show reaches its climax, you take a second to soak in the moment from the side of the stage. being a performer was one of your favorite parts of your job. you never got tired of any of it - the dancing, the singing, the fans - it was all part of why you started this in the first place.
a few minutes later, you are ushered away from the stage and back towards the dressing rooms to change out of your costume. you are handed a towel and water bottle as you make your way through the concrete tunnel with your staff right behind you.
“y/n, you have a few guests that wanna say hi, would you like me to let them through?” your assistant asks you.
“who are they?” you reply. you weren’t expecting anyone to stay at the venue after the show. you insisted you would meet caitlin and her family back at the hotel so it couldn’t be her, right?
“oh they’re just over there actually,” she responds with a pointed finger, “do you recognize them?”
you follow her direction with furrowed brows only to be met with the familiar faces of your girlfriend and her brother. your jaw drops in shock as you immediately run over to her now outstretched arms.
when you jump to hug her, you both almost fall to the floor from the impact. her arms snake around your waist as she lifts you with ease, squeezing you tightly.
“hi,” you breathe out with a smile, nuzzling your neck into her tall frame.
“hi, princess,” she whispers into your hair.
“i thought we were meeting up at the hotel for dinner? i didn’t think you guys would stay here!”
“you think i could wait that long to see you when i could just finesse my way backstage??”
you laugh at her phrasing, the sound instantly making caitlin melt. “i missed you so much, dude, you have no idea.”
“i missed you too,” she smiles brightly as she sets you back down on the ground. her large hands move to cup your flushed cheeks, “you did so good out there, baby, i’m so proud of you.”
“thank you, cait, that really means a lot to me,” you say sincerely as you momentarily depart from her to greet her brother, “hey blake, how you doin’? enjoy the show?”
“i’m doin’ good, y/n, and yeah, i mean, it was incredible, really,” he answers as he goes to hug you.
“love to hear that, i’m glad you guys had fun!” you reach for caitlin’s hand, holding it gingerly as you begin to walk in the direction of the awaiting golf cart, “i have to change out of this really quick before we go but i’m gonna ask for a space for you guys to hangout in the mean time.”
“what, you mean you have to change out of that sparkly leotard and those four-inch heels?” the brunette jokes.
“i know it’s crazy, i actually wanted to keep everything as pj’s,” you play along as the two of you move to sit on the back of the golf cart.
while you two were entangled in each other’s presence, you failed to notice the cameraman, once again, recording your interaction. he made sure to get both of your permissions to add the clips into the documentary, but he couldn’t help but capture the authentic smiles on both of your faces. he knew that the viewers would be able to feel the love through the screen and be overwhelmed with joy for the two of you.
after tonight’s events, you and caitlin knew that the public would eventually be able to figure out the clues left that all pointed to your intimate relationship.
you were both aware of the consequences, the potential feedback from the internet, but their opinions didn’t matter. the only thing that mattered was that you really were each other’s end games.
— leilani signing off ! 📁
#leilanihours#laniwrites#caitlin clark#caitlin clark fluff#caitlin clark smut#caitlin clark x reader#wnba#indiana fever#university of iowa#wcbb#wbb#ncaaw#fluff#x reader#taylor swift#end game#reputation#music#wlw#lgbtq
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mrs all american * archived.
who is that guy in the andretti racing garage?
pairings: bother figures x fem!driver, 4lyfers x fem!driver
notes: lOLSIE OXOXOXOOXOOXOXO tell me if u want their smau too?? hehehehe
(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)
alex tilts his head, approaching his friends gathered right behind a crowd that’s formed in front of one of the racing hospitalities in the paddocks. “what are we doing here?”
“same sentiments,” george mutters, craning his neck to try and look over heads to see what’s all the commotion about. him and lando had been having a chat while walking in from lunch when they were greeted by a large crowd gathered and chatter filling up the air. “we’re just as curious as you.”
“but you lot were here first?” alex asks, scrunching his nose again, looking between his friends. “did andretti manage to score some big name or something for the weekend?”
“brad pitt, you reckon?” lando asks, raising his eyebrows. “nah, i don’t think so. has to be someone else.”
“maybe it’s just rocky causing terror to everyone again.”
george and lando exchange a stare and ultimately shrug with a nod. it’s not entirely impossible that it’s not the brand’s own driver who’s gathered a big crowd to watch her do something stupid.
“hey, why are there so many damn people? i just wanna take a nap before the parade.” the 3 turn around, shocked at the presence that’s announced itself behind them. the andretti racing driver stands in front of them, hands on the straps of her backpack as she looks at them curiously. they furrow their eyebrows. “what?”
“you’re not the one that’s causing all the commotion?” george tilts his head, pointing at the crowd of cameras and paparazzi behind them.
she shrugs. “i guess not. what’s going on?”
alex sighs, widening his eyes. “we have got no idea. we’re just nosey,” he takes a sip from his drink, “will you tell us when you find out later?”
she shrugs nonchalantly with a small smile. “sure. i’ll see you lads later for the parade.”
“are you hiding someone from me?” the girl, who’s just walked into the pitlane to head to the grid for the driver’s parade takes a step back with a clueless blink. “max keeps pestering me about the guest for tonight.”
she shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. “why do you just assume i always know more than you?”
liam shrugs as well, frowning. “i don’t know. there’s just so much commotion on our side of the paddocks today and i’ve got no clue as to why,” liam says with a frown.
realistically, she feels bad lying straight through her teeth to everyone. but she doesn’t need anyone messing with her when the truth happens to come out before the race starts. it’s just not something she thinks she needs.
besides, everybody will find out after the race. she will just explain herself then.
“i’ve got no idea what’s going on with our garage today,” she takes a sip from her pepsi, blinking at liam innocently. “guess we’ll find out later?”
“find what out?” oscar tilts his head as they come to a stop right by him and lando, waiting for the truck to start their lap around the track.
“why we’ve been so crowded with paps today,” liam frowns. “i’m not the centre of attention and it’s simply absurd.”
lando sighs, shaking his head. “i know. i’ve barely seen a camera pointed my way today and it’s our grand prix race. something is not right.”
she shrugs with a small grin. “someone kinda famous, i guess.”
“it’s not jacob elordi again, is it?” carlos pokes his head between lando’s and hers, furrowing his eyebrows. he turns to her, met with an unamused stare and head tilt. he shrugs. “just curious. who knows if you’re seeing him again?”
she looks around their huddle, suddenly greeted by curious stares and raised eyebrows. she throws her arms in the air and shakes her head. “i’m not seeing jacob again! i haven’t seen him since the miami race last year! please let it go!”
alex narrows his eyes down with a small smirk. “you sound like you know something about andretti’s special guest.”
“you liar!” liam screams.
“i don’t!” she turns to liam with her arms in the air. she turns to alex and scowls. “why are you stirring drama? i don’t know anything about who andretti’s decided to give their stupid pass to this weekend, okay?”
alex hums, pressing his lips together. “that’s not what logan told me.”
“why would logan know anything about andretti’s guest this weekend? i’ve barely seen him.”
he shrugs, “i really thought that would break you.”
“nice try,” oscar sighs, shaking his head. “you really don’t know anything?”
she shakes her head. “i really don’t. now can we please talk about something else?”
“i’ll see you later after the race?” a soft, familiar, higher-pitched voice says. “don’t forget to watch me, okay? remember: i’m in the andretti car. don’t watch the red bulls or the ferraris, just me. you’re here for me.”
liam presses his ear against the door as if he could somehow make out who’s speaking to whom inside the room.
you can only imagine his shock when he hears a man’s voice from the other side of the door. “suddenly i’m an andretti supporter. i don’t even like ferrari.”
he hears her laugh, followed by footsteps approaching the door. “i’ll see you later, my. love you.”
the door clicks, prompting liam to hurl himself towards the stairs leading downstairs, stumbling and sliding down a couple of steps. liam pulls himself up with the railing, trying to ignore the way he can hear the confusion as the door closes.
“what are you doing?”
liam hops up to his feet, one of his foot sliding off at the edge of the steps. he coughs to cover it up and shakes his head. “i’m just super excited to be racing in vegas.”
she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “are you sure? is something wrong?”
he shakes his head. “nope. nothing.”
perhaps she will break the news to him after the race? he doesn’t think he’s ever heard her say that phrase to anyone, much less know anyone called ‘my’.
“you don’t have anything to ask me?” she bites down on her lip, trying to keep the laugh in.
truthfully, she had heard the door rattle a couple of times and assumed that liam was being nosey outside her driver’s room. she’s more surprised that her teammate is not probing her for a more defined answer other than a shrug.
“i guess,” liam shrugs dejectedly.
he just wants her to tell him instead of having to ask her outright.
“alright, mate,” she laughs, furrowing her eyebrows. “by the way, you’re coming for ice cream tonight, right? i’ve got someone i want you to meet.”
another podium finish. it’s absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she’s got a special guest in her garage watching, the car was just good.
she knows that because liam’s finished directly behind her. she would have given him the podium if sebastian hadn’t insisted that there’s jo driver swap necessary and that it would only be riskier to do so.
she climbs out of the car, eyes crinkled towards the team gathered behind the barriers for her. she tears all of her headgear off and immediately runs forward to where her team is gathered.
“amazing!” sebastian screams, arms wide open as she approaches them. “good job, kid!”
she screeches, hopping over to where they are with her fists in the air. “i know! i literally love vegas! year after year, all vegas gives me is bangers!”
she jumps into sebastian’s arms, cheering along with her team of mechanics with their arms wrapped around her as well. “yay! another podium for me! suck it, oscar!”
“oscar catching strays,” liam mutters, tapping her on the shoulder and holding his arms out to her. throwing his arms around her, he sighs exasperatedly while a smile. “i know you had someone in your room earlier.”
“i know. you rattled the door with all your moving,” she whispers back before pulling away. she drops her head slightly as a blush slowly creeps up her cheeks. “i’m seeing somebody.”
“i also know that,” liam grins, a hand still on the small of her back. “do i get to meet him?”
“obviously. do you know how difficult it’s been to keep him out of your sight all day?” she snorts, rolling her eyes. “i promise you’ll get to meet him.”
“if i didn’t know you were a good driver, i’d have thought you made it to the podium just to impress me.”
“it’s just luck, i guess.” she grins giddily leaning in as he holds both hands up, grabbing her cheeks. “thanks for coming to watch my race.”
“absolutely. thank you so much for inviting me over.”
she scrunches her nose, hands lifted slightly behind her as she leans in with puckered lips. she’s turning 22 in a couple of weeks and the fact that this is her first public relationship ever is still new to her.
truthfully, she wasn’t even planning on dating any time soon. she’s gone 5 years — almost her entire life — not finding herself with a boyfriend, what harm would it do if she went on longer without one?
but she coincidentally found herself laughing a little too hard at his jokes and now here she is, lip locked in her garage with some guy she swore annoyed her.
“ew!”
“fuck off!” she says immediately, pulling away and whirling around with red cheeks. her hair is dishevelled, stray hairs on her face and cheeks getting redder by the second. “what are you, 12?”
max raises his eyebrows with an amused smile stretching his lips. he tilts his head to the side and ignores the driver in front of him. “who’s this? i’m max,” he holds his arm out, “i can fight.”
“max!” she shrieks, pushing max’s arm away before it can be grabbed cordially. “what is wrong with you? that’s not how you introduce yourself!”
but as she’s preoccupied with max, to her horror, she’s turned back around and the other 3 have already surrounded the poor boy with furrowed eyebrows and questions spilling on their lips.
who are you, where do you live, what’s your intentions with rocky, how long have you known her? and this is exactly why she hesitated even bringing him to the race to watch her.
“hey, what are you doing? stop doing that!” she cries, running back around to try and shoo off alex, george and lando who have well invaded her boyfriend’s personal space. before she can take 3 steps away, max grabs her shoulder and yanks her back toward him to hold her in place. “you guys are embarrassing me! you’re worse than my siblings!”
“oh, you’ve met her siblings!” alex cheers for a moment before wiping the smile from his face. “so? what are they gonna do to protect you? they’re so much younger.”
“hey! those are my sisters and brother you’re talking about!”
“ah, you get what i mean,” alex waves her off, snorting softly. he returns his attention to the boy with a small amused grin. “so? you plan on answering our questions, mate? we’ll be here all night if you don’t.”
the brunette grins. “i’m milo manheim, i’m an actor. i’m,” a blush creeps up his cheek as he bites back a smile and points over at the girl still in her race suit, “she’s my girlfriend.”
“girlfriend?” lando screams incredulously, throwing his head back in disbelief. he turns to the girl and points at milo. “you found yourself a boyfriend? did you use our advice?”
she stares at them, blinking with a toothy and fearful grin. “why… would i use your shit advice?”
“hey, what are you– oh, hey! you look–” oscar cuts himself off with a loud laugh before turning to his best friend, “oh, you little sneaky shit! no wonder you’ve been keeping your mouth shut the entire evening! it’s the guy you h–“
“guys!” she throws her arms in the air. “give me a break, please! at least let me sp–”
“how long have you guys been dating?”
“dating?” oscar asks loudly, blinking rapidly. all this is new to him. she’s always been pretty secretive and private about her dating life, so it’s not a shock that everything is only unveiling now for her.
“have you made her cry yet? every tear is one punch i get to throw without you running off to the media crying about it, kid,” max says firmly, shoving her aside so that he could take a step forward towards milo.
“max! he has not–”
the younger boy grins and puffs his chest proudly. “of course not! we’ve been going out for a couple of months, around 5 or 6?”
“wow!” george cheers, turning to her in amusement. “that’s long! you kept a secret that long?”
she shrugs. “lily knew.”
“lily knew?” oscar screams, arm darting out to punch her shoulder. “why didn’t you tell me?”
“because then you’d tell logan and lando, and then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore,” she explains, throwing her arms in the air with a knowing stare. “i don’t see the problem, really. mick knew too.”
“mick found out before me?” george shouts. “unfair!”
she shrugs again. “he saw us at the hotel lobby last night.”
“why are there so many people in my garage?” sebastian walks in, tapping his phone against his palm. “hi, milo.” he looks at the crowd of excess drivers in his garage and lifts his hands in the air to continue his interrogation. “anyone plan on answering me?”
“we’re having a meeting,” lando answers, not even sparing the older man a glance. he keeps his stare on milo. “so how did you meet?”
“we met at the eras tour in the private tent!” oscar cuts in with an amused stare. he blinks. “i gotta find logan and tell him.”
“tell me what?”
she throws her arms in the air. “did you guys agree to come to my garage after my podium just to piss me off or something?” she shouts, hands balled into fists and she stomps a foot into the ground. “what is everyone doing here? why are we having a gathering?”
“i was gonna congratulate you on the podium,” logan mutters. he trails off as he meets the familiar pair of brown eyes, the only person in their makeshift circle not in a race suit, and tilts his head. “what are you doing here? don’t i know you from somewhere?”
a silence falls in the garage, the chatter from outside the only thing that anyone can hear. max and alex share a look, then glances over at george who lifts his eyebrows with a shrug.
milo blinks. “i’m–“
“rocky’s boyfriend!” lando cheers, holding milo’s shoulder and pointing excitedly at the young boy next to him. “you didn’t know?”
“nobody knew,” she grins, explaining through gritted teeth. “except seb. cause he’s the one that let this happen.”
“rat!” max screams, whirling around to sebastian. “you said you knew nothing about who andretti’s guest is!”
“i was sworn to secrecy if not i might wake up bald tomorrow!” sebastian suddenly screams in defensive. “i don’t wanna be bald! don’t you think i haven’t thought of telling anyone?”
logan grins, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “i didn’t know you guys were talking.”
logan scratches his elbow as he turns to oscar, tilting his head and pointing between her and milo as if to ask if he’d known about it. in return, oscar shrugs.
“wait,” max shakes his head. “this is actually a thing? you guys are actually boyfriend and girlfriend? like it’s official?”
her and milo share a look. she turns to max and nods. “yeah?”
“you hesitated,” george points out. “why did you hesitate?”
heads turn to one of the men in papaya, a giggle bubbling from his stomach as he points between them. “i see what’s going on — you haven’t talked about it, have you?”
“what?” she sputters, rolling her eyes. “that is absolutely none of your business.”
oscar giggles. “but we’re right, aren’t we?”
george throws his hands in the air. “guys, leave them alone. this is seriously none of our business.”
“but i wanna know!” max whines, stomping towards milo. “how did you guys meet?”
“eras tour,” milo grins widely. “then she went home and stalked me — liked my picture from like 2021.”
“no, i didn’t!” she shrieks, hands coming up to shield her flushed cheeks away from everyone in the room. she runs over to milo and starts to push him towards the doors that lead to the paddocks. “don’t tell people i did that!”
“oh, that’s so embarrassing!” oscar tugs at his hair then hunches over as he no longer can contain his laughter. “rocky, no!”
she scratches her head and darts back towards oscar. “oscar!”
“she didn’t like me very much at first,” milo points out, grinning at her.
“oh, we know,” logan grins, folding his arms over his chest. he glances at the girl cowered next to sebastian, forehead resting on her race engineer’s arm with her hands still cupped over her cheeks then looks at everybody else. “she told us how annoying you were for like 20 minutes after the concert.”
she sighs and just drops herself into squat. “yeah, whatever.”
“mate!” liam grins, pushing the door open of their hospitality home. “i’m liam! it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
he says that as if he hadn’t just found out of his existence literally 2 hours ago.
“aw, absolutely, man,” milo grins, taking the hand that offered to him. “she talks about you all the time.”
“yeah, how fucking irritating he is,” she scoffs, throwing her head back. she steps forward and breaks their hands apart from one another, quickly wrapping her hand around milo’s arm. “let’s go for drinks!”
“really? drinking in vegas?” liam snorts, raising his eyebrow at her. “shouldn’t you have learned your lesson by now?”
“what lesson?” mick hums, appearing behind them. “drinks, right? celebrate rocky’s podium or something?”
“your lesson? what did you do in vegas that’s naughty?” milo teases, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at her. “you did something stupid, didn’t you?”
she blinks. “yeah, i almost got married in vegas this time last year.”
“married?” milo repeats with a laugh. “to whom? and what do you mean almost? it didn’t happen?”
mick sighs. “we were bested by sebastian — a lesson about drinking too much or something like that. we still engage in black out drinking though.”
the girl cheers with a soft laugh, holding a hand up and immediately receives a high-5 from the older driver.
milo laughs, wrapping an arm around her. “that’s actually kinda funny.” he looks at mick, already well acquainted from their impromptu supper in their hotel room the night before. “she is my girlfriend now though, so…”
liam scowls, looking between the 3 of them. “you guys just made it super weird.”
— bonus
“you seriously didn’t know?” oscar blinks, starting to walk away from the williams racing home alongside his friend and girlfriend, towards the exit of the paddocks to meet their friends. “you guys have been acting so weird lately.”
logan shrugs. “i bet ylona knew. they’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
lily grins, peeking from oscar’s side to look at logan. “she does. rocky told us she was seeing somebody after they first kissed that one time in new york 2 months ago.”
“2 months ago,” logan puffs his cheeks out and shakes his head, “wow. good for her, honestly.”
“yeah,” oscar hums, “you’d think that she’d actually end up that crazy cat lady if she never finds a decent man.”
lily laughs, squeezing oscar’s arm. “we’ve hung out with him a cou–“
“you what?” oscar scowls, taking a step away from her. “what’s with all the secrecy? are you even my girlfriend anymore?”
“you say ‘we’,” logan huffs. “you’re telling me you guys reeled ylona in without either of us knowing?” lily nods. “assholes!”
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool
#f1 female driver#fem!driver#f1 fem!driver#female driver#disneyprincemuke vr#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#vettel reincarnate
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- I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE —
chap 3 , come visit me in jail — | — ...back — | — next...
summary: the morning after you and chris bond, he just seems to fall deeper in love with you and your amazing personality. he falls so deep that when he sees a negative comment on your recent instagram post, he feels he has no choice but to do something about it.
pairing: stalker!chris × singer!reader
warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, weapons, murder, blood, obsessive behavior, breaking & entering, crying, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, etc. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS.
author's note: here's where it starts to get intense.....👀
author's note 2: series title mention in this one has me floating🗣🗣
word count: 6.6k
"bet i could change your life."
y/nwhosthat
liked by nicolassturniolo, oliviarodrigo and others
y/nwhosthat you're never gonna believe it
view all 678 comments
mysteriousman no tag in the first photo i see....
-> y/nwhosthat didn't even know there were tags on this app??
-> y/nsonlylove says the girl who uses them in every single one of her posts🙁 u got them searching for answers now
hearts4chrissy i know my man's hands when i see them chris honey come home💔
latinosfory/n they are reaching omg😭
matthew.sturniolo all these rumors and im still focused on the frank ocean lyrics🤷♂️
-> y/nwhosthat everyone should be focused on his inspiring lyrics
-> wishingherwell MATT???
theyenvy.michael ugly ass girl tf get off this app👎
chris feels a sudden anger wash over him as he reads the most recent comment on y/n's post, and his hand wraps even tighter around his phone before he clicks on the guy's profile.
he's 20, and he's also in boston. chris scrolls down, cringing at his weird objectifying comment in his bio, "ho's are only useful in the kitchen, i stand by my statement🤷♂️"
fucking douchebag, chris thinks as he scrolls down on his page. he clicks on michael's recent post and is met with a mirror picture of the boy in his messy bedroom. there's posters of half-naked girls and polaroids of him and his friends on the white walls behind him.
he scrolls left, and there's a video. chris doesn't even need to watch it because when he sees the first frame, he already knows he might lose it. the first frame shows off michaels blurry foot only inches away from a small puppy on the side of the road. the brunette feels sick already. how many red flags did this guy have?
another scroll and chris finds himself looking at a blurred picture of michael and his friend hugging. only one normal photo in this entire dump. chris doesn't even want to scroll down further on his page.
as he turns off his phone and throws it to the side, his free hand clenches into a fist. chris has never felt this angry before, and just the thought of michaels comment makes him even angrier.
before getting up, he grabs his phone. he runs up the stairs, heading straight for nicks room as he barges in. he stands at the doorway and watches as his brother jumps in shock.
his hair is still messy, not having time to do it before chris came in, "chris, what the fuck!"
"oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack. fuck you," the older boy grumbles before walking over to his bed and sitting at the edge, "what'd you need?"
nick's tone is softer now, and he pats the side of his bed in a motion for chris to come over and sit. chris does just that, taking a few deep breaths before he throws himself back against his brothers bed.
"i don't know. i wanted to ask if you've ever felt so angry that you just wanna destroy everything around you." chris sighs, propping himself up on his elbows to look at the dark-haired boy beside him.
he just laughs softly, nodding, "yeah, almost always. why, what's going on?" there's a subtle look of concern on his face, and chris frowns.
chris shrugs, eyes trailing off to look at the wall across from him, "i was... reading comments, and i saw one that infuriated me like nothing did before. and, nick, i know you've told me not to let 'em get to me, but..." he takes his lower lip between his teeth, "this time it was on a loved-ones post, and i can't control it anymore."
nick frowns, his concern rising as his eyes meet his brothers, "okay. just talk to me, i don't want you doing anything... bad this time. remember what matt and i have told you to do when you feel that way. take deep breaths, yeah?"
chris' eyes widen at his brother's first words, his chest feeling tighter as he suddenly finds it harder to breathe. his mind wanders back to that night.
"hey!" a man's voice is heard from behind chris and his brothers, and the younger boy is the first to turn. he recognizes that voice, and it only ticks him off further.
chris waves his hand, a small gesture that even makes him cringe. why was he wasting his energy on this dick? the guy doesn't wave back, only scoffing as he stomps in chris' direction.
"what's up?" there's a faux look of happiness on the brunettes face as he steps forward, now right in front of the much taller guy, "c'mon, talk that shit you were spitting all over madi's posts, you weren't scared when you posted it."
the brown-eyed man laughs, tilting his head as he squints his eyes at chris, "i'm not scared now, either. the fuck? i said she was a dumb bitch who can't even—"
chris doesn't even let him finish, his head filling with so many thoughts he couldn't even comprehend. his entire body felt hot, like he was on fire. the one thought that was screaming out to him finally pushed it's way in front, kill him.
he lands the first hit on the guys cheek, and it's not soft. he doesn't stop either, his free hand coming up to punch the man in the stomach. his motions are quick, and he doesn't give the man time to think before punching him right in the nose.
the blond stumbles back, coughing as his nose leaks red down to his lip. his head turns back up, looking right as chris before he stomps up to him and swings right at his face.
nick gasps as he watches chris fall to the ground, his lip and nose already bleeding red. matt comes up to the guy, standing between his brother and the infuriated man in front of him, "hey, hey, let's calm down, yeah? this was a misunderstanding."
"misunderstanding? no, i don't think it is. i know what i said, and i'm not gonna take it back. who even are you, you look like a fuckin' mamas boy."
matt inhales sharply, looking back up at the man before he begins to speak again, "listen, we don't want this to get any more violent than it's already become. let's just talk about it?"
the taller man laughs, wiping his bloodied nose with the back of his hand as he looks down at matt, "nah, you're little boyfriend over there can speak for himself. wait, he can't, can he? pussy ass bitch."
chris groans as he stands to his feet, nick hurrying to grab him before he does anything worse and possibly get sent to the hospital.
matt only sighs, his skin starting to crawl slightly at the man's words, "we're not doing this, sir. my brother didn't mean anything, and we're sorry, okay? let's just leave it at that."
he feels himself get pushed back, and only then does he look up at the brown-eyed boy.
