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alg3a · 2 days ago

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hellooo your smuts brought me back from the grave and if you’re taking any requests, i would love to see your take on a jayce x fem reader. i kind of want to see a shy student scenario with a pervy student jayce 😩 omg pls tell me you see the vision lol!

hello! YESSS i definitely see the vision, i hope i executed it alright! thank you so much for this request. i was sort of worried at first because i don’t typically write for jayce alone—normally i just write jayvik or viktor—but this was SOOOO much fun! probably actually my favorite of the three fics i have so far. hope you enjoy!

staring

pervy!jayce x innocent!f!reader

3.9k, MDNI, no use of y/n

description: After setting eyes on the handsome boy in your lecture, and staring at him every class after that, you find out that your father has sponsored his research and invited him to dinner. After a particularly frustrating meal, you run upstairs to your room, not expecting him to follow you.

warnings: nsfw, fem receiving oral, pervy jayce, innocent/inexperienced reader, sneaky sex, equal bits plot and porn i think, jayce covers readers mouth, creampie, hooray!

a/n: this is my first ever request! i hope i did it some justice. if you like it, feel free to send your own request! i don’t have guidelines yet, but chances are i’ll writer whatever you suggest.

The first time you saw him was across the circular lecture hall and you were quickly drawn in, fixated on every tiny movement of his. You didn’t even notice that you were staring until you realized he caught you. It was near impossible not to look at him, with his wide ambitious eyes and even wider shoulders, he was a difficult sight to steer away from. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing when he noticed your lingering gaze.

The position he caught you in was so juvenile and schoolgirl-esque that it seemed only fitting for a bright pink blush to span your face. You had a palm against your cheek, your head slightly tilted, and your bottom lip was caught between your front teeth. Your right leg crossed your leg and the suspended foot swung in tiny little distracted circles below your desk.

When his eyes landed on yours, his eyebrows furrowed a bit. Not out of anger, more like he was trying to focus his gaze on you to see whether or not you were really staring at him. Then a little smile crept onto his lips around the same time you had realized that he had caught you and you instantly averted your gaze. You tried not to look at him again during lecture, but whenever the professor in the center of the circular lecture hall crossed in front of him, your eyes stayed behind and you allowed yourself a glance in his direction.

You wondered how you hadn’t noticed him before. Perhaps this was the first time he sat in that spot so far this semester. If that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the last time he sat there. For the next few weeks, he was amongst the first students to arrive in lecture and always made sure to secure that exact same seat, not one to the left, right, or above. You’d never seen anybody be so particular about a seat in lecture before. Not even you, who had a penchant for patterns and regulation.

Each passing class only stoked your burning obsession with this boy, whose name you didn’t even know. It got so bad that you had difficulty paying attention in class some days, which was totally unlike you. You were a perfect student, always dedicated and responsible in school, so why now? Why this one pretty boy in one silly lecture?

Your father wasn’t happy when you let him know you received a C on your midterm.

You came from an upper house in Piltover and you were your parents’ only daughter. There was an absurd amount of pressure on you to uphold the standards so eloquently listed by your older siblings and your parents.

“How will it affect your class grade?” Your mother asks sensibly, her voice low and polite and she sets out her favorite dishes from the china cabinet.

“Well, it’s not good,” you begin to say, ready to explain how what really matters is your final project and the final assessment, how they’re weighted more heavily, but your father interrupts.

“Not good?” He chortles, spread out in his armchair the room over. “Abhorrent is more like it!”

“Dad,” you begin to plead, but you are once again interrupted.

“Enough! I’ll look into a tutor and you will spend your time studying and asking your professor for extra credit.”

You hated when he did this. You weren’t a kid anymore, if you wanted a tutor you’d ask a classmate or a TA, and you had read your syllabus enough to know that your professor didn’t afford extra credit to his students. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself in school…or at least that’s what you thought. After all, if a silly crush on a stranger in lecture was enough to tank your grades, were you really all that capable?

You could’ve argued with your dad, but decided against it. It was almost time for dinner and you didn’t want to ruin your appetite with a fight.

“Go get dressed, dear, we’re having a guest for dinner tonight,” your mother said, changing the tone of the conversation.

“Who?” You asked, realizing that she was taking the good china out for a reason.

“One of the students that your father has decided to sponsor.”

Oh, that’s right. The academy just had their Innovation Gala, in which the young inventors of Piltover are given the opportunity to wow rich folks with their ideas in hopes of receiving some funding. Your father had been extending his fortune to students since you were very young. He saw them more as business opportunities than as students.

“Well, who are they?”

“A bright young man,” your father said, his mood instantly lightening. “Lots of promise. A grade or two above you, I believe.”

You think of the inventors you’ve met at the academy as you go upstairs to your bedroom to change, wondering who the guest will be.

You slip into a knee-length powder blue dress and a soft white sweater. You’re brushing your hair when you hear the doorbell ring from downstairs. Muffled exchanges between your parents and the mystery guest pass through your closed bedroom door. You’re applying your lipgloss and staring into your vanity when your mind begins to wander. You can’t get your mind off of the boy from lecture. Would he like this shade of lipgloss? Would he like your dress, your sweater, your shoes, your hair…

Your father shouts your name from downstairs. “Come down, it’s time for dinner!”

