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rjkooks · 2 months ago

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i'm outside, let's talk. (m)

you finally give in and talk to your ex after numerous attempts of him trying to contact you. surely, nothing will go beyond mere communication, right?

. pairing: exbf!jungkook x afab!reader . wc: 1.3k . genre: porn with very little plot, exes to lovers . cw: just two exes that don't know how to be exes lmfao, car sex, penetration, unprotected sex (don't be like them), doggy, dirty talk, dom!jk, sub!reader, creampie, i think that's it lmk if i miss anything!

a/n: heh... long time no see. after two years of hiatus, i thought about posting smth rlly short to ease myself into writing again :) happy reading! feedback is highly appreciated!

jungkook: come down jungkook: im outside jungkook: we need to talk

what more should be there to talk about? scoffing, you dismiss the string of messages your ex sent, proceeding to go back to your previous activity of mindlessly scrolling through tiktok videos.

why should you talk to him? he had a decision — and the decision he ultimately chose was to disrespect your relationship and leave, much like perpendicular lines never to cross again: that’s the only closure you need.

however, jungkook is different.

you think of him as an insect — those annoying ones in particular. once it gets in your abode, it’ll suddenly forget its way out and invade your precious space as if living with you free of charge.

that’s what your ex is.

stubborn, incessant, and most notably, stupid.

so, it’s not much of a surprise when you see his name appear on the banner on top of your phone again, one text being sent after the other.

jungkook: don’t leave me on read jungkook: i’ll climb up ur window if i have to, ___ jungkook: please baby i wanna talk with u jungkook: istg if u block me jungkook: pls dont

you were about to block him actually, if it weren’t for the video that redirected your attention.

“no caption, no hashtag, you were meant to see this! you’re going to get back with your hot ex tonight and i mean it. he’s thinking about you right now and is thinking of ways on how to make up for his mistakes. go get him, girl! get your fine shyt back!”

you swore your eye twitches after watching an absolute stranger predict the next moments of your evening.

with your ex’s unceasing messages and a random video that is severely relevant to your current situation, is the universe really giving you all the telltale signs you need?

as olivia rodrigo said, you probably shouldn't, but seeing him tonight isn’t a bad idea, right?

after deliberately having an internal conflict, you finally made up your mind after careful consideration.

you’re just going to talk. what harm could there be in that?

so, you heave a deep breath before standing up from your bed, your legs bringing you outside the premises of your home to see his black mercedes parked right in front of your lawn.

you stride over to it in quick steps with the intention of holding a brief conversation with him before you bid your final farewells: that’s what you hopefully thought.

assuming he’s inside the vehicle, you tapped on the tinted window a couple of times before you hear his muffled voice, “get in.”

you do as he says, sitting next to him on the passenger seat, and you almost regret it. it was no surprise that it was dim inside, and the air conditioning of his car only made goosebumps prick your skin, and what’s worst of all is the familiar scent of his perfume permeating your senses again.

and that’s when the realization sinks in that you’re actually with your ex boyfriend right now.

you gaze at him silently. thankfully, you couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but his features are still there. you part your lips to break the awfully dead silence, yet your voice came out more meek than you’d like.

“you said you wanted to talk..?”

he lowers his gaze to where your hands are placed right on top of your thighs. he knows his presence was suffocating you, so he can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. “yeah, just wanted to clear some things between us.”

that’s the last thing you remember your ex saying before he has you bent over in the back of his car.

“ngghh… jungkook!” you gasp, a string of drool dribbling from the corner of your lip as you leave a faint handprint of yourself on the fogged window.

“oh, fuck,” he hisses feeling you clench down on his throbbing length. “missed this tight cunt so much,” he groans before landing a harsh spank on your ass, for sure leaving a red mark that will sting for days. “you missed this dick too, baby?” he pants through ragged breaths, and you could sense that damn cocky smirk plastered on his face despite being behind you.

he pulls out another cry from you when you feel his dick kissing your cervix. “y-yes..!” you sob, face buried in the leather seats.

a chuckle full of menace was heard from him as you feel his slender fingers wrap around the roots of your hair, forcefully tugging you until you’re eye-level with the window.

he rips sob after sob out of you, undoubtedly aroused from how your gummy walls were sucking him in so eagerly, a creamy ring of white making a mess out of his length.

“bet you couldn’t find someone who can fuck you like i do, huh?” he huffs against your ear, voice hot and heavy as a tattooed finger presses itself against your clit. “that’s why your slutty little cunt is making such a mess on my cock, right?”

you mewl, resting your head against his shoulder as you nod eagerly. your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, rendering you speechless from the way he’s perfectly molding the shape of his cock in your pussy right now.

seeing you like this—all hot and vulnerable beneath him, he couldn’t hold in the cocky grin on his face, his ego inflating to a size larger than the earth itself.

he lands a particularly harsh slap against your ass, making you yelp in pain before you fall face flat on the leather seats again.

and when he sets his pace to that of raw, primal need, you begin to tremble, sensing as if your legs are about to give in on you any moment.

“j-jungkook—hah… too much,” you whine, feeling your impending orgasm approaching rapidly.

“cum with me, baby,” he pants, pressing his solid chest against your back, leaving you no room for any escape.

the way the tip of his leaking cock kept kissing your soft spongy spot has you seeing stars. his car became way too humid from how long he’s been fucking you, and you could care less whether the car could be seen rocking back and forth in the middle of the neighborhood, or whether or not the obscene noises you and jungkook were making could be heard a block away.

“please… wanna cum s’bad!” your words come out slurred, brain turning into complete mush devoid of any thoughts aside from cumming.

“awww, my baby wants to cum?” he coos sweetly against your ear, turning absolutely feral seeing you all submissive for him, sobbing as you beg for some sort of mercy from him.

and of course he’s going to give it to you.

he feels your walls hugging him for dear life, as if never wanting him to pull out, and he swears he could die a happy man like this right now.

“go on, baby, let go. i got you,” he whispers hotly before swiping your clit three more times, giving you the most delicious orgasm you haven’t tasted in months.

you tremble violently beneath him, a long whine escaping you as he fucks you through it, soon cumming right after you did.

he groans, flooding your hole with his warm cum before finally pulling out a minute later.

exhausted, he plops himself right next to you, and neither of you have spoken for a few minutes, merely the sound of your mingling breaths could be heard in his dark mercedes.

however, when you look into his eyes, you can see the change of look from lust to determination. you notice him hesitating for a bit, and before you could ask your ex what’s wrong, he swiftly cuts you to the chase.

“give me one more chance, baby.”

#bangtan #bts #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts x y/n #jungkook smut #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fic #jungkook ff

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cloudcountry · 1 year ago

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since you guys liked my idea so much here it is: WAYS THE NRC BOYS WOULD MAKE YOU WORSE

reader's personality is based more off of in-game yuu than anything? this set of hcs is a bunch of hypotheticals basically. this can be read as platonic or romantic idk each guy is written as if they are the closest person to you, friends or otherwise.

IF YOU SEE A TYPO NO YOU DONT

mentally preparing myself for the "i wouldnt do that!!!!!" comments...and post.

Riddle increases your attentiveness to the rules tenfold. No matter how meek you are, he makes your voice strong—and oh boy does it carry. You’re yelling at people for running in the halls, chastising them for not doing their homework, and opening your mouth wider when you speak. For a school full of troublemakers like Night Raven, the entire student body is so disappointed there’s another Riddle.

Trey makes you more passive, less likely to speak up when you see something. He’s always stood back in the shadows, watching over everything without saying a word, and it’s seeped into your personality, too. You’re spineless now. This world is unfamiliar, why should you try to do anything? You’d only stand out. You don’t want to be outstanding. You want to be as normal as possible. So you stand back.

Cater gets you wrapped up in the hype of social media. It started out as a way to indulge his interests but now you’re on Magicam all day, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. You send things to your friends and say “hey, we should do this” but never make any actual effort to connect with them outside of that. You fall easier into jealousy because you’re surrounded by glamor.

Deuce makes you reckless. He’s so willing to throw himself into things and it spurs you to do the same, no matter how many times your teachers or potential upperclassmen tell you not to. You can’t hear anything but Deuce and his yelling, his enthusiasm and terror for whichever situation you two find yourselves in, knowing that you’d follow him anywhere.

Ace makes you all the more prickly, your sharp jabs and irritating smugness a product of spending too much time with him. You two are two peas in a pod, but to an outsider you two just seem...irritating. You have a talent for getting under people’s skin and have definitely gotten better at lying.

Leona thinks its so cute how you try to defend him at every twist and turn. Like no, he is as dastardly as everyone is saying. Why are you trying to deny it? You’re suddenly seeing reason in the most massive ego-ed people this side of Sage Island and Leona honestly doesn’t know if he should be concerned for you or be amused because of you. (This one in particular was inspired by @loser-jpg LMAO)

Ruggie could have made you prioritize yourself more, but you think he took it a bit too far. See, now you’re snatching cafeteria items and worksheets right under people’s noses, giggling as they demand you give it back. Sometimes they don’t even notice you, but even if they did you’ve learned how to be lighter on your feet.

Jack and you are incredibly uncooperative people (unless you owe someone, of course.) He’s guided you away from asking for help, insisting that the people here will take advantage of you then turning around to say that he doesn’t care, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in your mess. It’s like you can’t trust anyone but him and your Heartslabyul friends anymore.

Azul has given you one nasty sense of perception, allowing you to key into every little detail and find loopholes in the things people say in a second. He’s turned you into a deadly asset, one he treasures just as much as the student body fears. You read over his contracts and point out what you would do to get out of them, and he adjusts accordingly. What a fine team you two make!

Jade makes it clear that his morals are less than savory, and will often encourage you to partake in things you really shouldn't. You rationalize it as Jade helping you go after the things you want, to finally take and take and take from people when you’ve been so selfless all your life, because it's what you deserve isn’t it?

Floyd will often rope you into his schemes, and it's not wrong before you start doing the same. Once a model student, attending every class, you now skip class and watch with amusement as Floyd threatens another student, hiding your smile behind your hand. They may plead for your assistance, but who are you to stop Floyd? This poor soul clearly owed something.

Kalim instills you with a sense of jealousy and helplessness. He has money to solve all of his problems, his life must be so easy. You’ve lived through so many overblots and received no help from anyone, but Kalim has always been so kind and generous to you. It makes you resent him a little, and anyone else who tries to help, because they all have things that you don’t and that's just not fair.

Jamil twists and bends your mind so much that you can do the very same thing to others. You’ve caught onto his little game and he knows it, eyeing you with anticipation whenever you speak in the same honeyed tone he uses when he wants something. You’ve gotten scarily good at hiding it too, shooting him a smug grin because you know he knows, but nobody else does.

Vil brings out so much confidence in your abilities it’s borderline arrogance. You know you’re capable, so why doesn’t everyone just let you handle this? You can do it, they can’t. So they should just step aside. You’re not doing it to be mean, so why are they getting so annoyed at you? You’re just better.

Rook has some eccentricities, and you’re well aware of them. They put you off at first, but now you’re used to him. It just seems normal now. You’re not sure why everyone makes such a big deal out of his tendencies, that’s just how he is. He’ll stalk you, hunt you down, but he’s having fun! Don’t spoil it for him!

Epel is actually the perfect fit for NRC, you think. He’s a troublemaker, he’s stubborn, and he’s so, so angry. But he’s right! Why should you respect people who claim to be above you? It’s so irritating that they walk around with those annoying smirks on their faces. You two should do something about that, don’t you think?

Idia has a very specific way of talking that can not only be confusing, but can also irritate the hell out of people. Of all things you could pick up from him, you picked up his smug jabs and insults, accompanied by a tooth grin and a laugh. It’s unnerving how much he’s rubbed off on you, a true testament to how close you too are much to the chagrin of the rest of NRC.

Malleus finds so much delight in being your bodyguard, your most trusted companion, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when you use his magic for your own gain. You’ve gotten soft, molding to whatever shape Malleus wants you to be just so he won’t leave. You’re helpless without him, only he has the will and the magic to protect you. So won’t he please stay?

Lilia has a way of dodging the truth, putting a smile on his face even when he’s hurting. It makes you think that, if he can do that, why can’t you? Lilia is smart, he knows how to go about life, so you should follow his lead and bury your problems until they’ll never see the light again.

Sebek has done nothing but berate you for being human since you met him, and even if you’ve gotten closer to him over the course of your stay in Twisted Wonderland, you’re starting to think he’s right. If you had magic, if you weren’t human, you’d be more powerful. It’s a fact. You could do so much more if you weren’t so weak.

Silver has made you complacent. He takes each step carefully, protecting both you and Malleus, so why would you need to protect yourself in any capacity? It’s so nice, having this safety net. If you could, you'd rely on Silver forever, never facing the cruel realities of the world that are blocked by his strong arms.

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with-my-calamitous-love · 8 months ago

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burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

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willowsnook · 3 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/willowsnook/777849918464393216/halfway-to-always-pt-2

more pleaseeeeeeee!!! maybe like their relationship growing more ? idk more relationship things since we technically haven’t see them together

pt. 1, pt. 2

Quinn hughes x sharks!reader

—-------------------------------------------

Long distance had not been easy, but you and Quinn were really trying to make it work. It was a lot of late-night calls, quick trips across the border, and constant texting. If you were at a different point in your life, you might complain, but where you are now was actually perfect. You didn’t have to worry about splitting time between work and a boyfriend, because your boyfriend lived 900 miles away, so he wasn’t expecting your physical time.

