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harryslittlefreakk · 1 day ago

Text

the one

summary: y/n runs into the last person she ever expected to see in the last place she ever expected to see him, bringing old feelings & hurt to the surface. based on the prompt: childhood friends to lovers

warnings: light angst, made up town, CHEESY writing, smut that’s more making love than fucking

wordcount: 4.7k

a/n: hi guys 💘 long time no see!!! GO EASY on me im rusty!!!

masterlist

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung shut behind you, sealing out the bitter November wind with a low groan. Inside, the warm glow of amber lights bathed the room, casting long shadows over the oak bar and a few worn leather stools scattered around it. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and a faint hint of wood smoke. A couple of locals sat quietly at a table near the back, their low voices blending with the soft hum of an old jukebox playing a slow, bluesy tune.

“Thank God,” you muttered, the day’s tension melting from your face as the warm air settled around you. You let your head roll back, savoring the first reprieve from the cold. The chill that had reddened your cheeks and numbed your fingers slowly eased, the warmth brushing over your skin.

Winter was settling into Windermere, and you’d never gotten used to it. Your parents found a strange charm in the grey skies and biting winds, bundling up and going about their routines. But for you, it felt suffocating. Each year, November swept in like an unwelcome guest, forcing the town to become even smaller, with people huddled indoors, glancing suspiciously at anyone passing by.

The town seemed cloaked in silence, broken only by the crackle of fires and the crunch of frozen leaves underfoot. It was a season that left no room for secrets, not when every movement was magnified in the stillness. With everyone tucked away, the chances of slipping by unnoticed were slim, forcing your teenage rebellion to thrive in only the rarest pockets of solitude, under the cover of long, dark nights.

“Please, just something hot,” you said, voice weary as you rubbed your hands together, trying to coax warmth back into them.

The bartender eyed you for a moment, one eyebrow raised in amusement as he planted his hands on the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you,” he mused, reaching down to grab another glass.

Your head snapped up so quickly that your neck clicked, and you rubbed the sore spot as a frown knit your brow. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. He was older, scruffier, and somehow more devastatingly handsome than the last time you’d seen him. You blinked a few times, half-expecting him to be some kind of apparition conjured by the cold. But he was real. Your Harry was really standing in front of you, in the last place you’d ever thought you’d find him.

“I didn’t- I tried to find you,” you stammered, your voice catching as your gaze drifted over him.

He was taller now, his once-wild curls a little more tamed. Those same green eyes that seemed to cut straight through into your soul. His sweater clung just enough to his arms to hint at the strength beneath, and tattoos traced up both arms in intricate, dark patterns, curling from his wrists to disappear under the fabric, each one telling a story of the years he'd spent without you.

The decade you’d missed was written across him in lines and ink, yet somehow, seeing him now made you feel like that eighteen-year-old again, waiting for her best friend to realize he loved her too.

“If you’d looked hard enough, you would have,” Harry muttered, his eyes trailing over your face, taking in the flush of cold still lingering on your cheeks. Your lips pressed into a tight line as you dropped your gaze to the worn wood of the bar. You couldn’t tell him that you hadn’t found him because you hadn’t wanted to.

He was a reminder of a version of yourself you’d left behind - a girl who thought she had to earn love instead of knowing she deserved it.

He stood there, still holding the empty glass, his gaze traveling over every inch of you he could see. His eyes lingered on your hands for a moment, his expression hardening before he turned away.

Even through his sweater, you could see his back muscles tense, a reminder of just how much had changed. The unmistakable clink of ice hitting glass sent an involuntary chill down your spine, though you blamed it on the cold draft from the door. But deep down, you knew it was Harry’s presence that stirred something old and haunting within you.

He turned back to you after a few minutes, setting a mug of hot cocoa down in front of you. His hand was steady, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders as he slid the glass toward you.

"Exactly how we used to have it. On the house," he said, voice low, eyes flicking briefly to meet yours before returning to a spot just over your shoulder. You hesitated, your fingers wrapping around the glass, the warmth dancing across your skin.

“Christ. Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip. The burn of whiskey flooded your throat, a welcome contrast to the chill that had settled deep in your bones.

He still didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what you’d been doing all these years. Didn’t ask why you’d come back. There was a time when you were sure he’d have asked, a time when he would have read every expression, every flicker in your eyes as easily as a page in a book. But now, the silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, woven from years of things left unsaid.

"Heard you were getting married,” Harry said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear. The words were hesitant, almost vulnerable, but his eyes had a guarded edge, as if they were holding back an ocean of questions. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, almost as if to steady himself.

“Not anymore,” you told him with a soft shake of your head, your voice barely carrying over the soft hum of the jukebox. You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over him, noting the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes, the quiet weight he seemed to carry now, like shadows that hadn’t been there before. He was still Harry - but this version of him was one you didn’t know. Or maybe it was you who didn’t know herself anymore.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t know you stayed here, Harry.”

It was true. You didn’t know anything about him. You’d never asked your parents, though they would definitely be privy to what was going on in his life. They knew that whatever had or hadn’t happened between the two of you had contributed to the way you left, so they had made no attempt to keep you updated.

“I didn’t. Came back for my grandma’s funeral and the pub was about to be sold to a chain but no one could afford to take it on. So I did,” he shrugged, his eyes dropping to his feet as he spoke.

You sat back a little, memories of afternoons spent at this very pub flooding your mind. Trying to sneak notes out of the tip jar, Harry coercing his grandma to pass you both shots. “She loved it here,” you whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you traced a finger along the bar. “I had no idea she passed Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“Forty years of her life behind this bar,” Harry nodded solemnly, his jaw tense. “I couldn’t let it go.”

There was a glimmer of the Harry you knew when he said that. It was the part of him that first drew you in. He was cheeky, stubborn, but his loyalty to his family was unmatched. Beneath the external rebellion, he was sentimental and kind, the first to fiercely defend any of his loved ones, the last to leave one behind.

You had no idea how you’d ended up so disconnected from him. You’d only spent five minutes in his presence, but it felt like the first five minutes you’d ever spent with him.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The silence was loaded, more meaningful than any small talk you could have tried to fill it with. It felt as though one wrong word would break whatever fragile truce had settled between you.

Finally, Harry sighed, leaning his forearms against the bar, hands fidgeting with a bottle cap, rolling it over and over between his fingers.

“You left,” he said softly, as if the words themselves had been weighing him down. “And I waited, you know? For a while. I thought you’d come back. And then, when you didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

There was a long pause, each word sinking heavily in the quiet room, reverberating through you. You felt a pang of guilt - maybe shame - at hearing his side of it laid bare, the rawness in his voice making it hard to breathe.

“I didn’t know how to exist here,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt flimsy, inadequate, but they were all you had. “I needed to figure out how to do it on my own.”

“And did you?” he asked, something sharp and almost accusing in his tone.

You hesitated, because you weren’t sure how to answer that. Had you? The years had passed, but you weren’t sure you’d changed as much as you thought you would. You’d found your independence, learned to stand on your own - but there was still a part of you that had never let him go, that had held onto the version of Harry you’d left behind.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, the words tasting bitter. “I thought being back here would answer that for me.”

You turned away from him, your heart pounding as you glanced around the pub, taking it in. “It’s changed a lot in here,” you mumbled, never feeling less at home than you did in that moment.

“The whole town has changed.” Harry shrugged, his jaw tense as his eyes followed yours.

The atmosphere had shifted when you turned back to face him, an unmistakable tension settling between you. Harry’s gaze was hard, guarded and defensive, like he was bracing himself against something.

“That’s not a good reason to leave.”

“What?”

“That’s not a good reason to leave,” he repeated, arms folding over his chest. “Are you staying?”

“For now.”

“You hurt a lot of people,” he continued, his tone harsh, bitterness dripping from each word.

“I spent my entire teenage years thinking about everyone else. Selfishness isn’t a crime,” you shot back, pushing your empty mug towards him.

“It’s not. But that doesn’t stop it hurting people.”

You narrowed your eyes, leaning your forearms against the bar. “People, or you?”

Harry looked past you at the last patrons filing out, circling around the bar to see them out and lock the door behind them. The silence was thick, stretching through the distance between you.

“People,” he answered finally, those green eyes not quite meeting yours. How had it gotten to a point where you openly lied to each other? A tiny part of you thought that if you ever crossed paths again, you’d fall into your old routine, Harry with the cheeky grin and bad ideas, you with the doe eyes and willingness to follow his every move.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you mumbled, pushing yourself off the stool.

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” Harry stalked back to the bar, a heavy hand slamming a bottle of whiskey down in front of you. “Have a drink with me, and tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

You swallowed hard, your body tensing as he sat down next to you. “The truth?”

“Whatever was so bad that you had to leave without even saying goodbye.” His eyes were dark as you looked up at him, his fingers drumming against the bar.

“It’s not even important anymore,” you sighed, feeling the lie settle heavy in your chest. You took a swig of the whiskey, shivering as the heat slipped down your throat, trying to steady yourself. But he was watching you too closely, reading you like an open book. Before you could react, he tugged the bottle from your hands, his chin dropping to his chest.

"Pull the other one," he said, voice low. "Whatever happened kept you away for a decade. Did someone hurt you?"

You almost laughed, bitter and tired. He was looking at you now, his gaze sharp and searching, like he was ready to drag the truth out of you no matter what it cost. But you were lost in your own head, your eyes tracing the tattoos winding down his forearms, lingering on the familiar lines and symbols. He was exactly the man you had always imagined he’d become - steady, solid, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But you had never expected to see it like this, up close, with your own eyes.

You reached for the whiskey, snatching it back from him and knocking it back with a grimace. “It was you, Harry.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and unguarded. “Fuck. I realized I’d put my whole life on hold, waiting for you to notice me.”

He froze, his hand suspended in the air, and for a second, there was no sound but the creak of the barstool as he shifted, the slow tick of the clock on the wall. He scratched his head, his eyes falling shut as your words sank in. You could see him wrestling with it, with everything that had been left unsaid all these years.

“And running away was better than just telling me?” His voice was softer now, hurt creeping into the edges, and it made something twist painfully in your chest.

You shook your head, feeling a thousand things you could never say. “How was I supposed to tell you? Hi, Harry, my good friend, I love you, and I’m about to devote my life to you.”

“Something like that,” he muttered, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping as he finally met your eyes. The silence stretched again, thick with years of missed chances and the weight of what could’ve been.

You both sat there, lost in the quiet. It felt fragile, this moment, like the whole world could split open with one wrong word.

“It wasn’t just that,” you muttered, watching your feet swinging under the stool. “I couldn’t exist here anymore. It gets to a point where it’s suffocating.”

“But you really couldn’t just tell me?”

You met his gaze, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks, your face hot with the blush that spread across your skin. His dark eyes held you, unblinking, and the weight of everything unspoken made your heart pound. He leaned forward, the faintest crease appearing between his brows, as if he was bracing himself for something he’d waited too long to hear. You tried to look away, tried to hide the vulnerability in your expression, but his gaze was unrelenting, drawing the words out of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” you said, voice tight with restraint. You tried to keep your tone casual, but you could feel the way it trembled, betraying you.

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer, his face serious. His jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration in his eyes that he tried to temper. It was like he already knew what you were going to say, yet he needed to hear it from you, needed confirmation for the ache that had been buried under years of silence.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself. “It’s embarrassing, H.” Your eyes darted away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. “I changed my whole life because of a crush. I moved somewhere where no one knew me because I was scared of everyone here knowing me too well. I got engaged to the first man I properly loved, and he still didn’t match up to you.”

Harry’s face softened, but he looked pained, his lips parting as though to speak. The vulnerability in his expression was raw, his shoulders stiffened with all the things he had wanted to say, to ask. But when he reached for you, you placed a hand over his, silencing him for a little while longer.

“I thought about you every day for ten years,” you said, feeling the words tear from your throat, your eyes bright with unspilled tears. “And now we’re just sitting here like strangers. Do you get that?”

He let out a bitter laugh, a rough, quiet sound that cut through the stillness. He leaned forward, elbows braced against the bar as if he needed the support to hold himself together. “Do I get it?” he repeated, his voice low and raw, his brows drawn in with years of buried pain. “I’ve lived the same ten years as you, except I didn’t get the privilege of knowing where the fuck you went or why.”