You sheath your lipgloss and straighten out your dress before heading downstairs. You're halfway down the spiral staircase before you can see tonight’s guest, and when you do, you aren’t sure you have enough strength in your legs to keep walking down.

He calls your name again, this time wearing a smile on his mouth. Your father had a tendency to turn into a jovial old man when around people that weren’t you or your family.

“Come, meet Jayce,” he says, his arm wrapped around the boy from your lecture.

You only realize how hard you're gripping the railing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. You force a polite smile past your agape expression and walk toward your father and the boy. Your father is by no means a short man, but the boy towers over him. It’s impossible not to pay attention to how his dress shirt clings to his chest, or how the collar wraps neatly around his strong neck, leaving a glimpse of his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you hold out your hand and he takes it, gingerly. He brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly as his eyes remain on yours.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, shooting a flaming arrow straight through your thudding heart. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but we have a class together, don’t we?”

Wonderful. Not only would you have to play polite with this handsome stranger, you’d have to endure the rest of the night knowing he’d caught you staring at him with bright doe eyes in the middle of class. How ironic that the boy responsible for your sinking grades would be seated beside your father tonight at dinner.

“Oh, I think you’re right,” you smile, eyes widening in feigned surprise. “Applied physics?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” he says, finally releasing your hand just as it’s about to get clammy from your excitement and anxiety. He claps your father on the back. “Your daughter is a marvel in that class, really. She’s constantly answering questions and asking even more insightful ones.”

A lie? Why?

“Is that so?” Your father asks, seemingly forgetting his prior rage at your subpar grade.

Jayce nods as your father leads you all to the dining room, where your two older brothers are already sitting. Your father takes his seat at the head of the table, your mother at the opposite end. You sit between him and Jayce, across from your brothers.

For a while, Jayce spends some time introducing himself to the two boys across from you, entertaining their small talk and questions about whatever invention sparked our father’s interest at the gala. You couldn’t focus much on the details, too distracted by the fact that your lecture crush was seated beside you in your own home, at the dinner table you’ve been eating at for twenty years. He spoke so eloquently, so politely that you thought for a second that he might have overlooked your embarrassing moment in lecture so many days ago. Perhaps it hadn’t lived in his head the same way it had haunted you.

The maids brought out the food and you began to eat. You sipped on champagne and did your best to avert your gaze from Jayce, but he got in the way of that attempt.

“So tell me,” he said, turning his attention to you, “how do you like physics?”

How did you like physics? What sort of a question was that?

“It’s a good class,” you say, simply. “I like the professor’s lecture style, it’s very…personal. I detest professors who just read from the notes and expect it to resonate.”

“Right, I’ve noticed how closely you pay attention in that class.”

It takes every ounce of self-collection you have not to choke on your champagne. Was he teasing you? Was that his way of secretly calling you out for ogling at him for every minute of the hour-long lecture?

No, you must be paranoid. Maybe he really meant it, after all he had already oversold your attentiveness in that class once tonight.

“Yes, right.”

“Truly,” he says, and you risk looking over at him beside you. “You look so enamored. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were daydreaming…lost in fantasies.”

You set your glass down with a slam.

“Mind your manners, darling,” your mother says as you collect your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you say shakily, dabbing at the splattered drink on the tablecloth with your napkin.

You hurry to finish your meal as your father changes the subject, discussing some stupid business matter of his. You can’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in its cage. Once your dish is empty, you set your utensils down and look pointedly at your father.

“May I be excused?”

“Sweetheart, don’t be rude,” he says, his eyebrows straightening into a firm line. “We have a guest.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that…I have an assignment to work on and I really don’t want my grades to slip any further.” You lie, avoiding Jayce’s eyes, although you feel them boring into the back of your head as you look at your father.

“Very well,” he says, with a wave of his hand. “You may be excused.”

You slam your napkin on the table and walk hurriedly up the stairs. You shut your door with a slam louder than you meant, but you can’t concern yourself with that now. You lay face down in your four-post bed and throw the sweater off of your arms before screaming into a pillow.

Cruel! He was just being cruel. If your staring in class hadn’t made your crush obvious, surely your behavior tonight had sold you out. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You groan out into the pillow before a slight creak of your door snaps you out of your fit.

You turn over, expecting to see your father and already thinking of ways to explain your current exasperated position, but it’s not him.

“What are you doing in my room?” You ask, coming to a seated position with your legs bent ever so slightly atop your ivory comforter.

“You mean, this isn’t the restroom?” Jayce asks, a small smirk on his mouth as he walks slowly toward you like a predator about to pounce. “I guess I didn’t follow your mother’s directions very well.”

“What are you doing?” You ask again.

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “Cute room.” He looks around for a moment before his gaze falls back on you, lying so delicately on your bed, just waiting… “Pretty close to what I imagined.”

“What you imagined?” You repeat, seemingly only able to ask questions right now.