It was easy for him too – he had strayed away from relationships ever since he was drafted in the NHL, not wanting to put someone through the experience of him being away all the time and always focused on hockey. The first half of the season came and went and you fell into a good routine: watch Quinn’s games when you could, call him after, fall asleep to his voice.

It was after a night Sharks game, when you saw that someone else had tried to call you: Ellen. The second you saw the missed call, you immediately dialed her number.

“Hey Ellen, sorry I missed your call,” you said, concerned. It was pretty late where she was at so the unexpected call had you on high alert.

“Hey sweetheart, I know you don’t have your phone on during games, but I wanted to tell you that Quinn got hurt tonight,” she said softly.

Your heart sank, “How hurt?”

“Not terribly, but something with his obliques,” she said. “I talked to him an hour ago, he said it’s looking like there’s a good chance he’s going to miss some games.”

You were devastated for Quinn; missing some upcoming games likely meant he wouldn’t be able to play in the Four Nations tournament either. He was so happy when he was selected for the team and you knew this would crush him. You thanked Ellen for the call and called your boyfriend next.

“Hi baby,” he greeted sleepily.

"Hi, I just heard. Are you okay?" Your voice was tight with concern.

"I've been better," Quinn sighed, and you could practically see him running a hand through his hair, that frustrated gesture you'd come to know so well. "Doc says it's just a strain, but..." He trailed off.

"Ellen mentioned you might miss some games."

A heavy pause hung between you. "Yeah. And probably Four Nations too." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, confirming your fears.

"Oh, Quinn," you whispered, wishing more than anything you could be there to hold him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's hockey, you know? These things happen." He was trying to sound casual, but you could hear the disappointment weighing down each word. "I just... I wanted it so badly.”

He sounded so meek over the phone, and your heart broke in half listening. You tried to keep the conversation going but saying he was tired, all you could do was remind him that you were here for him before hanging up.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He had his bag thrown over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Quinn injured his oblique,” you told him, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“How bad?” He asked.

“Bad,” you replied. “He’s going to miss four nations.”

Will held open his arms, and you crumpled into them, trying to take deep breaths. You heard him talking to someone else so you pulled back, meeting Macklin’s sad gaze. He collected you from Will’s arms and held you tightly against him.

“Okay, let’s make a plan,” Macklin told Will. “You deal with the flight stuff and I’ll get her stuff from the apartment?”

“Already looking up flights,” Will said, scrolling through his phone. “Last one of the night leaving in two hours. I’ll get it.”

“How much is it?” You asked, turning to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Will,” you warned, and he gave you a look.

“Dude, we make so much money, it doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t let you argue any further and after a quick stop by your apartment you were on your way to the airport.

Macklin had driven you, and you sat in silence for a moment before he nudged your shoulder gently.

"He's going to be okay, you know," he said softly. "Hockey players are built differently."

You nodded, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. "I know. It's just... he wanted this so badly."

"And he'll have other opportunities," Macklin assured you. "But right now, what he needs is you."

The flight to Vancouver was mercifully quick, though you spent most of it staring at the seat in front of you, unable to sleep despite the late hour. By the time you arrived at his apartment, it was nearly 3 AM. You used the key he had given you the last time you’d seen him to open the door to the quiet place.

Being as quiet as possible, you set your bag down on the couch before heading towards Quinn’s room. Taking a moment, you admired his sleeping form, his eyebrows were unconsciously furrowed, an almost scowl on his face.

You stepped into the room slowly, unsure if you should wake him. But as if sensing you, Quinn stirred, his eyes blinking open. The second he registered that it was you standing in his doorway, his expression softened.

"Hey," he rasped, voice thick with sleep and surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I got on the first flight I could," you said, stepping closer. "I couldn’t just stay there knowing you were hurting."

He sat up with a wince, pushing the blankets down to his waist. “You flew all the way from San Jose… in the middle of the night?”

You nodded, climbing up onto the bed beside him. “Of course I did.”

His jaw clenched for a second, like he was trying to hold something in, but then he reached out and gently pulled you into him. His hand slid around the back of your neck, his lips pressing against your temple. “You’re crazy,” he whispered.

“I know,” you whispered back. “But I love you. And I wanted to be here.”

“You love me?” He asked, frozen in place. Your breath hitched, not realizing what you had let slip out.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as the admission hung in the air between you. You hadn't planned to say it like this—in his darkened bedroom at 3 AM, both of you exhausted, him injured—but there it was.

"I do," you said softly, deciding to own the moment rather than try to take it back. "I love you, Quinn."

His eyes searched yours in the dim light, a mix of vulnerability and wonder crossing his features. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I love you too," he whispered, his hand gently cupping your face. "God, I've been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I didn't want to say it over the phone."

Relief washed over you, followed quickly by a warmth that spread through your chest. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“If it means I get to be woken up at 3am to you in my room, I’ll do it more often,” he joked and you laughed. His tone turned serious again, “I’m glad you’re here. I needed you.”

“I know,” you told him, bringing your lips to press against his. “I’m here, always.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl imagine

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oopsiedaisydeer · 10 days ago

Text

after hours

...is intimacy built during sex? or lost in it?

angst, smut, oral (m!receiving), handjob, palming, teasing, friends to who knows, unrequited love, fwbs?, lots of anxious overthinking, sorta unhappy ending

word count - 4k

In the after hours, she often lies wondering whether things will ever change between her and Matt.

She’s lying next to him now, head rested on his arm just above his elbow. A movie’s playing on the television in his room, the sounds of the character’s voices creating a quiet distant hum in the space around them.

She picked the movie tonight, their weekly routine of watching something together interrupted only by Matt’s casual scrolling through various social media apps. Her eyes flick between his screen and the big one, struggling to pay attention beyond the flutter of her own heartbeat, the butterflies in her stomach.

Not to mention Matt, how her body is so gently laid next to his, none of her touching him except for the place where her head lays. She can sense the steady movement of his chest, almost feel the breath travelling from his nostrils, the warmth of his body, so close yet so far from her own.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to move closer.

But she can’t.

They’ve drawn lines between them, unwritten, irreparable lines of friendship. Nothing more. Nothing beyond the confines of that.

She’d be lying too if she said she didn’t want more. Ache for it, under his careful stare, friendly gestures, patient heart. Her heart skipped a beat whenever he was near, a stupid girly crush that seemed to overtake all her senses, lending her delusions in the wake of Matt’s kindness. She knew that’s all it was, friendship built on his strength, charm, a casanova compared to her meek and unwaveringly smitten demeanour.

Matt shifted his arm beneath her then, causing her head to hit the mattress. His face shot down at her then, muttering a soft noise of concern as if startled by letting her fall so abruptly, even if it caused her no harm.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, looking back to his phone as if to avoid what happened, blue eyes illuminated by the screen, yet shadowed still by his dark circles.

“Hey!” she smiles, mock-offended as she propped herself up on a pillow. “Careful with the back of my head.”

His head jerked back down toward her. “Shit—sorry. Reflex.”

She gave him a look. “Your reflex is to launch me into the abyss?”

Matt grinned, guilty. “To be fair, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Wow. Rude.” She elbowed him, not hard, but just enough.

“Just saying,” he said, eyes back on his phone. “I’m delicate,” he adds in a sing-song tone of voice.

He moves away from her then on the bed, and her eyes still watch him, even as she moves away too, always mirroring Matt’s behaviour, especially after hours.

As she does, she knocks her knee against his hip, knocking herself off-balance in the process, unintentionally putting more pressure on Matt’s crotch. He groans when she does, bringing a hand to her arm to steadily push her back onto the mattress beside him.

Her face ignited. “Oh my God, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I mean, if you were trying to end me, there are gentler ways.”

“I’m so sorry, Matt,” she said, trying to scramble back to her spot, completely mortified.

He gently caught her arm, easing her down beside him again. “You good?”

She hesitates, before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll get over it.”

He laughed, still scrolling with one hand. “You’re lucky I’m too emotionally repressed to process physical pain.”

She groaned, burying her face in the blanket. “Please stop talking.”

“You kneed me in the balls, I need some sort of retribution. Even if it’s just embarrassing you,” Matt teased.

She didn’t answer—just let out a muffled noise into the blanket.

She continues muttering apologies, feeling her whole face and upper torso flush after the unanticipated bodily contact. She doesn’t look at Matt again, can’t bring herself to, and the awkward atmosphere becomes enhanced by his supposed nonchalance — scrolling on his phone again as if nothing had happened.

As the movie continues, the mortification she feels fades, but only till she hears a subtle groan from Matt. She glances over, only to catch him pushing down slightly down on a spot near his jeans. She snaps her eyes back quickly, embarrassed by what she thinks she saw. Matt looks over at her then, smirking slightly.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” Matt says calmly, “It’s not because of you.”

“What then?” she asks, voice small.

Matt grins at her then, “Not important.”

She leaves it be, even though her skin feels prickly all over and she really doesn’t want to just leave it be. But she does. She lets the movie finish playing, and she does her very best to ignore the fact that Matt Sturniolo, her friend that she has a stupid fat crush on, is lying beside her, hard.

When the credits do start to roll, she pauses for a moment, working up the courage to say something.

“Hey, um, I’ll sleep on the couch,” she manages to tell him, trying to appear earnest.

Matt glances at her, smirking slightly. “Why?”

“I don��t want it to be weird.”

Matt’s smirk fades into a gentle smile. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

The little fight she had within dims when she hears him call her that, and so she lays down properly then, trying to get comfortable. Matt does too, and he faces her so that she has to tilt her face away to avoid making eye contact with him.

When she does, her eyes drift to just below his waist again. She can see it, just the briefest outline of him, pushing against his sweatpants. She can’t help but think about it then, what it would be like to touch him, make him feel good, maybe experience it in kind. A loving touch. A sexual favour. Even if it was after hours, even if that was all it ever was, she’d do it. For Matt, she would.

“You got a staring problem?”

She flicks her eyes back up to Matt’s face, who’s staring at her already, smirking slightly. She blushes, not sure what to say.

Matt pokes her again, smiling softly now, “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Can’t help it,” she admits, blushing further, “I’m always nervous around you.”

“Yeah?” Matt questions, reaching out to trace her wrist lightly. “I like that.”

More softly, she asks tentatively, “Are you still hard?”

“Mhm,” Matt says, cocky tone ever present, “Doesn’t seem to want to go down.”

She nods, biting her lip as she contemplates her response.

“Do you wanna watch something else? Might distract you,” she offers.

He glances back at her, nodding slowly. She reaches for the remote, putting on the first recommendation that appears after what they had just watched. The minutes go by like this, her trying not to think about his dick, Matt lying there, fully paying attention to the movie unlike earlier.

She doesn’t know why she says it. Maybe it’s because she can’t stop thinking about it, about him.

“Can I help?” she asks suddenly, tone relatively calm for how fast her heart is beating.

Matt looks over at her, hoodie pulled low over his face. She can’t gauge his reaction to her offer, even though she desperately searches for it in his eyes, the same way she’s been desperately searching for any semblance of requitedness for the way she feels towards him all these years. He seems to be doing the same, studying her face for something—whether it’s genuineness, lust, innocence, kindness, or submission he’s searching for, she doesn’t quite know.

Several minutes seem to pass like this, staring at one another but not quite making eye contact, the sounds of the movie filling the gaps between each of their stunted breaths.

“Yes,” Matt says finally, practically breathing the word. It seems more of an echoed question than an answer, but regardless, she takes it for what it is. A yes. An opening. A favour.

She sits up slightly, eyes trailing down his body as she does. Bringing her hands to his waist, she feels him tense, and her eyes shoot back up to his face. Matt nods in response to her worried gaze, biting his lip slightly as he places a hand on her arm.

The heat of his palm radiates through her clothes, and she feels him guide her arm to continue, wordlessly. She sucks on the left corner of her lip, and brings her left hand to palm him slightly through his sweats, using the other hand to teasingly play with his waistband. She continues like this until she really feels him, a hard bulge pushing against his pants and into her hand. It scares her slightly, the feeling of him like this, but she continues her light motions regardless, in helpless resolve.

“You don’t have to be such a tease, sweetheart,” Matt rasps, and in her sickened state, she almost imagines that she hears the sound of his voice as taut with longing, and not simple desperation for release.

But it’s still the first time she’s heard him like this. Touched him like this. Heard him call her that ridiculous pet name like that.

And so yes, in these after hours, she does have to. Be such a tease, make him feel good, really good, and then she’ll wake up in the morning and maybe not regret it so much. The movements of her hands on his dick.

And so she does.

Still palming him with her left hand, she concentrates on what she thinks must be the tip of Matt’s cock. She knows she’s right when she hears the sharp intake of breath from him, and is grateful for the years she’s spent studying him, observing something as miniscule as the way he breathes, for the sake of this very moment.

She slips her right hand under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips trailing down till she’s met with the base of him. Working it slowly in her hands, she feels Matt squirm slightly below her, grunting low in his throat.

She continues these movements, crouched beside him on the bed. Neither of them are paying attention to the film anymore, and Matt’s gaze is heavy on her, yet she doesn’t dare look. Scared she’ll lose her nerve, which is already steadily unravelling from her grasp, just like the man beneath her.

Deciding she has to do something to fix this steadily appearing problem, she stops her movements, to which Matt responds with another grunt. She withdraws her hands, and pulls his sweats and boxers down. Matt’s cock slaps heavy and flushed against his abdomen, the mushroom tip glistening already. Somehow her throat dries and her mouth waters at the sight of it, but still, she can’t look at him. Can’t have him like this and look him in the eye.