He looked down at your hand over his, and his fingers slowly closed around yours, his grip warm and strong. He was still, tension held tight in the curve of his shoulders, in the soft way his thumb brushed against the back of your hand, as if afraid the moment might slip away. He shifted closer, the space between you shrinking, and his other hand rose slowly to your face, cupping your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat. You could feel your pulse quicken, every nerve alight with the nearness of him, with the intensity in his eyes, softening into something tender, something hesitant and aching.

“What I should’ve done years ago,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours until the last second, like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop him. But you didn’t. His lips met yours, hesitant and gentle, as though he were savoring every second, every taste. You could feel him melt into the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The moment you kissed him back, he exhaled against you, letting go of some tightly held breath, and the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. His hands moved down to your waist, strong and steady, pulling you closer against him. You could feel the heat between you, the years of longing pouring into this single kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his breaths came rough and shallow. Without a word, he tugged his sweater over his head, baring his skin, the tattoos winding over his chest and arms like stories you’d never gotten to read. Your fingers traced along them, the tip of your nail gliding over the ink, and you could feel his pulse quicken under your touch.

He smiled faintly, but his expression grew serious again as he leaned down, brushing his lips along the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. His arms wrapped around you, his hands sliding down to your hips, lifting you up onto the bar with ease. You gasped softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist as he tugged your skirt up, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

In that moment, you were no longer strangers. His face softened, his eyes warm and almost reverent as he looked at you, a quiet promise in his touch that maybe, finally, there was nothing left between you but the truth.

Harry’s mouth found your inner thigh, his teeth clamping down on the sensitive skin. “That’s for leaving me behind,” he murmured, his breath warm against the sting. He moved to the other one, his teeth nipping at you for a second time. “And that’s for making me wait a fucking decade.”

Your breath comes out in shallow moans, your hands planted on his shoulders. That damn butterfly tattoo, the one he’d always told you he would get, almost taking flight as he pants against you, his eyes darkened with lust.

He leaned in closer to your core as you widened your legs, his nose nudging against the wet spot on your panties.

“Ten fucking years,” he repeated, his voice husky. He looked up at you with a plea in his eyes, waiting for you to allow or deny his next move.

“Please,” you whispered, your hips bucking against him as he reached out, pulling your panties aside with a quick hand.

Your gaze landed on the window, the dim lights practically inviting passers-by to peep inside and catch you in the act. But when Harry’s mouth found your slick, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, for the first time in your life - whether you became the town gossip or not.

His movements were rough and unrelenting, his fingers spreading you open as his tongue flicked against your clit, appreciative murmurs vibrating against your skin.

As if he could read your mind, his thumb took over the pressure on your clit, rubbing circles against the nerves as you writhed. His tongue licked at your slick with an intensity you’d never know before, his free hand slipping under your jumper to grip at the curve of your waist. Tingles spread from his touch, the lust taking over your body as pressure built in your core.

Without warning, Harry pulled away, pulling your legs around his waist as he stood up. A needy whine fell from your lips as your high dissipated, the soft skin of his abs rubbing against your entrance.

“You made me wait. You can’t handle it now?” he murmured, his lips warm against your neck, the whiskey still hot on his breath.

He took the stairs two at a time, the ancient wood creaking under his feet. You looked around the apartment as Harry weaved through the dark, brushing against tables and knocking over a stray glass, too focused to care. The room smelled faintly of him - whiskey, smoke, and that earthy, familiar scent you couldn’t place. It was messy, cluttered with books and clothes, but your heart warmed with an odd sense of belonging the moment you crossed the threshold. Your clothes came off at some point during the journey, a trail of knits and underwear reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel’s, but one that would only lead you to the person you were before you knew how it felt to be fucked by Harry Styles.

He stumbled slightly, caught himself, and half-laughed, his hands steady on you as he dropped you onto the bed. You landed with a gentle bounce, your heart racing, heat building in your chest. You needed to pinch yourself in case it was all a sick dream. All those days of stolen glances and lingering touches that meant nothing and everything, all those years wondering where he was and what lucky woman hadn’t run away from him.

For all those years, you’d told yourself he was stuck in your head because of the what ifs. What if you stayed, what if you’d forged a life together, what if you hadn’t acted on hormone-driven impulses.

Harry was intense, magnetic in a way that made it impossible to look away, but the idea of actually being with him had always felt like a distant dream. And yet, there he was, breathing ragged and close, his weight settling beside you, hands resting on either side of your head as he held you in place with a gaze that felt as if it could unravel you.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he asked, voice low and edged with that same maddening confidence that had drawn you to him in the first place. His tone was challenging, almost taunting, but there was something vulnerable lurking in his eyes.

You took a breath, feeling a knot in your chest loosen as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Always have.”

His smirk softened for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face, and you could sense the weight of all the things he’d never said hanging thick in the air. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, and this time, there was nothing held back - no restraint, no hesitation. Just an undeniable pull between you, finally given permission to break free.

“One condition,” Harry rasped, leaning down to press kisses across your bare chest. “When you leave, you keep in contact this time.”

“I will, Harry. I swear. If I leave,” you grinned up at him, your nails scratching at the base of his head.

A low chuckle escaped his lips as he traced a path down to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “If?” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, catching your gaze with a look that was both playful and deadly serious. “I’m not planning on giving you a reason to run.”

You felt the weight of his words, the lost time between you settling heavy in the air. He wasn’t going to make it easy.

“I won’t this time, I promise,” you whispered, fingers tightening around his neck, pulling his lips to yours, praying your kiss would convey how deeply sure you were.

Harry looked at you for a long moment when he pulled away, studying your face as if trying to memorize every detail, as though he wasn’t sure you’d really stay.

His eyes dropped to your tits as he reached down to stroke his cock, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb grazed over the wet slit.

You pawed at him impatiently, biting back the whimpers that threatened to spill out of you as he lined himself up at your entrance with one last look into your eyes.

You felt your life altering in front of you, your trajectory changing to what it could’ve been a decade before, fate pulling you and Harry back onto the same path, the one your should’ve always been on.

But when he pushed himself into you, that familiar pressure tinged with pain, the feeling of being filled like his cock was the missing fucking piece - your mind was clear. You wrapped yourself around him, your body fighting to be as close to him as possible, your moans syncing to his thrusts.

“Harry,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as his free hand found your clit again, drawing your body back to how close it had been to climax.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he rasped, his voice strained as he fucked into you, his thumb unrelenting as it worked at your bud, his strong body overpowering yours.

Your hips bucked into him, your legs starting to quiver around his waist as you writhed and jerked, your moans mixing with the deafening slaps of skin-on-skin contact.

“It’s mine, this is mine,” Harry growled, his possession tipping you over the edge. His. That was all you’d ever wanted to be.

Your orgasm came on strong, your body tingling and tensing from your head to your toes, your fingers clamping around his shoulders, your back arched into his chest.

Your walls were fluttering around him, your pussy desperate to milk him for all he had.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his control slipping as he stared down at you, committing the image of your high to memory, the first thing he’d want his mind to see when he woke, the last thing he’d see before sleeping. His hand slipped under you to the curve of your ass, angling your hips to allow him deeper, his cock hitting spaces you didn’t even know you had.

“This is just the warm up,” he grunted, pulling his cock from you at the last minute, his come spilling onto your chest, your lips curling into a smirk.

“I think there’ll be plenty more of that,” you whispered, pulling his lips back onto yours, barely unable to kiss him with the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

mehhh i don’t know about this one … but ive been itching to post something 👉🏼👈🏼🥹

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backinmyphase · 17 hours ago

Text

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw.

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?

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

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tnigirl · 2 days ago

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CHIHIRO. 00. IS THAT HER?

warnings!!!!!: abuse, drugs, alcohol, violence, filming without permission, sexual content, language, mentions of wanting to smoke, vivienne is actually going crazy.

author note: no matter how much i write i just feel it isn’t long enough. first chapter and the drama already starts, while writing this i became very aware that this is going to be a rough series, but like u guys requested, it’s definitely going to be a good ending.

drugs and alcohol filled the burning nostrils of vivienne, her last failed attempt to do a shot choking on it embarrassingly and coming out again this time from her nose, she couldn’t breath because of the current water fall coming from the bottom of her nose making her head lean down looking at dirty floor coughing uncontrollably while her friend, serena laughed out loud not caring to help her friend.

after calming down and washing deeply her nose. her phone rang loudly in her pocket, a different tone making her attention drift directly taking her phone out of her back pocket, the screen lighting because of the sudden movement, a new massege making its presence.

p 💗

when r u coming back?

i miss u

suddenly, viv forgot about her burning nostrils and the sound of some drunk girls spilling their guts on the dirty toilets. swiping upwards and clicking on the massage.

p 💗

when r u coming back?

i miss u

viv

not today, maybe tomorrow

a smile started to creep its way in vivs face even though it was the simplest message she could receive from paige, but she didn’t care, she was happy for what she receives, coming from the paige bueckers, everything was enough.

before she could type something and not let the conversation die, she got a message, this time it wasn’t paige, it was an unknown number, a drive file attached to it and before viv could process the message, a second one came up.

unknown number

*video*

yoo, is this ur girl?

viv questioned herself wondering if it was a good idea to click on the video on it, scared if it was virus or even a sketchy site. probably some jerks trying to pull out a prank on random people just to get a good time while the person getting prank got a bad one, but who cares about the outside world when your having fun.

her finger tried to makes it way to the screen, just a few inches away to uncover the disgusting true.

the video quickly started, the first few seconds were in totally black, some whispers could be heard but not clearly enough, then, she could hear some mumbling, in a type of hazzy, even drunken tone. before she could press her phone to her ear and hear what all the mumbling was about, she was welcome with a series of moans, sweet little ones. she didn’t care if the other women could hear her, or think that she was watching porn in a public place. the flash of the phone focused a really drunk girl, clearly not aware of her surroundings, her body was pushed forwards when the thrusting begin and her whimpers started to get louder, the cámara now focused her pussy getting brutally penetrated that it didn’t even look pleasuring at all. from the angle showed, viv could see that the one abusing the girl was definitely not a guy, she could get a slim glance of a black harness surrounding the persons waist, the camara made its way behind the abusers back, action that made viv shock ,the scene unraveled a long, blonde hair failing gracefully down the girls back, she recognized that girl, a girl she sworn she was almost in a serious relationship in, but of course, she had fallen into paige’s bueckers famous monopoly, she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had stupidly fallen into a trap everybody worn her about.

falling into a dark hole she was very aware of wasn’t her main thought right now “is that?” serena’s calming voice entered the bubble that viv made fully concentrated in the girls hair that she didn’t even notice that the video had ended “paige.” vivienne assured before breaking into tears, this action making her phone slip thru her hands and crash landing on the floor letting out a painfull sound.

serenas first reaction to her friend break down in front of her, was to grab her. she reached out to viv’s waist and hugged tight “i hate to say this but..” serena took a shaky breath before continuing “we told you, viv. she is no good.” serena muttered into the ears of the brown haired girl.

“i-i know but.. i thought she would be different.” vivienne’s voices echoed through the white and now abandoned bathroom. serena’s grip on her waist became tight and tried to make her walk away from the bathroom, not before grabbing viv’s phone that was vibrating because of the new notifications.

p 💗

stop teasing

im serious

leilei ❤️‍🩹

hey

i heard about the video

you alright?

i know the girl who is being literally fucked up

Snapchat

you have a new friend suggestion!

serena carefully slipped back viv’s phone into her jacket pocket and leaded her out of the club and into her car.

vivenne couldn’t process what just happened in the bar bathroom, she only remembers how serena leaded her into her apartment and slipped out her shoes for her. she grabbed her phone glancing at the broken screen, it wasn’t that bad, it was enough for it to keep working and also to get a thousand of notifications. she had enough of the vibrations her phone made because of the incoming messages so she decided to check them, serena’s voice repeated itself, begging her not to read them until she was in a better state.

lelei ❤️‍🩹

hey

i heard about the video

u alright?

i know the girl who is being literally fucked up

viv

im okay

u know who she is?

lelei ❤️‍🩹

yeah, i think she turned a junior

this year

it was just to much drama for just one night, vivienne was done for good, but she couldn’t fully deny her true feelings for the star player in her university. talking about uconn, she was scared to death when her thoughts about going back to the place where they meet and the people who were witnessed their pure and raw love. she knows how people will react at the video and she knows that their first thought was her, she could feel it, she can imagine it “wasn’t she with vivienne?” “man, i wonder how she must be feeling.” “we worn her about paige, she didn’t listen.” she wanted to rip her face off in frustration. she grabbed a small notebook that was near her and started to rip it apart, screams come out instantly form her gushed throat, making it burn but that didn’t stop her, the paper that once was fully glued was now spread around her bedroom floor, when the notebook ran out of paper, she kneeled on the floor and started once again ripping the paper into even smaller pieces, shaky mumbles came out of her mouth when she finally got tired of screaming and torturing the paper, shaking her head in denial, this action making her hair stick into the some freshly and dried tears that decorated her flushed cheeks, her eyes filled with tears until the couldn’t keep them inside anymore and they fell making a route down her cheeks, into her chin and falling down in the paper that laid beneath her.

ngl, this kinda looks like paige

*video*

fuck, the video had started spreading throughout the internet. that’s it, was paige’s career going to end? will she be kicked out of the women’s basketball team? will she even make to the wnba? it was all the girls fault, why will she even be drunk? maybe she wanted this, she knew that paige bueckers will fuck her dumb and that’s why she didn’t even fight during the whole video.

vivienne’s back started to ache because of her terrible posture she was in, making her lay down, looking at her ceiling, the ripped papers making crunchy sounds while she laid herself on top of them. she will kill for a cigarette right now.

written by andrea!!