"matt, let's go." nick calls from behind him, eyes moving to the beaten-up guy in front of his two brothers, "we're leaving, it's over now!" he yells to the guy, dragging chris by his shoulders in the opposite direction.
chris struggles against his older brothers grip, and when he digs his nails into nicks skin, he finally lets go. matt is pushed out of the way as chris lunges toward the man.
his hands go for his neck, squeezing tightly as they both stumble to the ground. chris' fall is shielded by the body under him, but the older man's fall isn't. chris doesn't hear the crack as they fall to the floor, his head pounding so loudly he can barely even hear his brothers screaming at him to stop.
but he doesn't, tears brimming in his eyes as he remembers the look on his best friends face as she showed him. chris never wanted madi to feel that way ever again, and he was gonna make sure she never did.
"chris, get the fuck off of him!" matt almost screams, his voice low as to not alert anybody around the area.
nick stands there in shock, the empty parking lot now feeling much bigger than it was. he felt like if he ran he would never be able to escape.
chris sobs as matt drags his weak body off the unconscious guy, holding his brother in his arms as they fall to the floor softly. matts grip is tight on his younger brothers waist as he holds him close, his eyes wide in fear as he watches blood pool around the blonds head.
"fuck. i'm sorry, matt," chris doesn't know what else to say, he doesn't even know why he's apologizing to his brother, "'m sorry, i—i didn't mean to.."
matt drowns out the sound of nick gagging behind him as he tries to reassure the brunette in his arms, shushing his softly as he looks around for any passerby who maybe saw what happened.
nick is hunched over, his back facing both of his brothers as he throws up. this wasn't the type of night he was expecting, and it sure as hell was the one he's experienced, "oh my god, chris."
"did you fucking kill him..?" nick gags again at the thought, not even being able to turn around to look at the body.
"chris." the brunette jumps at the sudden voice, his eyes snapping towards his brother as he finally comes back to reality, "were you listening? i said that—"
"yeah, yeah. i was... listening." chris smiles sweetly before jumping off the bed and going to leave, "thanks, nick. seriously."
the taller boy smiles, and chris gives him an awkward wave before closing the door and making his way down the stairs.
his fingers run across the handrail as he descends down the stairs, the smooth texture soothing him in the slightest but then being taken away as he turns the corner to the kitchen.
eating would get his mind off things. plus, he hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday, going straight to bed after he got home from y/ns house. he felt like he had the world in his hands and he didn't want anybody to ruin that, so he just slept.
sleeping always made him feel better, more energized, and somehow even happier. but when he woke up and had to face the real world, he just felt weaker, smaller. he felt like all eyes were on him and everybody around him was judging him.
as chris reaches for a cabinet, his phone buzzes in his back pocket. great, just what he needed. grabbing it, he unlocks it with his face and then swipes down for his notifications. his face lights up, and his lips curve into a smile as he sees y/ns username at the top.
he quickly taps on the text, holding the device with both hands as he leans against the corner of the counter, now too focused on his phone to even remember what he came in here to do.
chris' demeanor changes quickly at the new information that michael is y/ns ex-boyfriend. he hasn't let her go, and that was gonna be a huge obstacle in his plan.
he'd need to get rid of him, and he'd need to do it quickly. they always sooner than later, right? it's better to get the job done first than to set it aside and maybe even forget about the task.
chris also wasn't interested in seeing michaels comments on y/ns posts any longer. sure, this was the first time he's seen them, but the boy definitely wasn't gonna stop and chris never wanted to see that fucking profile picture again.
so, that's how he found himself running down the second flight of stairs and down the hallway to his room. he knew what he needed, he thought about this entire thing before he'd even met michael. he was planning on using this for jamie, but then he wouldn't be able to hear your beautiful voice for way longer.
michael was the perfect victim as well. he wasn't well known, and he sure as hell wasn't a likable person, so who would miss him or even notice his sudden disappearance? fuck, even chris wouldn't and he was gonna be the one doing the job.
the door to his room swung open, and chris immediately headed for his walk-in closet, shutting the door as to make sure no one would see him. he couldn't have his brothers knowing, they'd probably put him in a mental institution this time.
chris turned around, back facing the door as he moved his shirts, spreading them apart to reveal the small shelf behind the clothing articles. there was another black box, but this time it was wooden and a little bigger than the one he kept for y/n.
he wasn't careful when opening the box, throwing the lid behind him and hearing the small thud as it landed on the carpet. he reached into the box, pulling out a safety pin to unlock the doors. the last thing he pulled out was a lengthy knife, the handle fitting perfectly in his grip.
chris didn't know anything about actual murderers, but he definitely got a good knife to do the job. maybe he wouldn't even have to use it, he didn't really want to, either. he wanted his hands around that boys neck while he begged for chris to take mercy on him.
he wanted to see tears brimming in his eyes as the life was being squeezed out of him, slowly. chris knew that he wanted michael to have a slow death, a painful one, and suffocating was definitely up on his list.
before rearranging his closet again, chris placed the lid back on and grabbed his items. he took his backpack as well, storing the 2 small items in there along with some binders to cover them up. he was sure someone would recognize him out here, and he wasn't gonna risk anything.
he slipped on a dark grey hoodie along with a black jacket, finishing off the outfit with some black jeans and a pair of black air forces. it was a sketchy outfit, but who cared? chris was breaking into someone's house. he didn't need to be stylish right now.
all that was on his mind was michael and the many options of how he could do this. chris paced back and forth in the empty space of his room, rubbing his temples in an effort to soothe the growing headache that he was facing. his mind was screaming with every possible thought imaginable, some of them telling him to back out and others telling him to man up and stop being a pussy.
chris would hold off a little longer, though. it was still bright out and he wasn't gonna do this in the daylight, he wasn't that uneducated in things like this. he'd watched some serial killer documentaries, so he'd say he knew... stuff.
it was 2:55 when he stopped thinking about the entire thing, his head going elsewhere as hunger overcame him. now he remembered what he was in the kitchen for earlier, a snack.
as chris walks up the stairs, he sees matt leaning against the kitchen counter on his phone. there's a smirk on his face as he chuckles softly at whatever he was watching.
the microwave is on, the buzz being the only sound other than matts quiet breathing and chris' footsteps entering the kitchen. he's still dressed in his black outfit, and matt puts his phone to the side just to look his brother up and down.
"are you on your way to a funeral or..?" matt questioned with a smile on his face, cocking an eyebrow at chris as he finally stepped foot into the kitchen. the first thing he did was grab a pepsi, setting it on the dining table before leaning down to open the freezer.
"no, just decided to wear whatever i first saw. i'm going out with sam tonight, so i probably won't be back until late." chris hums as he pulls out a mini pizza before walking over to where matt is standing.
matt moves over slightly, looking up to check the timer on the microwave only to see it's been just a few seconds. he groans as his head turns back to chris, watching as he takes the frozen pizza out of the box and sets it on a metal pan.
he preheats the oven and then lets the pizza sit on the stove as he goes over to sit at the table. matt joins him soon after, deciding to chat with his brother to pass the time.
"where are you goin'?" the older brunette asks, picking at the hang nails that stood out on his fingers. he winced as he pulled one off, shaking his hand by his side in an effort to stop the pain.
chris looks over at his brother, emotion unreadable as he stares at his brother with nothing behind his eyes, "oh. we're gonna.. meet up with this guy. he says he's got somethin' to show us."
matt nods, confusion washing over him as he sees chris' dilated pupils. it couldn't be the lighting, they just replaced the bulbs and it wasn't even dark yet. what was he thinking about?
"cool...? just be safe, i don't want anything bad happening to you." matt huffs, patting his brothers shoulder before getting up to check on his food.
chris turns in his seat, watching as matt stops the microwave and takes out his bowl of ramen, "i'm always safe, don't worry about me, matt. we're the same age, and you treat me like a baby."
matt raises both of his eyebrows in an exasperated manner, grabbing a fork out of a cabinet as he blows on the steaming bowl, "yeah, i wonder why."
chris laughs, "fuck off, matt." his brother chuckles as he walks past chris and back up the stairs to his room, leaving chris alone with his thoughts. again.
the brunette made a quiet beat on the table, tapping it and nodding his head as he recreated the beat to one of his favorite songs. once the oven beeped, chris got up and placed the metal tray into the oven and set a timer.
chris went to sit back down, stopping when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket again. this time, it wasn't a text from y/n, but a dm from her ex. michael.
theyenvy.michael — the fuck is you trying to steal my girl for?
you — im not? y/n is just my friend, kid. also aren't u her ex? ong ur trying too hard
theyenvy.michael — nah, she's my bitch fr. stay tf away from her, aight?
you — right. bcuz she's totally okay with u calling her a bitch. get tf off my dick....
you — she fr dodged a bullet when breaking up w you. ur profile is not it.
theyenvy.michael — ur not bouta dodge my bullet👎 watch out bro
chris scoffed, cracking open the lid of his pepsi as he took a sip. who did this kid think he was? chris wasn't scared of him. if anything, michael should be afraid. he should be terrified of what's about to happen tonight.
but he's not gonna be because he's not gonna know. chris loved taking people by surprise, jumping out at the perfect moment, and having a good laugh about it. only tonight, chris would be the only one laughing. chris would be the only one still alive to laugh.
the brunette glanced at the time again, 3:20. he didn't want to wait but he had to, nobody could see him. if anybody did, he would be the main suspect in the murder. chris couldn't even have a single thing that would point at him. chris couldn't even have y/—
"chris!" nick's voice breaks chris out of his trance, his head snapping towards the staircase that nick basically flies down, "oh my gosh, you're never gonna believe me!"
the brunettes eyes widen in terror, his mind racing with endless ideas as he looks to his brother for answers, the same expression on his face, "what? nick, what happened?!"
nick squealed, gripping onto chris' shoulders as he shook him violently, "there's a track on y/ns new album featuring melanie!"
chris' face drops, and he almost shoves his brother to the floor as he stands to his feet, "you are by far the worst person to announce news ever." he scowls, turning around to check on his mini pizza.
"come on, it's huge news! i seriously didn't know that y/n and melanie knew each other and oh my gosh! the song title just makes me even more excited—" nick trails off as he stares at chris, who is taking the metal tray out of the oven and placing it on the stove.
"and you're not listening." nick frowns, and chris parts his lips to speak.
"oh, no, i am. i just don't find this topic interesting, seeing as you're the only person in this house who cares about melanie martinez." chris shrugs, and nick raises an eyebrow at the boy as he leans against the dining table.
"what's up your your ass? you were just all happy-go-lucky, and now you're acting like a dick. did someone say something or...?" nick asks, head tilting in confusion as he watches chris transfer his pizza to a paper plate.
the younger brunette sighs, letting his shoulders relax as he shuts his eyes softly, "sorry. i'm just stressed, there's a bunch of things on my mind right now."
"like what?" nick pushes quietly, taking chris' previous seat the table.
chris stays silent, eyes opening again as he holds his breath. once his face begins to turn red, he speaks, "uh, work. social media, stuff like that."
nick sighs, nodding, "we can always take a break, you know?"
a break, seriously? chris thinks to himself. how could chris ever catch a break and let himself relax while all this was happening around him? he had to keep y/n safe, he had to get rid of anything and anyone who bothered her, and he had to film videos with his brothers. he just couldn't find time to let himself rest.
"i can't." he finally mutters, staring down at the marble counter as his fingers tap against it. he hears nick get up behind him.
then, he feels a hand on his shoulder, "you can, chris. just take things slow, focus on yourself for a little while. i promise you'll feel better." his voice is soft, calming, reassuring.
but chris doesn't know if he can trust that little change of tone. it wasn't that easy to just let everything go, not for him at least.
he couldn't even let a simple comment go past him. chris just always needed to do something about it and he hated it. he hated that he was like this. why was he like this?
chris didn't even know he crying until nick started to pat his back, muttering, "it's okay, i got you. let it out."
what was happening to him?
christophersturniolo
liked by ysbtril, matthew.sturniolo and others
christophersturniolo impulse
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matthew.sturniolo kids off his meds
-> christophersturniolo kid is alive
y/nwhosthat u said u were going to sleep, ur really breaking my heart christopher💔
*liked by creator*
-> trevssturn these secret relationship rumors are starting to become a lil believable...
-> matthewslovee babe the rumors are based off one post😭 let's settle down
nicolassturniolo oh brother what's he on about now
-> christophersturniolo shhh im plotting👀
xx4mygf notice how the only comment he hasn't replied to is y/ns
theyenvy.michael im ong coming for you lil boy
-> christophersturniolo stop meat riding bru
8:45, chris stood on the sidewalk across from michaels house. he turned his head down, looking at the picture he had screenshotted of a car, michaels car in his driveway.
he found it when scrolling deeper, almost throwing up at all the horrific things he found on the page. he was surprised nobody had reported him yet, he was sick. michael had also been stupid enough to take a picture of himself right in front of the 4 numbers on his house.
as for the street, well chris didn't need to search much for that either. again, michael led him right to it, posting a video of himself walking down the sidewalk with his friends as they laughed about something stupid.
chris was waiting here for a few minutes, pacing up and down the sidewalk so as not to seem suspicious and get caught by michaels neighbors. he didn't want to get asked any questions today, especially not when he was right in front of his first victims house.
as he started to get impatient, chris looked around before running across the street and quickly jumping the fence. he landed on his feet perfectly and quietly snuck to the back door of the house, looking around the house through the sliding glass door.
sliding his backpack off his shoulders, he kneeled in front of the lock, grabbing the safety pin before sticking it into the key-hole and twisting it around. he took his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration as he continued to try and pick at the lock, smiling when he heard the click.
as he stood up, throwing the safety pin somewhere behind him in the grass and throwing his backpack on his shoulders again, he slid the door open carefully. he listened to the soft sounds of the neighborhood, trying to pick up any sound of talking or footsteps coming closer.
when he didn't, he threw the door open and stepped in before shutting the door again. his fingertips slid across the dusty frame of the door carelessly before he shut it again and traveled deeper into the house.
his eyes landed on the freezer first before roaming all around the kitchen. it was trashed, like nobody had lived here in ages and rats had taken over, but there were none, only open chip bags and splatters of unknown sauce. crumbs adorned the floor, crunching under chris' feet as he took steps toward the fridge.
what's the harm in getting a little snack? he was hungry due to walking here all the way from his house, and michael wouldn't mind. he would he gone, so who would care?
chris grabbed an orange popsicle from the freezer before closing it and making his way to the living room. he took a seat at the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he licked at the frozen treat.
when the brunette had finished it, he threw the damp stick into the garbage by the entertainment center before walking to the window at the front of the house. he kneeled in front of his, elbows resting on the windowsill as he waited for michael.
as he waited, his backpack suddenly felt heavier on his shoulders, the feeling of guilt and regret starting to wear on him. was he seriously gonna do this? it wasn't like he didn't want to. it was just that... he didn't even know, honestly.
he knew he was doing it for him and y/ns relationship, so they could live happily with no distractions or obstacles. but, then again, they would still have to face arguments, the publics opinion, and the many rumors that would start to spread. that's why, when chris finally gets you, you'll both flee the city and live somewhere together. alone where nobody could find you guys.
sure, chris would have to explain why, but it didn't matter. if you really loved him, you wouldn't care the things he's done to get there. or maybe you will. maybe you'll hate him and turn him into the cops. if that's the case, then chris might just have to get rid of—
"hey!" chris jumped at the muffled sound of a mans voice, and he turned his head to look in the direction of it, "come on, oscar."
it was michael, tugging roughly on the leash of his dog so as to get him to follow michael. the dog did follow him, his head hung low as his paws patted the concrete below them with quiet thuds.
chris just wanted to rush him right now, but he couldn't. he had to wait until he was inside, catch him off guard in the safety of his own home where he thought everything was normal. he would take care of the dog later in a... better way than what he'd do with his owner.
he jumped back as he heard the brown-eyed boys' footsteps, leaving the windowsill as he made his way further into the house. he hid in a closet down the hallway, shutting the door with a quiet thud as he stayed as still as he possibly could.
the door opened, and chris heard the click of the leash being undone, followed by the footsteps of both michael and oscar. chris watched through the blinds of the closet as michael put his dog into the metal kennel before shrugging his own backpack off and placing it on top of the kennel.
he walked down the hallway, and chris swore he felt michaels eyes staring right into his. he shuddered at the feeling, tensing up when michael neared and round the corner to his room.
chris heard a door open, and then rummaging. the brunette quickly jumped out of the closet and turned the corner, walking into michaels room and seeing his back turned as he faced his own closet. chris' eyes flickered between his bathroom and michael before he stepped closer.
when michael began to turn, chris threw his backpack off and grabbed the black-haired boy by the hood of his jacket, tugging him backward and hearing him gag.
"what the f—" chris quickly shut him up by throwing him against his wall harshly, hearing michael gasp as the wind was knocked out of him.
his eyes widened as chris stomped toward him, his hands going straight for the neck as he began to squeeze. the brunette felt another cold pair of hands on his as he stared michael in the eyes, his brown ones wide and filled with terror as he recognized chris.
chris' just stared, a smile creeping onto his face as he pressed michael harder against the wall. the shorter boy strained against him, choked noises falling from his lips with the little air he had.
"help—" a strangled cry left him, eyes brimming with tears as his vision became blurry. chris noticed, and he almost felt guilty. almost, "plea—sorry! i.."
this wasn't enough for chris. sure, michael would die in his hands, slowly and painfully, but chris wanted him to really feel it. when michaels eyes started to flutter shut, chris let go of him, letting the boy stumble to the ground.
the brown-eyed boy gasped for air, grasping his neck softly and rubbing the area where chris had squeezed. there was anger slowly creeping into him, the fear now long gone as his eyes darted around the messy room.
michael began to crawl, and chris let him. the brunette didn't let the boy go far, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him toward the hallway. michael kicked his feet, grunting but not even trying to yell. he was still confident he could win the fight, and chris gave him credit for that.
"let me go you fuckin' freak!" he struggled, and chris just ignored him as he continued to drag him down the hallway and to the bathroom, "bark, you useless piece of shit!" michael yelled at his dog, and oscar only looked at him sadly.
chris kicked the boy in the back, making him cry out before throwing him further into the small bathroom. the brunette shut the door, locking it before turning around to grab michael again.
he grabbed him by his hair again before throwing him against the wall just for the fun of it, smiling as he saw the hurt look on the shorter boys face. chris stepped further into the bathroom, leaning over the tub as he went to turn the water on. he reached his hand in, plugging the drain and watching as the water began to fill up.
michaels eyes widened in terror, his hopes going down as he watched chris turn back to him. more tears fell from his eyes as his body began to tremble. he felt pain everywhere, and he couldn't even move an inch without feeling a sharp sting. chris squatted in front of the boy, tilting his head as his hoodie fell off his head.
"where did that tough boy on the internet go, huh? or are you seriously just a poser." chris scoffed, taunting the boy with a sadistic smile on his face. when michael didn't answer, chris began to yell, "answer me!"
michael winced, sniffling as he listened to the water in the tub, "i don't have to answer to you, asshole. you're not gonna fuckin' do anything. you're scared."
chris raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly as he moved closer. he watched as michael flinched, and only then did a pang of guilt hit him. his smile dropped, and he just stared michael in the eyes. his gaze was dark, full of anger, guilt, sadness, and so many more emotions he couldn't even comprehend.
"i'm not scared, michael. you're shaking, look at you. you should be absolutely terrified of what's to come. nobody will notice you're gone because you're a fucking maniac that nobody loves. not even y/n still loves you, kid, you're trying too hard." chris masks his feelings with a smile, patting michaels cheek in a teasing manner before standing up to check on the tub again.
he turns the handle, stopping the water from flowing out before his turns back to the brown-eyed boy on the floor, "never said i was a nice guy, did i?" chris laughs at the scared expression on his face, walking over to him and watching as he tries to crawl away.
chris only grabs him by the hair again, dragging him harshly toward the tub as he hears michael scream and cry for mercy, begging chris to let him go. chris ignores him, resting his free hand on the edge of the tub as he drags michael toward him.
his knees are on the tiled floors, and chris gives him a soft wave before dunking his head into the cold water and watching as bubbles erupt from the boys nose and up to the surface. chris only watches with a blank expression, his stomach twisting as he feels the shorter boys hands trying to push him away but slipping and falling to his sides.
chris holds his ground, his grip on michaels hair tight as he pushes him deeper. his entire upper half is almost over the edge now, and chris doesn't realize until he feels water splash onto his cheek. his eyes move to michaels arms, flailing in the water and making a mess of the bathroom. his head turns to look at the bathroom door, taking deep breaths as he feels tears prick in his eyes.
he chokes on his spit, eyes closing as he tries to drown out the noises of splashing water and endless gurgling. chris' knuckles turn white as he grips tighter on both the tub and michaels black hair, finally starting to sniffle as tears begin to run down his face. he didn't know what he was doing, but there was no going back now. chris couldn't let michael go because if he did, the boy would only go to the cops and snitch on him. chris was past the point of no return, so he just let the whole thing happen.
the brunette begins to sob as the sounds of splashing die down, his grip on michaels hair finally loosening as he lets his entire body fall into the tub full of water. chris holds his face in his hands as he stays in a squat, his left hand soaking half of his face.
"shit, shit, shit. god, you're such an idiot, chris!" he scolds himself quietly, wiping his tears before he gets to his feet and takes even deeper breaths.
he's still not put together fully, but he pushes through it, looking back to michaels lifeless body before he leans over and grabs his hand. his fingers are still adorned with rings, and chris just takes the first one he sees and stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans. chris quickly unlocks the door before walking back to the bedroom, taking careful steps as he looks around for his backpack.
when he spots it, he throws it over his shoulder, slipping into the straps hurriedly before leaving the room and walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. he takes the leash off the top of oscars kennel before he unlocks the metal crate, letting the dog out.
"hey, buddy," chris coos, petting his head softly as he sniffles once again, "i'm gonna find a better home for you, i promise. i'm so sorry."
oscar only whines, and chris just latches the leash onto his collar before guiding him through the living room. he takes another long look around, a millions feelings eating him up inside all at once. he doesn't feel regret... he doesn't even know what he feels.
chris freezes when he finally hears it. sirens. sirens coming closer and closer to the house that he stood in, "fuck. fuck, fuck, what—"
the brunette looks around, turning back quickly before sprinting through the kitchen and darting towards the backdoor. chris throws the door open, not even caring about the loud banging sound as he runs out of the house, the leash tightly wrapped around his hand.
"come on, boy!" chris yells as quietly as he can, and oscar continues to gallop behind him. he continues to make his way through the backyard, trying not to focus on the sirens that grow increasingly louder. how hasn't he realized the silent alarm? he was too caught up in his plan to see the red alarm above the backdoor.
chris opens the metal gate, running down the back alleyway and deeper into the neighborhood, not stopping even when he crosses the road. he loosens his grip on the leash as he makes it far enough from the house, hunching over as he tries to catch his breath.
he turns to check on oscar, giving him a few gentle pets before he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. his hands find the small ring, and he pulls it out with a smile.
this ring would be on your finger someday, and chris wouldn't feel even a small amount of guilt for what he had done. he hoped you wouldn't resent him for it, either. that would just mess the entire thing up, and he didn't want to hurt you.
but for now, he'd just have to live with the memory.
"you could be my wife."
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not so bad
college!rafe cameron x reader au
— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.
warning(s): just swearing, jealousy, rafe being a bitch again
authors note: making this into a whole series so we get that progression !! let me know if u wanna be tagged for every chapter i make <3
one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine
you knock on the door and wait for an answer. you don’t really know where rafe hangs out on campus, if he even hangs out on campus. you already checked the library, which was a rafe no-show, and then you took every possible long route to get to his dorm just in case he would be walking around.
after his dorm, you don’t know what else you’re going to check if he’s not here.
the door opens, revealing an olive-skinned boy that must’ve been his roommate. you recognize him as a student you’ve seen around campus before. lorenzo, his name, was it?
he smiles as soon as he sees you, and he looks around to see if it’s only you there.
“yeah?”
“is rafe here?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers as you peek through the crack between lorenzo and the doorframe to see if rafe’s on his bed or anything.
“no he’s not, but he usually comes back around this time. you can come in and wait if you wanna,” he offers, and you nod, whispering a ‘thank you’ as you step past him. “is he in trouble?” he asks, going to shut the door. “are you a hookup? cause i think you should know . . . rafe doesn’t get particularly attached to one-nighters. sorry. if he said something mid-nut it’s just a guy thing. well just a him thing.”
you shake your head. “ew, god no i’m not a one night stand of his,” you tell him. “do girls actually come here to talk about it?”
lorenzo shrugs and nods. “usually. it always apparently ends in round two though!” he says like it’s a joke since he’s laughing. like actually laughing. but when he sees that you’re not doing the same, he falters awkwardly and claps his hands. “sorry i don’t mean to . . . i’m just gonna . . .”
you watch as he goes to his desk in silence, and it almost makes you laugh aloud. you only smile as you look down at your feet.
“i’m y/n by the way,” you inform him. “i live down the hall.”
“oh that’s cool. i’m lorenzo.”
you nod, pursing your lips as you look around.