She approaches him, swinging her leg over his stomach so that she’s facing away from him, properly now. Matt is seemingly shocked by her movements, because he lets out a soft “woah” from his mouth, and she feels both his arms raise beside her, eventually settling on her just above her waist, fingertips curling around the bottom of her ribcage. His hands are respectful, even now, then, it seems.

Glancing back at him, she notices the somehow smug yet surprised look on his face.

“Is this okay?” she tentatively asks, searching his face but still avoiding his stare.

He takes a while to respond but then nods, murmuring a soft “‘Course”, which her ears barely pick up. So she slides down his body till her knees hit the mattress on either side of him, and her face in front of where his dick still lays, twitching.

She picks it up, running her hands along the underside like she’s seen girls do in porn sometimes. She adjusts her hold around the base of his dick as to jerk him off, teasing the tip with the fingertips of her free hand. Feeling his abdomen clench below her tells her that she must be doing something right. She flicks her eyes up to the film while doing this, mindlessly continuing her movements in the hopes that she’s delivering him at least some pleasure.

“Really know how to edge a man, don’t ya?” Matt groans as she runs her thumb over his most sensitive spot for the umpteenth time.

In response, she smiles, despite knowing he can’t see her. Bowing her head, she places her mouth lightly around the tip of his dick, not moving. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Matt when she does this, and it turns into a groan as she puckers her lips, sucking slightly.

The sour salty taste of his pre-cum overwhelms her senses as she continues to run her mouth up and down, setting a slow place. Matching her own rhythm, she twists her other hands along the base of his dick, running her nails lightly along it occasionally, which causes him to buck his hips under her grip.

“Sweetheart,” Matt moans the name then, “please, can I touch you? Need to— need to hold onto something.”

It’s almost hard to believe it’s his voice calling out to her like this, and yet still, she mutters a “mhm”, lips still perched in a kiss-shape around the top of his cock. The sound pulses around the flushed tip, and he lets out another moan, one that sounds too real to her ears so she has to pretend it’s fake. She flicks her eyes back up to the film, sucking harder now as she feels Matt adjust her legs, pulling her back by her mid-thigh.

It makes her back arch, ass up in the air now. She tries not to think about what Matt’s view must be of her now, what angle he’s seeing her from, whether this will be forever etched into his mind or not. That gets harder to ignore though, when she feels his hands trail along her stomach, onto her waist, and it sends sparks of electricity through her. His hands caressing her, like this, she can almost believe it’s romantic.

But it’s after hours. And Matt’s hands aren’t holding her, aren’t caressing her waist lovingly. No. No, they’re not. No, they’re trailing down her body till he finds her hips, and his hold isn’t loving, it hurts. Not physically, but the way he’s grabbing at her skin, kneading it gently in his grip doesn’t make her want to moan, but cry.

She’s determined to ignore it though, concentrating on making him finish, sucking harder, speeding up the rhythm of her hand, all while she maintains her gaze up at the screen, taking in none of the plot, but at least the images do something to quench the ache in her. She feels a singular tear roll dramatically down her face, landing near Matt’s pelvic bone.

Matt’s hands move from her hips to her ass then, palms smoothing over her sleep shorts as his stifled groans get louder and more strained. She almost wishes she had a spare hand to grab the remote, turn up the volume of the movie and drown him out. How did she get here? she thinks. It’s almost like all the love she feels for him has turned sour.

He runs his hands along the seam of shorts, bunching it to expose her more to him, and she feels him kneading each cheek in circles, almost in time with her own movements, but not quite. As he does this, she takes one hand reluctantly to where his balls sit, palming them gently as to tease him more, hopefully bringing him closer to the edge.

This seems to work, because as she keeps her eyes locked on a climatic scene of the movie, she too feels Matt reach his climax. His hips jerk upwards slightly, unintentionally feeding more of his cock into her mouth. She runs her tongue along what’s inside her, and she feels his balls grow tight as he begins to pump long ropes of cum into her mouth.

A long, loud moan escapes Matt’s throat and he runs his hands needily along the curve of her ass, muttering, for the second time tonight, an apology to her. His cock falls from her lips, softening, and Matt’s release pools in her uncertain mouth, thickening. Realising that the sensation is only getting more unpleasant, she swallows the load, gulping it down. The movie plays on, and she feels Matt continue to play with her, thumb edging close to where he has bunched the fabric, just barely covering her throbbing pussy.

She lays the rest of her body down, trying to get comfortable as Matt attempts to tease her in return. Low, and far away, she thinks she can hear him ushering her praises, which she’s sure are soft and sweet.

“Loved your mouth, sweetheart.” Can you love a body part of another?

“Made me feel so good, you’re so good to me.” Is this what goodness is to you?

“So proud of you.” Are you proud of me only after hours?

“Thank you, thank you.” What is gratitude but a cheap form of payment?

“Can I make you feel good too?” Is this the payment? Or another benefit for you?

Shaking her head sleepily, Matt withdraws his hands understandingly from the spot where her ass meets her core, instead rubbing soothing circles on the area. She feels uncomfortable, laying in this way still, but too exhausted to move yet. They watch the rest of the movie in tension-filled silence, Matt’s movements growing steadily slower, lighter, more respectful.

Whilst the final scene plays, she sits up, and his hands fall. She gets off his lap, and not quite knowing what to do with her hands, she tries to avoid touching the sheets, touching him, herself, laying them awkwardly in her lap, balling them up into fists as she lies back down beside him.

When the credits start to roll, it’s Matt who searches for the remote in the blankets, which are bunched and messed up from his movements before, most likely. Turning the television off and plunging the room into darkness, he turns towards her.

She’s already facing away from him, wanting so desperately to be silent, to unwind, to rewind. And then she feels his arm slip around her waist, tugging her close to him so that she’s flush with his chest. It’s comforting, in a way, and she lets herself be cocooned by his familiar warmth that has never been so close before. The press of his elbow where her waist is, hand splayed across her stomach, it’s sweet.

In another life, or maybe a couple of hours ago in this one, she would have loved this closeness, to be spooned by Matt, feel his heartbeat echo so closely to her own. But the moment is empty, she feels empty, tugged away from him emotionally by what she’s done with her hands.

Still, she lets herself enjoy the comfort.

Pretend her eyes aren’t stinging.

That her mouth doesn’t still hold the taste of him.

Moments pass in this embrace, and finally, she asks, “Can I turn around?”

Her voice is small, quiet, and the question innocent. It’s the first thing she’s said in a couple of hours, and whilst so much has changed, her voice still trembles the same around him.

“Wha– yeah, of course, sweetheart,” his voice is warm, if touched with confusion. It seems he’s always confused lately.

Yet another reminder, if only more bitter than sweet, that Matt is just a man.

His arm loosens around her, and quickly she turns around, eyes threatening to spill over as she presses her face into his chest.

Both of Matt’s arms come around her then, instinctively, it seems, rubbing slow circles of comfort on her back while his other hand cradles her head. The comfort it brings her is heavenly, delusionally so, and she inhales the warm scent clinging to his hoodie to distract her from the way her senses are filled with him, the other him. The one now forever associated with after hours, and beyond. The one she made come. Saw naked. Touched in ways she never even dreamed to hope would occur with him. Her Matt. The one now forever tinged with too much and too little.

Perhaps, if she loses herself enough in this moment, she’ll forget, she thinks.

But it doesn’t last.

The shame of prior moments echo into every touch, of his fingers, his sleeve, the fabric against her face, the way their knees knock together in this intimate yet desperate embrace.

And so she tells him, “I wish I didn’t do that.”

“What?” Matt asks, the first drop of his careful responses, his controlled facade, all night. His arms move to her shoulders, pushing her back slightly so that he can look at her. When he does, she glances up, noticing how taken aback he appears.

“I just regret it,” she says.

“Why?”

He asks her the question quickly again, tone tender and worried, concern etched into his features. One of his hands comes up to her face, brushing hair away from it so gently it hurts. Matt continues while she watches him, staring dumbly like she’s just a girl with an innocent crush.

“I enjoyed it. You made me feel good,” he tells her, thumb caressing her cheekbone affectionately.

She nods, and feeling tears fill her eyes again, bows her head, pressing it back towards him. Matt thinks he feels wetness on his chest then, but he’s not sure, and is hesitant to move her in this state. Instead, his hands find their way to her hair again, tangling his fingers through the strands and pulling her close in an awkward, confused, attempt at comfort.

Mumbling into his chest, just loud enough for Matt to hear her, she tells him, “I want to make you feel good.”

Matt doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just continues the movements of his hands, slowly feeling her trembling form become steady in his hold.

The thing about after hours is that time seems to lose its grip on you, and so, to both of them, it feels like hours are indeed spent this way, Matt hugging her close in an apology for an offence neither of them quite understand.

Eventually, he asks her, “How about I take you to dinner?”

Matt loosens his arms around her, no longer cradling her in an infant-like hold. He wants to see her face, capture her reaction, see her eyes as they flicker and dance in the dark. She moves her head away from his chest, uncurling enough to direct her eyes up at him, sniffling slightly.

“Tomorrow night. Just us,” Matt tells her, trying to smile slightly as he speaks, but the gesture just feels sad.

She’s silent for a moment.

“I’d like that,” she replies, simply. Eyelashes long as she gazes up at him, wide-eyed, and Matt can’t tell if the look is due to betrayal or devotion.

He nods, and wraps one arm around her in finality, discussion decidedly over before it really begun.

Their minds drift off simultaneously, sleep a sort of reprieve after hours.

Her heart is tinged with regret, hopelessness and hurt. Questions loop and rewrite themselves in her head, questions about his intentions, her own desires, rushed timing, unspoken feelings. Questions she doesn’t know how to ask, or to tell, or even if she wants an answer.

Matt falls asleep thinking of his hands on her, thumb brushing so close to what he wanted to give her, a gift after all her relentless kindness. But after all, it’s after hours. And pleasure is so far from what she wants, it seems.

I wish I…

I regret…

And the words circle over eachother just like hands on a clock, until the after hours are all drawn up.

In their wake, they are left to draw their own conclusions.

He’s only doing this because I gave him head.

I want more but I’ve rushed it and ruined things, now things are lost forever.

I don’t want to ask for more anyhow.

Don’t know how to tell him how I feel.

Don’t know if I even want to.

I should’ve gone down on her.

Should’ve kissed her.

Done anything.

I never open my mouth enough, and now all I am is a dick to her. Literally.

Not like she wants it anyway.

In the after hours, Matt now often lies wondering whether things have changed irreparably between her and him.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: i've had this idea for a longgg time but just didn't write it sdbjbfdsjb :> but im very very proud of this and ik the style is quite poetic but i really really wanted to write some good smut/angst so i hope that kinda worked? idk. also i know i kinda set it up for a part two but i dont really have any solid ideas for it yet sooo pls pls feel free to lmk if u do!!

thank u so much for reading!!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated 💌

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ceruark · 3 months ago

Text

what do you want from me?

[fem! kaiser x fem! shy! reader. university au.] synopsis: kaiser’s just a mean girl who’s found amusement in picking on you, as if this is high school and not college. what else could it possibly be? wc: 4.5k cw: explicit smut: fingering, oral sex. MDNI. a/n: wrote this with one hand, my bad guys

kaiser terrifies you.

you would say her reputation precedes her, but her striking looks come before even that: uneven yet perfectly styled blonde hair with the ends dyed blue, piercing eyes outlined in bold red eyeliner, and of course, the blue rose tattoo that starts at her neck and spans the entirety of arm.

her appearance alone is enough to intimidate everyone she comes across, but her attitude wards off anyone bold enough to still try to come close to her. cold, condescending, and mocking, kaiser is notorious for her scathing comments and superiority complex, so it’s not odd that you—and most everybody you know and talk to—steer clear of her.

so when she plops down into the seat next to you during the first class of the term, you involuntarily freeze, the pen you’d been twirling between your fingers going still. your heart sinks into your feet, and you can feel yourself break into a cold sweat as she unpacks her laptop from her bag and settles in.

surely it won’t be that bad. all you have to do is not speak to her—not too difficult, given that it’s a large class and this professor doesn’t really do small group discussion. if you just keep your head down and mind your business, everything will be fine, right?

wrong.

kaiser doesn’t like to be ignored. not that you’re ignoring her—you can’t really do that when she hasn’t spoken to you at all—but it’s obvious you’re avoiding her. you sit as far away from her as possible, always avert your eyes and busy yourself with something when she enters the classroom, and you never glance in her direction the entirety of the lecture, scurrying out of the room the second it’s finished.

you don’t realize that such meek behavior is what will catch a predator’s attention in the first place.

it’s the start of the third week, a few minutes before class starts, when kaiser leans halfway across the table and into your space.

“hey, maus,” she says, angling her head so she’s right in your line of vision.

you startle a little, and she snickers at your reaction.

“jumpy little thing, hm?” she tilts her head to the side in a way that feels mocking. your stomach twists with anxiety. she nods at your laptop and asks, “do you have a charger i could use?”

“oh, uh—” you glance at her laptop, checking if it’s the same charging port. “yeah, sure,” you answer, and rummage through your bag to get your charger out. “here.”

her fingers brush over yours in a way that’s too precise to be accidental when she takes it from you. you pull your hand back just a little too fast, earning another laugh from her.

you grit your teeth as you stare at the front of the room, where the professor is getting set up. it’s going to be a long semester.

by the sixth week, you’re fed up with her toying around with you, and you decide to show up to class a few minutes after the time she usually shows up—and sit in a different spot, all the way across the classroom.

a bold move on your part, one that you’ll surely pay for.

now you’ve turned it into a chase. it’s a constant guess of when you should show up, and eventually, it reaches the point where you’re sliding into a seat with mere seconds to spare just so you can avoid her showing up after you and sitting beside you.

by the eighth week, she breaks the unspoken rule of your little game and approaches you outside of the classroom.

you’re scrolling through your phone and loitering in a hallway close to your class, waiting for minutes to turn into seconds before the bell rings, when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. you can see the black-ink vines wrapping around it in your peripheral, and immediately go rigid in response.