“Mhm,” he says, finally reaching the edge of your bed. He stands over you, looming like a tower, preventing any light from reaching you. “Can you blame me? I’ve seen how you look at me during lectures.” He pauses to laugh. “You’d think I was the one lecturing the way you stare, and stare, and stare…”

“That’s not–” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t. You have no reason, no explanation, no excuse. No words.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his smile widening. “It’s cute. The way you cross and uncross your legs when I catch you looking. Oh but before that, when you’re resting your cheek on your hand and tilting your pretty little head… that’s the best.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and part of you thinks he actually might be. But the other part…

“Tell me,” he says, his knee resting on the edge of the bed, positioned for him to climb onto it if only you would just give the word. “What do you think about when you’re staring at me?”

“Jayce…” you mutter breathlessly, unsure whether or not you should say.

He leans over your sprawled out body and puts a delicate finger beneath your chin.

“You can tell me,” he smiles, his eyes betraying his true desire. “Chances are, I’ve had the same ideas.”

“I’ve,” you utter, barely able to get the words out as he pushes your head up ever so slightly, forcing you to make clearer eye contact with him. “I’ve thought about…”

Thinking those thoughts is one thing, but saying them out loud is completely different. It’s impossible.

“Use your words, honey,” he says, stroking your bottom lips with the calloused pad of his thumb, as if he were trying to coax the dirty words out.

“About laying on your table…in the empty lecture hall…”

“And?”

“And you’d…” you sigh, exasperated. Somehow trying to utter this sentence took more out of you than running a mile would. “You’d have your head…between my thighs.”

“Would I be tasting you, sweetheart?” He asks, a grin spreading across his face, revealing sharp canines. A new thought crept into your mind. What would those teeth feel like dragging your panties off? What would they feel like biting your thigh, or your neck?

“Yes,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own admission, although he pried it from your pretty, glossy pink lips. “Yes you’d be tasting me…”

“Attagirl,” he says, removing his hand from your chin and his knee from your bed.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’s going to do. Would he take this admission and run out of your room with it? Would he tell your parents? Would he tell his friends? Would you go to school the next day, the laughing stock of the academy?

He drops to his knees.

Your breath halts as his hands land on your knees, his eyes gazing up at you over the crest of the side of your mattress. His calloused palms rub the soft skin of your thighs, upward bound.

“Jayce?” You ask, knots in your stomach.

“I was right,” he says, the path his hands taking never ceasing. “We have had the same idea.”

He pushes up the fabric of your powder blue dress, pulling you slightly off of the bed so that his lips can find the inside of your thighs. He leaves soft kisses along them.

You watch as his hungry amber eyes flicker up, landing on your soft pink panties.

“Fuck,” he mutters against the plush skin of your thigh.

He pushes your thighs apart and pulls you closer by your hips. His nose presses against the wet spot on your panties and he takes a deep, slow breath. You watch as his eyes flicker shut, relishing the scent of you so close to him. The sight only makes you wetter.

“God, you smell so fucking good,” he groans. He flicks his tongue out and licks the fabric of your panties, leaving a damp spot. You twitch against the wet sensation, your thighs closing a bit but his hands are faster. He holds them down as he continues to tease you through the fabric.

“Jayce…” you begin to start your reprimand, ready to tell him to stop teasing you and just dive in, to eat you out like he’s starving, but you can’t utter any word other than, “please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks, looking up with that wicked grin of his. “Use your words, remember?”

“Please…please taste me…”

You feel utterly deprecated just saying such dirty things to a man you only just officially met, but if the fantasies in your head were worth anything, you two were intimately acquainted by now. And to Jayce…well those fantasies seemed to be worth a lot.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull down the fabric separating his tongue from your pleasure. He’s quick to push your thighs back down again, regaining his control of your trembling body.

He makes sure he’s watching you when he administers his first slow, tantalizing lick. His eyes are hooded and hungry, and his hunger translates well.

“Oh my god…” you whimper as he tastes you.

He picks up speed, his tongue slicing through your folds and spending lots of time at your quivering clit. He licks and sucks and slobbers like he hasn’t had a meal in years, which you know to not be true. Such an appetite.

“Jayce,” you whimper, pleading, begging, but for what you do not know.

He moans against your clit as you say his name, the precious sound of your debased voice striking a delicate chord within him. The vibration of his moan against your core makes your back arch, and his eyes dart back up to you, to watch you suffer under his pleasure.

“I think–I think I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly as your hands grab at the sheets above your head. You look so pretty, stretched out and suspended like that, your arms hanging above your head and your legs thrown out on either side of Jayce’s blur of dark hair and sharp features.

“Let it out, sweetheart,” Jayce muffles against you, his assault on your quivering clit not letting up one bit. “Let me hear it.”

You whine and squeal and thrash against his face, his hands squeezing hard to keep your thighs down so he can continue his job. You reach for his hair, just to have something solid to grab onto in your ecstasy, and he moans at the rough tug, the vibrations topping off your climax as your arched back grounds itself against your sheets again, descending alongside you.

He’s still hungry, and he hardly allows you any time to recover from your first orgasm, something you didn’t experience very often, especially not from the mouth of a man. Already, he’s climbing atop you, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to reveal his long, fully hardened cock. You reach out with unsteady fingers to unbutton his fancy dress shirt, admiring the way it’s already gathered wrinkles from his rowdy behavior between your legs.