“you’re a lacrosse player?” you ask after a bit of silence and just a lot of keyboard clicking. lorenzo continues typing from his computer and just hums in response. you admire the singular trophy on his shelf, as well as the crosse stick in the corner of the room. you must’ve either missed that before or lorenzo must’ve been at practice when you were tutoring rafe, cause that wasn’t there at all last time. “i like the trophy.”
“that was just for my senior year but my mom insisted i bring it, make a collection for all the ones i’ll win here too, if any,” he says, and you can hear the smile as he talks. it makes you smile too. “she’s my biggest fan.”
“your mom is sweet, and she’s a good thinker,” you say. “i hear the school’s lacrosse team has been doing really good this year. maybe that shelf is gonna be accompanied by another trophy sometime.”
“you’re into sports?”
“not necessarily,” you hesitate, finding yourself laughing with him. “i’m just . . . i do journalism here so i just keep up with everything. my friends cover the sports column. they talk a lot of good about you guys.”
lorenzo spins around in his chair to look at you. “i’ll give it a read sometime,” he tells you, and you smile and nod at him. “so what are you here to see rafe for?“ he asks, setting his hands on his thighs.
it’s like you wake up from reality and remember that you’re there for a reason. “oh right. i’m just here to talk about his grades,” you say, and lorenzo’s face slightly lights up as he lets out an ‘ohh’. “yeah he did really good on his exam the other day so i just wanted to tell him good job.”
“good friend you are,” he mumbles, standing up to check something on rafe’s desk. he grabs an edge of the calendar above the desk, reading it to himself and then flipping the page up and down just to see. “yeah he should only have his doctors appointment planned today but thats in like a few hours. he��s usually done with class by now.”
“i can just text him maybe,” you say, even though you know you don’t have his number. “i live down the hall but if it’s okay—”
“you can wait here, y/n,” lorenzo insists.
you smile and nod again, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ to him for letting you in his space while he’s clearly been in the middle of schoolwork.
lorenzo is reading through rafe’s calendar when he snorts. “‘tortilla chip day’ on the 24th apparently,” lorenzo reads off. “‘grilled cheese day’ in august. was he fucking hungry when writing these? he has these pre-written.”
you can’t help but laugh and take a peek at what else rafe’s put on his calendar.
the door opens, alerting both you and lorenzo. at first the person is surprised to find both a girl and his roommate, laughing together about something probably stupid. only it’s not just some girl. it’s you. and it’s not just a person. you see it’s rafe.
he recognizes you immediately from behind lorenzo. he can pick you from a crowd. he stands at the door with his hand on his backpack strap, staring at the two of you. “y/n,” he says, under his breath. “what’s so funny?”
“there you are,” you say, your arms crossed as you look at him. “i’ve been trying to find you for the past fucking hour.”
“i’ve been with my professor to talk about my grades, thanks,” he hisses as he walks inside to toss his bag on his bed, looking at you, “are you done hitting on my roommate now? you found me.”
you grimace at him, “what?”
“gee,” lorenzo mutter awkwardly as he hesitates to take his laptop with him and just go outside in the floors lounging area to give to you two some space. “it was nice meeting you, y/n,” he says, and you nod before he steps outside and closes the door behind him.
you look at rafe.
he shakes his head and waves his hand once, telling you not to worry about it. “whatever, just . . . get out?” he says, motioning over to the door. “i have to study for this friday’s exam too.”
you forget how much of a complete ass he is. god, it’s like he hasn’t changed since you were last in here. “‘kay,” you say dryly, and go to leave. “came here for nothing then. look, just remember who got you that ‘A’ and saved you from failing humanities in the first place.”
he pauses when he realizes you knew his score already. “what?” he says.
“that’s why i was trying to find you, asshole,” you tell him, opening his door and looking back. “i asked your professor what you got and he told me you almost would’ve gotten full points if you didn’t fuck up at the end. i was gonna congratulate you anyway.”
rafe stares at you in silence.
“and get a new tutor next time.”
he’s silent as he watches you go, and he blinks when the door is slammed behind you. he looks down at his backpack, then at his desk where he remembered he had to sit at for-fucking-ever to study and prepare for the exam with you.
“fuck,” he whispers, contemplating whether or not he should chase after you to apologize or just yell it down the hallway. but he knows you two aren’t close enough for him to show that kind of behavior, especially not after already embarrassing himself last week with the socks and water bottle donations.
but then again, you put everything aside, rivalry and all just to tell him good job because you know he’s been failing. this whole frenemies thing is the worst.
when you walk down the hall and reach your dorm, you can spot lorenzo seated at one of the chairs in the lounge. you consider going over to apologize that he had to see that, but a voice stops you in your tracks.
“y/n.” it’s rafe.
you quickly try to unlock your door and go inside, but he catches you before you can.
“stop,” he says.
“you stop. go study or something,” you tell him, struggling to unlock your door.
“you’re acting like a kid.”
you look up at him like he’s insane. “you can’t tell me i’m acting like a kid when you were just doing your big one a second ago,” you tell him, and you feel the lock become undone. “unfortunately that’s not how it works. excuse me.”
you let yourself into your dorm and close the door on him, leaving him standing there in silence. rafe looks over to the end of the hallway where the lounge is, spotting lorenzo who’s peeking around the side of the chair he’s on. rafe shakes his head.
it’s been another week since you last spoke with rafe, a few days since you’ve spoken to him. or since he tried speaking to you really. you were on your way back to your dorm again when he caught you, then tried to apologize. you ignored him until you went inside your room.
it all just feels pretty pointless to you. you and him have been going at each other for years. it doesn’t help that you guys get to see each other every day because you committed to the same university, or that your dorms are just doors away from the others. if anything it makes it all worse.
and just recently you helped each other for a day, making it feel like there’s been progression in this whole thing, but you were wrong. and instead of arguing, you just feel like it would be better if you guys don’t talk at all.
a straw is between your teeth as you carry your book under your armpit while trying to grab one of those cardboard things that hold your drink in case the cup itself is too hot and cold. you’re a journalism major but fuck, you have no idea what they’re called.
as you look up, you grab some napkins and head for the door. you’re in immediately alert mode when you can see rafe and his friends getting out of their car in the parking lot. here we go again.
you make your way over to your car that’s parked right outside the coffee shop to make it easier for you, and you unlock the door before getting in.
hearing the laughs from rafe and his friends don’t make you panic. you just set your coffee down in a cup holder after putting the straw in and taking a few sips of your drink, appreciating the flavor.
you lowkey stay in your car to watch what rafe and his friends are up to. they pass your car and reach the shop, letting themselves in before approaching the front counter. one friend is in the front to order, assuming for everyone, while the rest just surround him and check out the treats of the day.
you watch closely when rafe starts stretching. he’s mid conversation with one of them, just grinning as his friend talks his ear off about something apparently really funny. after the one ordering for them is done, he turns to the rest of the group and points to the tables behind them.
rafe looks around the shop for where to sit down, but his gaze land on all the cars out front while the boys decide on where to wait for their drinks. he finally looks at you. here it comes.
but for some reason . . . it doesn’t.
there’s not even a hint of emotion in his face when he sees you’re there. not even to question if you’d been watching him that whole time, or how long you’ve been sitting in your car. he just falls silent and follows his friends over to a table, sitting down and engaging in conversation like normal.
you feel a little upset when it’s the opposite treatment, but you know that’s unfair. you started this whole silent treatment a week ago and you’ve stuck by it. it’s only fair if rafe decides he’s going to do the same.
you put the car in reverse to leave the lot, but you can’t stop thinking about how rafe reacted when he saw you. or rather, how he didn’t react.
but whatever. you decide to push it aside. if you find out that rafe has a new tutor too then you won’t be surprised. if anything you’ll feel relieved because that means you won’t have to spend any more time with him. that the only reason why you’ll ever step foot back in that dorm will be because of lorenzo, not rafe. because that’s what you want. that’s what you want.
. . . right?
@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog
(okay wtf its not letting me tag someone else)
#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron blurb#rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#rafe x you#rafe smut#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#drew#drew starkey#drew starkey concept#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fanfic#drew starkey smut#drew starkey imagine
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Fun and cute idea for Narumi Gen little sister reader....
Little sister is on her period plus she's cranky, hangry, emotionally, etc.
Plus Soshiro(bf) and Gen were kinda worried so they have no choice but to work together to make the reader happy.
😂 just go crazy with this.
genre/warning: attempt at humor, reader in her period, cranky reader, everyone's dramatic here, just a teensy bit hint of suggestive, one mention of naruhoshi lol
a/n: ok i'm kind of impatient so here u go ,,simple and short! writing this while i'm also on my period -,-
mini series masterlist
to everyone, narumi gen is brash, occasionally childish and immature. but he's intuitive, efficient on the battlefield and has a strong sense of empathy and responsibility no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
one thing narumi is not, however, is incompetent. or at least, that's what he'd like to think.
"no."
the finality in your voice seems to grate even more at the final thread holding his sanity together.
"no??? what do you mean 'no'?!" narumi screeches, watching as you cross your arms with a haughty look on your face. "it means exactly what it is. no," you reiterate firmly.
"you asked me to order takeout for you and it's already on the way here, and now you're saying you don't want it anymore?" your brother scowls, daring you to repeat that word again. and you do, of course.
"uh-huh. don't wanna,"
he clenches his jaw, irritation bleeding out of his pores. "fine! what do you want then?"
"..."
his eye twitches at your silence. "oi."
"--iro..."
"you gotta speak louder, kid. can't hear you if you keep mumbling like that." your forehead creases, not liking his condescending tone. "i said i want soshiro," you state firmly.
narumi's eyes widen, flabbergasted. he waits for a few seconds, just in case you're messing with him, then you're gonna break the tension with a 'just kidding, bro! i actually want that takeout, how about we eat it together?' but there's none.
no kidding, no takeout, no eating together. nada.
narumi feels that last piece of thread snapping off.
"oh, you—" a loud, prolonged groan of frustration and defeat fills the room.
∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘
the first division's captain has never felt this exposed and bare, ever. his dignity has been stripped away; he's vulnerable and unguarded.
that's how downgrading it feels to ask hoshina soshiro for his help in order to tame the beastly monster scarier than a kaiju that is you on your period.
"you're being overdramatic," the vice-captain's voice crackles out from the phone narumi's holding to his ear.
the captain grits his teeth, almost to the point of chattering. "shut up! i didn't ask to be in this situation! if it were up to me, the thought of asking for you wouldn't even cross my mind!" he complains.
"put yourself in her shoes too, captain. no women ever asked to struggle so much during their periods in the first place," hoshina says, amused.
"tch, i know that! but that doesn't mean that devil spawn can go around tormenting me as she likes. i knew i should've thrown her into a ditch when i got the chance," narumi harshly mutters before re-entering his office where you're waiting.
"i heard that, dumbass!" you growl from your seat at your brother's desk. not wanting to back down, gen sneers back, "i meant that for you to hear, you spoiled brat!"
"guys," hoshina interrupts loudly enough from the other line, starting to feel agitated himself.
you immediately snatch the phone, ignoring gen's protests before putting the device to your ear and swiveling in the chair to face away from him. "you don't love me, is that it, soshiro?" you interrogate with a frown, shoulders drooping and voice trembling slightly.
your boyfriend lets out a nervous chuckle, "sweetheart, please. cut your brother some slack, yeah? he's tryin' his best, and i'm here now. anything ya need?"
your eyes then narrow suspiciously. "huh? stop talking about gen. why are you talking about him? you want him or something?" you bombard, suddenly feeling protective of your brother.
narumi jerks back, appalled at what he’s hearing. "the hell you on about?" you wave him off with a brush of your hand before focusing back on the call. "i asked you a question, soshiro."
hoshina sighs, "you know i do love you, darlin'. now how about you answer my question, hm?"
narumi just surveys on the side with his arms crossed, tapping his foot as he waits impatiently to get his phone back. funnily enough, his expression morphs from boredom, to annoyed, to disgusted as he notices your cheeks flushing as the conversation progresses.
it doesn't take a genius to guess that whatever hoshina's talking about, it's nothing decent.
right as he's about to interject, you're already pulling the device away to put it on speaker, letting narumi hear the well-known kansai dialect.
"alright, so ya good to eat that food he ordered now?" hoshina questions. "yeah, think so. whatever," you finally agree albeit sulkily, and narumi almost falls down to his hands and knees to thank the vice-captain, if not for his next words.
"that's a good girl," your boyfriend hums, sending you blushing down to the tips of your toes and narumi fuming with genuine horror (hoshina certainly did that on purpose).
"WHAT IN THE FUCKING HE—"
you abruptly end the call, fully satisfied with yourself.
well, at least that’s one of narumi's problems finally down.
taglist: @maruflix
©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !
#rye.works#its the nuh uh. fym nuh uh ref btw#can we all agree that getting ur period also means ure h*rny#bcs i get like that often ..#kn8#kn8 x reader#kn8 x you#kaiju no.8#kaiju no 8#kaiju no. 8#kaiju no. 8 x reader#kaiju no 8 x reader#narumi gen x reader#narumi gen x you#narumi x reader#narumi gen#narumi gen fluff#gen narumi x reader#gen narumi x you#narumi gen x y/n#hoshina soshiro fluff#hoshina soshiro#hoshina soshiro x reader#hoshina x reader#soshiro hoshina x reader#hoshina soushirou#soshiro hoshina x you#hoshina soushiro x reader
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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.
chapter six:
➴ warnings: none!!
➴ word count: 4.1k
➴ author’s note: thought it’d be great to give u guys jack’s pov please don’t kill me—or jack. also wanna say thank you to each one of you who take the time to read this series and give me your thoughts abt it. i cannot thank you enough. pls be patient with jacky, he’s just a boy :p nice reading yall!!!
sophiamontenegro
liked by billboard, trevorzegras, charlieputh and 1,972,022 others.
sophiamontenegro ‘rip to my feelings’ is out now 🪄 i want to start this by saying thank you to everyone who helped me make this dream of mine come true.
all of the songs here mean the world to me, and i truly hope they help to heal some of you, like they healed me.
please, don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve good things. you do, all of us do.
thank you grace, thank you john, thank you hannah, thank you to all of you. 🤍
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charlieputh 💙
morgan.grace I love you so much I might turn into a puddle. Soph, you’re one of the strongest, sweetest people I’ve ever met and I’m so grateful to call you my best friend. I watched you put so much effort and energy into this, and i am proud. Happy RTMF day 🪦
billboard I am crying, you’re crying, all of us are crying.
lovssoph i knew this was going to hurt but DAMN Girl what the hell
laurenahser it’s been hours and I’m still crying because of this goddamn music video. And i HATE charlie puth
jesy.iowu @laurenahser NO GIRL BC SAME?? it’s so SAD
sophsecret Harris Dickinson if i fucking catch you on the streets you’re DONE
paula.west off topic but do you guys think any of these songs were written for jack hughes…
chiquitalinda @paula.west honestly no,, soph said this album has been in the making for one year and apparently they just broke up last week?
_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph 👍
sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes thank u, quinny
ilovehockey @sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes CHAT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???
“HUGHES, the hell was wrong with you today?” Keefe’s voice sounded harsh and angry.
Even though there were two Hughes in the team, everyone knew who the coach was referring to.
“It’s just not a good day,” Jack mumbled, removing his uniform and not bothering to look up.
The locker room was dead silent, so everyone heard Keefe’s scoff. “Not a good day? More like not a good week,” he stepped closer, hands on his hips. “You’ve been off for the entire week and let me tell you something, son, we’re not making it to the Finals with you playing like you did tonight.”
Jack wanted to talk back so bad but deep down he knew Coach was right. He had been playing like shit, ever since that night at your house.
You. Just thinking about you made Jack feel like straight up shit. Something that never happened before.
He is handsome, he has thousands of fans. People paid to watch him play, people wore his jersey proudly. He could have any girl he wanted but still. Everything changed at that dinner, six months ago, when he saw you performing up close for the second time.
At that moment, he was mesmerized by you. Back then, he thought he was just horny and in the need of a good fuck but looking back now he knows that it wasn’t just that. It was something bigger than himself, yet something he couldn’t name.
“I get it, Coach,” Jack muttered, putting on his suit.
“I hope you do, kid, otherwise, you can just say goodbye to your NHL career and the Stanley Cup.” Coach barked before getting out of the locker room.
Ignoring the stares he was getting, Jack moved on autopilot, like he’d been doing the entire week, shoving his things inside his duffel bag and frowning.
“Cap, wanna go out and grab some drinks? I wanna get wasted!” Someone, Jack didn’t care to know who, shouted, talking to Nico.
“‘Can’t today, man,” Nico answered, duffel bag already on his shoulder. “I’m going to a concert tonight.”
That caught Jack’s attention, pulling him back from his thoughts.
“Concert?” He asked, looking at how everyone went quiet and stared at Nico. “Whose concert?”
“Well, you see…” Nico stuttered and somehow, even if he hadn’t said anything, Jack knew exactly whose concert it was. “Just. A singer?”
“Yeah, no shit is a singer, Hischier, I thought we went to concerts to watch electricians doing their shit,” Jack bited back, the frown just bigger now. “Whose concert, Cap?” He said the word like he was mocking Nico and even though he wanted to take that back, he didn’t. Nico was an amazing person and it wasn’t his fault you didn’t want anything to do with Jack anymore.
“Hum, well—”
“For fuck’s sake, man, just spit it out,” Bastian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to Soph’s concert. Launching party, whatever.”
“We?” Jack’s eyes doubled in size. “Who else is going?”
“She invited the entire team,” Mercer answered, and Jack could swear he was one step away from passing out. “And Zegras.”
“Yeah, the entire team minus you!” Zegras shouted, clearly not reading the room. None of the players said anything about your and Jack’s situationship-break-up but Trevor made it clear he was happy with the situation. “Zegras is out in the hunt again, baby, ‘gonna give Soph the real D!”
Jack didn’t even notice he moved until he felt a heavy hand on his chest, looking down and realising it was Nico’s hand and he was now toe to toe with Trevor.
“Watch the shit you say, Zegras. I’m not fucking with you.” Jack spoke slowly, eyes not leaving Zegras’.
“Like you’re going to do anything, Hughes. You lost the prize, now it’s time for her to know what a real man is.”
Jack stepped foward again, only to be stopped by Nico’s hand.
“She’s not a fucking prize and this is not a fucking game, asshole,” Jack said through his teeth, ready to punch Trevor right there and now.
“How old are you two?” Hischier hissed, separating Jack and Trevor like a dad would do. “Trevor, shut the fuck up and don’t talk about Soph like that. And you,” he looked and Zegras before looking at Jack again. “You can’t and you won’t do shit. You and Sophia aren’t a thing anymore and there’s no one to blame but yourself. Suck it up, Hughes.”
Jack wanted to punch all of them in their fucking faces. It wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t the one who published the article and he wasn’t the one who sent that fucking picture of him and Ava leaving that party.
So what if she was his ex? That was in the past. He didn’t even remember her name, for fuck’s sake. She meant nothing to him while you—
“Whatever,” Trevor shrugged, before leaving the room.
“Hischier,” Jack called before Nico left. He turned back and stared at Jack, eyes tired. Jack felt bad for acting like that and giving even more trouble to Nico but Trevor was a fucking assface. “I need to go to that concert.”
“Unless you have an invitation or a ticket, I can’t take you there, man.” He bit his lips. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that to Soph.”
Jack hated how Nico was clearly choosing sides and he also hated how he said her name and how everyone seemed very comfortable with calling you Soph but he pretended that he didn’t care.
“I’m not going to talk to her, I just…” his lips formed a straight line. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted exactly, but he needed to see you. Ever since your album had been released, he had been playing it nonstop, trying to memorize every breath you took, every line you sang, every beat you produced. He just needed to see you. “I want to see her.”
“Man, you know I can’t do that. Grace will kill me.”
“I’ll deal with her, Hischier, I swear,” in that moment, Jack was glad everyone else had already left, otherwise it’d be humiliating.
Although he noticed, with shock, that he wouldn’t mind begging in front of people if he got the chance to see you.
Nico ran his hands through his hair, muttering something in German before nodding with his head once.
“Fine, but I swear to God that if you upset Grace or Soph or worse, both,” he got closer to Jack’s body, looking like he did when he was on the ice. Terrifying. “I’ll personally make sure you won’t do that ever again.”
Gulping, Jack nodded once, before following Nico.
— ♡
THE line outside the venue was gigantic, making the men inside the van yell and whistle.
Much to Jack’s dismay, all of the Devils who were your fans had been invited to your concert— except him, of course. Which he thought was really, really shitty, by the way— and they were all excited, wearing shirts with your face on it and holding banners with your name.
Jack had to wear an all black outfit, with a cap hiding his hair and sunglasses. He thought he looked ridiculous but unfortunately, Nico was right: you couldn’t see him. He knew that if you did you’d be upset and the last thing he wanted was to ruin your night and concert. So yeah, hiding himself it is.
They left the van, entering the building from the back entrance, not wanting to cause a commotion out there in the front. Jack had been told this was just a small concert but the place looked packed with people.
“Okay, so,” Nico started, wearing his Captain belt once again. “Grace will be here in a second, and she will give us the VIP necklaces so we can go to our sets,” he turned around, facing Jack. “I honestly don’t know what to do with you. Grace will probably kick you out but at least I did my part.”
Jack just nodded, already thinking of millions excuses he could say to Grace so she would say yes.
True to Nico’s words, Grace showed up not even a minute later, wearing a red, tight dress and heavy makeup. She looked beautiful.
“Hi, fellas!” She walked in, smiling brightly. “Nice seeing you all, Soph will be happy with you being here and— what the fuck are doing here?” Her smile was gone, and now the only thing left was a scowl on her face.
Jack smiled awkwardly.
“Grace, listen, he asked me to bring him here because he wanted to see Soph—” Nico started, only to be interrupted by Grace’s harsh words.
“I don’t give a single fuck, Nico, what the hell!” She was starting to leash out on Hischier so Jack knew he had to say something.
“She’s not going to see me, I promise,” he replied.
Grace laughed. “Of course she isn’t going to see you because you’re going to leave!”
“Grace, come on,” Jack muttered, ready to beg to another person just to see you. Fucking shit. “I can sit in the back, there’s like a thousand people outside. She won’t see me.”
“Baby,” everyone looked at Nico as he approached Grace. Jack frowned. Since when were they together? “I told him that if he did anything bad I’d punch the shit out of him myself. He will behave.”
“I’m not a dog—”
“Fine,” Grace sighed, loudly, already looking like she regretted saying yes. “Nico I swear that if Sophia sees him or if someone takes any pictures of him here, I’ll snatch your dick out of your body.”
All of the men there made an ouch sound, faces amused and terrified. Nico only nodded, after giving Jack the scariest look ever.
Grace gave them their badges and asked for another one for Jack. Everyone there was running around and shouting things, probably all worried about everything being perfect, and Jack found himself smiling because you were surrounded by people who cared about you and your work.
Turns out that sitting in the back really meant sitting in the back, because Grace gave Jack a really shitty seat that despite being small as fuck, had a really good view of the stage, even if it’d be impossible for you to spot him.
Jack’s hands were sweaty and his heart was racing in his chest. The place was packed with all different types of people, from children to adults, and some grandparents here and there.
He was proud. He remembered how excited you were for this album, for this little concert, and watching how you’ve managed to ace all of that, made him smile under his hand.
The rest of his teammates were sitting in the VIP section, really close to the stage, and hell if Hughes didn’t envy them. But he knew this was for the best.
Thirty minutes after he sat down, the lights dimmed and only the stage was on. The screams were so fucking loud and if Jack wasn’t already used to people screaming his ears off during games, he’d probably have a fit right there.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Sophia Montenegro.”
Nothing could ever prepared Jack for the sight of you on that stage. It’d been two weeks since you last saw each other and the last time was awful, his heart hurting every time he remembered the sight of you crying and remembering he was the reason why.
But watching as you stood on top of some kind of platform, wearing a black, glittery body suit, with heels and black, see through socks. Your hair was styled in a way that drove him absolutely crazy, and now he wasn’t so sure that coming to this concert was a good idea after all.
“One year, ten thousand bad moments
But it was dressed up in heated emotion
And I tried to look for the best in the worst
But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion.”
Your voice was perfect, of course it was. Somehow, you knew how to sing live even better than the recorded songs, and your stage presence was out of this world. Jack looked at you as you moved around, singing and dancing and waving at people and interacting with the band, not knowing what to do with the weight on his chest.
He was happy to see you, he really was, happier than he’d felt in this entire week, but fuck if he wasn’t hurt. Watching you from afar was even worse than not watching you at all, because he was reminded again and again that he lost you.
Even if he still thinks it wasn’t exactly his fault.
The crowd was loud, people were dancing here and there and Jack could swear the girl in front of him was crying.
“Oh, you're so vicious
Love me, then pretend you didn't
Crush my heart and wreck my image
Why you gotta be so, so, so
Oh, you're so vicious”
You were sitting in the middle of the stage, microphone in your right hand, singing with your whole heart. Anyone could see how alive you felt whenever you sang and honestly, it was beautiful to witness.
The song continued, and every second Jack was taken aback by how beautiful you were. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, inside and out, full of life and happiness and joy.
He only noticed that the song had ended when he heard people cheering louder than they were before, and he started to pay attention again.
There you stood, in the middle of the stage, trying to even your breath. You were smiling so hard, cheek to cheek, eyes shining so bright even Jack in his shitty ass seat could see it.