“fancy catching you here, maus,” she says in that tone that sends chills down your spine. you glance up at her to see her smirking down at you. “how about we walk to class together?”

you stop trying to avoid sitting next to her—it’s inevitable that she’ll find you, somehow, no matter where in the building you’re hiding.

but it’s far too late to undo the damage your decision has done, as it seems you’ve opened pandora’s box; kaiser continues to pester you anywhere on campus, no matter who you’re with or what you’re doing. she even shows up in places you know she really has no business being in, and you start to feel like you’re being hunted for sport.

you might be, with the way she looks at you like she wants to kill you. your friends give you a pitying look when you express this to them, some even looking at you like you’re a little dumb, but you don’t really get why. kaiser’s just a mean girl who’s found amusement in picking on you, as if this is high school and not college. what else could it possibly be?

you seal your fate—the one your friends have seen coming from a mile away—when you somehow end up helping the blonde out.

now, kaiser is more than capable of holding her own; this much is obvious, given her reputation around campus, and her displayed behavior toward you.

but if there’s anything you hate more than a mean girl, it’s a man with a massive ego who can’t take a hint.

some guy has his arms propped up against the table, standing in front of kaiser and leaning into her space. her face is fixed in cold neutrality, but her eyes are blazing with irritation and barely contained fury.

“c’mon, baby, don’t be like that,” you hear him say as you draw closer to your spot next to kaiser.

“not your baby,” kaiser says dismissively. “get out of my face or i’ll make you regret it, you worthless clown.”

“oh, yeah?” the brunette leans even closer. “is that a threat, or a promise?”

kaiser’s eyes narrow, and she’s sneering now. “you don’t wanna find out.”

the guy laughs, cocky and grating. “already did the last time you spent the night, but i could go for a refresher.”

you don’t like kaiser—you can’t stand her most days. but you’d sooner keel over and die before you stand by and let this happen.

you loudly set your laptop onto the table, drawing both of their attention to you. you lock eyes with the brunette as you sit down, and tilt your head to the side as if deep in thought. then, you gasp softly and hold a hand to your mouth, widening your eyes as you turn to kaiser.

“is this the one you were telling me about?” you say, quiet enough to pass as a whisper, but loud enough for the guy to hear. “the one who couldn’t make you come?”

the person on the other side of you coughs loudly into their hand. it sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

you watch as the brunette flushes bright red in fury.

“stupid bitch,” he spits at kaiser. “you’re ran through, anyway.”

he storms out of the classroom just as the professor is entering, leaving the poor bespectacled man confused as he nearly barrels him over in the midst of his dramatic exit.

kaiser whirls on you the second the professor starts his droning. she leans into your space, a common occurrence at this point, and coos at you as she balances her cheek against her palm and tilts her head at you. “was my little maus worried about me?”

“worried? no, you can take care of yourself.” you huff, “i just thought it would do him well to be humbled.”

“oh, you don’t have to lie to me, pretty girl.” the name is enough to catch you off guard, but the pen that twirls a strand of your hair around it has you jumping like you were at the start of the semester. “it’s clear you care about me.”

you look at kaiser, and though that same dark look you’ve gotten used to seeing is present, you no longer think it means she wants to kill you.

and you don’t think whatever feeling is settling in your stomach is dread anymore, either.

and of course, because nothing in this world can ever go your way, the professor does something unprecedented, something he’s never done for this class: he assigns a partner project, where you and someone else in the class will have to write a paper and present on the topic in class.

kaiser latches onto you before you can even finish processing how totally, utterly fucked you are. you two spend the class period settling on a topic and doing preliminary research. by the end of the period, you’re exchanging numbers and planning a meeting outside of class.

“we can meet at my apartment on friday,” she says, “it’s on this side of campus, so we can just head there after class.”

“i was actually thinking the library would work better,” you suggest, impressed with how you keep the desperation out of your voice.

“it’s a late class, we’ll probably want to eat dinner, so my apartment will work fine,” she says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. then she tilts her head at you in that calculating way, gives you a once-over, and asks, “you wouldn’t deprive me of a meal, would you?”

you spend the rest of the week mentally preparing yourself for whatever friday is going to bring.

it starts off fine. normal, even. she sets you both up in her room, claiming that her roommate might be back with some friends soon, so they’ll need the living room. you both sit criss-cross on her floor, laptops before you, and you actually manage to finish the essay and finalize your notes for the presentation.

you’re timing yourself on your part of the presentation when you sigh in frustration after stuttering over your words for the umpteenth time.

kaiser raises a brow at you. “what is it?”

you sigh. “i’m not good with being in front of people. surprising, i know.” you roll your eyes at her little smirk. “i just—if i look at someone when they’re looking at me, i freeze up. it’s distracting.”

kaiser hums. “so you have trouble presenting because of… distractions?”

you don’t like the way she said that, but she’s not exactly wrong. “i mean, i guess so.”

your stomach flips as she shuffles closer to you, sitting so close that your thighs are pressed together. “we’ll just have you practice with a distraction, then.”

she leans around you to start the timer on your phone, her chest brushing up against your arm as she does. you feel your mouth go dry.

“go on,” she says, staring at you. she still hasn’t leaned away from you. “you’re wasting time.”

clearing your throat, you begin reading from the script pulled up on your laptop. you’ve barely made it through three sentences when kaiser reaches up and begins trailing her fingers along your collarbone, occasionally snagging them on your necklace and giving it a tug.

after a mere minute of this, she unclasps the jewelry and sets it to the side.

then, she leans in and presses a kiss to your pulse.

you stutter to a stop, stiffening at the contact.

“so nervous,” she chides in between the quick kisses that she trails up and down your neck. “how do you expect us to pass if you’re going to freeze up like this, hm?”

swallowing down the want mounting within you, you continue reading, fighting to keep your voice steady.

you manage to get another uninterrupted minute in before you’re gasping as she presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against your jaw.

“keep going,” she whispers into your ear, her hot breath fanning across your cheek.

your voice trembles as she grips your waist and tugs you closer into her side. she trails her mouth low, lower, until she’s sucking loudly at the junction between your neck and shoulder. the end of a word trails off into a needy whine as she bites down, and you can feel her smirk into your skin.

you’re halfway through the presentation when her hand moves from your waist to your jeans and begins undoing them. your voice gets a bit high-pitched as she slips a hand down them and trails it along your thigh, voice getting higher the closer she gets to the wetness building between your legs.

your breath hitches when her fingers graze over the wet spot on your panties.

“you’re not finished yet, maus,” she croons into your ear. “let me hear you, hm?”

you get a minute more into the script when she finally applies pressure to the area, expertly rubbing circles into your clothed clit. you keen and buck up into her hand, your words coming out breathy and each sentence punctuated with a light moan as she continues petting you.

“okay, i—” you release a shaky exhale as kaiser begins sucking at your neck again. “i’m done.”

kaiser hums into your skin, then pounces on you fully. in a flurry of movement, she takes your pants and panties off in one go, leaving you barren on her floor. you squeak as she forces you into her lap, spreading her legs wide and hooking yours around hers to leave you split open for her.

“wait, i—” you grab her hands before they can make it to your dripping cunt. she gazes down at you, voracious and impatient. “i’ve never done this before.”

she laughs—a little demeaning, and also low and amused. “i know, maus,” she says before grabbing you by the jaw and pulling you into a deep kiss. when you part, she strokes your cheek with her thumb. “let me take care of you, okay?”

you nod slowly, and she presses one more kiss to your lips before forcing your face forward.

you flush bright red when you realize she’s positioned you both in front of her mirror. you can see yourself dripping onto her floor, your clitoris puffy and pink from being teased.

“we have to get you to overcome your fear of audiences, hm?” you squeak as she bites at your ear, which is quickly followed by a moan when she brushes her fingers against your clit. “don’t move your head. i want you to watch.”

she traces slow, agonizing circles into your clit with one hand, slithering one finger into your hole with the other. you seize up at the intrusion, not used to the sensation, so she sets a slow pace, working you into it before picking up speed and, eventually, slipping a second finger in.

by the time the third makes it in, you’re a panting, writhing mess. watching her fingers thrust into you, coming out coated in even more of your essence every time, just makes the heat pooling in your gut even worse.

“‘s too much,” you slur out between whines. “too full.”

“don’t complain,” she commands, lightly smacking your clit and causing you to jolt. “you’ll take what i give you, hm?”

she curls her fingers cruelly, causing your thighs to jerk and a loud moan to rip itself from your throat. “answer me,” she says.

“yes,” you whine. “yes, i will, i will.”

“good girl,” she hums, then starts scissoring her fingers in and out of you at a breakneck speed. she moves her other hand away for just a moment to wrap her arm around your waist and adjust you in her lap. your ass is planted firmly against her crotch, and she starts rocking her hips against you as she continues fucking you on her fingers.

it's not long before the last thread inside you unravels and you’re throwing your head back, crying out as you come undone on her fingers, hips bucking up into her hands and thighs shaking erratically. she fucks you through your orgasm, not easing up until you go slack against her, slumping against her chest with soft whines leaving you.

she pulls her fingers out of you and holds the digits in front of your face, spreading them wide. you watch, entranced, as your cum fills the space between them in stringy, sticky lines.

“what a messy girl,” kaiser says lowly, “you should clean up after yourself.”

she presses her fingers to your closed lips. in your haze, you open them without protest, allowing them to enter your mouth and tasting yourself on them.

you lock eyes with her in the mirror. her gaze is dark, and you wonder how you ever thought she wanted to do anything besides devour you whole.

“suck,” she commands.

your cheeks hollow out around her fingers as you obey, and the shaky breath she exhales goes straight to your core, lighting it up again.

when you’ve sucked them clean, she takes her fingers out of your mouth and rises to her feet. swiftly, she unbuttons her own shorts and tosses them to the side, her panties, bra, and shirt following them.

she sits down on her bed, then beckons to you with the fingers still wet with your saliva. “come here.”

on wobbly legs, you move to join her on the bed. she grabs you by the hips when you reach the edge, digging her nails into your flesh and squeezing at the plushness there.

“on your knees,” she instructs as she guides you into a kneeling position on top of the bed. she holds you by the waist so that you’re suspended in the air while she slips a thigh in between your own. her legs interlock with yours, and you bite your trembling bottom lip at the sensation of her bare pussy pressed against your thigh, and yours against her thigh.

her hands slide up your waist, fingers hooking into your shirt and tossing it off the side of the bed in one fluid motion. with one hand, she unclips your bra and discards it in the same manner.

with both hands cupping your face, she pulls you in and kisses you deeply, rocking her hips and grinding down on your thigh. your soft whimpers are muffled by her tongue as she shoves it down your throat and traces the crevices of your mouth. she pushes you flush against the headboard with her body, the feeling of her breasts pressed and bouncing against yours making warmth flood the area between your legs.

hesitantly, you reach a hand up to cup one of her breasts, experimentally running a finger over her nipple. with a soft grunt, she places her own hand over yours and squeezes, encouraging you to be rougher. after only a few minutes of groping and pinching her nipples, she’s moaning into your mouth, her thrusts now faster and harder as she chases after her own satisfaction.

suddenly, she pulls away from your mouth, and you barely have a moment to process the long trail of saliva between you two before she’s grasping the back of your head and shoving you toward her chest.

she doesn’t need to say the command a second time for you to know what she wants; you part your lips and latch yourself onto her, sucking as much of her breast into your mouth as you can and running your tongue over and around her nipple.

a deep moan leaves her, reverberating through her chest and against your face. she snakes one arm around your waist and pulls you as close as she can, to the point where you feel like you’re going to be suffocated by her breasts. she ruts against you mercilessly, drawing low whines out of the back of your throat.

“fuck,” she groans breathily, scratching lightly at your scalp as you continue sucking. “you make the sweetest sounds, maus.” her hand untangles itself from your hair and suddenly she’s kneading and pinching at your chest, escalating your whimpers into soft, fast moans. “sing for me, hm?”

you keen loudly, and the sultry laugh she lets out in response is almost enough to tip you over the edge on its own.

after a particularly harsh suck that’s more teeth than lips and tongue, kaiser hisses and bucks her hips once, before a string of moans spill out of her mouth as she erratically spasms against your thigh. her hand flies up to the back of your head and she grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls as she rides out her high.

with one last groan that peters out into a huff of air, she slackens her hold on your hair and waist, coaxing you off of her breast and allowing you to rest against the headboard. you feel your face flush when you see the angry red, already purpling marks left all over her breasts.

kaiser chuckles, running her fingers along them. “hungry little thing, aren’t you?” she teases. she lifts herself off your thigh, and you get even hotter at the stickiness that momentarily stays suspended in the air between her cunt and your thigh as she does.

she grabs one of the pillows from the other side of the bed and slips it beneath your hips. your breath hitches when she trails her fingers along the inside of your thighs before grabbing them and pulling them apart. you begin to tremble again as she lowers herself between your legs, leering up at you from beneath lidded eyelids as she does.