Now you’re equally dishevelled. Your lip gloss has been rubbed off by your hungry bites at your lip and his mouth shines with your arousal and his own spit. Your dress is polled up over your hips and his own shirt barely clings to his arms in its unbuttoned state. Your hair pools out beneath you and his still bears the marks of your tugging.

It’s heaven for Jayce to see you like this. He’s spent weeks admiring the prim and proper put together little rich girl across the lecture hall, imagining what she would look like fucked out beneath him, screaming his name and abandoning all manners. He wants to ruin you, and he will.

His lips crash against yours, your arousal and his spit providing you with new lip gloss. His tongue betrays his hunger, crashing against yours, pushing it aside as he explores each corner of your little mouth. All the while, his hands are creeping up your soft stomach and resting on your breasts beneath his heavy, muscled torso.

“Jayce, I want you…I want you inside me,” you mutter, gaining some boldness at the sight of his craving.

He doesn’t even have the strength to muster a reply. He intends on saving all of his energy for destroying your cute little cunt. He grabs his cock, pumping it a few times to spill out the precum resting on his tip. He aligns it with your tight entrance and spreads your arousal over it to provide aid in jamming it into you.

“Fuck!” You shout into his broad shoulder. “Oh fuck!”

He didn’t expect such naughty words to rip from your innocent little throat, but he delights in your reaction to him stretching you.

He rocks his hips in and out of you, slowly at first, but even he can’t hold himself back just for the sake of torturing you. He ruts into you, pathetic, needy. His body presses down onto you, your chest smushed against his as he leans on his forearm beside your head. He groans out at each desperate thrust into your tight cunt.

You’re no better. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him ever closer and deeper into you. Each kiss of his tip to your cervix elicits a loud whine from you, echoing through your room. Your ornate decorations and pristine shelves now act as a shallow veneer. You’re not so clean anymore. Not so innocent.

“Oh Jayce,” you moan breathily. “Just like that! Oh fuck!”

You’re a mess beneath him, muttering slutty little words that rise and fall in volume as his thrusts punctuate them. Jayce is so lost in pleasure that it takes him a minute to realize that your volume has become an issue.

He brings a hand over your mouth, the other arm still acting as support as he rests on his forearm. You taste the salt of his skin on his palm as he presses it to your soft lips.

“You make such pretty noises for me,” Jayce says softly, a groan interrupting his syllables every so often. “And you sound so good but you gotta be quiet, baby.”

Despite his words, his thrusts don’t soften and his grip on your mouth remains. Your moans continue, quietly, muffled against his strong hand. To prevent himself from moaning too loud, he bites down on your shoulder. Hard. It’s enough to send you over the edge, the pain rippling through your skin and down to your core.

You can tell he’s close too, by the way his bite hardens and his hips jut mercilessly into you. Your legs begin to tremble and you tilt your head back, your back arching off of the bed to press even closer against his chest.

He replaces his hand with his mouth, which does an equally good job of shutting you up. With a final rut of his hips into your cunt, he stifles a groan against your lips and you feel yourself filling with his seed. Your muscles relax, your toes uncurling and your chest resuming its breathing.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his head leading the fall onto the bed beside you. His hand wraps around your waist and he administers a final kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Just how you imagined it?”

“Better.”

#arcane smut #fem reader #jayce talis #jayce x reader #smut #arcane #noooo jayce slander. i stand with my cancelled wife!!!

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yurinaa-world · 2 days ago

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OKAY GALLAGHER MR RECA AND MOZE REACTING TO US CALLING HIM HUSBAND TO TEASE HIM IN PUBLIC HEHEHEHE

"𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓲𝓶 '𝓱𝓾𝓼𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓭' 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮—𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝔃𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷’𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰."

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Gallager, Mr. Reca, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: calling him husband in public to tease him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: Great minds think alike 😏

💫𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

You always had the habit of showing up at the near end of his shift so you could walk back home with him. Which made every second and minute very painful while you sat there and teased him a little about how obviously he wanted to get this last over with. And of course, you're enjoying it since you get free drinks from the bartender as a benefit of being with him.

“At least make it look like you want to be here, or else you make customers run away.” You gently tease while stirring the straw of your drink, resulting in small bubbles and fizz sounds coming out. He groans at those teasing words.

“Not when you're the prize I get at the end.” He says softly while mixing a drink for his custom all while eyeing your pretty face from the corner of his eye. “Wow, does my husband not know better? Talk about that and you lose customers and business. Even a novice knows that.”

“You think I won't catch up on that.”

Pouring the colourful drink into a glass before passing it to the person who ordered it. He quickly switches, landing his, arms on the table as he leans till your face is inches away from his.

“Your ‘husband’, you really think I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Really? So sensitive over a word, you should use that time to help your customers,”

Against that teasing tone, you used as you took two fingers and pressed them against his forehead to push him back.

“Careful you might just go broke.”

💫𝑅𝑒𝒸𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐹𝒾𝓁𝓂 𝒟𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝑜𝓈𝓂𝑜𝓈"

“You should really calm down. No need to stress so much.” you gently reminded him, even going as far as to land your hands on his shoulders and gently massaging them. The tension in his shoulders didn’t ease immediately, but he didn’t shrug you off. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, leaning into your touch ever so slightly.