“Hi, guys,” you were out of breath but your voice still sounded like honey to Hughes’ ears, and he had missed the sweetness. So. Much. “Oh my god, there’s so many of you in here, what the hell.”
People laughed, and Jack found himself smiling.
“Hi, I’m Sophia,” you said, shyly, like the people there hadn’t paid to see you. “Thank you for being here, guys. It’s been a while since I last saw you guys face to face. Last time was in Coachella, back in April, right?”
People shouted many things, you smiled.
“So a week ago I released my fifth album, rip to my feelings,” more cheering. “I know the title is corny but I couldn’t find better wording. This album, and I’ve said this countless times, means the world to me,”
“Fuck Harris Dickinson!” Someone shouted and everyone started laughing, including you.
“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed. “I hope you like the show. I’ve also heard that we have some special guests tonight…”
Jack’s heart stopped. For some idiotic reason, he thought you’d say his name. Until he reminded himself that you and him were no longer a thing and you didn’t even know he was there.
“Please, please, please, make some noise for my favorite hockey team, the New Jersey Devils!”
The camera focused on the fifteen men sitting on the VIP section, who got out of their seats and started shouting, while showing off their merch, making the other people cheer too.
Jack knew he shouldn’t, but he felt jealous all the same. He should be there, cheering for you and kissing you in front of all of them. Maybe punching Zegras in the face while he was at it too.
“Thank you for coming, guys,” you smiled again, before you started singing the next song.
Jack was mesmerised with you for the next hour and a half. How you danced, how you sang, how you twirled around, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that tight outfit. How your eyes shined, how your body was perfect, and how he wanted nothing more than you.
The concert went well, like everyone knew it would, you making yourself comfortable, and at home: talking with your fans, taking pictures with them, handing the mic to some of them, who sang awfully in Jack’s humble opinion. Even if the majority of the songs were sad and soul crushing, you made sure people enjoyed themselves.
You were a true sight.
“Now, this is going to be the last song,” some sad oooh’s were heard and you smiled, nodding with your head. “I know, I know, I’m sad too but you all have to go home and these people here,” you pointed at the band behind you. “Also have to go home. But,” you raised your finger, moving your body until you were sitting on the edge of the stage. Some of your fans shouted. “I have one more song for you. This one isn’t in the album because I wrote this recently, but I still want to show it to you guys.”
More cheers, more shouts, more people crying.
“This one’s called Bad for Business and will be available on all streaming platforms by midnight.” Jack watched as you smiled, making him raise and eyebrow. He didn’t know about this one.
“He's good for my heart but he's bad for business
Tears me apart when he grants my wishes
All of my friends think I've gone crazy
But they don't know me like my baby
We look good in photographs
I like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes
I know they'll always land
Used to get work on time
But now you're taking up my nights
Never been so glad to be so tired
Ooh, I'm mad for you
It's sad but true and I know it
Ahh, you're on my mind
You stole my life and it's showin’…”
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, eating up every word. He knew this song was about him. It was as clear as day, and maybe he was just being cocky but he didn’t care. It meant that he still had a chance.
He's good (good), it's bad (bad)
The best I've ever had (best I've ever had)
And he's so nice, it's sad (it's sad)
He ruined all my plans
And he just makes me so crazy
I know everyone sees
That he'll be the death of me
He still had a chance. He could still try because it was clear: you were still in love with him. Why else would you sing this? Why else would you write something like this?
He got up, he had seen enough. He left the venue with his head low, trying to walk without being noticed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and even if it sucked, it was the right thing.
—- ♡
“I really hope there is a reason why you’re calling me in the middle of the night, Jack,” Quinn sounded tired but. He always did. “A good one, that is,”
“I need some advice,” Jack looked at his brother through the screen, noticing the eye bags and the tired eyes. Why the hell Quinn always looked like he had been hit by a train was unknown.
Quinn just hummed, signaling for him to continue speaking.
“It’s Soph.”
“Did something happen?”
Jack cringed. Maybe they did need to start paying attention to what happened online. “Yeah, well, someone took a picture of me leaving the Halloween party with that girl named Ava who’s apparently one of my exes and posted it online, making it look like we hooked up or whatever. Then, they talked shit about Soph and Soph kind of broke up with me after saying she was in love with me and basically calling it a mistake.”
Quinn stared at the camera for a good minute, and just when Jack was starting to think he’d fallen back asleep, he moved, caressing his face with his hand.
“The hell is going on in New Jersey.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Jack scoffed. “I didn’t call you for nothing. If I wanted whatever the hell this is I would’ve called Luke.”
“I mean, what did you expect to happen? One day your whore days would catch up on you. Everyone knew this.”
“Why does everyone keep calling me a whore? Is this how women feel?” Jack frowned.
“They call you that because you had a new girl every month. Every time you had a gala you’d take a new girl with you and of course people would talk about that.”
“Okay but I wasn’t dating any of them!” Jack raised his arms, forgetting that he was still holding his phone and dropping it. Picking it up, he continued. “So what if I had a new woman every month? The issue here is Sophia not wanting to be with me anymore!”
“I think that, before wanting to be with her, you have to know if you want a relationship at all,” Quinn said, calmly. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, a serious one that is. A relationship is a commitment, especially when you’re dating someone as famous as Sophia.”
“I know that she’s famous, I don’t care about that—”
“It’s not about her being famous, jackass, it’s about people forgetting that she is more than that. She is more than the Sophia who sings and dances, she’s a person. That’s literally common sense.”
“I know that too,” Jack mumbled.
“Soph’s been through a lot with that son of a bitch who’s not even worth mentioning. I don’t know much, you probably know about it better than me, but what I know is enough to make me want to punch him with my stick.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I hate that fucking asshole. He cheated on her, lied, manipulated her and had the audacity to break up with her.”
“So, knowing all of that, how do you think she felt when she saw that picture?” Quinn asked, eyebrow arched. “The guy she’s in love with, holding hands with his ex.”
“I didn’t fuck her!” He raised his voice, tired of everyone saying the same. “I just took her home and went back to my place.”
“Yeah, but does Soph know that?”
Jack frowned. “Of course she does. I’ve told her multiple times that I was only seeing her. And Ava was drunk, I wouldn’t have done anything with her even if I wanted to.”
“Yes because it’s very credible that the guy who used to date a new girl every month now suddenly only dates a single girl. Jack, sometimes I feel like you just don’t think.”
“If I wanted someone to call me dumb—”
“You would’ve called Luke, I know. But right now, that’s what you need to hear,” Quinn sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand but put yourself in her shoes. Just think.”
“Everyone keep saying this is my fault but I don’t see how I am the person in the wrong here. I didn’t publish the article, I didn’t fuck Ava—”
Quinn sighed loudly again, interrupting Jack and staring at the screen for a minute, again.
“What?”
“Sometimes I ask myself if we were raised by the same woman,” he shrugged. “Just imagine if Ma knew all of this. She’d probably yell at you.”
“Get to the point, Quinn,” Jack rolled his eyes.
“Look. I’ll try to make it simple,” he started. “Sophia is in love with you. She fell in love with you despite knowing that you have a long history of dating. But, she’s also hurt. And you made it all worse when you said the things I know you probably said.”
“I didn’t say anything that bad…”
“Oh, quit it, Jack. I know you,” Quinn smiled. “You probably made her cry too. That’s the drill. Anyways, you have to ask yourself how do you feel about Soph—”
“I love her.”
They both stayed quiet for at least five minutes. Quinn just staring at the screen like he was reading a newspaper article and Jack staring back at him, looking like he was about to explode.
He hadn’t stopped to think about what he truly felt for you. He knew he liked you, adored even, but he never thought of naming the things he felt whenever he thought about you.
But it was as clear as day. He loved you, he was in love with you.
“Well, then I think my job here is done.” Quinn finally said, breaking the silence.
“What?” Jack almost shouted. “What do you mean? You have to help me get her back!”
“I don’t have time for that and honestly neither do you,” he stated and, well, he was right. They were in the middle of the season, and that was their job. Jack needed to get a grip. “If I were you, though, I’d start by apologising and telling her that you didn’t have sex with Ava or anyone else for that matter.”
“Okay,” Jack breathed. “And then?”
“Figure it out yourself. You’re a big boy.”
Jack groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Fuuuck. This is so fucking shitty. I love her, and she loves me, why can’t we just be together?”
“You will, after you fix this mess.” Quinn yawned and nodded at you. “I’m gonna go back to sleep. You should too. You’ve been playing like shit lately.”
“Fuck you. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up, throwing his phone on the pillow next to him.
How the hell was he going to fix this?
#jack hughes#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x oc#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fic#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x singer!fmc#jack hughes x singer!reader
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Nasty Dog . . . ♡
↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")
(✧ ˚.) PAIRING->
James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_<
(✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.
(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)
(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..
Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.
Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.
“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were.
"Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand.
She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.
It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.
Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.
Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof.
She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal.
"As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma.
"Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours.
"Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.
She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."
A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while.
"Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course.
"All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown.
"Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time.
"Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day.
Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there.
You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher.
Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand.
"Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table.
"Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.
"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter.
Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.
Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.
She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work.
"I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.
"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."
She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning."
The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table.
"On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.
As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging.
One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run.
"Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups.
You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.
You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.
Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch.
Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring.
Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying.
In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet.
"I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off.
You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation.
"Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.
Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.
You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.
Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet."
Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down.
He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways.
You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later.
Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.
You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands.
You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.
Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another.
"Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next.
You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.
Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.
Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.
Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.
It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.
“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”
His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.
The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.
“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”
He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.
“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.
“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.
“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.
He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.
“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.
The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.
You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.
ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3
(im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)
TAGLIST:
@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r
#── ͏͏୨୧ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏credits to @aqualogia#gifs / borders are not mine!! dm for removal^_^#x men#x men 97#x-men x reader#xmen x reader#x men x reader#x men 97 x reader#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine fanfic#mcu fanfiction#mcu fandom#x men fandom#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine imagine#logan howlett oneshot#wolverine xmen#logan howlett drabble#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine fic#logan howlett fanfic#wolverine x reader#guys i love storm so much can you tell
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sells 2 | ellie williams
pairing: drugdealer!ellie x f!reader
read part 1 to this series !
summary: ellie’s a popular known drug dealer who you just so happened to have a few sexual encounters with but what happens when you need to face her again?
content warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, drug use, flirtatious behavior, fingering, degradation and praise, reader receiving, a ton of kisses, rough sex, bondage, strapon sex
dont purchase tlou2! support palestine 🇵🇸
<3
a few months went past, you and ellie hardly talking unless it was in class, sometimes passing eachother with a few hi’s and bye’s once class was finished. upon the sexual encounter you two had at that party, you couldnt find yourself being willing to be alone with her .
maybe you were pussy.. maybe you didnt want things to be awkward.. whatever the case was, you didnt engage nor bring up the situation that happened that night.
until you realized you were low on weed, the same weed you begged your roommate to buy from ellie so you wouldn’t have to see her by yourself.
the exchange went on for a couple of months, buying a great amount of weed from the auburn haired girl so you didnt have to ask your roommate to pick it up as often.
it wasnt until she told you last time that she could no longer do such things. you figured she gotten tired of it and understood considering it wasnt her responsibility.
after about 45 minutes of contemplation and mental preparation, you swiftly grabbed your phone, opened you and ellies convo.
you: hey, think you could sell 2 me tn?
in an attempt to distract yourself from the somehow embarrassing action you’d just committed you went into your kitchen, opened up the pantry and found the biggest bag of chips you find. you settled down on the couch, where you found the remote to watch some netflix to pass time.
hours had passed, and while you quietly giggled at your favorite show, rewatching it for the unth-teenth time, you kinda started to wonder why you were in this predicament to begin with.
and just as you remembered, the screen of your phone lit, dimly lighting the mostly dark room, since it was about dusk by now.
ellie: yea im not mobile rn but yk i can do a quick smthn 4 ya.
you froze reading the small black letters across your screen. quickly pausing your show, you picked up your phone, opening it up to the conversation where you re read the text. “do a quick something..like what? jesus fuck.” you scoffed quickly typing back a response.
you: uh what quick something did u have in mind?
a few seconds had gone by and your phone lit up again:
ellie: you think u can come to mine? shouldn’t be too far from your dorm
oh okay great so now you had to come to her. reluctantly, you agree. she sends her address and with a sigh, you slide on your shoes, grab your wallet and head out. it’s about a 10-15 minute walk to ellie’s place depending on how fast you walked. she lived on the edge of east campus and luckily you were right on the south campus so it was a some what decent commute.
when you arrive to apartment 210 with a quick knock to the door, your heart is beating out of your chest. not from walking so fucking far but from the anxiety that would entail you seeing her alone. in a drug dealers house. i don’t know why but the entire ordeal just seemed foreign to you.
maybe it was pussy of you to avoid her for months but who could blame you, the way she touched, kissed, and groped your soft skin that night sends shivers down your spine just from the thought. never in your life were you able to come undone so easily.
it was strange how good she had a lock on you and your mind, times where youd wanna text her a quick ‘come over’ just so she can recreate the scene from that bathroom at that god awful party. suddenly, the door cracked open.
immediately met by her low green orbs tinted a light pink from the joint she had rolled in the living room. she was in nothing but a white tank and gray sweats that hung dangerous low. you caught a quick glimpse before she interrupted with a, “wanna come in?” opening the door wider to let you in.
“oh yeah, of course.” you muttered walking into the apartment. the smell definitely hit you in the face once you were a good 5 feet into the apartment. ellie noticed your face when you caught a whiff.
“fuck, sorry. i just rolled so it kinda stinks a lil.” she apologized, grabbing stray laundry and random pieces of rolling paper as she walked through the hall leading to the living room. ellie swore she had tidied up a bit more. “please, you’re all good.” you smiled, reassuring her as you entered the living room, locating the sofa and finding a seat there.
“so what were you lookin’ to buy?” ellie asked, continuing to nervously clean the room littered in little baggies and black joggers. you pulled out your wallet, skimming through your cash and counting it all. “uh, how much can i get with sixty three dollars and forty nine cents?” you grinned, nervously giggling, cash in hand. ellie smirked, tilting her head to the side, “maybe 3 grams? but for you i can make it a little more.” she teased.
always with these “but for you’s”, jesus.
“what do you mean, ‘but for you’ ?”, you asked, doe eyed and curious like a puppy. ellie sorta tensed for a sec, but quickly played it off. “you’re just cool, i dunno. also you helped me with studying so, fuck it why not? i mean if you wanna pay full price no objections here, heh.”
you forgot all about the studying session you had with her, ultimately ending with her fingers back in your cunt, massaging your spot over and over again until you were sobbing and knocking the test books onto your pink rug in your dorm.
giddy and chattering like a highschool girl, ellie was talking for what seemed like days before she quickly smiled and stopped in place to tell you “i’m gonna go in the back and uh- grab the shit. stay here.” she scurried off. “nah ima go back home” you muttered under your breath and rolling your eyes, a small smile forming as you opened your phone, looking for something to scroll through. twitter seemed to be your saving grace that day, slowly scrolling through cute pictures and occasionally dumb memes posted by those god awful accounts you followed back when you were 14.
ellie stepped back in, baggie in hand and you anxiously started counting your money again just to make sure you had exactly sixty three dollars and forty nine cents. “and how much was it again?” you asked, bills in hand, ready to do your drug deal like big girl. “erm just thirty five.” she quickly said, trying to draw focus away from the obvious price reduction.
“thirty five? for allat?” you questioned, thinking maybe she grabbed one bag too many. “yeah it’s good, babe don’t sweat it.” she brushed it off, sitting on the sofa next to you. you took your cash counting up three ten dollars bills and a five. handing it to her, you felt her rough palms brush against your comparably soft ones and you swore you memorized every detail on her hand. the little scar right below her thumb, her knuckles bruised a bright pink and the start of her tattoo which travelled up her forearm.
after ellie handed you your baggies, she commented;
“we kinda match.”, she smirked, looking down. you were confused, what was matching? at first you tried comparing the color pallets of each others outfits, but you were wearing green and black which didn’t seem like a match to her grey and white. after you sat in 5 long seconds confusion, she clarified, “your tattoo?”, she gestured down again noticing the butterfly tattooed on the forearm holding the weed.
“oh- yeah um. i noticed yours, it’s really pretty but isn’t that a moth? mines is a butterfly.” you quipped holding up your arm to hers for a full side by side comparison. “i mean yeah, but- erm, it’s like a sun and moon kinda thing. you know like yin and yang i guess?” she terribly explained but you caught on. “what so i’m the sun?” you asked, a finger lightly grazing over her arm, tracing the details. “suppose so.” ellie responded, doing the same to your arm in turn, her finger now connecting the dots of your tattoo as well.
“and you’re the moon?” you asked again
“nah dina is.”
“very funny.” you smirked.
“yeah well i try.”
you had no idea you were even this close to her until your ridiculous lesbian banter had ceased. noses inches away from each other, hands on fore arms and eyes locked, like if you stopped looking at her you’d die instantly. after a comfortable silence you started, “hey i uh, actually can’t roll. do you think you can help? or atleast just show me so i know how.” you giggled, shaking your head at the embarrassing question. “awh, poor thing. yeah sure, i’ll teach you pretty girl.” she smiled grabbing a baggie, opening it and pouring its contents onto the tray that sat on the coffee table in front of her.
you were lying, you knew how to roll but just wanted to find a reason to stay there a bit longer. a reason to end up back in her arms. a reason to have her lips back on yours. i dont know, fuck. you just wanted to be back with her.
“alright first off, you wanna grind your shit, obviously.” she started, knocking you out your thoughts once again. she carefully went through each step, making sure you were paying attention throughout. “eyes on me, pretty.” is all she would say whenever she caught you wandering off, fantasizing about how her hands would feel wrapped around your waist, keeping you still while she-
fuck.
“im paying attention, i promise.” you smiled again, focusing on the blunt she was beginning to roll. and god when she did it, it was fucking perfect. watching the muscles in her hands contort to her will, something about it made heat begin to pool at the bottom of your stomach. when ellie was finished, the blunt sat perfect between her two fingers offering it to you.
“this is really stupid question but do you wanna..smoke it with me?” you asked, eyes locked onto her again. “fuck, you mustve missed me or something, pretty.” ellie remarked, eyes still low from the joint she had before. “should you ever be so lucky” you responded, before asking, “you got a lighter or..?”
—
half a blunt later, your shoes off and your eyes are dangerously low, tinted a hot pink from the fat blunt ellie had graciously rolled for you. you and her sat on the sofa, watching girl, interrupted, one of ellie’s favs. you were carefully finding moments to glance over at her sitting next to you, her arm behind you resting on the sofa. yours thighs are touching but that’s about the most contact you’ve gotten all night.
a little relaxed thanks to the weed, you laid your head onto ellie’s lap. thank fuck you were high because no way you’d even try this shit sober. ellie peered down at you before saying a gentle, “you okay?” you hummed in response and that was enough for ellie.
sitting in the silence doing nothing but watching this movie made you so surprisingly comfortable. like you didn’t need to constantly talk to ellie. simply being in her presence was enough. something about her that just instantly calmed you. god you had such a crush it was pathetic.
instinctively, ellie rests her hand on the small of your waist, before rubbing it gently, being careful with her movements as she knew you were faded, “is this okay?” she asked, looking down at you who were comfortable resting in her lap.
“it’s okay.”
“it’s okay?”
“it’s okay”.
ellie carefully rubbed the area where it previously rested, giving your waist a little squeeze before gently rubbing it back and forth. god she could lull you to sleep if she really wanted to. placing your hand on top of hers, you methodically intertwine your fingers into her own, holding her hand while it rests on your waist.
“y’know my first dates usually don’t go this good so this is a nice change.” the green eyed girl softly muttered, eyes glued to the tv. “this is a date?” you peered, heart skipping a beat. “you’re in my house, lying on my lap, watching a gay fuckin movie with me on my couch. and we smoked. yeah, babe, this is a date.” she quipped smiling softly before peeking down at you, stealing tiny glances herself, constantly staring as if she’d forget what your face looked like if she couldn’t get a good look every 5 minutes or so.
you hummed in response, lightly tracing her strong knuckles with your thumb, “okay, maybe this is a date.” you giggled, rolling on your back to get the perfect view of her from below. her jaw, clenched tight while she chews on her pouted pink lips. you noticed every freckle on her face, every tiny scar; even the one right on her eyebrow that caused a little slit. you marveled at the girl, fascinated with her.
“like something you see?” ellie’s smirked, low green eyes now locked on your deep brown ones. hesitant, you respond, “possibly.” and smiled, head tilting while you flirted with ellie for probably the sixteenth time that night. “how uh, possible would you say it is?” she quipped. “like percentage wise?,i’d say like a good 73% chance.” you told her, finding her hand again to gently grab it.
“what’s goin’ on w’you n my hands?” she asked, smirking at the sight of you fidgeting with with her bruised, slender hands. “considering they were in me. i like em, they look nice.” you felt your face start to warm up from the sudden word vomit you let slip out due being too high to care. ellie perched an eyebrow, her grin growing revealing her pearly whites.
“you know where they’d look even nicer?” ellie question, now running her free hand through your hair. “mm?” you asked with a hum?
ellie softly released her hand from your grip, carefully moving it up to your face to caress your warm cheek, gliding her thumb in small, soothing little circles. she hunched down to get her face closer to yours and when she was close enough she answered;
“back deep inside you”. her hands moved to hold both of your cheeks with just one hand. you laid there in shock, pussy clenched thinking of how deep ellie’s slender appendages would fuck into your wet core until you were nothing but flesh and bone. you felt your whole body warm up, before you said, “i know they would.” you softly said, lifting your head up to get even closer. before the two of you knew it your noses were inches apart from each other again, eyes locked.
and you knew the second that ellie pressed her soft lips into yours, you were fucked.
her lips were so soft against yours, her dominance genuinely taking over once she leaned forward to initiate the kiss. god her lips felt so good, making you bring a arm up to wrap it around her neck, fingers grazing her scalp a bit as you dug fingers into her hair that fell right above her shoulder blades.
your eyes were shut tightly, mind a bit foggy from how her hands quickly went up from your waist to grab ahold of one of your tits. her calloused palms gripping the flesh before pulling away. you let out a soft whine in response, not wanting the kiss to be over. “take these off.” she demanded, referring to your green joggers that you slipped on upon hearing that she was gonna sell to you.
quickly sitting up, tugging the spandex material off of your legs while ellie on the over hand watched. her eyes trailing from your soft thighs to the black panties you had on. you always made sure to wear a matching set no matter the circumstances. she noticed this, taking a liking to how you always wanted to keep yourself put together. her hands readjusted you so you were now on her lap with your back to her, her slim but the long fingers grabbing ahold of the hem of your panties to slip them down your legs before tossing them aside and pushing your thighs back towards her.
“keep these legs open for me, babe. dont let me have to tell you twice.” her raspy but smooth voice let out into your ear, making you nod and whine a bit upon her sudden demands. you never seen ellie so demanding before, the controlling and dominance she was asserting made you shiver ontop of her. whats gonna into this girl?
she placed a hand between your thighs, palming your pussy for a little while before rubbing her middle and ring fingers through your pussy lips, your breathing hitching as you whimpered softly in her touch. this made her lips curl in a smirk, laying a long peck in the crevice of your neck.
you couldn’t help yourself, holding your legs open for her while furrowing your eyebrows once she began rubbing your clit in moderate paced circles, being sure to wrap her arm around your waist from behind to keep you pinned to her. the feeling of the pads of her fingertips rubbing your sensitive clit made your legs tremble, soft moans leaving your lips ever so easily. you felt your hips buck up towards her fingers, wanting as much attention between your thighs than before.
she caught onto this, biting her bottom lip as she watched before landing a slap onto your pussy, “dont get greedy, let me build you up to that first.” she said, making you squeal upon feeling of the gentle spank on your cunt, your back arching in response.
a couple of seconds passed, your moans growing louder once her fingers slipped in a bit effortlessly. “look at that babe, your pussy is molded in the shape of my fingers.. they fit so perfectly in you.” you moaned in response, mouth slightly agape while you felt her almost immediately push her fingertips up against your spot, “els!” you moaned out, gasping once she sped up her fingers.
you and her both watched in awe, your thighs trembling and twitching each time her fingers hit that spot that had you squeezing your eyes shut while being tempted to close your legs. she smirked once again, pushing her digits deep into you before flicking her fingers back and forth in a ‘come here’ motion.
“yeah? does it feel good? talk to me, pretty.” she said, making your mouth fall open and head fall back onto her shoulder, “yes! dont stop.. ‘feels so good ellie!” you moaned out, eyes shutting as your core began to tense. ellie hummed in response to you, knowing how good she had you feeling considering your pussy was clamped down onto her the second she let her fingers ease into you.
“kiss me.” she said a bit above a whisper, your head turning in her direction to immediately be met with those green irises on you. she stuck her tongue out to slip it into your mouth, a eager but ultimately sloppy kiss igniting between you two as she continued her movements with her fingers. her curled fingers hitting your spot over and over again until you pulled away from the kiss.