“it’s only fair if i eat, too, right?”

you gulp as she presses a kiss to your clit. your whole body jolts with a mewl when she parts them and sucks the bud into her mouth, the pressure sending shocks up your spine.

“ka—” you break off into a moan as she slips two fingers into you and sets that ruthless pace from earlier, the pleasure mounting into something that is entirely too much, too fast. “kaiser—”

she pops off your clit suddenly, her hot breath teasing the abused area. “michelle,” she corrects. “say it.”

“michelle,” you whine. “please.”

“please, what?” she takes her fingers out of you and begins rubbing her thumb in slow circles over your clit. “use your words.”

“please,” you say, nearly a hiccup. “please make me come.”

she hums in approval, cooing, “well, since you asked so nicely.”

she increases the pressure she rubs into your clit, and any confusion over her finger placement is immediately cleared up when something else enters your hole. you squeal in surprise as she slithers her tongue into you, moving it into your gummy walls as far as she can and swirling it around. your stomach and chest heave as you moan her name out in loud pleas, your hand coming down to stroke her hair as you involuntarily jolt your hips up against her face.

you’re close, so close—walls fluttering and the pitch of your voice crescendoing into high-pitched whimpers—when she suddenly pulls away from you.

“michelle?” you whine in confusion. she smirks at you as she tilts her head to the side, resting it against your thigh. your leg twitches involuntarily as she traces a tantalizing finger up and down your clit.

she calls your name, the syllables of it dripping off her tongue like honey. “it’s almost the end of the semester, you know. will you forget about me once this class is over?”

as if you can forget her after everything she’s done to you this afternoon. “i won’t,” you whisper.

she sighs, all faux sorrow. “but how do i know that? after all, you were trying so hard to get rid of me earlier.” you hiccup as another finger begins teasing your entrance. it distracts you from the harsh edge her voice takes when she asks, “you’ll just toss me to the curb like trash like everyone else does once you’re satisfied, won’t you?”

“no,” you whine. “don’t wanna.”

michelle takes in your needy expression with dark eyes. “don’t wanna what?”

“don’t wanna with anyone else,” you say, too dazed to try and stop yourself. “only you.”

the teasing movements suddenly stop, causing you to whine. she ignores it as she asks, “do you mean that, maus?”

that snaps you back to reality enough to give a better response. “i wouldn’t be doing this with just anyone,” you say, averting your eyes to the floral patterned bedsheets. you blush as you admit, “you’re my first because i wanted you to be.”

after a long moment of silence, she calls for you again. “look at me.”

you feel your breath hitch as you meet her eyes again. she’s always intense, but her gaze is sharper than you’ve ever seen, downright predatory and something else that you can’t quite place.

she licks a slow, agonizing strip up your folds before she says, “i’m going to make you come, then you’re going to be mine, got it?” she kisses your cunt again. “no one else is ever going to see you like this.”

before you can respond, she’s shoving her tongue back into your hole, fucking into you with a ferocity that wasn’t there all afternoon. her fingers expertly pinch and prod at your clit, rapidly working you back up to the point you were at when she stopped.

“michelle,” you cry out, “‘m gonna— ah—”

she moans into your pussy and gives one harsh pinch to your clit. with one last jolt, you throw your head back and devolve into a mess of whines and spasms as michelle works you through your orgasm.

you’re so out of it that you don’t even realize she’s pulled away from the space between your legs until she’s settling herself on top of you, straddling your waist. she takes a moment to admire your fucked-out expression before bringing her thumb to your lips and forcing them apart.

she presses her lips to yours, and you whimper as she shoves her tongue into your mouth, still coated in your come. after spitting and transferring most of it into your mouth, she pulls away, guiding your lips shut with her fingers.

“swallow,” she orders. she’s so close, her blue eyes taking up your entire vision as you gulp down what she’s given you, what she’s fed you so tenderly.

after watching your throat bob, she presses another kiss to your lips, surprisingly soft.

she pulls your head to rest against her chest, running her fingers through her hair. “so good for me,” she whispers. “you’ll stay right here, hm?”

you hum in agreement as your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion beginning to weigh down on you.

“good.” the feeling of her lips brushing against your ear has your eyes flying open again, your heart rate quickening.

“because i’m just getting started with you.”

#dude this idea has been plaguing me for DAYS #i was a woman possessed writing this #the only thing that could make kaiser hotter is if he was a woman #i think if someone like michelle kaiser existed in the same vicinity as me i would black out actually #she could do WHATEVER she wants to me idec bro...#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #femlock #fem kaiser #ceru.writes #ceru.nsfw

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sturnsrecord · 7 months ago

Text

────── ⌗ OVER THE PHONE. matt sturniolo

ex!matt x reader ꒰ 2k words

matt bites the bullet and decides to call you on a lonely night, desperate to just hear your voice.

⌇ contains. angst

part two.

the thought of you often appeared in matt's head. and when it didn't, he'd consciously think about you, all the things he remembered loving about you.

it could be as simple as your smile, or even the way you rolled your eyes at him.

he contemplated your entire relationship. going over how it ended, as well as every mistake he ever made.

he hadn't been like this with any other girl he'd seen or dated. he'd usually shut all the memories out and move on. convincing himself that it was for the better, which apparently it was.

but you – you plagued his mind, with both wanted and unwanted thoughts.

he tries to keep some dignity, acting like he's fine and that he doesn't miss you. but despite the persona he plays in front of his friends and family, he knows the truth. he knows how much he misses you.

he's considered calling you a few times, mostly on nights where he feels lonely and nostalgic, his memory of your voice not being quite enough to fuel his dopamine.

so he drops his pride, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. his finger hovers over the call button, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip nervously.

maybe he should just send a text, he thinks to himself. but he knows he doesn’t want that – he wants to hear your voice, and your tone.

he decides to go for it, starting the call as he brings the phone up to his ear. his heart pounds in his chest, there's a good chance you won't even pick up, or that you'll hang up as soon as he starts speaking.

but his heart stops as soon as he hears your voice.

“matt?” you question, confused. his mind goes blank, short circuiting. he hadn't really thought about what he was gonna say, now just sat there, his mouth run dry as he listens to you.

“matt?” you say again, now slightly worried. “hello?” you chime, wondering what the fuck was up.

he finally speaks up, his voice coming out in croak. “uh, he- hey.” he mumbles, his palms sweaty. he swallows, trying to calm his nerves.

“hi?” you say, still not understanding what was going on. you sigh when he doesn't respond, considering hanging up on this non-eventful phone call.

he notices the way you sigh, his heart picking up again. “don’t - just don't hang up.” he panics slightly, taking a deep breath.

“ok.” you mumble, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “i just wanna talk - just about anything.” he mumbles weakly, trying not to sound pathetic. “tell me ‘bout your day.” he says quietly, a meek suggestion.

you sigh again, reluctant to do this. but you'd be lying if you said a part of you didn’t wanna talk to matt. you thought about him sometimes too.

“tell you about my day?” you question, frowning a little at the suggestion.

“yeah.” he breathes out, trying to relax his body a little. “anythin’, just wanna hear your voice.” he admits. you sigh, rubbing your temple. what the fuck were you doing?

“i've not been doing much - mostly just work.” you mumble out, abiding by his simple request. he lets out a small breath at your words, happy that you'd decided to continue the conversation.

he smiles to himself, reminding himself that you were in college now, living a whole other life. “right, college. forgot ‘bout that.” he mumbles out, fiddling with the bottom of his top as he speaks. “how is it over there?” he asks, suddenly desperate to know everything about your new life.

“it's ok. hard work, but it's good.” you nod as you speak, trying to respond as casually as possible. “nice change in pace.” you add quietly.

he swallows, listening to your every word. he sat there imagining you in your new life, studying at college. you were always smart, and it made him happy that you were doing something good with your life, something you'd spoken about to him when you were together.

“they’re not workin’ you too hard are they?” he jokes, keeping the conversation light and interesting for both your benefit.

“what, at college?” you joke back sarcastically. “nah, it's just what i signed up for.” you sigh, smiling to yourself without even thinking.

he nods, biting back a smile. “you happy though?” he asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you were good.

you think for a second, nodding to yourself. “yeah, i am.” you respond quietly and honestly. “social lifes good, turns out not every girl here is a bitch.” you joke, getting more comfortable in the conversation.

he raises his eyebrows, chuckling under his breath. “that’s surprising.” he chimes back, amused by your lack of filter that he knew so well. “s’no surprise though, you've never been bad at making friends.” he says kindly, knowing damn well how easy you were to talk to. how you'd effortlessly charm everyone with your addictive personality, in a way he admired and wished he could do.

his compliment makes your brain fizzle with happiness, but you push past it to keep the conversation lighthearted. “yeah, not socially awkward like you.” you retort back playfully, smiling ear to ear as you speak.

he scoffs at your insult, although he found comfort and relaxation in the light teasing. finding it easy. “wow, rude.” he responds, shifting around his bed to get more comfy. “s’not my fault i like a smaller social circle.” he defends.

“yeah, you tell yourself that.” you snap back quickly, lightly chuckling as you speak. then there's a silence across the call, one where it would feel like a good time to hang up. but neither of you wanted to, that much was clear.

“you doin’ okay?” you mumble through the phone, knowing that now was probably the only time you'd be talking like this. checking in on one another wasn't exactly a usual occurrence.

he swallows hard, his whole body feeling hot at the caring tone in your voice. “yeah - i mean, i've been better.” he mumbles awkwardly, trying to sugar coat his emotions. he was fine, just not great. but you weren't in his life like that anymore, you didn't need to know.

your face drops a little at his words. right, so he wasn't doing okay. “m’sorry, ‘bout that.” you mumble quietly, unsure what to say.

“it's fine” he huffs, fidgeting with the blanket under him, also unaware of what to say. the conversation veering in a slighter deeper direction, a direction he didn't particularly wanna go with you right now.

but his words escape his lips quickly and quietly, his emotions coming out over his logical thinking. “i miss you.”

his words send a thrilling shock through you. you let out a sigh, trying really hard not to say it back and make this whole stupid phone call an emotional breakdown over your past relationship.

he swallows at your lack of response, knowing it was stupid of him to say. but talking to you on the phone like this was driving him insane, knowing he couldn't just do this whenever. it's like he was on a time limit to get everything off his chest before he went back to his life without you.

the call is silent, but he knows you won't just hang up without saying anything. he feels his emotions bubbling over within him, the hurt consuming his mind with thoughts and questions, consuming his everything.

one question rattles in his brain, gnawing at him on a replay, so much that he didn't know if he was saying it outloud by accident or if his inner voice was just that loud. but considering the hole he's already dug himself into he stupidly lets it slip, needing to know the answer so deeply.

“are you seeing anyone?”

you shut your eyes firmly, hoping you hadn’t just heard that. “matt.” you whisper, practically pleading him to stop with just the tone of your voice.

“i know, i know.” he mumbles, backtracking as he realises what he's just said. he knows he shouldn't have pried like that, but the need to know overtakes his pride. “i just.” he begins, sighing to himself. “i just need to know.” he croaks out, voice breaking.

“matt.” you whisper again, in the same pleading tone that was telling him to stop asking questions he didn’t wanna know the answer to. “please don't.” you huff, practically warning him of the answer already.

his stomach drops. fuck. you’d just answered his question, and fuck did it hurt. he was taking this a lot worse than he thought he would, jealousy surging into every nerve ending of his body. an emotion he didn't often show because of how ugly it was.

“just tell me.” he mutters, his voice coming out in a rasp of both desperation and pain. you bite down on your bottom lip nervously, honestly debating hanging up, but you owed him at least this. to be honest with him.

“yeah.” you say weakly, your heart rate picking up as you become nervous. “i have a boyfriend.” you mumble out. you know that's not what he wants to hear, but what were you meant to do.

“fuck.” he whispers under his breath, his body relaxing from its tension as the words finally leave your mouth. but what filled in was much worse, the pain and jealousy of knowing you'd moved on whilst he was still sat here thinking about you almost everyday. he felt pathetic in all honesty.

“matt, m’sorry-” you begin, feeling bad. but he cuts you off quickly. “no, no- you don't need to.” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “you don't need to apologise, for that.” he speaks softly, trying his hardest to rationalise with that part of his brain. the logical part screaming at him to not get upset over this, to not let it completely ruin him.

“m’happy for you.” he mumbles out, the words catching in his throat, like he's struggling to say them. maybe thats because deep down he didn’t really mean them, some fucked up, jealous part of him cruelly wishing you weren’t happy. but he couldn't act out on that. he was smart enough to understand this wasn't his place to comment, nor let his ugly emotions get the better of him.

“thanks.” you mutter back, trying to keep the situation civil. you knew he was upset. you knew because if he had a new girlfriend you'd be freaking out, probably hating it more than you'd like to admit. and maybe that wasn't fair, but weren’t gonna dwell on the logistics of the situation.

he takes a deep breath, trying to keep up his calm demeanour, not wanting to pathetically slip up. but it's difficult trying to keep his mind at bay with thoughts of you happy with someone else. a part of him crumbled, knowing that something he had dreaded for a while now was true, and it had been for a while.

“i'm uh- i'm gonna go.” he mumbles, deciding that he couldn't talk to you anymore without practically breaking down.

“right, okay.” you mumble, mentally smacking yourself for letting the conversation get to this. you scrape your brain for something else to say, something to fix the now low mood. but nothing comes to mind, regret taking over.