“You’ve got blessed hands, you know that?” he said, his voice warm despite the stress underlying his words. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been practicing just for me.”

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Maybe I have. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t completely fall apart, my dear husband.” you gently tease him, not trying to mean at all, only lighting his mood.

He completely freezes at your words.

he noticed it

You just called him.

“Maybe I have. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t completely fall apart, my dear husband.”

“My dear husband”

He's your dear husband! Which leads to him hiding himself in your neck while gushing about marvellous and cute you. (you really know how to bring his mood).

“Ah, my darling!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled but brimming with excitement. “How can you just say something so perfect, so utterly delightful, and act like it’s nothing?”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he continued his dramatic display, his breath warm against your skin. “I-I didn’t mean anything special by it,” you stammered, though your flustered tone betrayed you.

“Oh, but it’s too late now,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you, his face lit up with a bright grin. “You’ve called me your dear husband, and now I’m yours forever! No take-backs!”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“You should stay away from him.”

You didn’t expect those words from Moze. Is he jealous or something? Jealous? Moze of all people, is jealous of a guy who just talked to you…No way you’re not going to tease him out of his mind. It’s just so funny!

“Are you jealous?”

He just groans and stares back at your grinning face, it's so obvious, no matter how he wants to keep that poker face on. Moze crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Despite his best effort to maintain his stoic demeanour, the faint twitch of his lips betrayed him.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, his tone cool but laced with irritation. “I just think you should be more careful about who you trust.” You couldn’t help but giggle, stepping closer to him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh really? Because it kinda sounds like you’re jealous to me,”

“But it’s fine, I wouldn’t pick anyone aside from my husband.”

Moze froze, his arms uncrossing as he straightened up. His usually sharp expression faltered for a split second before he schooled his face into something resembling his usual calm. Only the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“...Husband?” he echoed, his voice lower than usual, as if testing the word out in disbelief.

You couldn’t suppress your laughter, stepping even closer with a grin that only widened at his reaction. “That’s right, my dear husband. Who else would I pick?” you grin, leaning into him.

“You really like pushing your luck, don’t you?”

“I do, what are you doing to do about it?”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

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finalresidentevilfantasy · 2 days ago

Text

Leon who really didn’t want to participate in this secret Santa bullshit. What was the point? What if you got someone you didn’t even know or worse hated?

Leon who panics a little as he sees your name pop up on his screen. So he had to get you a gift. What to get you? He couldn’t half arse it.

Leon who’s been in love with the happy, go lucky receptionist for years. Never been sure how to tell her so settled for being good friends instead. Been there after every asshole that’s broken her heart.

Leon who watches as you decorate the office, tongue stuck out a little as you hang the mistletoe above the door.

Leon who spends weeks looking for the perfect gift. Alcohol? Too cliche. Perfume? Would he look weird if he knew what you wore everyday. Chocolate? Again cliche. A jumper? Nah. Nothing seemed right.

Leon who saw that one thing, that perfect gift. He practically skipped home to wrap it. He knew you’d love it!

Leon who bites his bottom lip nervously as the gifts are handed around the office. What if he was wrong? What if you hated it.

Leon who watched as every staff member opened their gift, scarves, jumpers, hats, chocolates, alcohol, all hiding behind paper. Only a few so far looked mildly disappointed.

Leon who opened his own gift, a bottle of vodka with a meal voucher for two. “That was me.” Amber spoke proudly as she batted her eyes at Leon, Leon gave her a forced, civil smile.

Leon who felt a little bad, Amber was nice enough, just not his type and a little pushy in her advances at times. He was hoping she’d perhaps gotten the hint after last time.

Leon who watches carefully as you undid the wrapping for yours. Curious eyes as you concluded it wasn’t clothing, nor alcohol or food. You pulled the small gift from the paper, although small it had meaning.

Leon who watched as your eyes met his instantly. Of course you knew it was from him. “This is beautiful.” You spoke as you held it up. “Thats kind of lame.” Amber scoffed and you shook your head with a smile. “No it’s perfect.”

Leon who was on his third glass of scotch when you found him. “Thank you Leon, it’s perfect.” You said as you hugged him, your scent wrapping around his senses as he cuddled you back. “How’d you know it was me?” “I just did.”

Leon who feels like he should tell her, surely right now would be a good time to say it. “Listen,” Leon started and your beautiful eyes met his own. “I feel like I should get something off my chest but I’d appreciate it if you never mention it again if you don’t like what I have to say.”

Leon whose nerves ease at your comforting smile, your hand on his bicep as you lightly squeeze in encouragement. “Look, I’ve liked you for an insanely long time and I wondered if maybe you’d want to go out to dinner? Just the two of us.”