“im gonna-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without a long moan dragging from your throat and to ellies ears, making her smirk, nod, and use her free hand that was around your waist to rub your clit quickly. “let it out, dont hold back for me.. let me hear you scream babe..”
you gripped onto your thighs tightly, freshly manicured nails digging into your plush skin as you let incoherent words drag from your lips while you came undone on her fingers for the third time now. you trembled, feeling her take her soaked fingers out to raise them to your lips. “suck.” she demanded. you wrapped your lips around her digits, looking into her eyes at the same time as you sucked your juices clean off her fingers, making her furrow her eyebrows and bite her lip at the sight. “fuck..” she mumbled to herself, pulling them out to kiss you once again. the taste of you still lingering on your tongue.
ellie pulled away for a moment, making sure you were okay upon sitting you back onto the couch. you were still a bit shaken up from the oh so good orgasm you just had, shakily reaching for your panties as ellie stood from the couch, “oh, you wont be needin’ those.” she said, making you raise a eyebrow a bit confused, “ what do you mean?” you asked confusedly before watching her crouch down in front of you to pick you up off the couch.
her muscles making it easy to just scoop you up and off of the cushioned seat, you squealed a little, wrapping your arms around her neck in response, “i got you.” she said, chuckling a bit at your reaction before pushing her lips back against yours.
the two of you made your way out the cloudy living room and towards the hallway that led to her bedroom, ellie occasionally tripping over a few items she had forgotten to pick up due to the rushed invitation into her home, using a free hand to grab the wall to keep the both of you steady. she smirked against your lips once she reached her room, tossing you onto the mattress before pulling her white tank top over her head.
you watched, deciding to do the same to your black crop top and bra, now completely naked for her eyes to travel your body for a few seconds. this sight making her practically wanna take a picture and put it as her lock screen. “so fuckin’ pretty, just a second.” she said, dominant hand softly rubbing your inner thigh before turning around to grab her stool near her closet, stepping on it to reach up and grab one of the plenty shoe boxes she had on the shelves.
you laid there patiently, still oblivious as to what she was searching for but not for long once she pulled out something that resembled a harness and another object that you just couldn’t quite see due to her back being turned. ellie on the other hand placed both of the items in one of palms, finally turning to face you to reveal what she had.
a strap. a fucking strap.
“think you could take this?” she asked, walking back towards you before sliding her joggers and underwear down her legs. you nodded, “mhm..” you managed to let out, eyes trailing down her body to her pussy and muscular thighs that still remained slim but was there for you to see.
god, how perfect her body looked.. her muscles and abs flexing as she attached the dildo to her harness, the auburn haired girl looking up from the activity to meet your eyes that was practically glued to her. “like what you see?” she asked for the second time tonight.
“absolutely.” you said sassily, rolling your eyes before letting a laugh pass between your mouth as you were laid back on your elbows, looking up at her, “i bet.” she said with an smug expression over her face, clipping the last buckle of her strap onto her waist. she climbed up onto the bed alongside you, grabbing your ankles to flip you over on your stomach. you let out a breath once your face hit the pillows. ellie adjusted herself, getting comfortable between your thighs.
“you look so fuckin’ good from this angle, babe.” you heard her let out, making you whine in response while your pussy immediately clamped on nothing upon the feeling of her rubbing the tip of her strap between your wet slit. “do you want it? let me hear how you want it baby.” she said, smirking as soon as she heard you start to beg.
“please, i want it so bad el’s.. need you in me..” you whined, pushing your hips back towards her a few times before feeling her land a rough slap on your ass, making you gasp and squeal from how your right ass cheek stung. “say it again, pretty girl.”
“please fuck me.. please ellie, i want you so bad.” you said, looking back at her with furrowed eyebrows and low eyes from being both still high and now horny. she hummed at your words before pushing the silicone into you, gasping from being stretched open. you gripped onto one of the pillows, immediately attempting to push yourself forward once you felt it hit your cervix.
“dont fuckin’ move..” she said, grabbing your hips to now stroke into you, her waist hitting your ass repeatedly as she pretty much rolled her strap deep in your cunt. you let moans pass between your lips while you sat up onto your forearms, ellie grabbing your hair in her fist as she started to speed up.
your head was yanked back, jaw slack, and body trembling once you felt the silicone graze your spot, eyes rolling back from the way she fucked you. she wasted no time to make you putty in her hands. “good girl.” her raspy voice spoke, earning a moan from you.
you gasped loudly upon feeling her start to hit that spot head on. your fists gripped the sheets, trying to once again push your body forward to get it to stop, your ego couldn’t allow yourself to cum so quickly.
“what did i say, hm? thought you said you could take it? what happened?” she asked, placing her free hand on the small of your back while biting her lip to keep her from moaning herself once she could feel how tightly you were clamped down on her.
ellie was thrown out of her complete bliss, noticing the headboard that was slamming against wall roughly due to you trying to get away. “nope.” she simply said, pulling out of you roughly to get back off of the bed.
“and dont you fuckin’ move, i got something thatll stop all that moving.”
you fell down onto the pillows in front of you. your body was shaking and you were trying to catch your breath, just based off of the fact that you pissed her off, you refused to move even the slightest. ellie was frustrated, knowing that she had neighbors and couldn’t have you flailing all around her bed, she stepped back up onto the stool to grab something else from the box.
you glanced back to get a view on what she was getting, only to see something that looked similar to red ribbon but due to her starting to turn around, you readjusted your gaze rather quickly. ellie got back on the bed, landing a harsh slap on your ass, “arch. what the fuck are you doing?” she said, face scrunched in irritation.
you obeyed her, whining once you felt your other cheek begin to tingle from the blunt force, this time it being more forceful than the one that she previously gave you. this made you a bit nervous considering that you could tell she was no longer the sweet quiet drug dealer you sat next to in class.
you felt the auburn haired girl pull your hands back with one hand, using her more dominant hand to tightly wrap the red ribbon around your wrists, making you whimper a bit, “i asked you if you could take it, didnt i?” she asked, being sure to tie the ribbon tightly like a boy scout just incase you even ATTEMPTED to break free from it.
“yes.. its just that it felt so goo-“ you started, getting cut off by her tying a bow after making the bond tight. the way she tied it quickly had you wondering if this wasnt her first time. who else was she fucking as to where she knew exactly how to tie bondage so quickly and easily on you. you were cut from your thoughts by her slipping back into you.
ellie took in the sight, biting her bottom lip before placing both of her hands into your deep arch to start her strokes back up. her hips curved each time she pulled the strap from out of you. your whimpers and moans filling the room as your face remained in the pillow, eyes rolling back in awe.
“fuck! e-ellie.. mmph!” you let pass from your throat and into the pillow, eyes rolling back from the feeling of her hitting your spot repeatedly making you try to reach for her waist. “oh yeah? take my fucking dick. take it, babe.” ellie let out before raising a leg up, foot flat on the mattress while she pinned you down into her dark grey sheets.
“you thought i didnt know what you were doing? you know how to roll, you just wanted me back deep in your cunt again. isnt that right?” she asked, thrusting her hips into you deeply while watching your ass ripple each time it hit her waist. you couldnt even form a sentence, drool slipping from your mouth as you grabbed at nothing.
your moans getting more breathy and short. ellie sat her leg back down before letting go of your waist to wrap a hand around your throat, pulling you up to her chest. her strokes were still deep and quick, making you whimper, “answer me, babe.” she said, making you incoherently say, “yes!”
she smirked, stroking her silicone dick into your spot while not even taking the time to let you breathe, the sounds of your moans, wetness, and skin slapping filled the room along with the occasional noise of the headboard hitting the wall. your eyes rolled back once again, her tatted hand reaching down to rub your clit before gently squeezing your throat and slamming her hips into you.
you gasped as your body began to spasm, eyebrows furrowing, and core tightening all at once. ellie caught onto this, a snarky look written across her face, “youre gonna cum pretty? youre gonna fuckin’ cum for me, hm?” she asked you, laying a few pecks onto your cheek. you whined, the whine fading into a moan, “yes.. im gonna cum! ‘gonna cum!” you cried out.
ellie’s strokes picked up significantly faster. “give it to me, give it to me babe.. cum on this dick.” she whispered in your ear, applying pressure onto your clit before rolling her hips into your spot. your back arched deeper than before, moans growing long and louder as your chest rose and fell, eyes rolling, and pussy clenching and unclenching over the silicone inside of you.
she took her time, slowing down her pace to rub your clit through your orgasm. “good girl.. let it all out.” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist to hold you close to her as you came down from your high. your body was weak, falling slumped in her strong arms that gently massaged you.
you felt yourself relax in her touch, looking back at the red haired girl before feeling her lay a few pecks onto your lips. “you did so good for me..” she whispered softly against your lips in between pecks.
your breathing was still uneasy, ellie slowly laying you down onto the bed and in return having the dildo slip out of your messy cunt, untying your hands to lay soft kisses over you now red wrists. a ring of your creamy orgasm at the base of her strap, making her stand to grab a towel, wiping it off before tending to you.
your eyes was heavy, blinking getting slow before you began to doze off. the auburn haired girl wiping you clean before unsnapping the harness off and crawling back into bed with you. her hands shifting you gently to lay overtop of her, pulling the cover over you twos naked frames.
“goodnight babe, sleep well, pretty.” she mumbled softly, being sure to not to wake you in the mist. she laid a gentle peck on your forehead before shifting to turn off her bedside lamp, wrapping her arms around you and slowly falling asleep with you.
—<3 hope you enjoyed reading part 2 to sells! more to come soon!
part 3!!
direct link to my master list!
#black writers#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie x you#ellie x reader#ellie tlou2
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THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (13)
In which they visit Paris!
series masterlist
notes: let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and leave a comment! Enjoy :)
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
alexandrasaintmleux posted on their story
caption: Louvre, pastries and Aubrey
olliebearman posted
olliebearman c'est la vie (the only French I know 😌)
liked by kimi.antonelli, aubreyyang and 701,694 others
user1 ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT SLIDE 3
-- olbreylovers YES THATS DEFINETLY HER THEYRE SOFT LAUNCHINGGG
scuderiaferrari stick to italian
-- user2 ADMIN!!
landonorris nice sunnies
-- olliebearman thanks their borrowed
-- aubreyyang pls return them I can't see 😔
-- olliebearman omw 🏃♂️
-- user3 not them flirting under landos comment
-- landonorris right this is so rude I demand compensation
-- aubreyyang we'll get you a magnet
-- landonorris DEAL
user5 they're in love in this essay I will
aubreyyang posted
aubreyyang are you happy to be in paris? 🇫🇷💋
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, olliebearman and 670,332 others
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dior.n.goodjohn OUI!!
-- aubreyyang miss u bae
aryansimhadri pls bring me back a t shirt too
-- aubreyyang will do
user1 THEYRE SHARING SUNGLASSES = THEYRE IN LOVEEE
alexandrasaintmleux mignon
-- aubreyyang je t'adore <3
aubreyyfanpagee I love how we have collectively decided that yes, they are dating
MESSAGES
ollie
r u still up 😊
aubrey
yep what's up
ollie
wanna come to my room and watch a movie?
aubrey
ive heard that line before
ollie
NOOO I would just like some cuddles and a Disney movie pls
aubrey
okay :)
let me shower and ill head over
ollie
see you in 20
Aubrey examined her outfit: a big Ferrari shirt given to her through PR, a pair of cotton shorts and white scrunch socks.
She figured it hardly mattered; more and more everyday, she was sure that Ollie would think she was beautiful not matter what she wore.
When she showed up at his door, he was very broad, damp and shirtless.
Not to brag, but she was one of the biggest young names in Hollywood. She’d worked with male models and actors alike, but none of them managed to stir up a storm in the pit of her stomach like Ollie could.
His sweatpants (grey) were slung low on his hips, and he had a towel in one hand. With a dopey grin, he swung her into his arms as she squealed.
“Oliver, you’re getting water in my hair! I just blew dried it!”
“Yeah? Looks nice.” He told her, all wide innocent eyes as he dumped her on his bed. The big television had Cars 1 & 2 queued up already.
“Nice,” she grinned as he settled in beside her, “very fitting.”
“I thought you’d appreciate my wittiness.” He shrugged modestly, and she poked his rib.
“Watch the movie, Bearman.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He casually flopped over onto her lap, laughing when she groaned at his weight. Aubrey slid her right leg under him, and he shifted so he was lying between her legs, still facing the TV with his head resting on her stomach.
“How are you liking France?” He murmured, sliding a big hand up and down her calf. Something low and hot bubbled in her stomach and only intensified when he dragged the tip of his nose over the sensitive skin of her thigh.
“I love it here. It’s so rare I get to practice my French now,” she carded her fingers through his soft brown hair, “how about you?”
“It’s…” he sighed contentedly, pushing up into her hand like a puppy dog, “it’s…really nice, doing touristy stuff. During race weekends we don’t get to.”
“Hmm. And there’s not much paparazzi around. In America, it’s so terrible. I just want to hide away in my apartment.”
“I’ll bet. Sometimes I forget that you’re super famous.” He admitted, stroking her ankle with his thumb.
“Sometimes I forget when I’m with you too.”
“I think that’s good. We’re just…two normal people.”
“Do you remember my Elle magazine interview?”
“How could I not?” He answered quietly, and she flushed.
“I meant what I said you know. You and Charl and Alex and Lily…I’ve never got to be a teenager and this is really nice.”
“Me too. I mean this is pretty glamorous, but,”
“It’s still better than just the cameras and the fame.” She concluded for him, suddenly feeling very sleepy.
“You’re better than any camera and all of the fame in the world, Yang.” He murmured.
Her fingers slid to his ear, fiddling with the soft his earlobe.
She wondered what they were. He was her best friend, no one could make her laugh or feel so much like he could. Being with his was easier than it had been with Mace or anyone else. He always told her what he was thinking.
"You are something special, Ollie Bearman."
Aubrey woke up to the sound of a Shakira song and a space heater pressed up against her.
She realized, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, that the Shakira song was Charles’s ringtone and the space heater was one Ollie Bearman.
She was tucked under the covers, her legs tangled with his much longer ones. Her face was pressed into his bicep, his forearms locked firmly around her waist. He looked so angelic, sleeping through Hips Don’t Lie. She sat up slowly, reaching for her phone.
“Hello?” She asked blearily.
“Hello? That’s all you have to say for yourself? Alex and I are worried sick! Where are you?”
“Oh, shit. Sorry! I fell asleep in Ollie’s room,” she heard Alex yell on the other side of the line and Charles gasp, “no! Not like that. We watched a movie and knocked out, honest.”
She felt like she’d been caught by her parents.
“Aubrey?” Alex came onto the phone, “You will tell me everything later. Also can we please leave before lunch to shop? Charl owes me a bag. I told him you two would end up in a situation like this!”
“You guys bet about us?” Ollie lifted his head, squinting up at her.
“No..?” The older woman tried, “Okay, yes. See you in an hour!”
“Wha..” He asked, voice deep from sleep. She bit her lip, no one should look that good waking up.
He pulled her back down, pressing his face into her hair.
“We should get up,” she murmured, having no intention of moving for a while.
“Sure.” He replied, burrowing them further into the sheets.
aubberieyaang posted
aubberieyaang ARGH I CANT STOP SMILING HEHEHHE
liked by walkdontrun, aryannawhatrudoinghere and 15 others
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celine_diorr another fallen soldier :(
-- aubberieyaang HE TOLD ME IM BETTER THAN FAME
-- celine_diorr damn maybe hes kinda good to keep around if he can get us more paddock passes
-- chuck_bushes yo can I get in on that
walkdontrun EW THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS PAGE
-- aubberieyaang ...
liv_laugh_love maybe so american was actually about you guys all along
-- aubberieyaang still a banger tho
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik
© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.
#f1 drivers#f1 smau#f1 x reader#formula 1#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman x you#charles leclerc#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#ollie bearman fluff#ollie bearman imagine#oscar piastri#ollie bearman x female reader#ollie bearman x y/n#mutual pining#best friends to lovers#angst and fluff
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the last part of all the times i told you. i am still ~not here~ but i started writing this ages ago and am ready to put this sweet little series to rest. talk soon love u
to watch you flit around the room makes his fingers ache. katsuki has no idea how many times you've gone back and forth between floors and from inside to back out, but to watch you makes him tired. for the first time in his life, all he wants is stillness. he wants you on this couch with him.
“c’mere.”
it's less of a command and more of a warning that comes too late, his mouth moving only after he's reached an arm out to catch you as you passed by his spot on the couch.
he pulls you until your back is pressed against his chest. you huff, squirming a little, and he doesn’t let up an inch. refuses to, now that he's got you where you should've been all afternoon.
“take your shirt off,” he mutters into the nape of your neck.
“what? it's been a long day, kat—“
“i’m not fucking you,” he groans, pressing his forehead into your warmth, “just... wanna feel you.”
he feels you go soft at his admission. you tap at his forearm to get him to let you up, and he's reluctant to but he does, electing to keep one arm around your waist as you sit up and pull the material over your head. his eyes follow the movement of it, committing the shape of you to memory like it could be ripped from him in the next second. you settle back down, facing him this time. he pulls you until there's not an inch between his chest and yours. he feels your heart kick against his own.
“missed you today.” years ago Katsuki would've rather died than admit something so vulnerable out loud, but things change. he takes a deep breath in at your hairline, soaking tissue deep in you and all that you've done today. he likes you best like this—soft, maybe a little sweaty. alive and in love.
“yeah?”
“mm.”
your lips quirk up softly, and you reach to trace the outline of his collar bone with the pads of your fingers. he cracks an eye open, glaring at you without an ounce of heat just to hear you giggle at his petulance. you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, and he feels like he's won something.
“i miss you all the time, kat.”
“maybe i want to hear it.”
“do you?”
“from you? no fuckin' way.”
you snort and roll your eyes. tucked under his chin, you don't see the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, always thrilled at the way his brashness doesn’t phase you. he leans forward to press it into the crown of your head. sometimes he feels so lucky it makes him a little queasy.
“i miss you all the time,” you say again. quieter, with a little more weight to it.
and he knows—he knows you do, because he does too. that feeling sits like a rock in his chest—it's there every time he wakes up too early and has to rip himself from the bed you share, all to make sure someone else can roll over to their love in the morning and not let go too soon.
it felt selfless, in the beginning. the right thing to do, a call that he answered willing. now it only hurts.
he smooths a palm up the curve of your spine to rest at the nape of your neck, and you press closer to him. sometimes he can’t believe you still do. he’s left so many times and missed so many things and somehow you still let him cling to you like it doesn’t shred your insides every time he pulls away. he thinks about how brave you’ve been—about how all the times he’s been praised for his strength or his commitment to peace, he'd deserved only a fraction of it compared to you.
he doesn’t want you to have to be brave anymore. if he’s honest with himself, he’s not sure he wants to be brave anymore, either.
“…asked Aizawa if there were any openings at the school.”
your fingers pause over his heart, and he thinks he can hear the gears in your brain turning. you lean back to look at him and he can’t read the expression on your face.
“why did you do that?”
“well if anymore of those old bastards quit those brats will be fuckin’ teaching themselves—”
“no,” you tap his chest with your fingertip to shut him up and he has to fight to suppress the smile, “no. why did you do that?”
he sighs softly, sliding his thumb down the length of your neck.
“don’t want to leave you anymore.”
“...oh,” you breathe, blinking at him like you’re still trying to catch up. he gives you time—pressing into the sides of your neck to try to will away the tension that still hasn’t left. thinking about the dimly lit moments he'll spend tracing the slope of it, just because he can—because he'll have them, now.
“you want to teach?”
“i want to come home to you in one piece,” he says, with more honesty than he thinks he's ever been capable of, “but hangin’ out with those brats shouldn’t be too bad either.”
you snort. “you think Aizawa felt that way when he taught you?”
“fuck off,” he says through a grin, “i was a damn great student.”
you smile and shake your head, and then you go quiet.
“i don’t want you to do this for me,” you whisper, like you don’t fully believe what you’re saying but think you should say it anyway. it makes him ache—it’s just like you to sacrifice for him, even now.
“not for you,” he murmurs just as gently, leaning forward to tap his forehead to yours. “because of you, a little bit, but i—“ he pauses, inhaling deeply and trying to be brave. “i want to be around. don’t like missin’ out on so much.”
and that is the truth. Katsuki thinks about the way you shuffle over the creaks in the old wooden steps every morning and he regrets that he’s not there to greet you at the bottom of them when you do. he hates the way you make breakfast alone, the way you sit at the dock without him. the way your families visit the house you bought together and he’s never in it to see them. he doesn’t know what it would be like to lean into that domesticity—into intimacy without urgency, without the tick of a clock that neither of you can see but are painfully aware of—but at this point in his life, he desperately wants to learn.
you let out a shaky exhale, wiggling closer to him. he lets you hide your face in his neck, arms coming around your back to keep you there. he thinks of how many times this has been reversed—of how many times his mind has run away from him and the only tether has been the weight of your arms around him.
“what’s the world going to do without Dynamight?”
he snorts. “they can start thanking him for beating some brains into their little shit gremlins.”
he feels your smile against his skin and it warms him. it’s another truth—and really, he does want to teach. he wants another reality for the next generation—one where they’re kept safe as long as possible. where they learn to be heroes the right way—the long way.
“love you.”
he feels it more than he hears it, rumbling from your chest to his. he pulls you closer still, leaning down to press his lips to the curve of your bare shoulder. he closes his eyes and breathes you in again.
“i love you, angel.”
#fic: all the times i told you#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou fic#mha fic#mha fluff#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction
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cut my hair - matthew tkachuk
part of the think later fic series
"Just wanna cut my hair
Lose myself
Make you sweat
Go out and get messed up
Find myself in your bed"
***
request: “heyyyyy me again. Would you be able to do another Matthew Tkachuk for cut my hair? a lil angsty and smuty with a happy ending. Thank you!”
summary: after being dumped, you make it your mission to have him regret everything.
word count: 9.2k
pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ NSFW! Unprotected sex, talk about sex in the past, a lot of slightly kinky shit (biting and stuff like that, not too crazy), creampie, alcohol, sex in public (but sort of hidden?) degradation & degrading talk, toxic relationship.
notes:
- i actually started this a few days ago & then i got a request for something similar so i tweaked it. girl u read my mind.
-^ my loyal requester. please don’t worry about sending too much in, trust me I love you for it, but don’t expect things too quickly ❤️
- ^^ this is barely edited or proof read. i tried but there's gonna be repetitive shit & i'll probably end up tweaking it but here it is yayyy
- haven't written smut in a while 😋
- guys as much as i love chucky & quinn i really would like to write about people from the team i support the most...(the leafs if you somehow couldn't tell?) so i'm gonna be focusing on them for a bit & if you would like to request one (or clayton keller, he's my exception) please do!
- ^ that being said, i will start working on qhxga pt.3 soon.
- in light of everything going on, i would like to clarify matthew has not drinken anything in this despite him being in a bar & this being fiction. PLEASE don't drink and drive.
***
You’re mad.
You’re mad about a lot of things. Which is weird, because usually, you’re not mad, you just bask in your misery all day.
You’re too touchy-feely for your own good. The sad girl act is getting old, and you know it.
At least, that’s what he told you.
“You’re so fucking dramatic! Like, holy shit, can you just let go for once and have fun? Because that’s it. That’s all we’re doing, we’re having fun. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings, I’m not the guy you’ll marry!”
The lump in your throat seems to grow by the second as you try to speak. “So what, you’re saying we should break up?”
Matthew scoffs over the line, and you can basically imagine him pacing his apartment, tugging at the curly strands of his hair as if it could make him think more clearly. “We were never dating! But if you really want to see it that way, then, fuck yes, let’s break up.”
The phone call ends with a click, but the sound echoes in your head like a slammed door. Matthew’s words hang in the air, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at your phone screen as if expecting an apology to pop up. But it doesn’t. Because he never does that.
You feel the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not this time. His voice still rings in your ears, mocking you. You’re so dramatic. Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You chew your lip, pacing your small apartment. Your reflection catches your eye in the hallway mirror—your long hair falling in waves past your shoulders, the way Matthew always said he liked it. Suddenly, the sight of it makes your stomach twist with resentment.
He doesn’t care about you. He never did.
The anger rushes through your veins, fueling you, pushing you towards the scissors in your bathroom drawer. You grip them tightly, the cool metal biting into your palm as you lift them to your hair. He liked it long, huh? A bitter laugh escapes your throat. Without giving yourself time to overthink, you hack off the first chunk, watching it fall into the sink. It feels… freeing. With every cut, it’s like you’re snipping away the pieces of yourself that he’s picked apart. The version of you that wanted him to love her. Gone. The version that begged for scraps of his attention. Gone.
When you’re done, you barely recognize yourself. The hair that once framed your face is gone, leaving behind a sharp, choppy cut that makes you look fiercer, harder. It feels good.
The little black dress hangs in the back of your closet, practically taunting you. You haven’t worn it in months—Matthew hated it. Said it was too much, too revealing, that it would draw attention. But tonight, that’s exactly what you want. You pull it on, the soft fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. You glance in the mirror once more, a smirk curling your lips. Let him see what he’s missing.
“Let’s see who’s too dramatic now,” you mutter, grabbing your purse. The night is still young, and you know exactly where he’ll be. The bar on 5th Street, right near your apartment—his favorite, your least favorite. It always smells like spilled beer and desperation. Fitting, considering that’s where you met him.
Your heels click against the pavement with each determined step outside. You’re buzzing with anticipation, nerves, and spite. It’s like electricity under your skin, the kind that makes your hands shake but your heart pound in excitement. There’s something so satisfying about this, about showing up like this, looking like you don’t give a damn when, really, you give so many. Too many.