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wnba basketball #paige bueckers fic #wlw #paige bueckers fanfiction #uconn huskies

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soleilchanson · 2 days ago

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Ex bf Price who was your first and knows everything about your body sees you with your new boyfriend for the first time and can’t help but get jealous MDNI

Note: female reader

NSFW content - mentions of sex and sexual experiences. No direct smut

Masterlist

Price hated weddings. The unnecessary crying, large centerpieces, fancy food that tasted like nothing but cream and butter, and dancing. He hated all of it.

However, if you asked him about his opinions on weddings five months ago, he would’ve gone on and on about how he loves weddings.

Why the change of opinion? Because you broke up with him. He had been with a lot of women before but only you had managed to create large tremors in his heart and mind.

He didn’t show it but he was a complete mess after breaking up. Had a sour attitude, picked a fight with anyone within a six foot radius, and drank like a sailor. It only took him five months to finally stop associating your favorite things with you. Five months of pure torture is what the 141 called it.

The five months where hell ascended to the surface.

And now the squad was afraid it would happen again. After the break up, you happened to get very friendly with Kyle. The two of you kept close contact throughout so he naturally invited you to his wedding. What he wasn’t expecting was for your current boyfriend to be in the army as well. Just not as well known.

Price was going to lose his mind.

“I’m a grown man. Quit tryin’ to distract me. I know she’s here with someone.” The commander scoffed as Simon and Soap tried their best to hide you and your boyfriend from his view.

Of course, he knew you were with someone. He had eyes and ears everywhere including your current boyfriend’s team. He knew the bugger had quite the history with women and specifically went after you because you had little experience. Lucky for the captain, your boyfriend didn’t know that he was your ex.

Price couldn’t peel his eyes away from you from the beginning of the ceremony till dinner time. You look ravishing in your outfit. He remembered how you would always ask him to zip your dresses up and you both would end up arriving late to events because he would do the opposite.

He noticed how you wore the earrings he got you, giving him hope that somewhere in your heart you still wanted to be with him.

After the ceremony, the women gathered in their own separate area, sitting with the bride and asking her about the wedding and taking a few candid photos. The men had mostly dispersed to the bar or outside the wedding hall for a smoke break. The entirety of the 141 squad left with Kyle for a smoke, probably to enjoy his last few moments before he left for his honeymoon. But Price didn’t like corny goodbyes so he stayed behind.

He sipped his whiskey, reminiscing about his own dreams of getting married until he heard boisterous laughing coming from a group approaching his side of the bar.

It was your ex. Price knew his name but preferred to call him Dick when he thought of him. He chose his last name as Head. He could overhear Dick talk about his new girlfriend and Price immediately directed all his attention towards them. Discreetly of course. He was still facing the bartender so it seemed like he was uninterested.

“I’m telling you, mate, she is so easy to please. All I need to do fuck her and she comes. It’s fucking insane.” Dick bragged as he took a swig of his beer. Price had a small smile on his face. He knew some lousy fucking could never get you off.

“I know you didn’t come last night. Don’t lie to me.” Price said as he cuddled with you on your shared bed. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” You sheepishly replied. “Next time you don’t feel satisfied, I want you to tell me.” He pulled away and straddled you. “Now let me make it up to you the right way, yeah?” He said as he lifted your tank top and began kissing down your abdomen.

“She doesn’t even beg me to do anything. I can do whatever I want. It’s heaven.” Price wanted to laugh out loud. You? Not saying what you wanted? Sounds like Dick was sleeping with a total stranger.

“John, please, I need you in me. I can’t take any more of this teasing.” You groaned against his neck. Price chose to ignore you and kept rubbing his fingers around your entrance. “Come on, darling, you can be a little patient.” You huffed in anger and rolled on top of him. “Either you fuck me like I asked or I’ll ride you so hard you’ll forget your name.” You snapped. Price smiled knowing that neither of you were going to wake up early the next day.

“She also hates all that aftercare shit which is good because I’m fucking beat after all that work.” This guys was a ball of grease. Price wondered how you met him but chose to find out the answer later.

You were laying on Price’s chest after a particularly rough session. His hand played with your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. You had this habit of going non verbal after sex so you could recover your mental energy as well. Price understood and respected that so he’d hold you as you regained your strength. It was your own little heaven with him. Sometimes he’d bring you warm tea and snacks to rejuvenate, other times he’d lightly massage your shoulders as you’d sleep on top of him.

It was confirmed- you did not give a fuck about Dick and he was a rebound. Price laughed loudly and all the men in the group beside him turned. He got off the bar stool and walked to Dick. He placed his hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder and held it with a firm grip.

“Hope you get the message.” He said before sarcastically chuckling and walking away.

“The fuck is he on about?” He heard Dick murmur while he headed to where you were sitting with the women.

You seem surprised to see him but walked to a corner away from the wedding hall.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you close enough to smell the whiskey in his breath. “I believe you and I need to have a conversation.”

-•-

Didn’t like Price’s character when I first learned about him and look at me now. Maybe I’ll write a part 2, idk I like surprising people.

#price cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod fluff #price x reader #john price #captain price #cod simon riley #cod soap

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mysticdacrazy1 · 1 day ago

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When I was twenty, I was open minded to anything. So my girlfriend at the time did this, she worked as a dominatrix and was five years older than me at the time. I was in my party phase and as a DJ I ended up making nearly as much money as she did, my friend and I started our own company (I was the talent and my friend was the business side) he made it so I got points on the tickets... Anyway so "Vette" tried to do this exact thing because her parents didn't like that I smoked ganja... Of course she did too but she was trying to stop me so her parents would accept our relationship. Her parents came from money, she grew up with money and I was this intense music guy that could wax poetic about any subject and because I've always loved reading we could be on the yacht with her parents or we could be in some grunge filled small apartment her father liked me like we were boy's, her mother loved me because I'm extremely polite and respectful to everyone. So after a month caged and then she pulled that shit I broke the cage and broke up with her. Then she left her parents to come live with me, I had a house that we all could party at, I spray paint, had my own studio... We spent the next three years of her constantly trying to change me into her perfect person and whenever I didn't match she started saying things that went from mean to demeaning in-between the yelling, she was a bit more into fitness, health, nutrition, bodybuilding by mid-second year. She got violent physically as well as the verbal and emotional abuse once she started bodybuilding. Every time I tried to break it off she'd go crazy. I got the police reported on me that I hit her, she bailed me out and never actually pressed charges but I went to Brazil to do a concert and didn't leave South America for a year. Every one that I thought of as a friend turned their backs on me and went no contact... I eventually came back to grab my things and found my house burned down. Moral of the story: Remember the fantasy is fun but if you're ever actually in a situation like this RUN!

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sierrale8ne · 2 days ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER EIGHT

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings substance use, infidelity, sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! good morningggg ;) song for this chapter is BPW by jasmine sullivan, you’ll know when to play it!

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

The lights are low in the studio this evening, as per usual whenever I’m here. I’m not the type to have multiple people in my space, usually it’s just me, Kaylee, and my producer. But tonight I get to be wonderfully distracted by Page Madison Bueckers.

Her phone is propped up on a bottle of Patron, some audio playing from it as she makes a TikTok in front of me. I’m fighting a laugh in the midst of rolling a blunt, because everything they say about her lack of rhythm seems to be true.

“Oh you’re annoying.” She laughs, picking up on my obvious amusement and mushing my face with her fingers.

“Hips don’t lie.” I giggle. “C’mon, no way you thought I wasn’t gon’ make fun of you.”

“You a bully. Ion know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m just so pretty.” I reply jokingly.

Paige rolls her eyes at my statement, retaking her original seat in the rolling chair next to mine and shoving her phone in the pocket of her black Essentials sweatshorts.

If there’s any color I love on Paige, it’s definitely black. The darkness perfectly accentuates the tan of her skin and the bright blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’s been wearing it more lately. Which I find odd, considering the blazing heat in California this summer.

I asked her to be here. No other reason than being alone in the studio is usually a recipe for disaster. She took up my offer gratefully, almost too grateful but I was probably overthinking it.

“You gonna let me hear some unreleased shit, or what?” Paige asked. Her chair slides closer to mine until our arms are touching. Our noses are close too, my eyes boring into hers. Purple rimmed wide framed glasses sit on her nose, making them look bigger.

I look away quickly, leaning towards the monitor in front of me. “I can, yeah.” I tell her, setting the blunt on the rolling tray. “If you leak it tho’ I’d have to kill you.” I joke as my eyes pass through all the possible unreleased and unfinished songs on the file.

I watch her take the substance into her own hands, packing and rolling it in places I didn’t get to reach yet. I would normally be pissed off, watching someone else roll my blunt as if I couldn’t do it myself. But the way her tongue darts out to lick it sealed, pretty and pink and soft, then her perfect fucking face has me mesmerized.

“Who taught you how to roll?” I laugh, honestly a bit shocked.

“I was in college for five years, you think I didn’t learn?” Paige looks back at me, fingers still sealing it like a second nature.

“You probably shouldn’t tell people you were in school for that long.” I snide and her elbow meets my ribs.

I take it from her hands gracefully when she finishes, putting it between my slightly chapped lips. Paige takes the lighter, striking the flame a few times until it lights and bringing the flame to the end of the blunt. Her blues are basically eating up my soul, the tip of her tongue peaking out slightly in concentration until I take the first hit.

The weed fills my lungs fast, and I take the blunt away from my lips, smoke clouding the air. Paige was still in season, and due to her recent shooting outbursts, subject to multiple rounds of drug testing. She wasn’t smoking with me tonight, rather taking a few shots from the liquor not too far away.

I laugh at the thought, “they really been testing you?”

She nods, the light falling from her hands and back onto the desk. She’s so close, I can smell every note of her cologne. Lavender, some cedarwood.

“Literally this morning. As soon as I stepped off the court last night I got an email saying I got an appointment in the morning.” She chuckled.

To say Paige had been on a tear this month would be an understatement. 20 point games, double-doubles, off of crazy efficiency too. She’s shooting 57% from the field and 42% from three, but last night she shot almost perfect, literally, 10/10 on her first shots 13/15 on the game.

For someone who claimed to not be a big basketball fan, she has me watching and remembering her stats like i’ve been doing it for years.

“Okay, music.” She starts. “If you had to make a collab album with one artist, who would it be?”

I sit back and bit for her question, but the answer really wasn’t too difficult. “Frank Ocean, easily.”

“Really? I thought you’d say Drake or sum.” She chuckles.

“Him too!” I responded. “But Frank doesn’t make music with just anybody. If I get that, I’ll know I made.” I shrug. It’s a dream that’s a bit out of touch, he hasn’t put out music in years, but one can wish.

“Imma manifest that Frank feature for you, angel.” She smiles. Her hand reaches to brush my hair out of my line of sight before gesturing with it towards the monitor, “which one can I hear?”

I skim past all the music loaded up on the screen before clicking on a file, all the colorful waves pop up individually. The vocals, ad-libs, all the snares and drums. To me, it’s normal. I wasn’t a producer but after making music for so long, the technicalities become less and less overwhelming and more interesting.

“Wow.” Paige breathes.

“It’s a lot, I know.”

“Is it finished?” She asks me. I nod, shaking my hand side to side as to non verbally tell her ‘sorta’. The title reads BPW and yes it pretty much is finished, but I’m a perfectionist and I feel like most songs can always have more.

“You wanna hear it?” I question while looking her way. I take another drag from the blunt. “It’s kinda nasty tho’. The label only let me put two freaky songs on there, so this one got pushed back.”