Leon who might have made his lip bleed from nerves until your lovely voice filled his ears. “I’d love that.” You reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas Leon.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x female!reader #leon x reader

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urmum-lovesme · 1 day ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P8

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Did someone say angst? I'm sorry but I had to :( Let's see, things are a little awkward cause Rafe couldn't keep it in his pants, our boy has a new competitor and well... it's a pretty nasty ending ngl. My poor poor y/n I just want to give her a hot chocolate and tuck her into bed. I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the interactions with my writing, it makes me so happy to share my thoughts with you <3

ENJOY YOUR NEW YEARS!!!! STAY SAFE I LOVE YOU ALL XOXO -Lula ♥

warnings: ANGST!!! mentions of rafe's mother who is dead, suggestive behaviour, finger sucking, mentions of giving head, mentions of slitting someones wrists.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since Midsummers. Three long treacherous weeks, since Rafe let things go too far, since he’d taken a step he couldn’t undo. It made him ache with regret, the guilt gnawed at him, biting at his insides every time he thought about that moment in the car when he’d crossed a line he knew changed their friendship completely. Every time he saw her name on his phone or heard her voice, he felt the weight of that night pressing down on him all over again. It wasn’t just about the guilt of what he’d done, though that was bad enough—it was the way he'd let things spiral. He had buried himself in the family business, using it as the perfect excuse to avoid her. The demands of the Cameron legacy were endless, and it’d never been easier to lose himself in it. His father’s expectations were high, and with the constant pressure to maintain the family's image, finding a way to keep away from the girl was easy.

Avoidance had felt like the only answer, but tonight, she’d called him over to meet up. She didn’t specify only sent him a short message;

Princess : Get to mine at 4 please???

Princess : And if Ward tells you to work I’ll come over and slit his wrists :)

He knew she was fed up with his petty excuses, and he couldn't blame her. This was the longest that they’d been apart from each other, the last time being two years ago when she went to Bali for the summer, even then they’d talked every day.

He rang the doorbell as he stood on the girl's porch, hands shoved deep into his pockets fiddling with the empty gum wrapper, trying to relax, but there was no calm to be found.

It's fine, she doesn’t know what you’ve done and she doesn’t remember the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n shoved the container into the little wooden basket, covering it with a red gingham towel. She’d realised that Rafe had been distant with her but she assumed it was his father’s fault. Truth be told she didn’t remember much from midsummers, the last thing being Rafe carrying her to the beach. It’s not that it worried her, she knew she could trust the boy, she always has. Yet the way he was acting with her, short answers, unanswered calls, it made her feel like she’d done something wrong. However, his absence worked in her favour as she knew Rafe didn’t know what she’d planned for the day, the only thing he got from her was a message telling him to come over. Just as she placed the basket near the door, there was a knock.

He raised his hand to the front door, and rapped his knuckles against the hard wood a couple of times again, hoping that maybe she’d forgotten and he could go home. He heard her footsteps walking towards the door, the sound of it unlocking before it swung open to reveal her standing there. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes roamed over her. Her lips drew into a smile as she saw the boy standing there on the other side of the door.

Breathe

“Hey angel baby.” She joked as she opened the door wider for him to come in.

Missed you

“Hey princess” he replied, smiling slightly as he stepped through the door, the sound of it closing softly behind him.

Just stay calm, she’s clueless

“I’m actually ready to go.” She spoke up as she slipped her trainers on her feet breaking the silence between them, standing up straight as she grabbed the basket off the floor and her car keys which lay on the table near the doors. Her eyes landed on the boy standing by the doorway, shoulders at unease.

“You look a little tense, you good?”

Rafe exhaled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the motion awkward, almost unsure.

“Yeah, just... long week.”

He shrugged it off, though the words felt false. His father’s business had been a convenient distraction, but that didn’t make the guilt any easier to ignore. He should’ve stayed away longer- for a brief second, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. Y/N, still holding the car keys in her hand, tilted her head, studying him. There was an odd quietness in the air, the kind that settled between them like an unsaid word. She could tell something was off. He was too guarded, too distant, and she had learned to read him better than that over the years.

"You sure?" She pressed, taking a small step toward him, her eyes never leaving his face.

“I mean, if you’re not feeling it today, we can always—”

“No,"

Rafe interrupted quickly, a little too fast. He cleared his throat, forcing a more genuine smile this time. "No, it’s fine. Just... a lot on my mind, you know?” He raked a hand through his hair, a motion that felt more defensive than usual. He wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t. It was easier to shut down, to lie, to pretend nothing had changed, that things were still as they were before.

Before everything had gotten well, messy.

Y/N didn’t seem convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the concern evident, but she didn’t push it any further. Instead, she offered him a soft smile, the kind that always made his chest tighten, like she was silently giving him space without making him feel like a complete asshole.

“Alright,”

she said, finally breaking the moment, her voice lighter. “-oh wait…” she spoke up as she jogged quickly to the kitchen, grabbing something in her hand and slipping it secretly Into the basket. He watched her carefully as she grabbed the basket and her keys off the table, his brows raising in slight worry. Why did she have a basket?

“Ok.. I’m guessing you’re not telling me where we’re going?” he asked, as he followed her out to her car.

This is awkward

She shrugged her shoulders as she took the steps down towards her car, opening it up and placing the basket into the back seat, slipping into the driver's seat.