You try not to think about what he’ll say when he sees you. You can already imagine his eyebrows shooting up, that condescending smirk tugging at his lips. “What the hell did you do to your hair?” he’d say, because that’s Matthew—always focusing on the superficial, on the surface, never diving deeper. But tonight, you don’t want him to dive. You want him to drown.
The bar looms ahead, its neon sign flickering like some kind of cheap welcome–you know he’ll be here. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open, the familiar smell of alcohol and sweat hitting you like a wave. Your eyes scan the room, searching, until you find him. He’s leaning against the bar, laughing with some girl, unopened Corona in hand. He doesn’t see you at first, but you see him.
Your stomach twists in knots, anger and nerves swirling together. For a brief moment, you wonder if this was a mistake. If you’re being too... well, dramatic. But then his voice from earlier echoes in your head: “I don’t give a fuck about your feelings.”
Your spine straightens, resolve hardening like steel.
You walk toward him, every step feeling like an eternity. He turns, and there it is—his eyes widen, confusion flashing across his face before that stupid smirk settles in. He looks you up and down, taking in the dress, the hair, the new you. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—a twisted satisfaction at the way his mouth hangs open slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say. You arch a brow, waiting for the inevitable comment. He doesn't disappoint.
“What the hell did you do to your hair?”
There it is. Just like you predicted, and somehow, it still stings. Of course, he’d focus on that first. Not the fact that you showed up here looking like a goddamn queen in the dress he hates, not the fact that you’ve changed in a way he can’t even begin to comprehend—no, it’s always the surface with him.
You cross your arms, throwing every ounce of defiance into your stance. “I cut it,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for noticing.”
Matthew’s eyes narrow, his smirk faltering just for a second before he recovers. “Yeah, I noticed. What, you having a meltdown or something?”
There’s the laugh. The one that makes you feel small, like you’re just a joke to him. Your blood boils at the sound, but you force yourself to keep your expression steady, hiding the tremor in your voice as you reply. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending to be the version of me that you liked. Ever think of that?”
He blinks, thrown off by the venom in your words. For a second, you wonder if he’ll apologize, if he’ll say something that softens the sharp edges of this moment. But no. Matthew is Matthew, and his pride won’t let him back down.
“Jesus, you’re really something, huh?” His smirk deepens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes now—something like recognition, like maybe he’s starting to see the version of you he never bothered to notice. The one that’s done waiting for him to care. “You don’t have to get all dramatic about it. We were just having fun, that’s all.”
Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat like a drum, loud and insistent. He’s standing there, smug and arrogant, as if he still holds some kind of power over you. Like you’re a joke. Like you haven’t just hacked off your hair and thrown on the dress that makes you feel like a goddess in defiance of everything he’s ever said.
And yet, despite the burn of his words, you can’t deny the pull. That stupid, magnetic draw that he has over you. You hate it. You hate him. But there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at you now, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. Something you recognize all too well.
“I’m dramatic?” Your voice rises, thick with sarcasm, but the pain seeps through, like a tear you can’t stitch up fast enough. “You’re the one who just broke up with me—or, sorry—broke up with me from the relationship that apparently never existed. So excuse me if I’m a little dramatic, Matthew.”
He leans back against the bar, taking another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. There’s that look again. You know it well—half-annoyed, half-amused, like you’re entertaining him somehow, like this whole mess is just another game to him. His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. "Well, if you're gonna throw a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way, maybe this is for the best.”
Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the anger bubbles beneath your skin, ready to burst. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s an asshole, that he’ll never deserve you. But the words lodge in your throat, tangled up with the hurt, and instead, all you can do is glare at him. God, you hate him. You hate how he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin, to make you feel small, even now.
But as much as you want to storm out, to prove that you’re better than this, you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, locked in place by the storm brewing between you. The air feels electric, like something is about to snap, and you can feel it—this pull between the anger and something else, something darker and heavier.
You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. The smell of his cologne—woodsy, warm—hits you, and it pisses you off even more because it brings back memories you don’t want. Late nights tangled in his sheets, the way his lips felt against your neck, the stupid, tender moments that don’t match this Matthew standing in front of you, smirking like none of it mattered. Like you don’t matter.
“God, you’re such a prick,” you mutter, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. But he hears it. His smirk falters for just a second, and in that moment, you see it—something cracks behind his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“Oh, I’m the prick? That’s rich coming from the girl who’s been throwing herself at me for months,” he fires back, his voice dripping with mockery. His words sting, but you don’t flinch. You’re done letting him hurt you. Not tonight, but then he keeps then talking. “You wanna know why I never saw this as anything more than fun? Because you pull this shit. Every time. You get all clingy and needy, and it’s fucking exhausting."
You stand there, staring at him, his words a knife twisting deeper and deeper into your chest with every syllable. Clingy. Needy. Exhausting. They echo in your head, bouncing around like cruel little taunts, each one sharpening your anger until it feels like it’s going to spill out of you, red-hot and uncontrollable.
Clingy? You’ve been "clingy?"
You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but instead, the sound that escapes you is more of a strangled scoff. How dare he? How dare he act like you’re the problem? Like you’ve been the one hanging on too tight, when all you ever did was try to be close to him. All you wanted was to feel wanted by him, but apparently, that made you exhausting.
The room feels smaller, the air heavier, like the world’s closing in on you. Or maybe that’s just your body’s way of processing the tidal wave of rage, hurt, and—goddamn it—desire that’s pulling you in too many directions at once. You can barely think straight, your heart pounding in your ears as his smirk only deepens, like he knows he’s hit a nerve and is more than happy to twist the knife in further.
Exhausting? You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, heating you from the inside out. No, you’re not exhausting—you’re furious.
He has the audacity to stand there, cool as ever, his gaze sliding down your body as if this entire thing is nothing more than a minor inconvenience for him. You want to slap him. You want to scream at him. You want to walk out of this bar and never see him again. But instead, you’re rooted to the spot, because there’s something else simmering beneath the rage—a sick, twisted pull that’s keeping you here, stuck in this toxic mess of a situation, and it’s only getting harder to ignore.
Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself before you lose it completely. “Clingy, huh? Is that what you call wanting a fucking relationship? Needing someone to actually give a shit about you?”
Your words are sharp, biting, but there’s a tremor beneath them, the anger barely masking the hurt that’s been clawing at you since the phone call. Matthew doesn’t miss it. His eyes flicker, just for a second, like he almost feels bad, but then his expression hardens again, that irritating, cocky grin sliding back into place as if he’s made of stone.
“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like the world’s ending every time I don’t text you back, we wouldn’t be here,” he retorts, his voice laced with mockery. He takes another step closer, his body towering over you, the heat of him pressing into your space, but you stand your ground, refusing to be the one to flinch first. “You get so goddamn dramatic about everything. I didn’t sign up for that shit.”
His words should make you snap, should make you storm out of this bar with your dignity intact, but instead, you’re frozen. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but not just from anger. No, it’s that stupid, horrible, unbearable attraction. The one that makes you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. The scent of his cologne strengthens, the same one that used to cling to your sheets after he’d sneak out in the morning. The same one that’s tied to every bad decision you’ve ever made where he’s concerned. And God, you hate him for it.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, voice low and tight, but your throat is closing in around the words. “I’ve been throwing myself at you? Right. Like you weren’t the one showing up at my place at two in the morning, wanting to ‘hang out’ when we both know what that meant.”
His smirk falters again, but not for long. He steps even closer, close enough now that you can see the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A spark that you know all too well. The same one that got you into this mess in the first place. You shouldn’t still be here, you shouldn’t still be entertaining this bullshit, but it’s like your body and mind are at war, and your body’s starting to win. Your fists clench at your sides as he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin when he speaks.
“You loved every second of it,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t act like you didn’t. Like you didn’t beg for it.”
That’s it. That’s the final straw. Something inside you snaps, and before you can think better of it, your hand lashes out, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely stumbles, but the shock in his eyes is enough to make you feel a small, fleeting victory. “Fuck you, Matthew,” you spit out, your voice trembling. “I didn’t beg for shit. You’re the one who kept coming back, like some... like some goddamn parasite!”
The second the words leave your mouth, you expect him to snap back, to yell, to argue. But instead, his eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s two seconds away from either tearing into you or kissing you. And you hate that you can’t tell which one you want more.
The air between you is thick, suffocating. You’re breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and he’s right there, barely inches away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. And then, as if some invisible thread snaps between you, he moves.
In an instant, his hands are on you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and before you can protest or even think, his lips crash into yours.
It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate, angry, a mess of teeth and tongues and heat. You want to push him away, to scream at him, to throw something, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as hard, your body betraying every rational thought in your head. It’s like everything inside you is on fire, all the rage and hurt and lust combusting into one reckless, overwhelming need.
His hands are rough as they grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt as if you’re trying to ground yourself, to keep from getting swept up in the tornado of emotions swirling around you. But it’s no use. You’re already lost in it.
The kiss deepens, and you can taste his signature mint gum on his breath, can feel the urgency in the way he’s touching you, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you as much as you hate needing him right now. Your back hits the bar, and he presses into you, his body solid and warm, and it feels so familiar, so maddeningly familiar that you could scream.
This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.
But you don’t stop. Neither of you do. Because even though you know this is a bad idea, even though you know you’ll regret this in the morning, right now, it feels like the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.
His hands slide down to your hips, gripping tightly, and you moan into his mouth, your body arching against his. The sound makes him groan, low and rough, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You wanna get out of here, princess?” he whispers, his voice rough, “Or did you want to put on a show for everyone? You were obviously planning on it, with this slutty little thing.” he punctates his last words by snapping your visible bra strap against your shoulder, making you gasp.
Your breath hitches at the sting of his words, but there’s a part of you that thrills at the edge of humiliation, at the way he’s using your vulnerability against you. It’s twisted, but it’s like a key unlocking something deep inside you. You’ve been fighting so hard, trying to stay in control, but with him so close, with him touching you and talking to you like this, everything unravels.
“Get a grip, Matthew,” you manage to snarl, though the tremor in your voice betrays you. “You don’t get to act like you’re above this when you’re the one who dragged me into this mess.”
His eyes flash with something dark, almost predatory. “Dragged you? You came running. Don’t pretend you didn’t want this, didn’t want me to notice you. This whole act—” he gestures vaguely at your dress and hair, “—is just you trying to get me to see you. Well, guess what? I see you. And you know what? I don’t fucking care.”
His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you can’t back down now. You’re in too deep, and the anger mixing with your lust makes you reckless. “I don’t need you to care,” you snap, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer. “I just need you to fuck me right now. Show me how much you don’t care.”
His lips are on yours again before you can even think, stealing your breath and your sanity all at once. You hate him for it. God, you hate how easily he can undo you, how quickly he makes you forget why you’re angry in the first place. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you’re kissing him back, harder this time, as if the sheer force of it will somehow knock sense into both of you. Spoiler: it doesn’t.
Your body presses up against his, the heat between you almost unbearable, and you can feel him smirking into the kiss, the bastard. You want to wipe that cocky look off his face, but at the same time, you want to see just how far he’s willing to push you. It’s like every nerve in your body is buzzing, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to strip him down and ride him until neither of you can remember your own names. The worst part? You’re not sure which one you’ll end up doing first.
He bites down on your bottom lip, sharp and deliberate, and you gasp, the pain only fueling the fire inside you. "That all you got, princess?" he mutters against your mouth, his voice a low, mocking growl. It’s the same tone that’s always driven you insane, always made you want to throw something at him—and now, it’s making you wet. Great.
You narrow your eyes, wrenching yourself away from his mouth long enough to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, hating how breathless you sound, hating how much you’re giving away with every ragged inhale.
He just grins, the kind of grin that makes you want to slap him, but instead, you find your hand curling into the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. “What, don’t like your cute little nickname? I thought you loved attention, baby.”
“I don’t need your fucking attention,” you shoot back, though the lie burns your throat on the way out. “I just need you to shut up and make yourself useful for once.”
He chuckles darkly, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force, and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin, how quickly he can strip away all the walls you’ve built up around yourself. “Useful, huh?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember you complaining the last time I had you screaming my name.”
Your breath catches in your throat, but you refuse to let him see how much that rattles you. “That was a fluke,” you mutter, though your voice wavers. “Let’s not pretend it meant anything.”
That was a fluke? Did you really just try to sell that lie? The memory of his name leaving your lips—no, leaving your throat in a desperate, pleading gasp—burns behind your eyelids. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the way he pulled sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making. And now, here you are, trying to convince him, and yourself, that it didn’t mean a thing.
Pathetic.
The silence stretches for a beat too long, your throat tight with the effort of holding back all the things you want to say, all the venom you want to spit right in his smug, infuriating face. He’s just standing there, practically vibrating with amusement, like he knows he’s won this round. And that—that’s what sends your anger spiking again, turning into something molten.
He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “Fluke, huh?” His voice is low, dangerous, and you hate that it sends a ripple of something dark and wanting straight through your core. “So, if I touched you right now—if I slipped my fingers under that pathetic excuse of a dress—I'd find you soaking wet by accident?”
You hate him. You hate him so much, it hurts.
Without thinking, you pull back just enough to whisper, “Let’s get out of here.” Your voice is rough, breathless, and you hate that he’s the reason for it.
His eyes flash with something dark, something feral, and he smirks down at you, his lips swollen and red. “Yeah?” he taunts, his hands still tight on your hips. “You want me that bad?”
You grit your teeth, hating how he twists everything, how he always knows exactly where to hit. “Fuck you,” you bite out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Take me somewhere, or I’ll find someone who will.”
His grip on you tightens dangerously, his eyes flashing with anger and something else, something possessive. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Before you can blink, he’s pulling you away from the bar, his hand gripping yours tightly, practically dragging you through the throngs of people. You stumble after him, your head spinning, your body still buzzing with adrenaline and anger and lust. The music pounds around you, the heat from the crowd suffocating, but all you can focus on is the way his hand feels in yours, the way your heart pounds in your chest like it’s trying to break free.
It’s reckless. It’s insane. And it’s exactly what you need.
The air outside should be cooler–but it’s not. It’s humid, sticky, and uncomfortably warm, Florida summers coming into full effect. The night threatens to swallow you both whole as he hauls you down a side alley, the noise of the club fading but the adrenaline still roaring through your veins. Every step you take feels like it’s leading you further into the eye of the storm, and even though you know there’s no going back now, you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.
“What’s the rush?” you sneer, yanking at his hand, though not hard enough to actually break his grip. “Afraid I’ll change my mind?”
He glances back at you, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Nah, princess. I’m just getting us somewhere quiet so I don’t have to listen to your whining while I fuck the attitude out of you.”
Your throat tightens, a hot flush crawling up your neck as you realize where this is headed. A dingy alley behind a club, dimly lit and reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke—this is where it’s going to happen? Your body is screaming at you to care, to turn around and leave, but your legs keep moving forward, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.
He pulls you into a narrow alcove, barely wide enough for both of you, and the second you’re tucked inside, he’s on you. His body presses against yours, firm and demanding, and it’s all you can do to keep your knees from buckling as his hands grip your waist like he owns you.
This is ridiculous. How did you end up here? Again. Every damn time. You swore after the last time that you were done—that you wouldn’t let him crawl back into your space, under your skin, and wrap his filthy, bruising grip around your heart. But here you are, yet again, like some stupid moth drawn to the inferno that is Matthew Tkachuk.
You want to shove him away, to scream in his face that you’re not the girl who falls for this. Except, you know better. You are exactly the girl who falls for this. The one who caves when he looks at you with those maddening blue eyes. The girl who lets him wreck her in alleyways behind clubs in the sticky heat of a Florida night, knowing damn well how this will end: messily.
“Still pretending, huh?” His voice rumbles low against your ear, mocking and sharp. He’s pressed so close you can feel every word vibrate through you, igniting your nerves like a lit fuse. "You keep telling yourself you hate this, but you're so fucking obvious. Look at you—" he pauses, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls your body tighter against his, "—practically melting into me. If you were any more desperate, you’d be begging."
The insult should sting. It should make you slap him, curse him out, anything—but instead, a fire blooms in your chest, fierce and hot, because the bastard’s not entirely wrong. And isn’t that just the worst part? He knows how to press every button, dig under your skin like it’s his damn playground, and worse yet, you let him. Every. Single. Time.
“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” Your voice is breathless, each word shaky and ragged, but at least you still manage to get them out. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Please. The only reason I’m here is because no one else in this godforsaken place knows how to shut you up.”
The second the words leave your mouth, you regret them—not because you don’t mean it (you do)—but because it only serves to fuel him. That cocky grin spreads across his face, slow and deliberate, like he knows he’s won something. His eyes flicker with amusement, the kind that makes you want to punch him in the throat.
“Shut me up?” he repeats, one brow arching. He leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice low and dripping with arrogance. “Funny, you didn’t seem so eager to shut me up the last time I had you moaning my name loud enough to wake up half the fucking city. So, what’s the plan this time? You gonna play hard to get until you’re dripping for me again?”
Heat rushes to your face, your pulse racing at the way he’s goading you. The memory of that night comes rushing back with startling clarity—the way he made you unravel piece by piece, the sounds he dragged out of you, your body shaking in his hands. No. Not again. You grit your teeth, fighting back the whirlwind of feelings that threatens to consume you.
“God, you really are delusional,” you bite out, shoving at his chest, though it’s mostly for show. His body barely moves under your weak attempt to push him off. “I’m not here because I want you. I’m here because I pity you. You always need someone to tell you what a good job you’re doing, don’t you, Tkachuk? Can’t go five minutes without being validated.”
It’s a low blow, you know it. But you’re playing dirty, because that’s what this is—dirty, ugly, and twisted beyond recognition. His expression darkens for a split second, and you think maybe you’ve gotten through that thick skull of his. But then his grip on your waist tightens painfully, and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall, your back pressing hard against the brick harder, the air punched out of your lungs by the force.
“Oh, I don’t need validation from you, princess,” he snarls, his face inches from yours now. His lips curl in that infuriating smirk, all teeth and malice, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I get that plenty from everyone else. You’re just the one who can’t seem to keep your legs closed when I’m around.”
You hate that his words stirs something in you, some deep, primal urge you’d rather ignore. He can see it too, the way your breath catches, the faint flush that creeps up your neck. Every scathing insult, every venomous remark felt like a bruise that you both pressed harder into because neither of you could seem to stop. And worse, some traitorous part of you doesn’t want to stop. You’re furious—at him, at yourself, at how easily you let him turn you into someone else entirely. Someone who gets off on the ugly, spiteful mess you make together.
But what do you do when that mess feels so fucking good?
Your thoughts swirl, a chaotic storm, as his eyes bore into yours, dark and predatory, daring you to do something—anything. God, how do you always end up here? You swore you were done. You told yourself that the last time he fucked you against a wall like you were something to be used and discarded. You’ve never been able to stay away, though, and the worst part? He knows it.
“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, the words tearing from your throat as if that could somehow free you from the pull he has on you. “You think you can talk to me like that and I’ll still—” But your words die in your throat as his hand slides up your side, fingers pushing over the straps of your dress. The sensation makes you jump, a sharp gasp escaping before you can bite it back. Goddamn him.
His lips curve into a wicked grin, eyes narrowing like a predator who’s caught the scent of blood. “Still pretending you don’t like this?” he breathes, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl that rakes over your skin. His other hand trails lower, brushing the inside of your thigh, and your body betrays you—your legs quiver, and he feels it. Of course, he does. “Tell me again how much you hate this,” he mocks, his lips grazing your ear, the words sending a shudder down your spine. “Go ahead. Convince yourself you don’t want my hands all over you right now.”
I hate this. I hate him. You keep repeating it, as if the words could solidify and become truth, as if you could convince your traitorous body to listen. But no matter how hard you try to summon any real anger, all that rises is a wave of heat that feels like it's going to swallow you whole. You feel him smirk against your skin, his breath hot on your neck, and it makes something in you snap.
"God, you're so fucking predictable," you sneer, even though your voice trembles. "Always gotta prove you're the big man, huh? Does it get tiring, being this pathetic?"
You’re trying, trying so hard to dig your heels in, to maintain some sense of power in this wretched game you’ve both played a hundred times before. But you know—he knows—it’s crumbling fast. His hand is already inching higher, under your skirt, rough fingers ghosting along the inside of your thigh, and every ounce of resolve you cling to feels like it's slipping through your fingers.
Don’t react, you tell yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction. But then his fingers brush the edge of your panties, and your whole body jerks involuntarily, a shuddering gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. And there it is. The crack in your armor, the proof that despite all your sharp words, your body is already begging for him.
"Still got that smart mouth, huh?" His voice is velvet laced with venom, a dangerous drawl that makes your skin tingle. "It’s funny, you talk such a big game, but I’m pretty sure I can feel how much you want this. You’re soaked."
His words slam into you, making your cheeks burn with humiliation, but there’s no denying it. You can feel it—the heat pooling between your legs, the dampness that betrays everything you’ve been trying to deny. It’s pathetic, really. How he can reduce you to this, turn you inside out with just a few touches and that goddamn voice.
“I fucking hate you,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again, but the movement is weak, half-hearted. You’re shaking—whether from rage, lust, or some twisted cocktail of both, you don’t even know anymore. But he doesn’t move, not even an inch. Instead, he presses closer, so close you can feel every inch of him against you, hard and insistent.
“Yeah?” His lips curl into a smirk, eyes dark and glinting with amusement. “Funny how hate looks a lot like you grinding on me, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to rethink that?”
Your body answers before your brain can. Without meaning to, your hips roll against him, just a slight shift, but enough to make his breath hitch. And God, the satisfaction that flares in your chest at that tiny victory is intoxicating. But it’s short-lived, because suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are—pressed against a brick wall in the sticky heat of a dimly lit alley, where anyone could walk by at any moment.
Your pulse spikes with a new kind of anxiety. “Wait,” you breathe, suddenly feeling exposed, raw. You push at him again, harder this time. “Not here. Someone could—”
But Matthew doesn’t even blink. If anything, his grin widens, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your ear. “Oh, what’s this? Now you’re getting shy? That’s cute.” His fingers rub your thigh, a deliberate, maddening slowness that makes you want to scream. “Don’t tell me the idea of someone catching us is what’s really got you worked up.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, a dizzying mix of arousal and panic swirling in your veins. You’ve never been this close to losing control in public before, and the idea of someone seeing you like this—needy, desperate, coming undone under Matthew’s hands—it sends a jolt of fear straight to your core. Although you’d deny it, there’s a tiny part of you, buried deep, that doesn’t hate it.
“Matthew, I’m serious,” you manage, though your voice is strained, shaky. “We can’t—”
“Oh, now you care about getting caught?” he cuts you off, amusement dripping from every word. “Come on, don’t act like this is the first time we’ve done something reckless. Admit it—you like it.” His hand slips underneath your panties, pressing against the heat there, and your knees nearly buckle. “You like knowing someone might see what a filthy mess you are for me.”
A soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, and it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. His grip tightens, his body pressing harder against yours, pinning you firmly in place. You can feel him—all of him—and it only makes the ache between your legs worse. Your body is betraying you at every turn, no matter how much your mind is screaming at you to stop.
“Filthy mess?” You force out a bitter laugh, your chest heaving, trying desperately to regain some sense of control, but your body is betraying you at every turn. You can feel the wetness between your legs, undeniable, a humiliating testament to just how much he affects you. “Coming from the guy who begged to get his dick sucked the last time? Please. You’re so easy, Matthew. One touch and you’re practically falling apart like a teenager.”
His eyes darken at the insult, that dangerous spark flaring behind them, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. But instead of backing off, he leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, his breath hot and ragged. “Keep running that mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to fuck you.”
Your pulse quickens, your stomach twisting at the way his words seep into your skin like venom. You hate that he’s right—hate that he knows exactly how to unravel you with just a few touches, a few sharp words. His hand moves again, slipping further down, his fingers sliding over your slick folds, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. It’s involuntary, humiliating, and the satisfaction that flickers in his eyes makes your blood boil.
His fingers press harder, slipping inside you, and a sharp jolt of pleasure surges through you, your knees nearly buckling from the intensity of it. You bite your lip, hard, refusing to let him hear how much it affects you, but the way your body trembles against his tells him everything he needs to know.
His lips curl into a wicked smile as he watches you fall apart, his thumb brushing over your clit with a gentle, almost mocking pressure. The sensation sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you, your knees buckling under the weight of it.
"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're all bark, no bite. Always talking like you're too good for this, but look at you. Practically fucking yourself on my hand."
Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, your body shaking with the effort to hold back the moans threatening to spill out. The shame and arousal twist together in a tangled mess, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.
“I fucking hate you,” you spit again, but the words sound weak, hollow. You’re losing this battle, and you know it.
“I know, baby,” he coos, his voice soft and patronizing, fingers curling inside you just right, and fuck, you can feel yourself slipping. “You hate me so much you’re about to come on my hand.”
Your vision blurs, the world around you narrowing down to the feel of his fingers, the press of his body against yours, and the way every filthy, degrading word he speaks sends heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so close, teetering on the edge of something dark and all-consuming, and you know—God, you know—you’re not going to last much longer.
But Matthew isn’t done with you. Not yet.
His free hand slides up your body, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose the curve of your breasts. His mouth is on you in an instant, teeth grazing your skin as he sucks a bruising mark into the delicate flesh. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, a sharp, desperate moan ripping from your throat as your body convulses around his fingers.