“Only? You’re a freak, bro.” Paige replies. “Lemme hear it.”

The instrumental echos first when I hit play. Violin and bass, and then I remember I tried to avoid the piano for this song since most of my discography already is over taken by it. The intro is long, when I look over at Paige and she’s listening intently, I start to get nervous. “It’s still missing some thi—”

Her finger meets my lips, indirectly telling me to shut up. I sit there shocked. It’s soft, her finger, sliding down my bottom lip until her hand rests in my lap. It’s like i’m not even there, just another object in the room as she got consumed by the music.

I didn’t think I could be more turned on.

It’s the reason I write in the first place, the reaction and the feeling of absorption from my lyrics or my sound. But not many people around me get that. Paige so clearly does. It makes me feel warm, taken over with emotion because she sits there so focused, waiting for that first vocal.

—

Well shit, I think to myself when I finally hear the lyrics.

Maraye is crazy. She’s crazy for having me sit here and listen to her sing about sex while she wears those tight ass shorts, just days after telling me we are just friends. I can’t do anything about it.

My head slowly bows back and forth along with the sound of her voice. This song doesn’t deserve to be unreleased, it deserves to be in my library, on that playlist.

And even though we ain’t official

You know I ain't no regular girl

So tell me whenever I'm witcha

I got the best pussy in the—

I stare at her in awe, not just because of what I’m hearing but the way the smoke passes through her lips has me squeezing my legs together. My hand still rests in her lap lazily, I can’t will it to move, I don’t think she wants me to either.

It’s clear to me I have no self control. The other night, just minutes after dropping her off at home, I said I was done. Julian was a dickhead but that’s Maraye’s dickhead and I needed to respect it. Then here she goes, singing about how good she is in bed, and looking this fucking good. I need her. In all definitions of the word, I need her bad.

I stand up, needing some sort of space between us before I’m ripping every single thread of clothing on her body. I take a comfortable seat on the edge of the control panel, bowing my head with the melody. My heart rapidly beats in my chest, palms growing sweaty.

“You’re really good at this.” I breathe.

The song comes to an end, she presses a few buttons on her monitor that I don’t really care for. “Thank you, love.”

I force a large amount of oxygen into my lungs. Why did she have to say that? I was already struggling just being in the same room. Those damn eyes turning me into a mess between my thighs and here she goes.

A giggle escapes Maraye’s lips as she takes another hit. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nah, ma. This tequila is hittin’ though.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing.” Maraye mumbles. “Whatcha think about the song?” She asks me. She scoots the chair closer to me, wheels rolling against the hardwood until she’s seated between my legs.

“Only you could make singing ‘bout sex sound so perfect.” I comment. She really did sound angelic, the nickname so fitting. My arms are crossed over my chest as I size her up. It’s the first time I get a good look at her tattoos, normally I’m looking at her eyes or her thighs or shamelessly her tits. But the ink down her arm makes me crazy.

There’s one in particular that catches my eye. Linework of three faces overlapped, one blue, one green, and one red. I have no idea of the meaning, or what it stands for but the pop of color on her skin eats me alive.

Maraye shifts in her seat and a smile inches on her lips. Her hips moving in a way that intrigues me. “You alright there, angel?”

“I’m just fine, superstar. You?” She poses. I reach forward, taking the blunt from her hand and taking a drag. The way it clouds my brain let me know that I was not about to leave this room without making a move on her. I set it on the tray to my right, listing to her as she hums, “that song looked like it riled you up. I’m observant.”

I pull her in closer by the arm of the chair, if I couldn’t flirt I would sure as hell have fun teasing her. “I’m observant too. You been holding these legs together all night. Why?”

“Are you minding my business?”

“Yeah, ma. Now what?”

She doesn’t respond and now I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to get everything out in the open, all the things she wants to say but holds back on.

“The line is paper thin, Madison.”

“Like I asked, why you been sittin’ like this?” I ask again.

I know what I want her to say. I want her to tell me it’s me. That I got her so turned on that she’s sitting here with her legs practically glued together because it’s morally wrong to act on how she’s feeling. Even tell me that she wants to rip my clothes off as badly as I want to rip hers off.

Her foot taps against the floor, echoing off the walls alongside our in sync breathing. “I-uh. M’just crossed. Leave me alone” She begs, voice low almost like she’s shy. It’s cute.

“Jus’ crossed, baby? Y’sure?”

I don’t think i’ve ever been so forward with Maraye than I am right now. Everything running through my body right now is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Paige! You can’t be doing this to me right now.” She tosses her head back frustratedly. I’m stifling a laugh from where I stand. I knew I could get her flustered but this was too easy.

She looks back up at me, her eyes dark and slightly glazed over. The weed has her eyes rimed with red and oddly enough the smell it exudes from her is incredible. Nearly as intoxicating as the substance itself.

“Doin’ what?” I chuckle. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, angel. You look tense.”

“You make me tense.”

I fake a pout. “Lemme fix it.”

“Why do you insist on not having a boundary or respecting mine?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had boundaries, Raye.” I point out.

My hands instinctively reach for her own, standing her up so I’m not longer craning my neck to look at her. Still, the good four inches I have on her makes her eye me eagerly. Looking up like she’s giving in. “Paige we can’t.” Maraye sighs.

“So tell me to stop.” I muse.

“What?”

I trail my hands to her body. The left holding onto her hip while the other wraps around her waist. She doesn’t even try to fight me off, instead I swear she falls into me more. Her hand holds onto my bicep, avoiding eye contact with me.

I notice it. Every single act that is out of her normal. The stuttering and looking everywhere but me. She’s shy. I’ll take it as a good thing, that my actions have her reacting like a school girl.

“Lemme get you right.” I murmur.

Maraye’s mouth opens, then closes immediately after. My head pushes towards her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. I get a good whiff of her Chanel perfume.

“This is so wrong, P.” She whispers.

“Tell me,” I start with my lips up against her ear, “to stop.”

“The cameras.”

I look around the control panel, before spotting the on/off switch under the table. I flick it off, the red light by the camera in the corner blinks off.

“I—”

“Oh my God, just shut up.” I hum and it’s a matter of seconds before our lips are touching, moving against one another in sync.

It’s different than the first time. That one was slow, like we were still trying to figure it out. But this one? This one is hungry, fast and familiar. I can make out the taste of weed on her lips, tequila in the back of her mouth when my tongue reaches that spot.

Maraye’s hands are in my hair, tugging it between her fingers all hurried like I could slip away. Mine are everywhere. her hips, her thighs, her ass. I squeeze it before smoothing a hand over the area. A groan slips past my lips and into her mouth.

I’m pushing us away from the table, past all the chairs and wires until her back hits the leather couch behind us. I pull back, and her mouth is sucking on my tongue. I swear God himself would have to claw me off of her after that.

“Wanna take your clothes off.” I pant. My kisses move to her jaw, licking it before moving down her neck. I’m searching for that sweet spot, and when she moans in my ear I know I’ve found it.

It’s quite easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maraye is quite easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her stunning brown skin and curls that tickle my face with each suck I give to her neck. The septum in her nose and tattoos down her arm. To make things harder for me she smells fucking incredible, and the feel of her plush thighs in my hands reduces me to nothing.

My knee meets the center of her legs, that spot that makes her arch into me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and it hangs off the arm of the couch.

“I wanna fuck you right here, angel.” I mutter against her warm skin. Maraye cups my face, pulling my lips back to hers eagerly. She licks at my bottom lip before slipping it into my mouth. I swallow up every moan she gives me, so damn desperate for more. My hand grips her breast that unfortunately is confined in that black sports bra she wears.

“Paige, fuck.” She gasps against me. Her hand leaves my face to pull my glasses off, they’re unbelievably foggy and I didn’t even notice, too busy tonguing her down to care. She holds them before kissing me again and biting my bottom lip.

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.” I sigh, pulling her closer.

Maraye moans my name when I push my knee deeper into her cunt. I can feel just how wet she is against my bare skin.

“Lemme have you, ma.” I grunt, suddenly felling very hot in the UConn hoodie I have on. “Show me how good that pussy is, baby. You said it’s the best, yeah? Prove it.”

It’s carnal the way I need her. Like my sole purpose for being put on this earth was to please her. I’ll do it. Happily. Hell, I’m begging for it.

“Fuck. God, P.” She hiccups, letting my hands travel wherever they can reach. They settle on her hips, playing with the waistband of her shorts while my tongue continues to clash with hers. God, it’s messy. Saliva sticky on my chin.

I’m about to dig into her shorts when the door handle fumbles. I sigh gratefully that it’s locked but then I hear it, the clicking.

—

The fact that I have to fight with myself on whether or not I should push Paige off of me is very telling of my behavior. Someone is messing with the lock on the door, so with what leftover strength I have, I pull away from Paige and push her back off of me.

She reaches for my face and wipes the saliva from my lips, giving me one more chaste kiss before sitting back on the opposite end of the couch. I search for my shirt, which has now made it’s way to the floor. By the time I toss it over my head and hand Paige her glasses back and fluff my hair so it is naturally falling over the hickeys I assume Paige has left on my neck, the door is swinging open.

“God damn, Raye. You coul— oh. I didn’t know you had someone else in here.”

It’s Kaylee, which makes me let out quite possibly the world’s biggest sigh of relief. I play with my bottom lip, hoping she can’t point out how swollen it is from Paige biting it.

Her taste, like cherries and a bit of tequila, has completely overpowered any other taste previously in my mouth. She’s taken over my entire body.

“Hey.” Paige greets her, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Kaylee smiles and waves before walking to the controls. She drops her bag in the seat I had just occupied earlier. She stands still, then looks up in the corner, the light by the camera’s that are almost always on suddenly off.

She flips the switch before turning to look at the two of us.

“Huh. Someone turned the camera’s off.” She comments.

“Weird.” I reply.

Really weird.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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glossdebut · 23 hours ago

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PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork.

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too.

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress.

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough.

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses.

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way.

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them.

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion.

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him.

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once.

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up.

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case.

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter.

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile.

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp.

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems.

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi.

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast.

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway.

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know.

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him.

It’s not like it’s a lie.

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm.

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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cenittxnadir · 2 days ago

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Logan Howlett Canons

I'm trying to make a list of all the canons I know and I have seen on the comics and authors notes about him. This list has the purpose of giving some ideas for your fanfics, works and your own headcanos. I really just like to ramble about my favorite characters and share what I know :). Maybe I'll do one for Kurt. You know the drill; English is not my first language so they might be some orthographic errors

Logan had two half brothers: Dog Logan and Jhon Jr Howlett -who died quite young-

His real father's name is Thomas Logan (her mom had an affair with him while she was married to John Howlett.)

Logan´s relationship with her mother wasn't the best. He was usually neglected by her, but his dad (John) used to love him very much.

Logan had two best friends as a child: Dog Logan and Rose O'Hara (Theres no info if she's related to Miguel O'Hara. Although she was Irish as well. She was Logan's first love, unfortunately he killed her by accident, and yes, Jean resembles a lot to her, that's why Logan felt attracted to her.

In the comics, Logan got the name Wolverine as a nickname from his workmates when he worked in mine, referring to his animalistic way of work. In the movies he got the name from the legend of Kuekuatsheu.

Logan spent a while leaving with a pack of wolves, part of his mutation allows him to communicate with animals in a basic level

Logan has superhumanly acute sense, like the five of them, his skin is more sensible as well as he tastes (Use this information with caution) he can see in the dark with no problem and can get sensory overloaded pretty easily

In the movies, Logan smokes a lot because this helps him to disguise some smells that for him can be overwhelming. In Logan due to his age and loss of his mutation he doesn't smoke that much because strong smells are not a problem anymore

Against the common belief, Logan its quite intelligent, he's a weapons and computer expert

Believe it or not, he is a skilled pilot and a vehicle expert, he can drive pretty much everything and is good at vehicle repair

He had trained Black widow, Rogue, Storm, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Sunspot, Jubilee, Shadowcat and among other in hand-to-hand combat.

Logan is a polyglot. He speaks: English, Japanese, Russian, Mandarin, Cheyenne, Korean, Lakota, Spanish, and Krakoan.