He rolled his eyes at her obvious closed off behavior and opened the passenger seat, getting into the car and instantly being engulfed in the familiar smell of her. He had to swallow down the lump in his throat as he settled, clipping the seatbelt in and turning to her slightly the girl speaking up before he had a chance,

“You’re being weird right now”

“No im not. I’m completely casual right now.” He mumbled out as he raised his brows, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the car, music soon filling the car.

“You’ve never been casual Rafe. And I can tell somethings wrong because you’ve been acting weird ever since Midsummers”

Rafe’s stomach flipped at the mention of that night. He’d tried to block it out, bury it under layers of busy work and fake nonchalance, but Y/N had a way of bringing everything to the surface, whether he liked it or not.

Well shit

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” She asked, voice softer now as she turned to look at him, hands slipping off the wheel to rest in her lap.

For a moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He was too busy trying to suppress the guilt that surged up, threatening to choke him.

He cleared his throat, trying to mask the panic clawing at him, then forced a shaky smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to swallow down the words that were begging to come out.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Y/N didn’t look convinced. She was too perceptive and definitely too smart to fall for his half-hearted reassurance. Her silence was enough of an answer, but when he glanced back at her, he saw the crease in her forehead, the slight downturn of her lips. She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, Rafe.”

He knew, deep down, that she deserved the truth, but there was something inside of him that just couldn’t let go. He closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand over his face in frustration.

“I’m fine,” he said, more firmly this time, “Really. Just... dealing with some stuff- family stuff.”

She nodded her head silently as the car hummed with the sound of the engine now, the road beneath them nothing but a blur as they drove, her eyes focused ahead, her fingers gripping the wheel again.

“Right well…” she licked her lips "well, can we stop with this awkward tension then?"

She let out a little laugh, trying to cut through the suffocating quiet. It wasn’t forced, but Rafe could hear the underlying edge of uncertainty in her tone, like she was waiting for him to meet her halfway. She was trying so hard to make this easier for him, so maybe it was time to get his act together. He leaned back in his seat, throwing his arm over her headrest,

"Sorry, I've been so moody lately. Think I’m about to get my period or something," he said to her as his hand came out to place over his stomach. Her hand left the wheel coming to swat the boy on the stomach, to which he let out a small ‘oof’.

“Don’t be a dick Cameron” she spoke out shaking her head, yet she couldn’t stop the smile from rising on her face.

Much better.

“So where are we going anyways?” He looked away from the window to the girl as he leant back in his seat, letting his guard down now.

“Listen. Can you just appreciate my effort Mr . ‘I need to know everything all the time’.“ She spoke back to him as her fingers tapped on the wheel along with the song playing in the background.

He rolled his eyes at her comment, a smirk pulling at his lips. He opened his mouth to throw back a snarky remark at the girl but was cut off,

“Stop bitching Rafe”

She rolled her eyes at him as she turned off the main road, wheels grumbling against the stony road. The boy let out a huff as she scolded him, yet his heart fluttered as he looked away out the window, satisfied they were back to being themselves. As they drove Y/n’s phone buzzed in the cupholder, her eyes flickered down to the lit up screen before ignoring it and looking back up at the road, it buzzed again.

Then again

The repeated buzzing of her phone in the cup holder caught the boy’s attention, turning the smirk on his lips into a frown.

“You gonna get that?” He asked quietly, turning to look at her, eyes taking in the way her fingers were starting to tap the wheel impatiently.

“No I don’t drive and tex-” she watched as the boy quickly snatched up the phone looking at the screen.

“Hey!” She protested.

He chuckled slightly at her protest to his move, staring at the phone; it took him a second to register the name of the person blowing up her phone, frowning almost instantly,

“Why is Cooper texting you?”

“It’s nothing.” She diverted the conversation.

The truth was that her and Cooper had been talking more than she thought they would be in the past week, and Rafe’s absence, well she did miss him but it did make it easier for her to get to know the boy a bit better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the dance floor before she could protest.

“Come on, we’re dancing now.”

Y/N laughed, stumbling slightly as he tugged her along. “I told you, I can’t dance,” she said, half protesting, half entertained. “I’m more of a ‘stay in the corner and judge the people who actually can’ kind of person.”

Cooper shot her a mischievous grin. “Oh, no way. You’re not getting out of this that easily. I’ve seen you at parties, Y/N. You’ve got moves.”

“You’ve seen me at parties?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful.

“That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

Cooper only shrugged as he pulled her along. “Creepy or not, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not fooling anyone. Let’s see you break out some of that hidden talent.”

Before she could respond, the boy spun her, his hand lightly resting on her waist as he twirled her around with more confidence than actual skill. Y/N stumbled a little, laughing as she tried to regain her balance. “I told you I can’t do this,” she teased, but her voice was light, the playful tension between them clear.

“You’re fine,” Cooper said, laughing too as he pulled her closer again.

“Yeah, right,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “I think I might need a lesson or two.” She rested her hands on his shoulders, a hint of flirtation in her tone.

“I guess I could be convinced to teach you... for a price.”

Cooper looked down at her, raising an eyebrow hopefully to her as she spoke up,

“Oh yeah? And what’s the price?”