“There it is,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he presses you harder against the wall. “There’s my good girl. You can pretend all you want, but this is who you are. Mine.”
The word echoes in your mind, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding, breathless and trembling under the weight of his touch.
“Yes,” you gasp, barely able to form the word, your body still trembling. “Fuck, yes.”
You’re still reeling from the orgasm he ripped out of you, your legs barely able to hold you up as Matthew unbuckles his belt with that smug smirk never leaving his face. The sound of the metal clinking should send alarm bells through your mind, but all you can focus on is the throbbing ache between your legs, the way your body is still trembling in the aftershocks of what just happened. You can feel your own wetness on your thighs, sticky and undeniable, and it’s infuriating how much you want him again already.
Your breath is still ragged, and there’s a knot of panic building in your chest as you realize what’s happening next. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before—Matthew getting you worked up, wrecking you with just his fingers or his mouth, then leaving you raw and aching. But this? This is different. It’s so public, so reckless, and you’re spiraling, caught between the shame and the all-consuming need that makes you feel like you’re drowning.
His hands are rough, impatient as he slides the leather through his belt loops, and the sight of him makes something inside you twist. “What, can’t wait to get your hands on me?” He mocks.
“Shut up,” you snap, the words sharp, but your voice is ragged, breathless. You’re trying so hard to hold onto some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through your fingers faster than you can catch it. “Just—do you have a condom?”
For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, you’ve managed to cut through that smug, self-satisfied exterior. His hand stills on his belt, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you, and then he snorts, a low, condescending sound that makes your stomach twist. “A condom? Really?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks, voice dripping with arrogance. “I don’t give a fuck.”
You blink, taken aback by how blunt he is. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to push him away, to tell him to go to hell, but the rest of you—the messy, broken part that always falls for his shit—is already caving. There’s something dangerous about the way he says it, like he knows you won’t stop him. And God, isn’t that the worst part? He’s right.
“Of course, you don’t,” you hiss, trying to muster up some semblance of dignity even as your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought of what’s coming. “But we both know you don’t want me to have your demon babies.”
His laugh is low, dark, and filled with derision. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers working the zipper of his pants. “You’re still going to let me fuck you raw in this goddamn alley, though.”
Your mouth opens to protest, to tell him he’s wrong, that you’re not some pathetic, needy thing desperate for his attention, but the words die in your throat when his hand slips back under your skirt, gripping your thigh and hooking your leg around his hip–then pushing your panties to the side. You bite back a moan, your body trembling with the need for more, and the smug look on his face tells you he knows exactly how close you are to breaking again.
Before begin to think anything else, he’s lining himself up, his breath hot against your skin, and without warning, he thrusts into you, hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt. The sharp, overwhelming sensation rips through you, a gasp tearing from your throat, and for a moment, all you can feel is him—filling you, stretching you, claiming every inch of space you swore you wouldn’t give him again.
It hurts. It always does with him, at first—he’s too rough, too insistent, too much—but you’ve always liked the pain, haven’t you? That’s the sick, twisted truth of it. The burn, the way he takes without asking, the way he knows exactly how to push you to the brink—it all leaves you breathless, dizzy with need.
You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, anything, but you’re unraveling, piece by piece. His hips slam into yours with a brutal, unrelenting pace, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the narrow alleyway. You can feel the dampness of your sweat mixing with the sticky night air, your skin slick against his, and it’s filthy. All of it. Filthy and wrong, but God, it feels so good.
“God, you’re such an asshole,” you spit out between breaths, voice trembling from the force of his hips slamming into yours. His pace is punishing, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help the way your nails dig deeper into his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.
Matthew grunts in response, his breath ragged against your neck. His lips skim over your ear, and his teeth nip at your skin, making you shiver despite the oppressive heat. “Says the girl getting fucked against a wall like a desperate little slut.” He’s ruthless with his words, throwing them like knives that slice straight through you, but the sharpness only spurs you on.
You bare your teeth and bite down hard on his shoulder, not holding back, feeling the satisfaction of his skin giving way beneath your teeth. It’s a desperate, feral reaction—your body’s twisted way of regaining some control. He hisses, his muscles tensing as your bite sends a shockwave through him. You know it hurts, and you want it to. You want him to feel a fraction of the chaotic mess he’s making of you.
But it only makes him rougher.
His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back hard enough that it stings. “Oh, you like playing rough now, huh?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous. His grip tightens painfully on your leg as he slams into you harder, forcing you to choke on your next breath. “Biting me, clawing me like a desperate little whore—pathetic. You’re just pissed ‘cause you know how much you want this.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” you lie, gasping as another wave of pleasure courses through you, your body responding despite your brain screaming at you to stop. It’s pathetic, truly—how your body betrays you, how you’re falling apart in his hands, coming undone at the same pace that he’s pulling you tighter against him.
He laughs, breathless and cruel. “Liar.” His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, and you’re instantly undone by the sensation, your hips bucking against his despite yourself. “You’re squeezing me so tight, it’s like you’re trying to keep me inside you.” The smugness in his voice makes you want to slap him, but you can’t even think straight, not with his body driving into yours, his fingers working you over like you’re nothing but a puppet on strings.
Your response is unintelligible, more of a broken moan than actual words. You try, desperately, to hold on to some part of yourself, to remember who you are beneath all this anger and lust, but it’s slipping, unraveling with each thrust, with each word he spits at you. Your nails drag down his back again, harder this time, drawing a hiss from his throat, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter.
“You can keep trying to hurt me, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough, “but it just makes you tighter for me. Keep going—I can take it.”
You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to stop the sounds that are escaping you. The alleyway feels suffocating, the heat of the night clinging to your skin, making everything feel more intense, more raw. The smell of sweat and sex mingles in the air, and you’re hyperaware of every sound—the way your bodies slap together, the wetness between your legs, the soft, desperate gasps that you can’t control.
“You’re going to regret this,” you manage to say, your voice trembling as you try, for the millionth time, to regain some semblance of control. It’s a weak threat, and you both know it. Matthew’s grin stretches wider, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“I’ve never regretted a thing with you,” he growls, his pace quickening. He’s relentless now, hips snapping into you with a force that makes your head spin, his thumb working over your clit faster. "Keep biting, sweetheart," he says through a tight grin, his pace never faltering, "I’ll make you scream for it."
And God help you, you do. Every thrust has you trembling, gasping, barely able to think beyond the white-hot pleasure searing through you. It’s too much, too fast, but you can’t stop yourself—you’re pushing against him, meeting every punishing stroke like you’re trying to match him in this sick, twisted game of dominance.
Your breath hitches, your body arching against his as that familiar, unbearable pressure starts to build low in your belly. You can feel it—feel yourself slipping, unraveling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. His name slips from your lips, ragged and broken, and you want to hate yourself for how desperate you sound.
"Already?" he taunts, his voice low and dripping with condescension. "Didn’t take long this time, did it? Always so damn easy for me."
"Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper, because he’s right. You’re already falling apart around him, your body betraying you in the worst possible way.
"Too late for that," he growls, thrusting into you harder, and the sharp slap of his hips against yours sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. "You’re already fucked, baby."
And that’s when it happens. That tight, coiling knot inside you snaps, and you fall—hard. Your whole body clenches, thighs shaking as a violent orgasm tears through you, your head tipping back against the brick wall as a choked, guttural moan rips from your throat. You’re shaking, barely able to breathe, and he doesn’t stop. Not even for a second.
Matthew’s grip tightens on your hips, bruising, and he’s still moving, driving into you with a brutal intensity that makes your whole body ache. "God, you’re such a fucking mess," he mutters, his voice rough and breathless, and you can hear the strain in his tone, the way his own release is close, just out of reach.
Your fingers scramble against his back, your nails raking down the muscles there in a desperate attempt to hold on to something solid as your mind spirals. You can feel the raw scratches your nails leave behind, but it’s not enough—it’s never enough to satisfy the gnawing need to make him feel this too. You can feel him, hard and throbbing inside you, and somewhere in the haze of it all, you hear him grunt, low and rough. “Where do you want it, huh?” His voice is breathless, but there’s still that edge of arrogance in it. “Tell me. Where should I come?”
You should tell him to pull out. You should tell him you’re not that stupid, that you know better. But the words that come out of your mouth aren’t the ones you intended.
“Inside,” you gasp, before you can stop yourself. “I don’t care. Just—fuck, Matt, do it. Please.”
His eyes darken at your words, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, his grip on your hips tightening as he slams into you one more time, burying himself deep. With a rough, guttural groan, he lets go, his body tensing as he spills inside you, the warmth flooding your core in a way that makes your already oversensitive body shudder.
For a moment, neither of you move, both of you breathing hard, the sticky heat of the night settling back in around you. You’re still pressed against the wall, your legs trembling, his body heavy against yours, and for a second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’ll say something that makes this less horrible. Maybe he’ll apologize or admit that this is as fucked up for him as it is for you.
"Need a ride home?" he asks, his tone almost casual, like he’s offering you a lift after a night out with friends and not after he just fucked you against a wall without even a second thought.
You blink at him, still too stunned to answer right away. "Are you serious?" you snap, your voice laced with disbelief. "After everything, that’s what you say?"
He shrugs, unbothered by your tone. "What? You wanna walk?" His eyes flick over you, taking in the disheveled state of your dress, your mussed hair, and the bruises already forming on your hips. "Thought you might want to clean up a little before you try to get into an Uber looking like that."
The nerve of him, acting like this was nothing, like he didn’t just wreck you in every possible way. "You’re such a piece of shit," you hiss, shoving him hard in the chest, though it feels more like an afterthought than anything else. You’re drained, physically and emotionally, but of course, Matthew doesn’t care.
He just laughs, low and dark, brushing off the shove like it’s nothing. "Yeah, well, you still let me fuck you, so what does that make you?"
You hate him. You hate him so much you can barely breathe through the anger, but all you can do is be dragged by him out of the alley, with a promise of nothing.
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CHAPTER 8: TERMINAL PARADISE
ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader
He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.
ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high/drunk sex, dubcon, somnophilia, oral sex, threesome, the boys being........ evil?
ੈ✩ wc: 7.7k
ੈ✩ a/n: what's upppPP i'm a little tipsy rn but. here is chapter eight. title from the adrianne lenker song. anyways this chapter is very self-indulgent but as i read it back it makes me like. sad. i shan't elaborate. it's very stupid olympic sex i'll tell u that. belligerent fucking if u will
playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist
June, 2009
Heat sticks onto you like a leech. You’ve started to think you’ve become one, what with the dark side of your technique. You walked the halls feeling like a white deer that failed to blend into a thicket.
You latch onto your boys like a leech, too. Fighting for space in the same sky in between the sun and the moon. Suguru likes to tell you you’re the stars in small ways, always a gleam in your eye despite mostly feeling dim. There isn’t much time for moping anymore, Satoru tells you. It’s the summer, after all.
It’s quiet on Onjuku Beach. Well, quiet enough, save for the occasional splashing and the sound of Satoru’s cackles as he swims underwater and pulls Utahime’s ankle. You hold back laughter, watching her lash out like she usually does, Satoru running away like a little kid.
You take a bite of watermelon, the juice dripping out of the corner of your mouth. When you feel Suguru’s weight on the blanket next to you, you give him a slice. He wipes your mouth with the pad of his finger and tastes it on his tongue. He’d gotten accustomed to grooming you like that. Braiding your hair and sticking petals in it in the spring. Rubbing your shoulders with suntan lotion.
You glance at him afterward, when he’s not looking, grappling with the urge to bite him on the shoulder. You think that maybe Satoru would. You aren’t sure if you have the same privilege.
The afternoon drags on, barely changing the summer sky as the tide stays consistent between you and the moon. Shoko and Utahime had headed back an hour before, leaving Satoru’s head in your lap and Suguru seemingly napping underneath a Murakami novel.
You’d scrunched your nose up at the sight of it—Norwegian Wood. You’d teased Suguru about it, accusing him of being pretentious with a secret love for hollow female characters. He’d rolled his eyes, tipping back a beer, teasing you for bringing No Longer Human.
“Talk about dysfunctional and sad,” he sneered.
Satoru’s damp hair isn’t helping the shiver of your thighs, the sheen of your smooth skin now riddled with goosebumps. He’d teased you for taking the time to shave every part of your body before the mission, something you never did. Keeping up your appearance when you didn’t need to for him. Suguru likes a bush, too, you know.
You flushed when he said that, like your face was on fire.
Being day drunk is fun, you decide. Haziness suits the three of you.
You’re sweltering, to say the least, considering the late afternoon sun is setting in a place that hits you directly. Suguru stirs. You feel his warm breath on the side of your thigh as he rises, rubbing his eyes.
“You think I tanned unevenly?” he asks, squinting at you.
You shake your head, smiling. He smiles back, yawning just before he snaps the side of your bikini bottom without warning. You wince in surprise, blushing.
“Wanna wake up the prince?”
“But he looks so sweet when he’s asleep,” you sigh. “And so quiet.”
“Real fuckin’ quiet,” Suguru laughs. He pauses as he looks at Satoru, as if skimming his face for something. He flicks his nose with his finger, making Satoru flinch and whine.
“C’mon, Satoru. Up.”
He mumbles something in between a whimper and a slurred mutter, nuzzling his nose into your lap until you feel his hot breath fanning your cunt. He whines even more when you shift, attempting to get to your feet and put on your cover-up when he latches onto your wrists with his hands.
“We gotta go,” you coo softly.
He obliges with a pout. Satoru had rented a house with an ocean view for the three of you to stay in, much too luxurious for a mission that would only last a few days. But he had the expendable funds, and he refused to stay in a hostel like you had suggested.
He continues his petulant attitude, his stride like that of a child on vacation. It did feel like a vacation, if you had to be honest. The curses you’d exorcised the day before were hardly exhausting.
It’s only been three days in Onjuku, but you think that the boys are plotting against you.
It’d started the first day, Thursday, after a few exorcisms and one Special Grade made of tongues that they were able to kill in record time. Satoru had insisted on showing as much skin as possible, citing the heat. He was wearing your favorite shirt of his, unbuttoned to show off his alabaster skin, unblemished by anything at all, not even the hot sun.
He’d also insisted on dessert for breakfast, pointing out the novelty shops along the coast of the local town with the titillation of a real tourist, as if he hadn’t spent weekends there as a child. That’s how the three of you ended up eating popsicles for breakfast.
He was being annoyingly sly, pinching and prodding at you all morning like a little boy. He’d insisted on mimosas before noon, Suguru oddly going along with his antics at your expense. You’d had popsicles at the beach after. Satoru wouldn’t stop staring at you, blinking through the brain freeze as his mouth went to work on something strawberry-flavored. He was obscene with it, his tongue moving in languid movements, disgusting you but burning your skin at the same time.
His lips were stained bright red for the rest of the afternoon, but it looked so beguiling that it had you distracted for the rest of the day. You knew you could have him — he had never played hard to get — but something would gnaw at you telling you the opposite. Made him like forbidden fruit, deluding you.
For one, he was either missing your signals or feigning oblivion, a game that you willingly became a pawn to. He had always taken up too much space, but now he was tugging at your hair like you were twelve again despite your protests.
And then, when you were brave enough to sneak a hand on his thigh underneath the dinner table or cuddled a bit closer to him in bed, he did nothing.
Suguru was less obvious about teasing, which made you feel like you were crazy.
It started with small grocery runs. Suguru accompanied you after Satoru refused to go on the principle of having enough money to dine out for every meal. It felt domestic to pick vegetables with him. Both times, he’d thrown in a treat or a drink that he knew you would like without asking. He’d praise you after the day’s work in ways that set your guts on fire.
He had also, it seemed, picked up the same habit as Satoru of tugging your hair to get your attention. There had been fleeting touches to your waist, too, when he would simply be passing by you after you were done showering. Absent-mindedly, as light as an apparition. Shifting bodies as casually as two people passing in a crowded bar, yet it felt like a car crash to you.
He’d continue that for the second day. Even yesterday, when you had been using the outdoor shower to rinse off after the beach, Suguru had walked in with a drink to offer. Despite still being in your bathing suit, you had felt scandalized by his gaze alone.
Now, on Saturday evening, you’re alone with him in the beach house while Satoru attends a meeting in Shinjuku against his will.
Suguru lays on the couch lazily, his tongue jutting out to lick the side of a joint in between tea-flavored papers. You walk into the living room with a yawn, having just woken up from a short nap after reading on the porch. At twilight, the sky flushes pink and purple above the horizon.
You think about what to eat for dinner, thinking about the prospect of cooking with Suguru alone, which should come as a wholesome, harmless daydream, but truthfully makes your face warm. There are plenty of restaurants down the street, some that even delivered, you recall from a brochure left on the counter. You were intrigued by a seafood restaurant that Satoru had promised to take you to—
“Want a hit?” Suguru’s voice interrupts your ruminating.
“Oh,” you blink. “Um, sure.”
He chuckles as you join him on the couch as if he can read your mind. “It’s like Shoko’s cigarettes, I promise.”
“I know,” you frown, pouting. “I’ve smoked weed before.”
“Last time we passed a blunt around, you kept talking about how it’s against the law.”
“It is!” you mumble, shrugging.
“Yes,” Suguru grins. “And we’re sorcerers that wield magic and kill monsters.”
You roll your eyes, taking the joint from his fingers. He hands you a Zippo, the very one that you had gifted to Shoko months before. You’d have to remember to pocket it afterward to give back to her.
Suguru chuckles when you take a hit and inevitably cough. When he takes it back, he huffs and exhales a cloud towards your face, grinning with ivory teeth as his Adam’s apple rolls back. You can’t help but fixate your gaze on it.
He taps your knees in a rhythmic pattern with his fingers when you take the next hit. Already, your vision is vignetted with hazy white, but every movement between the two of you feels incredibly sharp, as if you’re wielding the Six Eyes in a dream. Your mouth feels dry, your lips bitten down by your teeth.
Suguru had been too lazy to change after the beach, barely in the mood to shower until the dampness of his swim trunks had gotten to him. He’d changed to another pair of shorts, the inseam short enough to allow exposure of his tanned thighs, and not bothering with a shirt because of the humidity. Even this close to him, he still smells like sea salt. His long hair was slightly textured, naturally tousled by the ocean.
You sink into the couch, sighing. You feel as though you're overheating. Despite this, Suguru is next to you, thigh to thigh, the spot in between you burning.
His lips feel chapped, his tongue dry from cotton mouth. He thinks about sticking it down your throat.
The radio that comes with the house is old as shit, something inexplicably adorable enough to be in a vintage shop but not practical enough to own considering it would buzz every few minutes. The signal is weak, crackling as Tatsuro Yamashita plays at a low volume.
Suguru throws his legs over your lap as he inhales, passing the joint to you but not releasing it. Instead, he merely holds it to your mouth himself, lighting it with Shoko’s Zippo.
Normally, you’d shake yourself after a session, splash your face with cold water before you would start imagining things. You were addicted to the feeling of his fingertips, the sensation exacerbated by your high. The last time you were like this, you’d pictured Suguru’s mouth on your cunt, the image bombarding your mind throughout the night. You numbed the urge with alcohol, still taking bong rips until you threw up in Shoko’s trash can.
You don’t think you’re hallucinating this time. His fox eyes point at you and descend down your face and jaw.
“No more,” he says.
“Why not?” you whine.
“Your eyes are glazing over,” Suguru chuckles. “So fucking gone.”
“I'm not,” you sigh, pushing his legs off of you and leaning into his shoulder.
He welcomes you with open arms, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. He smells like his sunscreen, coconut from his fragrance, salt from his body. His skin is incredibly warm too, but so is your entire body, particularly your chest. You can feel your heart beating. You can feel his palm on your thigh. Scorching.
So touchy with you. You wonder if he’s high on anything else. Maybe that was why he was so affectionate today.
Suguru stretches his legs across the couch, your body like a doll’s in between his thighs. He cracks open the can of beer beside him—when had he gotten up to get one?
It’s more humid at night. Or maybe it was the slick of his skin. Either way, you think your hair must be matted with sweat, a messy braid loosening at the back of your head. Strands spin in between Suguru’s fingers like loose threads of a sweater.
“You’re excited.”
“What?” you squeak out, surprised. His voice interrupts a miasma of inebriated thought loops, dripping desire bombarding the forefront of your mind.
“Your heart’s beating fast,” he observes. “And you get real horny when you're high.”
"I don't—”
"Don't think Shoko and I don't notice Satoru stealing you away when we smoke," he laughs.
His fingers curl around your jaw, lowering to feel the quickening pulse of the right side of your neck. You’d surely smell like him by the time you shower tonight. Coconut and sea salt and beer.
You shake your head.
Suguru had been at a deficit with you for the past six months. He would dream about your cunt sometimes, the sight of you on New Year’s permanently etched into his brain. He and Satoru still looked at the same magazines they’d collected in adolescence, spilling ropes of white to the same pages that had always gotten him going, but you were still more prominent in his head.
He would think of your mouth parting from the sensation of his fingers pushing through the slick of your pussy. Your tongue exploring the underside of his neck.
Satoru has been overly possessive ever since the school year started. Suguru had started to believe that he would never have you again and that he should accept it. He didn't feel particularly entitled to you. The Six-eyed sorcerer had his claim on you since he was a child, anyway—Suguru would learn to get over it.
But now, here you are, in his lap. Your breath quickens at the feeling of his hand on your thigh. Suguru could bet that you were soaking through your panties, perhaps from the moment you found yourself alone with him.
Lately, Suguru wants you more than he wants Satoru.
He loved Satoru so much, more than he thought he was ever capable of since he’d met him at fifteen, but he constantly dreams of the softness of your skin instead. He liked that you were pliant, desperate. It’d be easy to coax a reaction out of you, letting him in the crux of your thighs with just the tiniest amount of teasing. Suguru knew that you would say yes to him as eagerly as you would to Satoru, your mouth already watering. It made him feel insane.
Your cheeks heat up when you feel his dick hardening beneath you. Prodding at the small of your back, the only thing separating you is a thin piece of nylon.
“Aw,” he purrs. “You have a freckle right here.”
“Do I?” you breathe, your eyes lowering down to where Suguru’s finger strokes the inside of your thigh, the tip of it caressing a dot of dark brown. So tiny that you hadn’t even noticed it yourself.
“S’cute,” he whispers. You shiver, then. His hot breath all over your neck is intoxicating. When his fingers skim your collarbone, he notices it’s hot to the touch, your pulse twitching the same as it does when he’d called you princess.
You swallow thickly, turning to face him in his lap. He says your name with a heaviness that has your heart sinking to your feet.
“Can I kiss you?”
You don’t answer, merely turning your head to melt into him. High out of your mind.
He’s careful with you. His lips are soft despite being a bit chapped, his aftershave prominent in the air with notes of sandalwood. There’s intent to it, something you didn’t often feel with Satoru over the past few weeks.
Your hands cup his jaw almost immediately, while his own hands cup the flesh of your thighs. They slide up to squeeze your ass, which forces a mewl out of your mouth.
He didn’t think his cock could get any harder, wanting to burst from his shorts. It hurt.
“You’re so warm. You got a fever or something?”
“No,” you breathe.
“Your skin is burning. Wanna take this off?” he grins. A shark smile. His fingers skim the hem of your dress.
You do it without him begging. He doesn’t even have to convince you — you’re peeling it off, exhaling at the feeling of the thick air around you. Even with the slip of fabric off, you still feel so fucking warm against him.
You yelp when he grabs your breast, squeezing it along with his tongue on your nipple.
“Suguru—”
Your whine falls flat. You don't remember if you were meaning to scold him or to beg for more. He smiles with his forehead pressed to yours, his hands smoothing up and down the skin of your sides.
“Pretty,” he muses.
“Pretty,” you repeat. He’s beautiful underneath you.
A beat passes. You don't know who closes the distance first.
It’s a gnash of limbs, of lips, of teeth. Devouring each other. The weed made you so fucking wet, dripping into his lap through your panties. He doesn’t bother with them, pulling them to the side to fuck into you without a warning. You don’t even recall him taking out his dick.
The feeling of him makes you want to cry.
He groans at the bulge of your lower stomach, his cock carving out the gooey parts of you for him to nest in. The flush of your cheeks makes you look like a flower. Your cunt blooming for him, hot and tight.
You feel like you’re being split apart, like the skin of a mandarin orange unfurling beneath his hands.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighs, gaining control of his voice. Humming instead of growling, like he’s sinking into a warm bath.
You think it would burn if you weren’t so wet, his girth thicker than Satoru’s.
He holds you by the hips, thrusting into you at a slow pace, breaking you open. Making a mess of your insides.
“Does Satoru fuck you this good?” he grins.
You’re too breathless to reply. As if you even could, your face feverish at his taunting. You didn’t think you could survive a grip harder than Satoru’s, but despite Suguru’s gentle demeanor, his hands on you are brutish.
You kiss him, licking up the taste of beer and weed, slightly herbal from the papers. He moans into your mouth when you grip his hair. It’s soft in between your fingers. Like real silk.
Suguru had dreamt about this for months.
“You look so pretty,” he grunts, teeth bared. “Fuck. Thought about this for so long.”
You whine at his admission. His cock is impossibly deep inside you, coupled with the sensation of your limbs melting like boiled sugar. You roll your hips, cunt spasming around him already. Your nails make crescent-shaped marks on the meat of his broad shoulders, mirroring the same ones that he had made from gripping your waist.