Logan's blood type is O-

Wolverine carries a medical card stating that he is a war veteran who has a metal plate in the head, to help him bypass metal detectors in airports

Logan has used the E-Mail address '[email protected]' (Love him so much) Also, Deadpool has claimed to have hacked Wolverine's Tumblr account (He knows about us, he is among us, probably he runs a fanfic account, who knows)

Logan have claimed that his biggest and greatest love is beer

Logan burns a lot of calories while healing so needs constant fuel. (He has a big stomach)

Logan had a bunch of biological kids, but the ones that stand out more are Laura, Gabriela (she is Laura's direct younger sister/clone, I love her so much and they like to hang out a lot with Wade) and Daken. They are comics of them together

#logan howlett #xmen #x men 97 #logan howlett imagine #logan headcanons #wolverine #wolverine headcanons #laura kinney #laura x23 #x23 #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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abbyslvrrr · 3 days ago

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Fade into you pt.2

Boxer!sevika x topside!reader

Finally done part 2! (it literally took me a whole month) I kept losing motivation to write BUT I FINALLY FINISHED TODAY!! Hope y’all like it! (I don’t think I’ll continue this tbh) I feel like this kinda sucks ass can’t lie.

WC: 1167

The following day, you couldn't stop thinking about Sevika and the interaction you had with her. The way she got so close to you, the way she looked as she was sitting there and smoking her cigarette. Ugh, you needed to stop thinking of her seriously! Are you actually considering going back? She told you she had a fight next week and you were off next week.

"Just stop it!” You knew your parents would freak out if they ever found out you went to the undercity, let alone thinking about going back there, but why was the thought of not seeing Sevika making you feel so down? As the next week started approaching, you finally made your decision to go and see Sevika again; you couldn't shake her out of your head. The problem was, you didn't want to tell Sam about it, but you also didn't know your way around the undercity. God, this was going to be a mission.

You decide to wear something cute this time around—a long-sleeve low-cut shirt and a cute black skirt. For shoes, you went with black combat boots. You do your hair and makeup, grabbing your phone and bag ready to head out, when all of a sudden your mother walks in.

“Where do you think you're going, young lady?” She questioned you. Shit, what would you say?

"Um, im going to Sams, yeah. She's having a little girls night!” praying that she believed you, sometimes it blew your mind that as an adult your mother was still so stuck with you. You actually hated it, but you didn't say anything about it. Your mother nodded her head.

"Okay, be safe honey. Text me when you get home, okay?” she said as she hugged you and left you be. You sighed and went out. You kind of felt bad for lying to your mother, but it was whatever at this point. Stepping out of your house, you try your best to remember the way Sam took you, and you find yourself where she took you last time.

As you walk your way over to the fighting ring, you can't help but feel eyes all on you. ‘Of course they'd stare; you literally look like you're from the topside.’ you say to yourself. You get there and see Sevika already in the ring fighting her opponent. You manage to get yours close enough to see her.

The guy she is fighting is like 2x bigger than her, and yet she's so unfazed by it. He lands a hit on Sevika and knocks her back, but only for a second because she's right back and hits him back so hard he goes flying back. There's a small break that was called; Sevika looks into the crowd and manages to spot you. She thought you were so easily spottable; you see her and smile at her. You see the blood on her face, probably a bloody nose. She sends a wink your way, and you swear you passed out there. After the break, Sevika and the guy were at it again. He goes to hit him, but Sevika has him figured out this time and blocks his punch, and she knocks him to the ground; he stays there, probably passed out.

Sevika is declared winner once again, and everyone goes crazy like last week. Sevika motions to the back, where the little room is. You make your way through the busy crowd and step into the room.

“You came, doll.” Her voice boomed; god, her voice was like fucking music to your ears. Why is she making you feel this way? You could listen to her voice all day.

"Yeah, I did come back; I don’t really know why.” Suddenly, your shoes became the most interesting thing in the world. A part of you wanted to get to know Sevika, possibly befriend her, maybe something more. But knowing that Sevika was from the undercity and a boxer, you knew it could never happen. Feeling a warm hand grab your chin gently and lift it up broke you out of your little trance. You are met with Sevika's eyes; god, you could get lost in those eyes of hers. She leans in a bit closer.

"Oh, you know why, doll, don't play stupid with me. You wanted to come see me; that's why you're here.” You hated how right she was. She pulled away from you and backed away.

“Lets celebrate my win doll." She opened the door for you, and you walked out. The bar was crowded, and so was the dance floor; you felt a bit nervous about this not really being your scene. She grabbed your hand and dragged you to a table where a couple other guys were seated. She pulled you to that table sitting down; you sat beside her.

Everyone looked a bit intimidating to you. Someone approaches the table and hands Sevika a drink; of course they would know what she liked. She fights here and celebrates here. Sevika chugs down her drink before looking at you.

“So what do you usually drink? Something fancy?” The truth was you never really drank; when you did drink, it was just a small bit of wine or a little champagne. You didn't even know if you should drink anything tonight; I mean, how would you even go home?

"Oh, I usually have a bit of wine, but I don't think I'll drink tonight.” You explain to her; she lets out a small chuckle. God, she was perfect. No! You can't be thinking of her like that. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“I figured as much; I don't think you'd find the best kind around here.” Sevika says as she starts on her second drink of the night. Hours go by and you have amazing conversations with Sevika; she tells you all about the undercity, and you tell her about Piltover. You knew that conditions down in the undercity were not great at all, and she was so passionate talking about her place here. You admired that about her. Hours pass, and before you know it, the time is 2330 and you have to leave. Sevika offers to take you at least halfway.

Staying close to Sevika, you two begin the journey back. As you get closer and closer to where you need to go, Sevika asks you a question. “Would you want to come down again next week? "Uh, don’t have a fight, so we can maybe just spend the day together.”

You put a hand on her bicep, smiling up at her, “Of course, Sevika. I’ll see you here again next week.” She pulls her phone out and gives it to you, typing in your number and saving it into her phone. You reach up and give Sevika a kiss on her cheek. “See you sev!" With that, you run off.

Sevika makes it her goal to get with you no matter what.

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #arcane league of legends #arcane

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oacest · 2 days ago

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(with enormous thanks to @noandneuron for their tremendous scholarly work taking pics of the library print version of this article, which seems to otherwise not exist online. original post with pics can be found here.)

LIAM WANTED ME TO MARRY HIM AND HAVE HIS BABY... BUT NOEL TORE US APART

SINGER FELL FOR WICKED SEX LIES ABOUT LOVER

by Phil Taylor, Chief Feature Writer (News of the World) (Sept 8, 1996)

Oasis idol Liam Gallagher's jilted fiancee opened her heart to the News of the World last night and told how her wedding plans were torn apart by his scheming brother Noel.

“Liam was the love of my life and we planned to get married and have children,” seethed Cerice Blakeley. “But Noel wrecked our relationship because the most important thing in his life was Oasis and he felt that I was in the way. I will never, ever forgive him. Noel deviously told his brother the most hurtful allegation that he could about me—that I had betrayed him and had sex with the band's cocaine supplier. I never two-timed Liam. But he believed Noel and was absolutely devastated. To this day he doesn't know the truth. Now Liam's with Patsy Kensit. I wonder if Noel will do the same to her.”

Life had all looked so different when Cerice first met the brothers who were yet to take Britain by storm. It was in a marquee near Oldham in May 1992—and it was Cerice's 21st birthday.

“I was heavily into the Manchester music scene,” she said. “And I was friendly with a band called the Inspiral Carpets—at the time Noel worked for them as a roadie. When he came along with the band I wasn't attracted to him at all. I hated his haircut—it looked as though someone had used a bowl. But I took one look at Liam and it was love at first sight.

“He wore blue cords and a dark navy kagoule and looked adorably different. I got quite flirtatious with him and later we arranged a date. Liam couldn't drive and was living at his mum Peggy's council house in Manchester. So I picked him up in my Citroen and we went up on the moors. Liam gave me the most amazing kiss I've ever had. It seemed to go on for ages and my mind was in a whirl. I felt so turned on I wanted to have sex with him there and then. I know he felt the same.

“But we decided to do it properly, so we booked into a lovely country hotel. I've never felt so excited in my life as we finally curled up on the bed and smoked a joint of marijuana. We kissed and kissed and I was ready and willing for Liam to make love to me. But to my disappointment, he suddenly stopped and told me, 'I respect you too much.' I couldn't believe it. It was so unlike a Manchester bloke. But I was very touched and it made me love him and want him even more.”

Liam later invited Cerice home to meet his mum. Then, she said, after a cup of tea and a chat they went upstairs to Liam's bedroom... and made love for the first time.

Cerice sighed: “Liam was only 19, two years younger than me, and was very nervous in bed. I wanted to strip him off, but he was so self conscious. He wouldn't take off his cream woolly jumper because he felt his chest was too puny. So I tried to break the ice and joked: 'Don't worry about your chicken chest, you've got lovely footballer's legs.'

“It worked. He relaxed and we made love to Hey Jude, one of his favourite Beatles songs. I felt wonderful afterwards and spent the night in Liam's bed. Then, the next morning, he brought me up a cup of tea and we chatted for ages.

“Then he ran a bath and started putting handfuls of salt in it. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked him what he was doing. He told me, 'It helps strengthen my bones.'

“Afterwards he spent ages doing his hair... he was always using his mum's hairdryer. I told him, 'You're going to end up like Mick Jagger.' Then I asked him if he wanted to try my mascara—and he did. But he went one step further and squeezed into my size 8 velvet jacket too. Then he put on the Rolling Stones record Satisfaction, pouted his lips and started strutting around the bedroom like Jagger. I creased up laughing. I'm only 5ft 5ins and Liam is 5ft 11ins. The jacket was so tiny on him, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. But he loved it and it turned him on. He fell on the bed and we had fantastic sex for 45 minutes. Afterwards, Liam told me, 'I'm not gay or bisexual. I'm just in touch with my feminine side.'”

Cerice saw Liam and Oasis rise from obscurity to stardom. “I went to the studio with them while they were recording their album Definitely Maybe and knew they were going to be massive,” she said. “It went to No. 1.”

Two years after they met, Cerice's life seemed complete. “We had just got back to Liam's mum's house from a gig in Sheffield,” she said. “Liam looked really nervous. He told me, 'I have got something very nice to ask you. Will you marry me? I want you to have my children.'

“I was thrilled. I gave him a big hug and said, 'Of course I will.' We celebrated with a glass of his favourite drink. Jack Daniel's and Coke. Then we went round to my home and he told my dad. Liam said to him, 'I love Cerice and I want her to feel secure, so I've asked her to get engaged.'

“Being a practical, logical man, Dad asked Liam how financially secure he felt he was going to be. At the time, Liam was only getting £100 a week from the band. And he told my dad he couldn't even afford to buy me an engagement ring. But he said he was saving up to get me one. Dad wasn't too impressed. But he gave us his blessing because he wanted me to be happy.”

Liam's brother Noel, she said, was less pleased. “Noel nicknamed me Yoko Ono,” she recalled bitterly. “He felt I'd pull Liam away from the band, just as Yoko did with John Lennon and the Beatles. Nothing could have been further from the truth.”

Cerice and Liam rented a flat in the Didsbury area of Manchester for £75 a week and moved in together. “He put his favourite posters on the ceiling of our front room,” she said. “They were of John Lennon and the Stone Roses, one of his favourite bands.

“I would do the cooking—Liam's favourite meal was steak and Walker's crisps—but he'd always do the washing up and we would take turns with the hoovering. The only thing that annoyed me about him was that he always left his wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

It was in that flat, said Cerice, that the couple planned a family. She sighed, “I said I wanted a little girl and told Liam I hoped she'd have my hair, my brain, and his tenderness. He joked that he wanted a little boy who loved Manchester City, then said, 'I really don't mind what sex it is. I just want to have a baby with you.'”

And all the time, she confessed, their sex life became more and more intense—fuelled by drugs. “I must admit we took our share of cocaine through a £10 note,” she said. “It was extra special when we got in bed together because Liam was away on tour more and more as the band got bigger and bigger. I saw them play before 100,000 at Glastonbury and they were phenomenal.”

In the summer of 1994, Cerice and Liam drove to Scotland together for the massive Tea In The Park festival. “As the journey went on we were feeling friskier by the minute,” she said. “After four hours' driving we couldn't wait any longer. We were travelling on the M74 through Scotland when we saw a big wood. We looked at each other, smiled, and both had exactly the same idea.

“I pulled over, parked on the hard-shoulder and we ran off into the woods. Then we lay down on the soft moss and made wild, blissful love. It was the first time I had ever had sex outside and I think it was for Liam. We were there for nearly an hour writhing among the undergrowth before we finally got up and made our way back to the car. But as we walked back close to the motorway, holding hands and beaming smiles, passing motorists saw us and started beeping their horns. It was obvious what we had been up to and I was blushing bright red. So was Liam.”