“bye matt.” you whisper softly, the shock of the situation beginning to take over, your eyes brimming with tears as you think about the fact you've just hurt someone you care so much about.

maybe it had been easier this whole time when you weren't talking to matt, able to keep him so incredibly separate from whatever life you were living now.

the only reason you'd been able to move on is because there was hardly anything else in your life that had any attachment to matt anymore. but getting a call from him, and hearing his voice, it really fucked you up.

“bye.” he whispers back before hastily hanging up, letting out a sigh as his eyes water. god was that a bad idea. he takes a few deep breaths, stopping himself from crying over this.

he felt pathetic and sad for himself. here you were moving on and he was just stuck, stuck on a part of both your lives that you had so easily left behind.

he hated himself for it, because he only had himself to blame.

𐔌 ©.STURNSRECORD

notes. this was inspired by @pearlzier c.ai chris bot lmao

#©sturnsrecord #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #angst

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yupstillaghost · 14 days ago

Text

✨️Halo & Horns🥀

Part 2

Erik Campbell x Pastor's Daughter Reader

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: Your parents said you're not allowed to see Erik again after your father caught you alone with him. Erik is unphased by your father's threats towards him, so he makes an attempt to contact you.

Warnings: oral piercing, swearing, strict parents, talks of religion, extreme romantic tension and tooth rotting fluff, shirtless Erik. MDNI

Other: No use of Y/N, description of articals of clothing reader is wearing, but no physical description of reader.

Author's note: so many people wanted to be on the tag list, but unfortunately, I'm capped at 50 mentions per post. So if you didn't make it, I'm sorry 😞 also not me just getting a sudden burst of inspiration and deciding to drop part 2 out of nowhere.

-------------------------------------

As soon as you got home from the Campbell's house, you received a lengthy lecture from your parents on the importance of supervised dating. Your father explained that temptation is everywhere, and it's always waiting for us to have a moment of weakness in order to strike. Then your mother explained the importance of faith in relationships and marriage and how Erik Campbell was not the right fit for you. Your father agreed of course.

"That Campbell boy might have seemed charismatic sweetheart, but so was Satan himself" he preached to you. "Dad, don't you think its unfair to judge someone based on their looks and one conversation?" You asked in a meek tone.

"Perhaps. But I could tell straight away that Campbell is not a man of God and he would not be a good influence on you. So it's important that you stay away from him" your dad explained in a more calm manner in hopes of getting through to you. You looked to your mom for her opinion, but she looked back at you with an apologetic glint in her eyes.

"Sweetie, we only want what's best for you" your mother cooed "besides, there are plenty of fish in the sea." You allowed your shoulders to drop and stared down at your lap, feeling defeated. Once your parents indicated that you were free to go, you got off the living room couch and practically bolted to your room. You wanted to slam the door to show your parents how upset you were, but you knew that would only lead to you getting your door taken off the hinges like when you were a child.

You were a grown woman, but your parents still treated you like a little girl and you hated it. But unfortunately, your father was a firm believer in the classic saying "you live under my roof, you live by my rules."

You changed into your pajamas and immediately climbed into bed. You were so troubled after the conversation with your parents that you didn't even have the energy to finish the moth creature in your sketch book. You tried to distract yourself by doom scrolling on your phone, but not even that helped.

Your mind was overloaded with thoughts of Erik. His pale blue eyes, his voice, his little grin, the softness and warmth of his tatted skin. You repeated your interaction with him in your head over and over like a cassette tape stuck on an endless loop. You screwed your eyes shut and roughly ran your hands through your hair before yanking your covers up and over your head. "God, please let me forget him" you prayed silently in the darkness, almost in tears. "Please let me forget about Erik Campbell."

------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you sat at the breakfast table staring blankly into your cup of coffee with newly pronounced under eye bags. You barely slept the night before because your prayers to forget about Erik went unanswered. You were up a majority of the night thinking about him, and when you did finally manage to fall asleep, he was waiting for you in your dreams. It was like there was an Erik sized cockroach infestation in your brain.

"Sweetheart, do you mind fetching the mail please? Your father asked you while cutting his sausage links your mother prepared for him. All you did was nod as you slowly stood up and sluggishly walked to the front door.

You made your way down the driveway to the mailbox, the bottom of your fuzzy pink slippers dragging on the pavement. You squinted as the morning sun assaulted your corneas. You were too tired for all of this. It was all Erik's fault. You reached into the mailbox and pulled out an assortment of envelopes. You held them in front of you and sifted through them as you walked back up your driveway.

Bills, bank statements, junk mail, and a folded piece of paper that caught your attention. You stuffed all the other mail under your armpit so you could use both hands to unfold the paper. Once you fully unfolded it, your eyebrows threaded together in confusion. It was a flier for a local tattoo parlor.

"Marked Tattoo & Body Piercing Studio" you read the flier aloud to yourself. It was a strange thing to find in your mailbox, to say the least. Sure, you would sometimes receive fliers in the mail for all sorts of things, but never a tattoo parlor. You couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of significance to it. Your mind wandered to Erik again and the tattoos that adorned his arms.

"Wait a minute...Erik is a tattoo artist" you thought to yourself. Your eyes scanned the flier again. You looked at the address and phone number printed at the bottom of the shop's name. There, next to the shop's phone number, was the letters EC scribbled on the paper. Your eyes went wide when the realization hit you. Those weren't just any random couple of letters, they were someone's initials. EC...Erik Campbell.

Erik was trying to communicate with you discreetly by leaving the flier for his work in your mailbox. So clever, but so risky. You could only imagine what would have happened if it wasn't you who found it. You quickly refolded the paper and shoved it into the pocket of your pj shorts as you swiftly walked up to the front door of your home.

You handed the mail to your dad, and you tried your best to calmly and nonchalantly walk up the stairs to your bedroom. Once you were inside with the door securely shut, you plopped onto your bed and took the flier out of your pocket. With slightly shakey hands, you picked up your phone and dialed the number on the flier.

"What if he doesn't answer?" You considered "What if I'm wrong about this?" Your nerves had your whole body buzzing with anxiety and anticipation. You decided you had to at least give it a try, so you slowly pressed the call button and put the phone to your ear. The phone only rang twice on the other end before someone picked up.

"Marked Tattoo & Body Piercings, Erik speaking" said the familiar male voice on the phone. You gasped slightly as soon as Erik's monotone customer service voice hit your ear. You were shaking. You couldn't believe you were right about the flier and that it was Erik on the phone with you.

"Umm..hi" you spoke softly to make sure your parents couldn't hear you. "Is that you, Peach?" Erik said with more vitality in his tone. You could practically hear the smirk on his lips through the phone.

"Ya..its me" you giggled nervously. You didn't exactly plan out what you were going to say to Erik if he picked up the phone, so to say you were nervous would be an understatement.

"I see you found my little easter egg" he chuckled on the other end. "Yes I did. I applaud your creativity, Campbell" you teased. You heard Erik bite back a laugh on the other end of the phone and your heart rate started to pick up. Just a few hours ago, you thought you would never hear his voice again. But there he was talking right into your ear.

"Well, you left before I could ask for your number yesterday, and I knew I couldn't just walk up to your door because then your old man would start shoving a crucifix in my face" Erik explained with sarcasm at the end. You held back a giggle after what he said about your dad. It was funny to you because it was pretty spot on.

"That's a fair assumption" you agreed with amusement in your voice. The banter between the two of you made you forget your nerves and the fact that you're not even supposed to be talking to Erik. You didn't care. You missed him, you needed this. You needed to hear his voice. You heard Erik take a deep breath through the phone.

"Listen, Peach, the thing is I can't stop thinking about you. I know your parents don't want me near you but honestly, I don't really give a fuck..I need to see you." Erik's confession rocked you. You were dumbfounded. You spent all night thinking about him, and it filled your stomach with an unimaginable amount of butterflies to think that he was going through the same thing.

"You still there?" Erik asked softly. You didn't realize how long you were quiet for. "Ya, I'm still here" you whispered "I wanna see you too, Erik." You and Erik exchanged numbers over the phone while you tried to stay as quiet as possible. Adrenaline was pumping throughout your body. If your parents walked in on you, this could all be ruined immediately.

"Is there any chance I could see you tonight?" Erik asked while sounding hopeful. "You could come by the shop after closing. It would just be the two of us. No witnesses."

You took a minute to ponder the possibility. You thought about how you could go about seeing Erik without your parents finding out. You looked at the flier again, it said the shop closed at 9:00pm. You then remembered you had Bible study tonight at 8:00 with girls from your new church. Judging by the address on the flier and the address of the girls' house that would be hosting Bible study, you could leave early and head right there.

"That sounded creepy, didn't it? I'm sorry, Peach" Erik blurted out, interrupting your thoughts. You giggled as a way to reassure him.

"No it wasn't, I was just thinking it over. I have Bible study tonight, but I can leave early" you said to him through a whisper. You heard Erik let out a single chuckle and you just knew there was a smirk on his lips.

"You're really willing to sneak around for me? Your dad would probably tie boulders to my ankles and throw me in a river if he finds out" Erik exaggerated. Though his assumption was extreme, you smiled none the less at his strange sense of humor.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him" you responded, feeling like a rebellious teenager for making plans to meet up with a guy you were told to stay away from.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight, Peach" Erik mumbled in a husky tone. "And bring those drawings of yours with you. I'd love to see them." With that, you said your quiet goodbyes and hung up the phone.

You stared at your bedroom wall and let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You were stunned by what you just did. You talked to Erik on the phone. You made plans to meet up with him tonight. Your stomach turned wildly. You felt a twinge of guilt for disobeying your parents, but your excitement to see Erik again overpowered it. You were an adult, your parents couldn't keep telling you what to do. You wanted desperately to be free of their rules and expectations, and if the only way to do that was to sneak around, then so be it.

--------------------------------------------------

You were bouncing your leg with your Bible in your lap as you sat in the circle of women discussing a verse from... Genesis? Exodus? You couldn't remember because you weren't really paying attention. You kept stealing glances at the clock on the wall. It was almost 9:00pm, which meant it was almost time for your rendezvous with Erik. You closed your Bible gently and placed it in your small backpack next to your sketch book. It was time for you to make your escape.

"I'm gonna head out girls, I'm not feeling well" you lied expertly, standing up from your chair and swinging your backpack onto your shoulders. They all wished you well, and you were out the door and power walking to your car in no time. You got into the driver's seat and put the address of the tattoo parlor into your phone's GPS app. You drove the whole way there with a swirly feeling in your stomach, your clamey hands gripping the steering wheel.

When you arrived, your heart felt like it was going explode out of your chest. You made sure to park down the street instead of parking right in front of the shop. You didn't want anyone you knew to drive by and possibly recognize your car. You walked up to the shop with your hood up, feeling like you were about to do something illegal. Seeing the tatted and pierced man you had a crush on wasn't illegal of course, but you couldn't risk getting caught.

You walked into the shop, and almost instantly, you felt out of place. The tattoo parlor was dimly lit and the brick walls gave it an industrial feel. The decor was definitely something your parents would turn their noses up to, but you kind of liked it. The place looked cluttered, but it seemed like an organized clutter.

Throughout the shop were black leather stools and tattoo chairs with a matching black leather couch in the waiting area. The shelves that held various objects like oddities and bottles of tattoo ink were accented with red led lights. It gave the shop more lighting while also adding a sensual feel. Your blue jeans and lavender hoodie were the only colorful things in the whole shop. A stark contrast indeed.

You peered around the corner of the front desk, looking for the man you were there to see. You could hear faint talking over the death metal music playing on the Bluetooth speakers, so you followed the voice.

You then found Erik hiding in the corner of the shop, but he wasn't alone. He was sitting in one of the stools with a girl in the tattoo chair in front of him. It seemed like he was finishing a piercing he did for her. Judging by his gloved hands working in the girl's mouth, he must have given her a tongue piercing.

You cringed a little at the thought. Not because of the tongue ring itself, but you couldn't imagine how bad it must have hurt. You heard Erik trying to have a conversation with the girl while having his hands in her mouth. You stifled a giggle, watching his attempt as you stood about 10 feet away from them.

"So there's this girl, right? She's extremely gorgeous and super sweet. We met at my parent's barbecue yesterday, we got to talking, and we completely hit it off." The girl in chair just made agreeable noises as Erik continued his monolog while screwing on the ball of her new piercing.

"Now I get to hang out with her after work tonight. I'm psyched out of my mind about it. I feel like I could run a fucking marathon" Erik finished screwing on the ball of the piercing and the girl brought her tongue back in her mouth.

Erik looked to his right and saw you standing idoly by, waiting for him to notice you. You felt a whole wave of emotions crash over you when his muted blue eyes connected with yours, but you stomped them down so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. You shyly waved at Erik, and he flashed you that grin that you were thinking about the whole day.

"There she is," Erik cooed to you. "Mind waiting for me up front, Peach? I'm just finishing up." You nodded while replying with a "mhm" before turning and walking back to the front of the shop.

You sat down on the leather couch while you listened to Erik go over the aftercare instructions with the girl he just pierced. You then watched as the girl left out the door, already touching her new tongue ring despite Erik telling her not to. You heard footsteps approaching the front of the shop and Erik came into view from around the corner. He went to the door and locked it and then proceeded to flip the "come in, we are open!" sign to "sorry, we are closed."

"I thought you said no witnesses" you said to him with a smirk to let him know you were only teasing. Erik smirked back at you followed by a snort.

"She came in 10 minutes before closing time, and it was only a piercing. If she came in this late wanting a tattoo, I would have told her to kick rocks." You smiled at him but then you bit the corner of you lip when you realized what he was wearing.