Suguru’s hand holds the crux of your neck, tipping your face upward to look at him dead in the eye. Everything in your body is cloying heat, making it difficult to keep your eyes wide open, but he forces it from you with deeper thrusts. His fingers coax your mouth open for you to suck on, making you whimper, making you choke on his digits.
There’s a flash in Suguru’s eyes, the smallest gleam that you had recognized in Satoru. Something predatory.
“Knew you’d be a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. “You think about me like this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you whimper.
He pulls back, leaning back on the couch to let you have your rut, your pace eager like a starved puppy. Part of him wanted to mark you up just to piss Satoru off, though he knew the bastard would probably like it anyway.
“How do you think about me?”
“I—Suguru—”
“Tell me,” he teases, his smile serpentine. He pulls out to flip you over, your tits pressed against the arm of the couch. “Like this? Pulling your hair?”
"I think about your mouth. About your cock inside me," you say. Mindless. Under his spell.
The stretch from behind feels somehow deeper than before. He groans at the way your back arches, your hair in his fist. Your knees are already chafing from the leather beneath you, the back of your thighs burning from slapping against his skin.
“Close,” you choke out.
“Yeah,” he sighs, biting your shoulder. “Cum on my cock, princess.”
You could pass out like this, you think. Your vision is already spotty, air stolen out of your lungs from the brevity of his movements. Your mouth hangs, wide open and slack as a pitchy moan rolls out.
Suguru follows soon after you — he can’t help it when you sound like that. He’s addicted. Desperate to live inside you like this, high in every earthly sense. He has half a mind to pull out before he spills, but he can’t pry himself from you.
Still dizzy, you lay on him while he cleans up the mess in between your thighs, his cum nearly leaking onto the couch. You’re surprised when he grabs the back of your neck to kiss you again. Neither of you keep track of how much time passes as you make out like teenagers. You feel almost faint in his arms.
“Fuck, you’re still high as shit, aren’t you?” Suguru says, squishing your face in between his hands. He slides his dick back into his shorts, light soiled from precum. If he hadn’t put them on again, he probably would’ve been too tempted for another round. Even with your hand palming him while you made out, you were clearly in another dimension.
Looking at him makes you feel raw. Like letting him fuck you was the same as volunteering your heart on a pulpit.
“Dinner.” It feels strange to use your voice. Swapping spit with Suguru wasn’t doing much for hydration.
“Yes,” he chuckles. “Want to go to that restaurant?”
“Mm,” you whine, slinging an arm around his neck. “Let’s do takeout.”
Satoru manages to slip back late at night, long past the time you and Suguru had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. He smirks at the sight, hovering over the two of you like the Grim Reaper. Suguru would surely snap at him if he was awake, but for now, the Six Eyes examine every contour of each of your bodies fit together like clasped palms.
The room smells like sex. Or maybe Satoru is projecting, his jaw only now relaxing after keeping his teeth so gritted during that stupid fucking meeting with the higher-ups. He kept thinking about you, distracted by the sight of you at the beach, your bare legs splayed out on the sand.
Suguru probably got to you first. Of course, he would. It makes Satoru bite his cheek, but it also makes the butterflies in his stomach feel like daggers.
He stills when he hears you hum, mumbling something unintelligible as you bury yourself in Suguru’s chest. It’s so soft, so innocent, yet Satoru has to excuse himself to your shared room so he can wrap his hand around his cock.
He thinks about your mouth when he’s close and decides not to finish. He’d rather feel you against him instead, skin to skin.
The sound of you mewling in your sleep is adorable to him — you do so in his arms as he lifts you bridal style, prying your body from Suguru’s grasp. When he puts you down in the bed, you look angelic.
Satoru rubs your thigh, prying your legs apart gently so he can suck kisses into the skin. You twitch, your breath heavy. Indulging in your dreams while Satoru indulges in his.
You squirm, stirring when you feel his tongue in your cunt. You’re already so wet for him, pliable and ripe for him even in your sleep. He tastes salt, the aftermath of his best friend’s release, and he laughs.
“Satoru,” you mumble, your voice still in a dream-like haze.
“I’m right here, baby,” he murmurs, licking a stripe from your clit to your belly button. “Missed me?”
“Mm.”
The air is thick with tension as he rises to slot his body behind yours. Satoru pumps his cock once before he slides into you without much warning. Despite being wet, your cunt burns.
“Sator—” He covers your mouth.
“So fucking tight,” he groans. “Thought Sugu would’ve loosened you up, huh?”
“Hurts,” you whimper.
“Take it,” he sighs. “Take it for me.”
His teeth on your shoulder make you dizzy. You still feel like you’re dreaming, but the stretch he has in between your walls makes it all too real. Satoru knows he doesn’t deserve you like this, but he’d decided the moment he stepped into the house that he would be selfish tonight.
He fucks you like he’s starved.
Even in the wine-dark night, he senses his best friend all over you with his Six Eyes. You’re covered in him.
You pant into his palm until he descends his hand to your throat, pulling you taut against him so that your back arches. He doesn’t bother with making you cum, mostly circling your clit to get you wetter. Inside you, he feels boneless, washed away of his irritation.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Oh, fuck. ‘m sorry, baby.”
“Too much,” you whine.
He shoves his fingers into your mouth the same way Suguru had done hours before.
With a mean cant of the hips, you can feel his body slacken after warmth fills up your cunt. Your voice is high and needy on the comedown. You taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your lip too hard, chapped from all the kissing of today.
“Love you,” he mumbles, his mouth on the nape of your neck.
He falls asleep soon after, leaving you with your thoughts, still half-drunk on him, barely lucid. It makes you sick, the way you want him, the way you let him use you. But you liked it. You liked his violence and possessiveness as if his actions were love letters.
Satoru had you weaned on something so saccharine that you stopped caring about the possibility of it spoiling. You welcomed the rot anyway. You had your own to wield with your bare hands.
August, 2009
You dream about them sometimes. You were shocked that the boys didn’t have any more games to play with you during that weekend, the two of them collectively ignoring the smell of sex in the air and the casual touches. They still touched you in their own ways. Reminding you of yourself. Your role as a toy.
Sometimes, you dream about them together with you as the voyeur. You’d see their broad backs, sweat pooling into a navel. Tongue-kissing. They were both too large to fit on the dorm bed together, you’d imagine.
Satoru gets clingier. If that was even possible. He sleeps in your room instead of his more often now, leaving his clothes tucked messily in your bottom drawer. It’s almost domestic, the way he starts sweeping the floor like it’s a shared house, the way his toothbrush kisses yours in the chipped mug on the bathroom sink.
Even when he's not physically in your room, his presence always lingers. The amount of belongings left behind that are Satoru's continues to increase. Video games he forces you to play with him. Manga piled up on the corner of your desk.
He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.
It’s during this time that you realize how touch-starved Satoru must’ve been as a child. He had clung to you then, too—always playing too rough, always finding a part of you to hold whether it had been your hand or your braids to pull. From an early age, he’d always needed that relief. Something to sink his teeth in fully.
He’s more than willing to wear his heart on his sleeve for you, which you find endlessly amusing. It makes him dopey, almost stupid in his affection for you. You’d consider yourself a girlfriend if either of you would say it out loud. Neither of you do.
Suguru likes to sneak up on you in small ways that evade Satoru’s watchful eyes. Like the times he sleeps in your dorm when Satoru is busy on a mission. Suguru will indulge your interest in movies that are more cerebral—psychological thrillers and slow cinema. Satoru doesn’t have the patience for it, always opting for a slasher horror or an action film. Suguru likes to be quiet with you in these instances. Likes to stroke your hair when you rest your head in his lap. Likes to fall asleep in your tiny bed, his larger body engulfing yours.
You’re being shared between them, though you aren’t sure of the conditions. You don’t have the guts to ask. You don’t even notice a significant change. Being attuned to the boys in physical and emotional ways is almost second nature to you, now.
Between July and August, the three of you are a set.
A crowded bed. Weed-induced makeouts. Someone’s hand snapping the waistband of your shorts and slinking downwards. Sometimes, you can’t distinguish their touches. You don’t care to.
August is golden light waking you from sweet slumber. August is liquid gold in the sky reflecting on smooth skin. Bare knees hanging from rooftops.
The summer loosens you up, much to Satoru’s delight. Enough to convince you to be more social, at least.
One night, your dorm is crowded—Shoko supplies the weed and Utahime supplies the alcohol.
Strip poker again. A unanimous decision because the school had poor ventilation and there were too many of you for your single box fan to air out the room. Shoko calls the game off knowingly—Satoru’s making his eyes at you again, drunk and high off his ass while you’re occupied with conversation. Any more clothing items stripped off and the rest of them would be kicked out of the room.
You all settle on a movie drinking game, then. Something stupid, something American that Yuki picks out. You think it’s funny that she hangs out given her anarchist values on sorcery.
Satoru is, of course, annoyingly clingy and annoyingly cute. Hogging up all your attention the second you lean into Suguru in the slightest bit. You almost want to scold him, maybe spray him with a bottle like he’s a cat.
He doesn’t bother to put his clothes back on—not all of them, at least. He leaves his shorts on, though you think they must be a size too small given the inseam. You’re still clad in shorts and a crop top, giving Satoru any excuse to touch any expanse of skin between your hips and ribcage despite the number of times you complain about being too warm.
The girls get too drunk too fast. Yuki falls asleep in Suguru’s lap while Shoko and Utahime end up making out without caring about who’s looking.
The minute the three of them are out your door, Satoru’s lips are on yours. Teeth adamant on biting into the flesh of your bottom lip like a predator. He tastes like strawberries this time. You can barely keep up before you register that Suguru is behind you, laughing, cursed energy flickering.
Despite everyone’s departure, the room feels smaller.
Satoru has never been so eager to show off like this, believe it or not. He usually waits until the two of you are alone, though your reaction time is always too slow and the flippant speed that he takes you the millisecond you get privacy together is always too fast.
Maybe sometimes, Suguru would be asleep nearby while Satoru would tease you to sleep, but he’d never be a part of it. Certainly not in the same room.
So it has you deeply flustered now, just like it had been those many months ago in the late hours of New Year’s Day. Rushed and torrid. Two pairs of snake eyes on you. Getting torn apart by two sets of hands.
It seems that your suspicions on that beach weekend were correct.
Satoru’s been bringing up Suguru when he fucks you lately, asking you if you think his other half is more attractive. If you’re thinking about Suguru while he’s inside of you.
Of course, you don’t answer—you never do. But Suguru seems to be in on it, given the amount of times he bumps into you, the way he’s started to call you Twigs. He seems to be everywhere, all the time, the exact second Satoru isn’t around. Like a scab that won’t heal.
He buys you lunch often, likes to treat you after studying the more practical parts of Jujutsu. Plays with your hair absentmindedly just like Satoru does.
He’s doing it now, making your scalp tingle as he presses his mouth gently at the nape of your neck—a stark contrast to Satoru’s tongue in your mouth.
“You gonna let Suguru watch, baby?” Satoru mumbles against your jaw, his breath hot. “Or d’you want him to join?”
You nod dumbly, barely aware of yourself. It’s how Suguru manages to get your shorts off so swiftly. His hands caress your shoulder blades with palms outstretched underneath your shirt. Your own pair of wings.
It’s too easy—like picking apart petals off a rose. Rough as the boys are, they don’t need to be. You’d fold over for them without much convincing. You can tell how much they love that about you, how Satoru probably whispers about it to Suguru in between classes when you aren’t watching.
So sensitive every time I touch her. Like it’s her first time all over again.
“Suguru,” you whine. “Kiss me.”
He laughs and looks at you like a shiny new toy. Precious. Suguru is somehow more boyish when he’s high, his cat-like smile as lazy as his slurred movements. He’s always graceful despite the posture problem he shares with Satoru. When he smokes, there’s a lightness within him. Rolls off the shoulders like water falling.
He’s perfect.
Satoru preps your cunt with his mouth. You cry out immediately, feeling the vibration of him beneath you. It was good that they cut you off from the joint considering how many beers you and Utahime were passing back and forth. You’re light enough now to feel every lick and suck so acutely, Satoru’s mouth making a mess of you.
Suguru works on your neck, then takes your nipple in his mouth. You swallow a moan. Kitten licks from both of them and you’re already convulsing.
“Think you broke a record, princess,” Suguru grins.
“Best girl,” Satoru sighs, biting into the meat of your thigh.
“C’mere. Let me taste her.”
You expect Satoru to huff in protest or move out of the way, but he doesn’t. He leans over your body and presses his mouth to Suguru’s, licking into it obscenely with a small groan. Your eyes widen with fascination, cheeks blooming.
“How is she?” Satoru smirks.
“Perfect. Just like always.”
You whimper in response. They both smile at you; God and the devil. You swear their faces blur into each other.
“That turn you on, baby?”
“She’s so cute,” Suguru muses. “All fucked out already.”
Something divine awakens in your blood. You want to indulge in them, be their pet. It’s like your brain is melting into a pool of desire, dripping out of you. You blink slowly, feeling a pressure in your stomach that bleeds of desperation.
“Want you both,” you pant. Your lashes flutter when Suguru feels the slippery plushness of your walls with his fingers. “Fuck, want it so bad. Need it.”
“So fucking wet, holy shit,” he groans. “All this for me?”
“You?” Satoru frowns. “I’m the one who made her cum.”
“And I’ll make her cum on my cock.”
“Dude—”
“You need to learn how to share, Satoru,” Suguru chuckles. His fingers are incessantly scissoring into you, yet the two of them bicker as if you aren’t there. “You owe me for getting us in trouble last week.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault that we both forgot to put up a veil—”
“Shut him up, will you, sweetheart?” Suguru interjects. “Shit, he’s hard as a rock.”
You whine when Suguru removes his fingers, but he’s quick to fuck into you. It’s whiplash, the stretch of him. Satoru rolls his eyes and leans in to cup your face with his hand, kissing you while his other hand pumps up and down his cock.
“Oh,” you gasp.”S-Suguru…”
“Does it hurt, pretty?”
“N-no. Feels too good.”
“Feels better than Satoru? Yeah?” he sneers.
Satoru glares at him, exhaling a groan in between annoyance and desperation as he palms himself.
“You know, I was gonna fuck her face but now I think that’s your job.”
“I’ll fuck you after, relax,” Suguru chides. “I wanna kiss her.”
He leans down. His messy bun has fallen out of its scrunchie — it’s one of yours. Even when he has his usual hairstyle, he keeps it around his wrist sometimes. Now, his hair tickles your face as he kisses you, hand to your throat to hold you in place while your hips quiver at the sheer girth of him.
“Satoru, c’mere,” you whimper.
He kisses you deeply before kneeling in front of you, his cock hovering over your face. You take him in your mouth, the flushed skin of his dick tight and throbbing underneath your tongue. You like the way he groans and pulls your hair, mirroring the way you were just pulling on Suguru’s hair when his face was buried in your neck.
“Holy fuck,” Satoru moans. His thighs twitch. Suguru’s right – you look fucked out, eyes rolling backward. Must be the drugs. Then again, Suguru’s hitting every sensitive spot inside of you at a relentless pace.
“Such a good mouth, Twigs.”
If you weren’t getting fucked, you would’ve cringed at that. You hate when Satoru calls you that in bed.
“Good cunt, too,” Suguru rasps. “Perfect cunt. Fuck, do you feel that, baby? Feel me up to your stomach?”
You moan around Satoru’s cock.
Satoru’s eyes are blown wide, a drop of blue expanding against the stark white of his sclera. He used to dream about this. His two favorite people in the world. It had occurred to him just then how much he wanted you both in the back of his mind. Wanted to consume you both in one bite.
He pulls out of your mouth, stroking his cock slowly as he watches.
You whine something unintelligible. Begging, mumbling. “Faster.”
“Any faster and I’ll cum, baby,” Suguru groans.
“Don’t cum inside her,” Satoru warns. “I’m still pissed at you for the last time.”
Suguru merely laughs. “Come over here and open your mouth then, pretty boy.”
His thrusts are getting sloppier but rougher. The impact of him is dizzying, the hand he has wrapped around your throat making you lightheaded. You can only stare with a parted mouth, fascinated by the succulent pink of his lips as he focuses on making you cum. You’re too out of breath to even tell him when it happens.
It turns you inside out. Liquefying your body like treacle.
“You’re so cute when you cum, baby,” Satoru coos, squeezing your breast.
“Fuck, fuck, Satoru, c’mere,” Suguru slurs. He pulls out of you then, pumping himself over Satoru’s tongue until his cum spills onto it. He swallows and scrunches his nose.
“Battery acid.”
Suguru laughs, then looks back at you. “You’ll have to weigh in on who tastes better, princess.”
“My turn,” Satoru grins, his eyes a bit feral.
You yelp when he manhandles you and gets you into his lap. He starts marking you up. Bites you a little too hard as if he’s trying to wake you up. When he thrusts into your cunt, you gasp, feeling him all the way into your guts. You spasm around him, still sensitive from Suguru.
He holds your hips and fucks into you at a steady pace while Suguru comes to caress your back, licking over your shoulder blades.
“Satoru, you’re going to make her look like a domestic violence victim with the marks you’re making.”
“She likes it,” Satoru pouts.
“Fuck, ‘m hard again,” Suguru groans. “Lay her down.”
“No, I want her like this.”
“Too fucking bad, I want you like this.” Suguru pulls at you until your back hits the mattress and Satoru rolls his eyes, gripping your hips with bruising force as he drapes your legs over his shoulders.
Suguru bites Satoru’s neck, peppering it with kisses. Watching them in front of you is tantalizing, makes you clench around Satoru harder.
“Shit, you like that, baby? You like looking at us?” Satoru moans.
“Y-yes.”
Suguru spits in his hand as he preps Satoru from behind. It’s minimal, given how impatient he is. He reaches over to your bedside table, fumbling with a bottle of lube. It doesn’t take long until his cock fills Satoru to the brim.
“Jesus.”
“Shut up and take it.”
Satoru feels too hot, too full. The feeling of Suguru’s cock in his ass inadvertently makes him bury himself even deeper into you, and he’s already on the brink. Suguru reaches over Satoru’s body to press a thumb to your aching clit until you cum with a strangled cry.
The boys try to time their stuttering hips at a similar rhythm, but Satoru feels like he’s losing his mind. Caught up in between both of you, melting, barely lucid. Eyes squeezed shut with his mouth falling open.
“Tell me you love me.”
You blink at him, wondering who he’s asking. The flush in his cheeks makes him look exhausted, spent. Drunk over the bacchanalian mess of it all.
“Love you, Satoru,” you whimper anyway. “I love you.”
He moans at that. Gasps when he feels the stretch of his hole split open on Suguru’s cock.
You watch with tears in your eyes, overstimulated from your orgasm. Over Satoru’s shoulder, Suguru locks eyes with you and smirks, not letting up eye contact nor the stimulation of your clit with his fingers. He doesn’t care that you’re convulsing underneath them, doesn’t care that hot tears are streaming down your face. He always thought you looked beautiful when you cried. It’s sick of him, maybe, but he wants to be the one to make you do it, even when it’s not his cock inside of you.
“Shit— Sugu—”
Satoru hits his peak, filling you with his cum when Suguru hits the perfect spot inside him. He’s whimpering. His eyes are glassy.
“Fucking shit, you’re tight,” Suguru mutters. “Gonna cum.”
“Not inside,” Satoru whines.
“You’re a fucking brat,” Suguru chuckles.
Of course, Suguru disobeys, cumming inside Satoru with a guttural groan. Once he pulls out, Satoru collapses on top of your body, face buried in your hair.
You whine. You’re overheated, smothered. Your body feels as though it’s been rearranged multiple times like malleable clay in each of their hands. It’s a miracle that Satoru pulls his dick out of you at all.
“The hell was that?” he asks Suguru, out of breath. Suguru simply smiles, ignoring him.
“Let’s run her a bath. Poor baby looks like she’s gonna pass out.”
He’s right, admittedly. You aren’t even sure if you could get up if you wanted to, which is why Satoru scoops you in his arms.
“We can’t all fit in the tub,” you mumble.
Satoru laughs. “Yes, we can. But fine, we’ll just shower after you.”
The two of them handle you like glass. The swapping of washcloths and soap bottles makes the ordeal ritualistic. Suguru runs his fingers through your wet hair while Satoru lifts one of your legs to scrub.
“Little princess,” Suguru says.
“You guys treat me like a pet.”
The two of them exchange a glance. Unreadable. But there’s something of a knowing smile in Satoru’s expression.
“You’re just precious s’all. Perfect girl.”
You sigh, sinking into the water. Something turns over in your stomach, but you’re soothed by the sound of Suguru lightly humming behind you. They’re gentle with you. It’s ironic.’
Suguru kneads your spine and presses kisses to your wet skin. The smell of sex dissipates and the scent of Suguru’s shampoo wafts under your nose instead—he’d left it in your bathroom one weekend when Satoru was out on a mission. You have a suspicion he did it on purpose to get a rise out of Satoru or to make you smell like him. You didn’t mind either way.
Every touch feels blistering as much as it feels soothing, somehow. White-hot, too noticeable, yet the feeling of their hands lets you exhale. Maybe it was the sex. You couldn’t even really look Satoru in the eye, not really. Something in the face was constantly changing, as if he was slowly transforming whenever you were joined together in ways that were beyond you.
He’d gotten rougher. Meaner in the hips, even if his kisses were meant to cherish. He’d get too eager. He always was, to be fair, but it’s been ferocious from him. Bruising your hips with the force of his hands, handprints adorning your ass. It would be Suguru to pick up the pieces, to soothe you with sweet nothings despite his cock splitting you open. It was only a few times since the beach trip, but it was as if they planned it together.
You realize this now in your post-sex haze. Steam in the air as heavy as your lids. They wanted to take care of you so badly. They just had to ruin you a little beforehand.
#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#geto suguru x you#geto x you
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how about we try that one more time? M.S
synopsis - matt wouldn't stop biting his nails and y/n gotta do something about it
notes - fully matts pov, childhood best friends, just kissiing nothing too mild,
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Matt's pov
i recently became more active on tiktok like nick requested me to be, despite not really knowing how to use the app i started to post next to daily as well as chris and nick. tiktoks of us just jamming out to songs always goes well so i started a little series showing the fans a new song from my playlist every two days while in between those i post whatever im feeling.
today was the song locked out of heaven by bruno mars
“can i just stay here?”
“spend the rest of my days here”
“cus’ you make me feel like i’ve been locked out of heaven”
i look into my bathroom mirror singing along with the song, doing a little dance when the drums kick in again hearing the crash of the symbols. i’d admit, i thought i looked pretty good, my fit was on point that day and i was really feeling myself.
sturnl00v3 : matty poo lookin a little too good today
heartzplusstarz : struggling as a chris girl over here 😔
bernardluvver : living for the slutty waist !!
the whole tiktok replays again for the third time, after hearing it again y/n props herself up on her elbows and says, “god how many times are you gonna watch yourself in that tiktok??” y/n was usually this mean to me but growing up together as neighbors and knowing her all these years made me forgive her for all of it, she was there with me and my brothers throughout everything and we were all used to her “can do” attitude.
her legs were draped over my thighs and her eyes watched my phone intensively. “do you still wanna get kane’s later or do you wanna complain?” I retorted, making her drop back down onto the couch and hold her hands up. “i surrender.”
i go back to scrolling through the comments seeing a few more.
sturnz : damnnnn mans looking fine asf
bluesturniolo : ANYTHING FOR U MATT !!!!
sturnontop : yalls see the outline…..
╰┈➤ bluesturniolo : i just know what’s behind his cargos 🤤
lessasturniolo : F ME LIKE U MAD AT ME BABYYYYY
oh. oh.
is that really all that they think about me? a shiver rolls through my body and my hand comes up to my mouth as i chew on my nails. a foot hits my hand out of my mouth, i give y/n the nastiest side eye while she looks at me like she didn’t do anything.
“what the fuck was that for?” i raise my voice slightly.
“don’t bite your nails you stupid fuck,” she says as a come back, i was unphased when she matched my tone. i ultimately just let it go and continued looking through comments.
sturnnw0rld : girlies on tumblr gna go insane for this one matt
user92380 : id hit that.
likelystrniolo : fuck me! please!
despite what y/n said to me i continue to bite my nails, i didnt enjoy biting them but i couldnt help it. especially with these comments, they make me nervous and uncomfortable. with seconds of actually contemplating, my finger hovers over the delete button.
suddenly i feel y/n’s body move and she begins to straddle me, uh oh. i stare up at her not knowing what her next move is, she rips my nails out of my mouth and connects our lips.
i go along with her antics and reciprocate the kiss, she bites down on my bottom lip requesting access to the inside of my mouth. her hands find my arms and wraps them around her body with her arms snaking around my neck, pulling us impossibly close together.
i put my hands on her cheeks slightly pushing her off of my mouth, our needy mouths disconnected. she gives an exasperated sigh and starts to open her mouth, “nick told me to make sure you weren’t biting your nails cus u guys had a nail appointment, that was the only way i could think about stopping you.” an innocent smile paints her face.
“if i knew biting my nails could make you wanna kiss me i would be doing it more.” i saw when the same stupid smile bloomed on my lips as well. “so, how about we try that one more time before i start biting my nails again yeah?”
a/n - christmas/new years present for yalls 😘
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#syn speaks#matthew sturniolo
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