They were never to be as happy again. After the concert, Cerice went backstage to congratulate Liam on his performance but could only find Noel. “I asked him where Liam was and he told me, 'He had to leave to catch a plane from Manchester for a concert in Germany tomorrow night. We're performing in Hamburg and he unexpectedly had to catch the flight tonight. I'll be flying over in the morning.'

“Bewildered, I went back to Noel's hotel where I met Simon, the band's cocaine supplier, and a record company executive. He told me he could get keys to Noel's room and I could sleep there. There were two single beds. I fell asleep in one and Simon and this fella slept on the floor, keeping the other one free for Noel.

“Then, at about 6am, Noel came into the room with a blonde and said, 'Oh, you're all in here.' Then he got into his bed with the girl and I went back to sleep. At 9am Noel got up and said, 'I'm going to Hamburg. I've told Liam you're OK and you'd phone him tonight.”

Later that day, Cerice phoned the Gallaghers' mum and she told her that Liam had phoned to pass on his apologies for missing her in the Scottish crowd. That night, Cerice managed to contact him herself.

“He was really angry and abrupt,” she said. “He told me, 'I need to talk to you face to face and not over the phone.' Then he slammed the phone down. I was distraught. He'd never spoken to me like that before and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Noel told Liam I'd cheated on him and slept with Simon. A friend of mine told Liam it wasn't true. But he wouldn't believe her because it came from his own brother. He was shattered and went completely off the rails afterwards.

“We met just once when he returned to Manchester from Hamburg. I told him he shouldn't have treated me so badly. But we were both so angry and upset we couldn't even row. Instead he walked out of the door and out of my life. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He has never answered my calls. Noel must be delighted.”

After their split in August 1994, Cerice left Britain for Australia to get over the trauma. “It was while I was there that Oasis released Don't Look Back in Anger,” she said. “I tried to relate it to my own circumstances, but I can't look back in any other way. I have no anger towards Liam. But for Noel I have. I despise him. After we split up Liam was shattered and went completely off the rails. He simply hasn't been the same since.”

#i have--i think very kindly--not preserved the misspellings and inventive punctuation present in the original article #i probably should have in order to provide some flavourful context of how seriously we should take this 'journalism' tbh #but i couldn't bring myself to. lol sorry. check out the original post to get a taste #cerice blakeley #wild name good for her #liam gallagher #oasis #print archive stuff

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mc-lukanette · 3 days ago

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Marinette didn't know Luka's friends very well despite the years of the two of them knowing each other, so she tried to balance keeping herself "outside" of their friendly bubble while also chiming in whenever she was asked a question directly. It helped that she had her sketchpad with her, so she could mindlessly draw when she wasn't part of the conversation.

It was going well until Claudine spoke up, not at her specifically but it definitely got her attention.

"Hey, anyone know if Luka likes someone?"

Marinette's head snapped up, suddenly very aware of everyone in the room. "W-what?"

Roche acknowledged her with a glance, then raised a brow at Claudine. "Did he do anything to make you think that?"

Mito, who had made himself comfortable sitting on the backrest of the couch, tilted his head at her as well. "Why ask?"

"I'm curious!" Claudine raised a finger. "And because it's a crime! When you hear an amazing song, don't you hate when you learn it's not a hit?"

Roche nodded, but Mito and Marinette remained perplexed.

"That's Luka," Claudine clarified, arms spread. "The guy's soft as a marshmallow and so nice, but he's not dating anyone and can't hold a relationship to save his life!"

That, Marinette could understand. The whole being an adult thing had meant that they'd had to spend so much time getting their lives together, so she'd tried to ignore the pang in her chest when they met back up again, so certain that he would've been dating by then, but nothing. Luka always had so much love in his heart that it seemed like a shame that no one was on the receiving end of it.

Wait—

"Can't hold a relationship?" she repeated. "So he's been on dates?"

Roche answered rather than Claudine, "A few, when they ask."

They. So it wasn't Luka initiating, apparently. It was an oddly relieving feeling.

Claudine nodded at Roche. "And it usually ends after one or two dates."

"Isn't that because he's not interested?" Marinette figured.

"But he always lets them decide if they go on another, and you know how he is," Claudine argued. "He's a sweetheart. I bet he tends to their every need, shows them a good time... why wouldn't they follow up if they felt like they had a chance?"

"Hmmm," Mito hummed, tipping a hat he didn't have and miming smoking from a pipe. "A mystery."

"He might not be good at romance after all?" Roche suggested as an alternative theory. "He just seems like it."

Marinette raised a hand, adding on, "It doesn't sound very Luka to go on dates if he already likes someone."

"Maybe he wants to get over them?" Claudine shrugged. "Could be any reason."

"Who'd reject Luka?" Marinette countered. "Unless he never confessed?"

Mito adjusted his imaginary hat. "You know what they say: love is mute."

"That's—" Roche shook his head, deciding not to bother correcting him.

Marinette considered the information presented to her. The idea that Luka was in love with someone without her knowing sounded ridiculous, because while she'd been away from him for a while, he could've found time to say something to her if the crush had happened before then.

He could've brought it up when they'd watch romance movies together, like when they pressed against each other during one movie in particular where things were tense enough to feel like a horror movie. They'd turned to each other and pretended not to notice until the scene was over, so he could have made conversation then.

And he was so complimentary! He would call her "beautiful" when she was just in her pajamas, "cute" when all she'd done was make a little noise or wiggle excitedly, and constantly praised her intelligence. If he'd already been in love with someone, he would save such compliments for them, and what date of his would not ask for another one when he was like that?

It was as Mito said: a mystery, and one that was making her unconsciously draw Luka in her sketchpad, oops—

"Hey, I'm back," Luka called from the hallway, carrying a drink holder in his arm.

Marinette closed her sketchpad as casually yet quickly as possible, looking up at him with a beaming smile. "Oh! Hi!"

"Hey," he greeted, despite having already done so.

She bit her lower lip, eyeing Luka up and down. He was even more attractive than when they were teens and just as considerate, the size of drinks in the carrier varying depending on how much each person usually drank. She was so curious, wondering how such a man couldn't be dating anyone nor manage to keep his dates from coming back. She racked her brain, idly tapping on her sketchpad as she tried to figure out how she could resolve this for both her and his friends.

Then, something clicked, and the words came out before she could stop them.

"Luka, would you go on a test date with me?"

His smile faltered, shocked lips parting at the sudden request. She shifted anxiously in her seat while the eyes of his friends went to the both of them, and she wondered if it'd been too much. Was she so undateable that even calling it a test date was weird?

Luka's grip on the drink carrier unconsciously loosened. Mito, speeding off the couch towards him, ducked down and placed himself just under the nearly fallen carrier. Standing up fully, he took it from Luka by perfectly balancing it on his head, taking it back to the others so Roche could put it on the table.

The action made Luka move again, eyes darting over to his trio of friends. "What were you guys talking about?"

Marinette pushed herself up, leaving her sketches behind as she approached him. "We were wondering why you can't keep dates with anyone. I thought..." She blushed, gesturing between the two of them and already feeling silly. "If we went out on a date, I'd know?"

"Ah." He covered his mouth, making it harder to know exactly what was going on his head. She tried to peer into his eyes, but he evaded, staring off at a corner of the ceiling.

Were his cheeks pink? Was he thinking about his mystery crush just at the mention of a date? Was Claudine right?

Just as Marinette started to get worried, the hand on his chin lowered to reveal a lopsided smile. He made eye contact with her again, voice full of amusement. "We could do it, but I don't think you'd be able to tell."

She tilted her head at the emphasis, which implied that she specifically wouldn't be able to tell. Was it because she didn't know who he liked, or he thought she wasn't perceptive enough, or...

Eyes narrowing, she asked directly, "Is that a challenge?"

Luka went wide-eyed, his hand dropping from his chin and hovering awkwardly at chest level. Roche, Mito, and Claudine had already whipped out their drinks, sipping from them and huddled together as they watched the two intently.

"What?" Luka blinked helplessly. "No—"

"I accept." Marinette straightened, poking him in the chest as her competitive side came out front and center. "I'm going to figure you out. Looking forward to our date, Luka Couffaine."

With a huff, she turned back around and went to her seat, plopping down and reopening her sketchpad. She blushed seeing the sketch she'd just drawn of him, then hurriedly flipped to another page and started drawing something else.

She could handle this, she thought. Worst case scenario, she'd still get a date with her multi-year one-sided crush.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 21 hours ago

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staring at you. l Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Summary: he saw her in a bar and then everything changed

Warnings: fluff, slow burn, two people are looking for each other

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a few days now. I hope for a few chapters. I don't know if anyone will read this... if that's you, good luck.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

chapter 1.

The first time he saw her was at the bar where he was with Benny and Will. It was a nice Friday night. The place was full of people having fun, pleasant music mixed with the buzz of conversation and laughter, and Frankie was sitting at the bar slowly finishing his second beer.

The feeling that he was being watched didn’t leave him, so he raised his eyes and looked around. At first he thought that Will might be looking for him in the crowd, although he had clearly told him where he would be.

And then, on the other side of the bar, he saw gentle eyes staring at him. For a moment he thought that she must have mistaken him for someone else. But when their eyes met, she smiled, and Frankie felt a pleasant tickle in his heart.

She raised her drink as if she was making a silent toast, and he did the same, without taking their eyes off each other, they finished their drinks.

The decision was quick, but not quick enough. The urge to approach her was overwhelming, but when he finally lifted his ass off the bar stool, another woman approached her, whispered something in her ear, and she quickly stood up.

One last look, and she disappeared into the crowd of people.

The second time he saw her was a few days later, in a local store. And this time, the universe wasn’t on Frankie's side.

His brain quickly registered a familiar face. After all, he had spent most of his last days thinking about this lovely stranger.

He completely ignored Benny, who wanted to buy a beer for Saturday's match, and, leaving him the cart, he set off after his target.

His eyes were devouring her figure, and the girl must have sensed that someone was staring at her. She turned around and spotted him almost immediately. A beautiful and sincere smile appeared on her face, as if she had seen a long-lost friend.

Frankie smiled too. He moved towards her, bypassing a family with small children and an old couple arguing over laundry detergent. But this time he failed too.

The girl answered the phone, grabbed her shopping and quickly headed for the exit. Before she was out of sight she turned around and found his gaze. Frankie saw a sad smile on her face, her lips moving in a silent "I'm sorry."

And she disappeared again.

After a week he spotted her in the city, but before he could react the traffic lights at the intersection changed color and the driver behind him started honking, urging him to move.

"Fuck!" he hissed, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

It wasn't even a game of cat and mouse. It was more like catching smoke and Frankie found himself looking for her among other people almost all the time. To no avail.

"Does she even exist?" Benny asked when he finally told him about her.

"Of course she does!" Frankie mumbled, scratching his head and pulling his baseball cap back on. "I don't even know her name, but I can't stop thinking about her."

He didn't know her name. He knew nothing about her. All he had was a few exchanged glances, a few smiles. It was next to nothing, but it seemed to Frankie that that should be enough to find her. Right?

And then fate dealt him a good card for a moment. Or maybe he himself contributed to it. He took the same chair again in the same bar. Now alert. His gaze wandered over the faces of the guests and each time he straightened up when the door opened. The first hour passed, and then the second. When doubt slowly started to creep over his skin, that's when he saw her.

She must have entered when he blinked, because Frankie couldn't find any other explanation for it. She was talking to some girl, but her eyes wandered around the place as if she was looking for someone. Him?

Now Frankie didn't wait anymore, didn't hesitate. He immediately headed towards her, afraid that she would slip away from him again. She noticed him the moment she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and her face lit up.

"Hi." was all he could manage.

"Hi." she replied, her voice sounding beautiful in his ears. "We should stop meeting like this."

"Yeah, a bit stressful." he laughed quietly.

He felt as if her eyes were devouring him and heat seeped into the back of his neck. No one had ever looked at him like that, it was even a little embarrassing.

Frankie wanted to say something, make a joke or ask if he could buy her a drink, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

In a second her hand was on the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. Her lips met his in a soft and sweet kiss. A few seconds during which his heart almost stopped beating.

When she pulled away from him she was still smiling.

"I had to, I'm sorry." she said.

"Jesus, don't apologize." he rasped in surprise. "I mean... We’ve already done this in my head." God! He would do anything for that smile. "Maybe I can buy you a drink?"