Erik had on the same black skinny jeans and combat boots you saw him in yesterday, but it was the upper part of him that had you stunned. He was wearing a black leather jacket but he didn't have a shirt on underneath. You could see bits of more tattoos that you didn't know he had poking out of the jacket.

You saw a black and gray dragon that spanned across his chest right underneath his collarbones. It was so dark but so detailed that you could still tell what it was from a mile away. Right below it is what probably had you the most speechless. Right under the dragon was a huge skull tattoo that took up the remaining skin of his torso. You just sat there and marveled at him as he sauntered over to you. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Like what you see, Sweets?" Erik spoke in a gravely tone, taking notice of where your eyes were focused. You snapped out of your daze and looked up at Erik, who was now standing over you. You stood up quickly and gazed at Erik with a sheepish look on your face.

"Sorry I was just..." you trailed off, racking your brain for an excuse for your staring. "Don't be sorry, I didn't get these tattoos for people to not look at them" Erik reassured you.

"Did you draw these too?" You asked with curiosity as you took a step closer and placed a hand on the dragon adorning his chest. You quickly realized you were touching Erik's tattoos without checking with him first yet again. There was something about him that just made you forget what personal space was. You tried to withdraw your hand from him, but he gently took your wrist and placed your hand back on his bare chest.

"I don't mind you touching my tattoos, Sweets" Erik said in a low voice, practically reading your mind. The close proximity you found yourself in with him made your brain short circuit. You weren't standing this close to him yesterday. If you were, your father would definitely have an aneurysm.

Erik still had his hand wrapped around your wrist, so he pulled your hand to the right side of his chest. There, you could feel his heart beating rapidly, and you instinctively flattened your palm. Your previous question to Erik was long forgotten, and so was the tattoo on his chest. All you could focus on was his heart rate and the fact that it matched your own.

You were brought out of your head by Erik using his other hand to lift your chin so you could look into his eyes. His eyes gave you that sparkle from yesterday. You didn't realize just how much you missed Erik until now.

Your senses were overloaded with him. The warmth of his skin under your palm. The smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of ink. The sound of his steady breathing in the quiet tattoo parlor. The way that he looked just as handsome and dangerous as the last time you saw him. All that was left was...taste.

No, you couldn't, not yet. It was too soon. You were moving too fast. You slowly took your hand off Erik's chest, his grip on your wrist letting go at the same time. You dropped your gaze down to your feet as you exhaled a stuttering breath. Erik wasn't ready to let you go, but he didn't want to overwhelm you any further. So he settled for holding your delicate fingers in his large hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come on so strong" Erik whispered his apology with sincerity in his voice. Your overwhelmed state shifted to embarrassment. You did not have a lot of experience with romance due to your religious upbringing, and you feared it was evident to him now. What women in her 20s gets overwhelmed by just the probability of a kiss?

"You're fine Erik its just.." you dared to glance back up at him to see a worried look in his bluish gray eyes. "I just don't want to move too fast" you finished with a meek tone. Erik brought a hand to your upper arm and squeezed it gently.

"We can move at whatever pase you want, Peach. I'm here for the ride either way." Erik spoke to you softly while showing you a genuine smile with teeth. Your cheeks took on a pinkish hue after hearing his words. You beamed at him, feeling grateful that he was so patient and understanding.

"So, do you want to see my drawings?" You asked him shyly, and he instantly beamed at you.

"I'd love to"

--------------------------------------------

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ayexaye · 15 days ago

Text

"Like Father, Like son"

Michael Kaiser x GN!Reader

Synopsis; Set after the events of Blue Lock, shortly after Kaiser returns to Germany. You watch him fall into alcoholism and become exactly like what he hated most: his father.

Based on this short kaiser fic I wrote

⚠️Content warning: angst, alcohol abuse, arguments, toxic relationship, non-graphic physical aggression, abuse, self-destructive behavior (kaiser chokes himself), hurt no comfort. 1.8k~ words

A/n; I'm literally so proud of this it's lowkey one of my favorite things I've ever written.. if theres anything I didn't put in the warning that you think I should add pls don't hesitate to lmk!

Cross-posted on Ao3

── .✦

You noticed something was off in the way he kissed you goodnight.

It wasn't particularly rough or cold, it was just different. It was like his mind was somewhere else. His lips would barely linger on your forehead before turning over and muttering something about how tired he was, when before you would fall asleep tangled in each other's arms.

You tried not to think about it too much. He was training harder, obsessing over missed shots and watching past matches over and over and over until early morning.

But he wouldn't really explain what was going on. No, the perfect but ever so fragile Michael Kaiser couldn't be that vulnerable.

So you thought that if you gave him time he'd get over whatever was going on with him.

But then came the morning where he wouldn't eat and he'd go to practice hungry.

And the afternoons where he'd come home from practice and either shy away from any interaction with you or drop off his things and leave again.

And the evenings where his mood would shift at the drop of a hat.

And that sharp, bitter scent that you caught on him when he'd return in the evening that you'd try to convince yourself it wasn't what you thought it was.

You told yourself it couldn't be alcohol.

You told yourself that Kaiser wasn't like that.

He wouldn't be like him.

Michael Kaiser hated his father, probably more than any other thing in this world. You'd seen that look in his eyes when he spoke about him, even if it happened rarely. That haunted, tortured glare that left him as a shell of a human being.

Kaiser once told you, “If I end up like him, you may as well kill me yourself.”

You thought it was a morbid joke, a way to cope with everything he's been through, so you laughed.

You weren't laughing anymore.

You didn't think it was a problem yet per se. He wasn't an alcoholic. But he's started keeping a bottle in that cabinet above the fridge that neither of you really used. Maybe he thought you wouldn't notice it was there. You never saw him pour a glass or drink anything, at least not at home, but you knew.

And tonight was another awkwardly silent night for you two. He was sat on the bed, blankly staring at his phone, jaw clenched, and you could smell it on him again.

Your throat clenched as you approached him. You slipped into bed beside him, letting your hands fall limply in your lap as you lowered your head.

“You're drinking?” you asked softly. You hated the way your voice sounded meek.

His shoulders tensed. He didn’t look up from the screen. “It's not like that.”

You shifted to face him properly. “Then what is it like?”

His thumb scrolled aimlessly across the screen. “Drop it,” he muttered. “It's not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?”

He scoffed. “Jesus Christ, I didn't come home to be interrogated.”

It stung a bit. You turned away from him again. “I'm not interrogating you, Kaiser. I'm just worried.”

The sheets rustled as he turned over in bed, tossing his phone onto the night stand. “Worry about something that matters.”

“Kaiser-"

“Didn't I say to drop it?”

And that was the end of it. The line was drawn in the sand.

You sat there for a long while, watching his chest faintly rise and fall in the darkness of your bedroom. You wanted to press him on it, to keep asking questions, to get him to talk more like he used to.

But something in his body language screamed at you to not engage, to lay back and swallow your worries.

And so you did, pulling the covers up more and careful not to touch him.

You stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan circle as you listened to faint sounds of the city and the rhythmic battering of the pouring rain outside. Anything to distract you from the man who laid beside you.

It wasn't always like this. Just months ago there were nights where he'd pull you close, arms wrapped tight around your waist, kissing your shoulder and mumbling about his goals and training and how he was so lucky to have someone like you with him despite his shitty upbringing.

And now you can't think about a recent time where he touched you while he was sober without flinching away.

And you were starting to flinch too.

You rolled over slowly, turning your back to him, biting your lip hard enough to hurt.

You wouldn't cry. You couldn't . Because crying made it feel like this was real. That this wasn't just stress.

It meant you had to admit to yourself that he was changing.

It meant you had to admit to yourself that he already had.

—

You woke up to the faint sound of the front door clicking shut.

No "good morning.” No kiss goodbye. The space in the bed beside you was left empty and cold.

You dragged yourself out of bed and down to the kitchen. Without thinking, almost in a daze, you opened the cabinet above the refrigerator.

It was a different bottle than you remember from last week. You stretched to reach it, pulling it down to inspect it.

The label was clearly foreign, and if you had to guess, it was a luxury brand. And it was half empty.

You shoved it back into its place in the cabinet before leaning your head against the fridge, the cool emanating from the door grounding you.

He said it wasn't a big deal.

—

You were curled up on the couch, the TV quietly playing in the background.

He came home late again. It was happening more often, and every time he came back smelling of alcohol.

He didn't look at you and he said nothing. Just dropped his bag, kicked his shoes off, and walked right past you.

Your fingers curled around the blanket on your lap as you sat up straighter.

“Hey, you're back,” you said softly. “I waited for you.”

He paused, already by the hallway, hand clenched on the wall. “You didn't need to.”

You wanted to scream at him. To shake him and make him look at you .

“Have you eaten?” You said as you stood up, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Not hungry.”

He had already disappeared into the bedroom before you could reply.

—

It started because he didn't answer his phone. Four texts, five missed calls, and not one answer.

You cooked dinner, and waited, and watched the food get cold.

You paced around the living room, eyes glued to your phone to see if you could at least catch a little typing bubble pop up by his name to at least know that he was okay.

But then the front door swung open and he reeked of alcohol.

“Are you serious right now?”

He froze, just barely inside the door, coat dripping from rain water.

“Five calls and not a single fucking reply.” You said as you held your phone up.

He shrugged off his coat and threw it by the coat rack, not bothering to take the time to hang it up properly.

“Didn't see ‘em.”

“Don't lie to me.” You said as you followed him to the kitchen.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Are you really out drinking every fucking night?”

The plastic bottle cracked with how tight he gripped it.

“Kaiser, say something-”

The fridge door slammed shut. “What the fuck do you want me to say?” He finally snapped, whirling around to you.

You flinched back, but didn't back down. Not when you finally got him to look at you.

“I want the truth. I want you . I want the person you cared about when I worried and who didn't run away from their problems and try to solve it with alcohol.”

Kaiser stared at you, eyes glazed over and breathing heavily. His hair stuck to his forehead from both the rain and the sweat. He looked deeply exhausted in a way that made him nearly unrecognizable from the man you fell in love with.

He laughed. “You think this is about you?”

Your heart dropped as he stepped toward you, waving the bottle around. “You think I'm doing this to hurt you or something? Shit. You don't know anything.”

“I'm just trying to help-”

“I didn't fucking ask you to!” He yelled.

He threw the bottle, not at you but across the room. It hit the wall with a hollow thud as water gushed out of it onto the tile floor.

And then he reached out, leaning in close as he grabbed your arm with a sloppy but tight grip, enough that you think it might bruise later.

“I said.. drop it.” He slurred.

And you flinched hard. His hand released you instantly, like your skin had scalded him.

You were frozen, staring at him wide eyed, hand hovering over the spot on your arm that he grabbed.

He tried to take a step forward and you took a step back.

“No, no- Fuck, baby, I didn't mean..”

You shook your head, opening your mouth but no words would come out. All you could think about was the echo of his voice in your head, the sharp, slurred edge to it, the angry heat to his grip, the loathing in his eyes.

You turned around and went straight to the door, grabbing your keys that hung on the rack beside it.

Kaiser followed, “Hey- hey! Don't - can't we just- please. Don't leave me right now.”

—

Kaiser stood alone in the kitchen, bending down to pick up the now almost empty water bottle from the ground.

He stared at his reflection in the oven door, wild-eyed and trembling.

Michael Kaiser, for the first time since he began playing soccer, didn't feel powerful.

He felt just like him.

He staggered back, hand dragging over his neck as he let out a strangled breath and squeezed tight. His fingers pressed in harder, curling around the side of his neck as he fell to his knees on the floor, almost knocking his head against the counter while he did.

Kaiser always did this when he felt like shit. When he couldn't stand the sound of his own voice or the look of his own face. When he needed to punish himself. When he needed to feel something real.

His hand pressed tighter, knuckles turning white as he tried not to cry.

He squeezed until his sight began to blur, until the ringing in his ears began. Until he collapsed, hands bracing against the floor, still slick with water, to keep himself upright.

He sat quietly, forced to listen to the sound of his own wrecked, ragged breathing.

And he had absolutely no one to blame but himself.

── .✦

𖹭.ᐟ Masterlist

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 years ago

Text

he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him.

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh.

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you.

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly.

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down.

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him.

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy.

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate.

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be.

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy.

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.”

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words.

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit?

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?”

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust.

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.”

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute.

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room.

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up.

you blink.

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed.

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?”

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean.

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being.

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on.

he’d rather die than deny you.

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

no choice at all.

#didnt have time to write a full fic this week </3 so mindless fluff drabble it is!!#hes sooo babygirl perhaps even more babygirl than gojo #not really. but its close!!#ive said this abt gojo too but being babied really WOULD fix sugu #he needs his hair brushed + chest squished + forehead kissed + etc etc. i volunteer!! dw guys ill handle it #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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for-ests · 1 year ago

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Hi! This is a request for sukuna x concubine! reader, sorry if it's a bit all over the place - it's just a silly idea jdjsjajsk

Sukuna calls a shy concubine for the first time. She's nervous, but upon entering his chambers, a book about astronomy catches her eye (since he has many books and scrolls). He notices her interest and is intrigued, perhaps because his concubines are raised to have no interests other than pleasing Sukuna

tysm for the request ^^ im not sure if u wanted this to be NSFW or not, but I wanted to attempt Sukuna fluff. (never thought I would say that) but, I hope you enjoy! (I am so not used to writing a shy reader or something this short so bear with me) <3 requests are still open! wc: 1.5k warnings: none!

The first time Sukuna called you to his chambers should have excited you beyond belief, but instead, it made you incredibly nervous.

You were adorned in your best Kimono, perfectly painted makeup, and hair styled to accentuate your alluring features. You felt beautiful, and you knew you looked the part. Hours had been spent on your appearance the second your servant caught wind of Sukuna’s request.

And now that you were standing at his door, your heart was pounding. You knew your purpose; you knew your place. But what if you failed to please your master? Instinctively, you shied away from his advances, opting to serve him in other ways. Surprisingly, there were many tasks and chores to complete daily as a concubine, which you weren’t aware of before Sukuna selected you among the other noble women from your faction.

This was the first time you would be utterly alone with the King of Curses, and it made your stomach twist into knots.

“You requested me, Sukuna-Sama?” you squeaked, already blushing from the intensity of his gaze.

A long silence stretched between you, but all he did was stare, taking in all you had to offer.

“I realized I still have yet to spend a night alone with you, “ he finally replied.

Sukuna loathed the meek. You seemed to be the only woman he bothered to tolerate, and he didn’t know why. If anything, it just made you cute because he knew you weren’t dumb. You followed your orders, you served him with grace, and the way you danced was unlike the rest. On the stage, you were a completely different woman.

But off the stage, you were as shy as they came.

His eyes were ravenous as he watched you approach his bookshelf. Despite his own desires and your intended purpose, something about you intrigued him—notably, that curious glint in your eyes with the desperation to discover more.

“I was not aware you kept so many records." Your voice was almost a whisper, partly out of respect and awe.

“Taken from my conquests.”

“As expected,” you replied somewhat meekly, eyes drifting back to the wall of books and scrolls. One in particular caught your eyes, the binding resembling a constellation you were familiar with.

Hesitantly, you glanced at him, waiting for permission to tug the book from its rightful place amongst the rest.

Sukuna nodded, sighing deeply before leaning back into the corner of his room, legs, and arms crossed as he watched you explore.

The intended cushion for you still remained empty. You could feel it, and Sukuna's bloodlust calling for you to at least join him. With the book in your hand, flipping the first page, you gave in and sat across from him, knees perfectly tucked in like you were taught from a young age.

The book lay halfway open on the floor between the two of you. And finally, you gained the courage to meet his eyes, pleading for permission.

“Astrology?” The King of Curses bemused, reaching for a sip of his sake. If that’s what you wanted, he would grant it. There was no harm in having his concubines be somewhat knowledgable about something, despite what other kings and lords agreed, despite what they claimed about him.

There was a reason why he had so many women flocking to him despite his appearance and dominance. They actually enjoyed his protection and offerings. It was the best place in the country for a curious woman like you to explore and indulge. As long as you excited him, of course. But, he enjoyed the variety, and you undoubtedly provided him with that.

“Can you read?” he asked from your silence and timid glances. You were so incredibly meek it astonished him, so much so he couldn’t tell if you were waiting for permission or for him to explain the words to you.

“Yes, my Lord.” You bowed your head slightly, managing to peek at him through your eyelashes.

“Finish it,” he paused as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “And it’s yours.”

There was no way to stop the way your mouth dropped open. The surprise was evident in how your eyes widened, your loss for words, and the sudden bashfulness that etched into your expression.

“Do wish for my body in exchan—”

“No,” Sukuna interrupted, exhaling as if he anticipated your question. “Despite any rumors you may have heard, I’m not fond of forcing a woman to be with me.”

You could not hide your astonishment. It was like you could feel your timidity fading away into the nighttime breeze that wafted through the door to his private garden.

“It bores me," he sighed. “If you’re not ready, that is fine.”

“My Lord,” you rushed, the honorific rolling off your tongue with a hint of approval and submission you didn’t expect to find tonight. The surprise of it all made you lose your train of thought and all your responses to it.

“Out with it,” he rolled his eyes.

You chose your words carefully this time, unable to look at him until after your sentence was finished. “Are you claiming that aquiring knowledge is more important than sex?”

“I never said that,” he replied quickly but smirked. “If you wish, you can visit me to read instead, until you are ready for more.”

Sukuna didn’t need to dominate his concubines every single night. A companion would be appreciated for the days he wished for peace and quiet—which was rare but still happened occasionally. The way you danced was enough to entertain him. And there were plenty of other women who could satiate his hunger differently.

For your own comfort, along with his amusement, he felt an introductory offer was needed. Of course, he wanted you; he wanted everything about you and your submission. But what Sukuna learned over the years was very important—it wasn’t just about his pleasure. He could easily kill you, and he knew it, but the human part of him also wanted you to crave him in the same way.

And if that took granting you access to his literature, so be it.

Biting your lip, you reached for the sake bottle and filled his empty glass as a thank you. You were there to serve him, and it was comical how miserably you failed to provide him the requested service. But there was no use in denying how excited you were. The last thing you expected was this. It wasn’t just permission he gave you; it was respect. Even in its slightest form, it was enough.

“Once you learn about the stars, you must teach them to me.”

Once he took his first satisfactory sip, you replied, “Do you not know the stars, Sukuna-Sama?”

His boisterous chuckle surprised you and made you flinch in surprise. You couldn’t recall a moment where he had ever laughed, let alone smirk devilishly so. But perhaps he reserved this side of him for late-night discussions. The thought of him teasing you hardly mattered; what mattered was that he was listening to you.

“Of course I do, concubine.” Sukuna took another sip. “But I wouldn’t mind testing you for my enjoyment.”

“That only makes me want to study more.”

“Good. For every question you get wrong, I get to claim a piece of you.”

The most vigorous flush of emotions you’d ever felt rushed through you, appearing on your cheeks despite how your face was painted with makeup. Any attempt to mask was futile. It may be beneficial to just be yourself, as he already seemed tolerant enough.

“I would appreciate that.”

Sukuna laughed again, watching as your body relaxed. Shifting your legs to emerge from your Kimono and onto your side, you flipped back to the first page, scanning over the first page of documentation. It was exhilarating, and you didn’t want to stop.

Sukuna’s hands reached out, guiding yours to the first page of information, scribbles, and many mystifying illustrations. “Start here, woman.”

“My apologies.”

Rolling his eyes once again, Sukuna took another swing of his liquor and leaned back to a more comfortable position. “Eventually, you will let me have you,” he started, relishing in the sake burning down his throat. Undoubtedly, he would need bottles of it to keep his hands off of you. “You’re too interesting to waste.”

“That was never out of the question, my Lord.”

Appreciative of your constant honorifics, he nodded at you. “Now, sit there and read to me. I’m too tired for anything else.”

And that was what you did until he moved to rest his head in your lap, eyes finally closing in response to your lullaby, the softness of your voice beckoning him to tranquility. Eventually, uneven breaths filled your ears, and his head slacked entierly against you.

Did you make the King of Curses fall asleep from your voice alone?

Technically, you were trapped under his weight but didn't mind. Not when he was this peaceful, this handsome. And when your curiosity got the best of you, he only sighed in admission to the faint touch of your fingers tracing over his facial tattoos.

A cycle that repeated itself for months until it became your secret tradition.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk #request #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen

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foreingersgod · 1 year ago

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you’re caroline harvey fic absolutely ate. please write more for her there’s such a lack of fics 😫

Scaredy Cat . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

A/N: i had to rewrite this 3 times because it kept sounding super awkward, so if this is horrible, im sorry LOL

“maybe we should watch something else, babe…” caroline offered from the spot next to you on the bed. she had an arm wrapped lazily around your shoulder, legs tangled with yours under the sheets “it’s gonna get you scared and then you won’t be able to sleep”

it was a simple date-night-in on a gloomy saturday. the rain pouring heavily outside made it impossible to continue with your original plans, forcing you and caroline to resort to a movie night in your shared apartment. in all honesty, you didn’t mind-you’d much rather snuggle up in bed with your girlfriend, snacking on a half eaten box of pizza and throwing on a show. you had been scrolling through netflix for what felt like an eternity until you came upon the horror section, recognizing a movie poster that you thought looked quite interesting. you turned to caroline with a pleading look, begging her agree to watch it with you. but she knew you more than you knew yourself and was quite quick to suggest something else.

she knew you were jumpy person, easily paranoid over little things, so she was aware that watching this movie wouldn’t end like you thought it would. you always claimed to like horror movies-love them, in fact-but without fail, you’d end up shutting it off before it even got to the good part. she thought she’d spare you of the jumpscares and inevitably the nightmares you were sure to have by picking a different movie.

“but it looks so good!” you pouted, bottom lip jutting out as you gave her your best puppy dog eyes. a look you knew she could never refuse “i promise i won’t chicken out! please?”

she rose her eyebrows at you, head tilting to the side in distrust. but you doubled nonetheless as you continued your pleas.

“alight alight, fine” she agreed, rolling her eyes “but i don’t want to hear about how scared you are when we go to bed, got it?”

you smiled almost instantly, shaking your shoulders in excitement and pressing play on the movie. your body scooted closer to caroline’s and your hand found its way to her sweatpant-clad thigh. an off key, eerie music emitted from the screen as the movie began to roll.

“i’m a woman of my word” you said, waving her off “it’s probably not even that scary, i’m sure i’ll be fine”

famous last words.

like caroline had expected, your excitement was short lived. only 20 minutes had passed before you were jolting in your seat and clinging onto her arm. it took all she had to not burst out laughing every time one of the jumpscares took you by surprise. she noticed how your hand squeezed her bicep every time one of the scenes got increasingly suspenseful, how you would cover eyes with one hand with your fingers parted slightly.

finally the movie ended after a huge plot twist, resulting in you letting out a relieved sigh. just like you had promised, you made it the entire way through.

“so,” caroline began, watching the credits take over the screen as she turned the TV off. she looked over to you, fear practically radiating off of your body “was it worth it?”

“yea” you nodded as you chewed on the inside of your cheek “not bad at all”

it was quite obvious that you were lying. from the meekness of your voice to the extensive clingy-ness, caroline knew that you were more deceiving than you intended to let on. but despite that, she wanted to let you have your moment of pride and let you workout the fright yourself.

“y’sure? you’re looking a bit pale, babe. gonna make it through the night?”

“i’m fine!” you shrugged it off once more, slumping down on the bed and pulling the comforter up over your body abruptly. sleep seemed to be the only thing to soothe your mind. your feet found company with hers as you grappled for any source of comforting touch “can we just go to bed now?”

caroline obliged as to not press any further. you wouldn’t be a happy camper if she had proved you to be wrong. she followed in your actions, nuzzling into bed and pulling you flush against her chest like she always did. for several moments, it seemed the world was silent for the night. trees rustled outside your bedroom window, the frame of your apartment building creaking with each whoosh of the wind, the quiet breathes of your girlfriend hitting the nape of your neck softly. it was like any other night, drifting off to sleep with one another, until caroline felt you tossing and turning.

“YN,” she mumbled, half asleep. she sat up using her elbow to prop herself up as she gently shook your arm “what’s going on, you keep moving around over there?”

you muttered something into your pillow, your words incoherent to caroline. the restless movements of your limbs continued as she tried asking you again, only to be met with a defeated whimper.

“what?”

“i said,” you finally removed your face from your pillow, craning your neck so she could hear you better “i really need to pee”

“you-” she shook her head “if you need to pee, go to the bathroom…”

“but i can’t”

“why not?”

“because,” an embarrassed whisper escaped your throat “i’m too…scared to get up”

her infectious laugh bounced off the walls of the bedroom. a sound soothing enough to make you forget about the pressure on your bladder for a swift moment. you groaned as she carefully pulled the duvet down the bed.

“alright, scaredy cat” the bed dipped as she threw her legs off the mattress, feet already planted on the plush carpet “come on”

“huh?”

“i said come on” she was now on your side of the bed, searching in the dark for your hand blindly. she gripped it softly as she tugged you out of bed “i’ll go with you”

“you don’t have to do that” she guided you towards the bathroom with her hand still grasping onto yours. the ground beneath you creaked with each step, causing you to stay on high alert. you felt caroline’s thumb rub small circles on the skin of your hand to let you know she was right there with you.

“no,” she said, flipping the switch to the bathroom lights and ushering you in. she found residence on the sink counter, her legs kicking carelessly in the air “but i want to”

you couldn’t help but smile, a rosy blush creeping onto your cheeks. caroline had to the be the sweetest person on the planet. not everyone was so fortunate to have a partner that would escort them into the bathroom at 2 am after watching a scary movie. you did your best to keep the bathroom break short, doing your business quickly as you felt guilty for waking your girlfriend up.

“better?” she asked as you washed your hands.

“much” you sighed before facing her, letting your arms drape across her shoulders as you melted into her embrace “thank you, baby, you’re the best”

“anything for my girl” she grinned. the scent of her berry chapstick lingered on her lips as she leaned into you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips “but that was the last time you’re watching a scary movie, i told you that you were gonna get scared”

“okay whatever” you joked, releasing her from your grasp as you headed back to bed “maybe i just wanted you to protect me”

you both climbed back under the covers, the mattress below you still warm from your weight. the night was still peaceful, everything just the same as you had left it. your bodies fell back into their typical positions as you placed a hand atop her chest.

“mmm” she mumbled, burying her face in the crook of your neck once again “you know i always will”

“yea,” you said, feeling how her heartbeat slowed under your touch, indicating she was nearly asleep. with heavy eyelids, you let yourself do the same as you drifted into a similar slumber “i do”

#caroline harvey imagine #caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey x reader #kk harvey #wlw #wlw imagine #lesbian #lesbian imagine #women’s hockey #hockey #foreingersgod

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inkbybambi · 2 years ago

Text

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

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