"I can't. I should probably go now..."

Something in her eyes changed, some small detail that Frankie noticed right away. He quickly pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket.

"Will you give me your number?"

She hesitated for a split second, but took his phone anyway.

"Just please don't give me the number of a mechanic or something." he snorted, and she shook her head. "Your real number?"

"Check."

She handed him the phone and Frankie dialed the number she had entered. A soft ring sounded in her purse. They both laughed.

"I'm Frankie, and you are?"

She gave him her name, and he repeated it quietly. It was a nice feeling, finally being able to name the being who had been living rent-free in his head for a long time.

He opened his mouth to say something when the phone in her purse rang again.

"Not me now," he joked, but she lifted her hand slightly and reached for her phone.

She was visibly worried as she read the message, and then looked around for her friend.

"I'll have to go now, Frankie." she said as she nodded to her friend “I wish I could stay longer, really.”

He could tell in her voice that she really meant it. He felt strangely sorry for her, he didn't know why.

"Maybe we could meet up?" he suggested.

"Will you text me?" she asked.

"Sure. If that's what you want..."

"Yes, please."

She squeezed his hand gently, smiled, and left.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #joel miller

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justmeinadaze · 19 hours ago

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Secret Underneath Part 10 (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you an angsty distraction for the day <3. I'm not going to add my Ko-Fi to this post because I want you to keep your money and use it today to do something that brings you peace.

This is your sign to go buy that venti cup of coffee, buy that book you've been wanting to read, or get that shirt you've been eyeing at the store. Go...be <3.

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, of the rougher variety (they are letting off some steam), belt as handcuffs, after care always <3, FLUFF, they love her and she loves them

ANGST *does disco arms on a dance floor of angst*

Mediation begins so we get more insight on Gina, I don't go into detail of her claims (it doesn't matter anyway cause she be lyin!), the guys take her to an event where someone flirts with her (its someone they know and HATE), Y/N insists the guys use her since they've been keeping things in, near the end they talk about why they've been afraid to be rough with her when they are upset, go into a bit more of their relationship with her, cliffhanger ending (because I can :)) but I think you'll like this one.

Word Count: 5199

Series Here

This was a new experience for you when it came to the two men that you loved.

Today was the day of their mediation to hopefully get things resolved without having to fully go to court. They were dressed from head to toe in their more formal attire with Eddie’s hair pulled back into a ponytail and Steve’s fluffy mane slicked back away from his face.

Originally they didn’t want you to go but at the last minute the rockstar insisted stating that he didn’t want to hide any of this from you like they had tried to before.

“Like we said, sweetheart, we told you everything but she’s probably going to get a bit more specific about certain things… we never did the things she claimed but we also weren’t exactly good men.”

When Gina and her lawyers came in they both straightened up immediately.

You couldn’t deny she was a beautiful woman with her long brown hair and fit physique that squeezed a bit too perfectly in her short pink dress that cut off just above her knee. For some reason you were under the impression that she was closer to your age but now that you were able to see her face to face you realized she was closer to theirs. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room till they landed on you sitting quietly in the back closer to their side.

As she grinned wide and rose to her feet so did Steve before both lawyers grabbed each person’s wrist and mumbled something while Gina smirked his way. Even after she took her seat again it took the mogul a few more moments before he finally did the same.

Someone you assumed was a judge or at least in charge started to speak and read out instruction for this particular review. The entire time he spoke, their ex watched them like a lion waiting for prey. She was playing a game she intended to win even if it meant hurting them in the process.

##############

A couple of days after the mediation, both men were barely in the apartment and when they were you didn’t want to push them. Occasionally, your hand would tenderly run along Steve’s shoulders as he worked and in response he would grab your palm to kiss the back before letting you go to focus again. When you noticed Eddie smoking on the balcony in his sweats but no jacket, you would bring one out to him but as you turned to go back inside, he would wrap his arms around you, bringing your back to his chest as he held you tightly.

Tonight was an event they couldn’t ignore, hardly covering their distain as their stylist and her team came over to dress them and you up for the evening.

Just as they had before when you stepped out of the bedroom, both men froze as their eyes took you in. Since this wasn’t exactly an elegant affair, Stephanie had you in a red dress that clung to your curves, showing off your arms and chest a bit more than you were used to.

“What do you think?”, you ask as you smooth the material around your stomach. “I’ve never worn something that showed off my upper half like this.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”, Eddie exhaled breathlessly as he stepped forward to caress your cheek making your eyes flutter at the intoxicating cologne that surrounded him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, baby. I just…is there a sweater or jacket, Steph?”

The ever gentleman he was, Steve started to remove his own suit jacket before the stylist stepped forward to hand you a matching shawl to wrap around your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The mogul softly smiled your way as he tilted down to kiss your forehead.

“You look beautiful, honey. We need to get you a necklace or something that you can wear. Not that it matters right now, I mean you look breathtaking as is. I was just—”

“Steve!”, you giggle as his friend lightly shoves his arm. “I knew what you meant.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly light up as he abruptly runs towards the hallway and turns into what was once his old bedroom but was now being used as a place for him to play and record his music. Beaming widely, he saunters back down the hallway with his hands behind his back.

“Close your eyes.” Biting your lip, you do as he says, smiling just as widely as he had when you felt something cool and flat touch your chest. “I wore this in high school but obviously my jewelry game has gotten WAY better.”, he chuckles and backs away from you.

Glancing down, you fingers hold up the red guitar pick that was attached to the chain now clasped around your neck.

“We’ll obviously buy you some more prettier things but—”

Your lips cut him off before you tilt back and wipe away the lipstick that remained.

“This is perfect, Eddie, thank you.”

***

You weren’t sure what to expect this time around now that people knew you were with them but unless they said any different, you were going to do as you did before. This was their territory not yours and they knew how to navigate the sea of fame better then you ever could.

“Did you want to take pictures or would you rather wait inside?”, Steve asked as they waited in line to enter the building.

“You’d take pictures with me?”

His eyes blinked as if you asked one of the most complicated questions he had ever heard.

“Of course, baby, but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I…I just…I don’t know what to do…”

“You just stand there and look beautiful, princess.”, Eddie grinned.

“I don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”

“What makes you think you would?” When you shrugged, the mogul saw the confidence they loved so much about you slowly receding from your eyes for fear of ruining something you perceived as important to them. His large palms cup your cheeks as he brings your lips to his and the sound of cameras clicking fill your ears. “All that matters to me is you.”

Photographers scream their names as cameras continue to go off but neither of them moves except for Eddie who leans down to kiss you as well.

“We can just walk right passed and go inside. You hold all the power here, baby girl, but no matter what we aren’t doing this…”, he gestures towards the reporters. “…without you.”

Nodding, you take each boy’s hand and allow them to take over as they stand beside you to pose for photos. Occasionally the rockstar whispered something in your ear to make you laugh that helps to calm your nerves as your smile stretches wide across your face.

“Mr. Munson, how are you feeling today? You look so happy!”, an interviewer asked enthusiastically.

“Thank you. I am, I am. I’m here with my best friend and this beautiful angel, I mean…”, he chuckles as you blush. “…I’m an incredibly lucky man.”

“How are you tonight, Y/N? You do look exceptionally beautiful! Let’s get a double take here.”, she encourages as you step back and Steve spins you 360 to show off your dress.

“Thank you so much. I’m good. I’m nervous. You’re my first ever interview so… you look gorgeous to. I love your earrings.”, you praise as she playfully shows them off for the camera behind her.

‘Oh, you’re so sweet. I look forward to many more interactions in the future.”

While you three step closer to the door something catches the mogul’s eye that has him tugging at his friend’s sleeve before both men pull you inside.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, baby, you did amazing.”, he whispers as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

***

Something in their mood changed as soon as you guys were finally in the building and sitting at the table as drinks were being served. On the walk there, they didn’t let you drift too far, sticking by your side as they or you spoke to people around you.

While you were eating, they seemed to always have some part of their body on yours and seemed to be knocking back the champagne a bit more than you were.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast.”, you whisper as you get to your feet.

“I’ll walk you—”

“Eddie, baby.”, you say as you place your palm on his shoulder to keep him seated. “I don’t need an escort to pee, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He didn’t seem at all calmed especially when you felt both their eyes watch you as disappeared down the hallway. After finishing your needs and adjusting the rockstar’s necklace around you, you give yourself one final pep talk as you head back into the fray.

“Ow!”

“Shit! Oh my god. I am so sorry! Are you alright?”, you ask frantically as you try to consol the young man you accidently hit with the bathroom door. “God, I’m such mess.”

“Ah, no, no worries. I’m alright. Got me pretty good there though.”, the boy chuckled as his palm rubbed his nose before taking note of your worried demeanor. “It’s ok. I’m seriously alright, see? I’d have lost my contract a long time ago if I couldn’t take a few hits. I’m Roman, Roman Hart.”, he grins as he extends his palm for you to shake.

As you provide him with your name the man laughs a bit harder.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“No? Should I?”

“I’m a quarterback for the New York football team.”

“Ah! Ok, yeah, still have no idea who you are.”, you giggle. “I’m not really into sports and the few players I do recognize are from my hometown. Well, it was nice meeting you and again, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“No worries.”, he grins. “May I walk you back to your seat? Maybe, we can get to know each other a bit more and you can tell me your favorite guitarist.”

As he reaches out to delicately touch the guitar pick on your chest, something in his tone rubs you the wrong way as your smile falls.

“I’m ok, Mr. Hart, but I appreciate the offer.”

Swiftly turning to leave him behind, you bump into a broad chest that’s heavy breathing with anger and glance up to see Steve’s furious features.

“What are you doing, Roman?”

“Hey, Steve. How are—”

“WHAT are you doing!?”

“Jesus, old man. Take a breath.” At the man’s dismissive tone, the mogul started to step forward but you hastily put yourself between them as you place your palm on his chest. “This beautiful woman here hit me in the face with the door on accident and we were just talking.”

“Bullshit. Did she put you up to this?”

“Well, someone’s paranoid.”

“And someone’s a little bitch.”, Eddie growled the quarterback’s way as he came up behind his friend. “Didn’t think you were manipulatable enough to do Gina’s bidding.”

At his words, Roman’s eyes squint as he glares at the rockstar.

“You’re the football player she cheated on them with.”, you breathe as your own eyes close in frustration.

“Is it cheating when she’s already fucking two guys? I guess not since she said you two could barely get it up for her let alone satisfy her.”, he sassed, this time causing Eddie to step towards him.

“No.”, you scolded in your teacher tone hoping that was stronger than your arms because you were struggling to hold both men in their place. “Go away. There’s nothing I want from her or you.”

“She’s been wanting to talk to you.”

“Then she needs to stop sending men to do her bidding and come talk to me but again there’s nothing I want or need from her.”

“Gina said she wanted to talk to you the other day but…”, he pauses as he glances at Steve.

“Come on, guys, let’s go home.”, you murmur as try to push them back but they don’t budge. “Please… he’s trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him win.”

It takes a few seconds before the mogul finally turns around and begins to stomp down the hallway as the rockstar grips your hand.

“If you come near her again, it won’t be a door that hits you in the face.”, Eddie threatened as Roman grinned and winked your way.

#################

“Can we talk?”, you ask as Eddie veers towards the kitchen to grab a beer and Steve starts to take off his suit jacket as he heads towards the bedroom.

“We’ll talk about it later, Y/N.”

“I want to talk about it now, Steven.” At your words, he heavily exhales as he turns to face you. “I’ve given you two space these past few days but this was a big deal. She overstepped a boundary by doing this.”

“Ok, honey. Agreed. Now what?”, he responded sarcastically as he shrugged.

You blinked as your gaze shifted between both men as Eddie came up to your side.

“You don’t have to hold it in. It’s ok to be angry. I told you if you needed to throw a tantrum or vent, you could. I know the word.”

“We’re not angry, Y/N.”, the rockstar sighs and your jaw clenches.

“Really? You’re not angry at all that she sent the man she cheated on you with to come speak with me? The same man she was caught fucking in a car by paparazzi because she was so brazen about her infidelity yet hid her relationship with you both?” As you spoke, Eddie’s fist clenched tighter around the glass in his hand while Steve placed his hands on his hips as they glared your way.

“You aren’t angry that he said you two could never satisfy her even though you went out of your way to make her happy? Or the fact that at that hearing the other day, she had the audacity to giggle her way through her testimony while saying things like how she never imagined you, Eddie, could hurt her because of how you talked about your mom or, Steve, how you manipulated her the way your dad did by giving his side pieces better jewelry and things than you ever gave her.”

Slowly sauntering forward, you place yourself directly in front Eddie’s chest as his eyes blaze down into yours.

“You aren’t angry that Roman touched my skin with his fingers; my body that belongs to you two and only you?”, you murmur as your palm rubs his chest through the opening in his button up shirt before backing away to find home in front of Steve. “It’s not only the fact that he touched me but that he wasn’t afraid to do it. He thought he’d get away with it no matter what because you’re ‘old men’ who can’t satisfy a woman…especially a young woman like me.

The tip of your nose caressed his as your words landed breathily against his lips.

“Hm. Well, I guess you’re more mature than me because I’m furious I can’t make her stop hurting you the way she does.”

Flashing them a soft smile, you start to walk away but Steve’s fingers around your wrist give you pause as he pulls you back to crash his mouth to your own. There’s a fever behind it that has you moaning as Eddie comes up behind you to unzip your dress and tug it down your frame.

You tear at the mogul’s shirt and he pants as you sloppily kiss down his chest. Tilting down to pick you up, he throws you over his shoulder and you watch as the rockstar removes pieces of his own suit as he trails behind, tossing them to the floor without a care.

After throwing you onto the bed, you watched as Steve unbuckled his belt and handed it to his friend who quickly bound your wrists above your head as the other man’s face fell in-between your legs.

“Fuck, Daddy.”, you whined as you pulled on your restraints, desperate to run your fingers through his hair while his tongue and mouth devoured your pussy like a man possessed. Eddie leaned over your body to hand his friend something but it didn’t take you long to realize what it was as the sound of buzzing filled the room and vibration from the wand was pressed against your clit. “Oh…my…”

“Atta girl.”, the rockstar cooed as he took hold of your ankles to help keep your legs open and in the air. “We know how to take care of you, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm.”, you groaned as Steve’s tongue moved faster in and out of your entrance.

“Do you think we’re too old, little girl?”

“No, Daddy. I’ve never—mmph—I’ve never thought that.”

“Do you think someone your own age can fuck you better than us?!”

“Never, Daddy. No one—fuck I’m gonna cum—no one fucks me like you two.”

Your legs tremble in Eddie’s grasp as the coil snaps and the mogul presses the wand harder against your clit to elongate your high. As your legs fall to the bed, Steve unbuttons his slacks and frees his cock, leaning down to spit directly into your hole before guiding himself inside you.

“Say that again.”, he rumbles.

“No one fucks me like you two, Daddy.”

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“You two, Daddy.”

His large palm wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as his hips roughly snap, punching a sharp grunt from your lips.

“WHO does this pussy belong to?”

“Ah! Steve and Eddie!”

“That’s right. Say it again.”, Steve growls as his rhythm quickens.

“M-My pussy belongs to—fuck—Steve Harrington and E-Eddie Munson!”

The mogul fell fully on top of you as he pounded his cock deep inside you with a rough abandon that had you wincing a couple of times.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to fucking kill him when I saw his hands on you. If you—oh my god—if you hadn’t stopped me I’d have put him the fucking hospital. No one fucking touches you like that except us.”

“No…one…baby…Fuck me…harder, Steve. I can…handle it.”

Pushing up on his knees, he took hold of the wand again and pressed it to your puffy nub, smirking a bit to himself as he watched you squirm.

Ringed fingers gripped your hair and as you turned your head you were met with Eddie’s cock. Opening wide, you allowed him entry between your parted lips and he was anything but gentle as he thrust his hips.

You whimpered around him and they knew you were close to the edge proving them right when your pussy clenched around Steve’s dick like a vice especially when the rockstar held you still to choke around his length.

You panted when he finally pulled away and the mogul grunted loudly as he slammed his release aggressively into your cunt till he was empty.

They didn’t allow you a second to breathe as Eddie seamlessly flipped you over and placed his entire frame on top of your back before he shifted his waist a bit and you felt his cock effortlessly slid into your aching pussy.

With one hand around your neck and the other underneath you gripping one of your breasts, he remained close to you, absorbing you with his weight as he roughly rolled his hips.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Y-You’d never hurt us like that would you? You’d never cheat on--”

“N-Never, Daddy. Mmm—I love you so much…both of you. H-H-Harder, Eddie. Use me.”

The man’s hold on you tightens as he honors your statement and pumps into you so hard the bed underneath you shakes.

Your orgasm crashes like a rouge wave and you scream their title before you’re abruptly rolled onto your back as the rockstar grunts and climbs up your body to shove his cock down your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut as you allow him to use your mouth till you feel his release hit your tongue and you swallow every drop.

As soon as he pulls himself back, Eddie lays on you again resting his head on your chest waiting patiently for you to play with his hair like you always do but the lightbulb doesn’t go off till he finally glances up to see if you’re ok.

“Shit! Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?!”, he panics as he reaches up to quickly remove the belt from your wrists and carefully bring your arms down to your sides.

“May I have some water, please?”

Hearing the hoarseness of your voice, Steve doesn’t hesitate as he powerwalks to their kitchen and comes back with a cold glass of water. Amber and chocolate eyes scan you over with concern as you chug back the liquid and flinch as it slides down your throat.

“I’m going to make her bath.”, the mogul announces as he turns to head towards the bathroom.

Eddie’s fingers brush some of your hair away from your face and in return you fall into his equally sweaty chest.

“I love you, Eddie.”, you whisper.

“I love you to, princess. Come on. Let’s take a nice relaxing bath.”

Noticing you struggling to move, the man lifts you in his arms and carries you the rest of the way. While the rockstar climbs into the water with you, Steve sits on the edge face you both as he leans against the wall, studying you as his friend washes your skin.

When Eddie starts to clean between your legs, you wince causing Steve’s face to twitch with worry.

“I know, baby girl, I know. I’m almost done.”, the rockstar tries to comfort as you began to softly cry.

When your eyes lock with the other boy’s, you gently smile and he does the same.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you to, honey.”, he murmurs as he leans forward to grab your hand so he can kiss the back of it. “I, um, I hope you know we aren’t angry with you or anything. We know that…you weren’t…flirting or—”

“I know. As soon as he touched me…I knew something was off. I swear I didn’t recognize him—”

“We know.”, Eddie soothes as he kisses your cheek. “It did trigger something though. Memories of her being more than polite just to get a rise out of us. Add in what you mentioned…”

“That he had the audacity to touch you and talk to you because he thought we wouldn’t do anything.”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Because, ya know, we’re grandpas and all that.”

A large grin stretches across both their faces at the sound of your laugh as it echoes through the bathroom.

“He said that was the reason but you know that’s not why right? It’s not your age, its that she sees you as weak. That’s what this whole display is about. That’s why she wants to talk to me. She knows I don’t see you that way and she genuinely believes she can change my mind like she did with everyone else in her circle.”

“Listen to baby girl over here talking like a lawyer. Do you want to take over our case because you absolutely can.”, Eddie jokes as he pulls you back into a tight hug.

Steve’s face slowly changes as his eyes flood with concern before his fingers extend to lightly trace the skin along your neck.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, the mogul exhales as he rises to his feet. “Ed, go ahead, get her dressed, and when you’re done bring her to the kitchen.”

“Ay yi, Captain.”, the rockstar sasses as he climbs out of the water and grabs a towel. “Again, boy talking to me like he’s my Daddy.”

When his eyes linger where Steve’s had, you shifted your gaze towards the mirror to find growing bruises the size of fingerprints along your throat.

“It’s ok, Eddie, I promise.”, you coo as you reach up to caress his cheek. “I would have used the safe word if you both were hurting me.”

With a tight smile, he nods, gently drying you before throwing some pajamas over your body and carrying you into the kitchen to place you on the counter.

“Ok, honey, this is going to be cold.”, Steve announces as he rubs his hands together and rubs them along your skin. Your squeak at the cold gel makes him chuckle as he continues his task. “This stuff is pretty good. It should lessen’ that colorization before work on Monday.”

“Hey.”, you call softly as you grip his chin and tilt his eyes up to meet yours. “Not the first time your fingers have left bruises on my body. In a good way of course.”

His movements slow for just a moment before he sighs and continues.

“This is different.”

“How?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“We don’t actively want to hurt you, sweetheart.”, Eddie answers for him. “You said we could use you to…throw a tantrum as you call it but…”

“Remember last time, when you got scared that you triggered something by being a brat?” You nod at Steve’s question. “Same thing more or less. She…brings out the worst in us.”

“You keep saying that but I just don’t see it. I really don’t, Steve.”

The rockstar hopped up beside you and handed you a cup of warm tea eliciting a cute little sigh that makes them smile as the liquid slides down your throat.

“You’ve never pushed.” Blinking at Eddie’s statement, he exhaled as he petted your head. “Kind of like what Roman did, she would dangle men in front of us till we snapped. We would scream, yell, shout but it never got physical until we were playing. We made sure she reiterated she knew the word but she never used it. She…fuck…we did drugs together once. She kept pushing and pushing until one bad night I agreed. It was the one and only time I did blow and she held it over my head forever.”

“She would call him names and imply he was angry for something SHE did because he was stoned which he wasn’t.”

“I…it reminded me of my dad and I knew if Wayne found out he would be so disappointed.” As the rockstars head hung, you moved his hair behind his ear and tenderly kissed his cheek.

“Sometimes, Y/N, I would be so wasted from a party the three of us went to that when we were intimate…there were times I felt like I wasn’t in control…She would egg me on talking about how pathetic I was and I would feel my grip tighten…” As he spoke, Steve’s eyes flicked to your throat. “There were times…I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me…”

Extending your legs, you wrapped them around his waist bringing him to you so you could hug them both tightly.

“I know you’ve been through a lot with her and aren’t even close to being done but please don’t hold it in. Talk to me or hell if you can’t find the words then use me. I know I’m safe with you.”

“Pfft, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect us to swoon, princess.”, Eddie teases as he lays his head on your shoulder and blinks his eyes obnoxiously.

“What if we were done. With the case.”, Steve interjects.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…what if we paid what she’s asking for?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”, you growl a bit sharply making them both chuckle as the mogul cups your cheeks to bring your forehead to his lips.

“Because, baby girl, if we did that then everything would end now and we can move on with our lives…be happy just the three of us.”

Sighing, you jump down from the counter, regretting your decision as your core throbs at the soreness. They watch you scoot to the sofa before following, Steve placing himself on his knees in front of you as Eddie sits beside you holding your tea and carefully putting an ice pack between your legs.

“Thank you.”, you murmur as he lays his arm behind your head. “Steven, if you think this will stop her then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were. If you give in, she’ll just keep coming at you guys asking for more and more. It may not be now but it’s not the money she’s after. She likes toying with you and when she realizes she can’t change my mind she’ll probably do the same with me to.”

“Over my dead body.”, the mogul grumbles as you smirk.

“You both have to be smart about this. Don’t let her win.”

“What do you think we should do, baby?”, Eddie asks as his fingers begin to play with your hair.

################

Gina saunters into Steve’s empty building with a giddy sense of pride. When the mogul emailed her that God awful formal statement asking her to meet them in his office she literally danced around her (Roman’s) massive bedroom as she began getting ready.

She knew sending the quarterback would rattle their cage. Eddie was the easiest one to shake but Steve was the most fun to make jealous. Neither boy was the possessive type but the mogul held in his emotions more than his friend and watching him break was just…so much fun.

When he stood up to keep her from talking to you, she knew exactly what she needed to do. You meant nothing to her. Whether she could get you on her side or not didn’t matter to her one bit but if she could convince you in someway to leave them…

The thought of them broken hearted as they crawled back to her drove her insane. One way or another she’d get the money she was owed but to watch them grumble after abandoning her? Well, that was just a bonus.

“You know, boys, we could have done this at my place.”

“Last we checked; you don’t have one.”

At the sound of your voice, her head shot up to take in the setting before her.

Instead of Steve sitting at his desk, you were in his large office chair while both men were seated off to the side on his couch he kept by the wall. While they were dressed a bit more casually, you were in a red, long sleeve velvet dress that had a belt around your hips accentuating your curves. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, displaying the guitar pick necklace Eddie had once told her was his favorite.

As you stood up and came around the desk, your red heels Steve bought you clacked across the floor.

Her startled eyes scanned you over constantly before she took a step backward causing a smirk to flicker across your lips.

“Well Gina, you wanted to talk to me so here I am. Let’s talk.”

###############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

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AGAIN! Here's hoping the tags do what I want this time lol

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