“Maybe your number…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He raised his brows, now feeling an emotion other than guilt which seemed to disappear the instant he saw the boy’s name, .... anger, …jealousy? They’d been talking and he had no idea about it?

He didn’t like it. At all.

His grip on the phone grew tighter as he looked at her, his eyes almost glaring,

“Bullshit”

“Jesus Rafe, I’m just talking to the guy. It’s not like I’m sucking his dick.” She rolled her eyes at him scoffing. His attitude from the moment they met this morning had been off and now it was just getting worse and it was starting to irritate her.

His eyes widened at her words, clenching his jaw to stop himself from saying anything stupid. The image popped into his mind again, of her on her knees, yet this time it was different because he hated it.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me”

He said, his voice low, almost a growl, but heavy with sarcasm and bitterness. Y/N froze. Her mouth parted in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice sharp with confusion.

“You heard me.”

The words left his mouth with an edge that made his insides twist, but he couldn’t stop himself. He knew what he was saying was childish and irrational. But he couldn’t care less. If there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was accept the fact Cooper of all people was getting her attention and she wasn’t telling him about it.

She finally shook her head, the frustration clear in her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?” Her words hit him like a cold slap, cutting through the fog of his jealousy for a moment.

“You’ve been acting weird all day, but now this? I’m just talking to him. He’s my fucking friend, okay? I didn’t know I needed your approval”

He wanted to apologize, to backpedal, but his pride kept him rooted to the spot. Instead, his thoughts simply spiralled, and before he could even make sense of what he was feeling, he blurted out,

“I don’t care if he’s your friend,” his voice tight, his frustration seeping through.

“You didn’t tell me about him. That’s what I care about.”

“You haven’t spoken to me for three weeks!?”

Her voice broke slightly on the last word, a mix of disbelief and frustration lacing it as she brought the car to a stop, shifting it into park, stopping just outside an opening of trees. She undid her seat belt. He got out of the car after her, irritation still thrumming through his body. He slammed the door shut with probably a little more force than necessary and followed her out into the trees. Basket in her hand she whipped around to look at him after she heard the car door slam. His jaw was clenched tight, his arms crossed across his chest as he stared down at her. Every bone in his body was thrumming with anger and annoyance, every cell in his brain screaming at him to say the stupid, irrational things he was thinking but instead he settled for shooting her a glare,

“And now you bring me out to the middle of nowhere. What are we doing out here?” He all but spat out.

“Can you not?”

She spoke softer now, no longer angered by his fury but more upset, she’d gone out of her way for him and he was being cruel, incredibly cruel.

“I’ve tried to organise this for you because I've missed you. And you’re treating me like some shitty ex you don’t want to see.”

He was about to say something stupid again, but he bit it back before the words could leave. The disappointment in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully, but the jealousy and anger was burning through his chest, and he couldn’t get it to stop.

“I’m sorry I just-”

“-talk to me please?”

“I’ve just been-” he looked at the girl, he knew he had to admit to her so he might as well tell her what’s been going on, there’s nothing else he could say.

“-struggling with my counselling”

You’re a fucking liar

“Oh...” she placed the basket on the floor, arms wrapped around the boy as she noticed him avoiding her. She rubbed his back slowly as she spoke,

“It’s okay i’m sure that there som-”

You’re sick

Her words faded, dissolving into a quiet hum in his ears. All he could focus on was the softness of her, her warmth, the way her body seemed to melt against his, trying to soothe him, to reassure him that everything would be okay; but the more she held him, the worse it got.

“Right?” She looked to him head tilted slightly

What?

“Uh yeah.” He nodded back as he watched her take a step back from him, his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck, his skin having gotten hot under his touch. Although, however much he tried to push away the burning question he couldn’t stop himself and the words tumbled past his lips,

“Why are you talking to him?”

He asked gruffly, slowly rubbing a hand across his face before looking down at the ground.

“Why can’t I talk to him Rafe.” She spoke with a gentle voice.

What is going on right now

“I just-“

“Can we drop this please?” She looked up to him “-it’s just going to ruin our day…”

Y/n was starting to think that the day was already ruined, maybe this whole outing was a bad idea, maybe she should’ve just taken him to the country club..? That would’ve been easier. The usual routine- drinking, mingling with people, keeping the conversation light and predictable. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to deal with this awkwardness, with his brooding silence and the strange, almost hostile energy he was radiating.

He’s being so… bizarre?

“Let's drop it..” He muttered out clearing his throat, breaking the silence which lingered between them. If he was going to be with her for the next few hours he guessed it was time he started being a little less, irrational. She nodded as she leant over to pick up the basket, head turning back to look at him.

“You coming?”

“I’m coming.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his muscles starting to relax a little as they walked deeper into the trees together. The rustling of leaves beneath their feet was the only sound between them now, the sharp crack of twigs beneath his boots grounding him in the moment. It was quiet, and for the first time in a long while, the air between them wasn’t thick with tension. Maybe it was the isolation of the forest or the way the sunlight filtered softly through the trees, but something felt less suffocating. Y/n occasionally bumped her shoulder into the boy’s as they walked, easing the tension between them. They walked a while out before she stopped him turning around and facing him.

“Okay so…” She looked down to the basket in her hands before up to him rocking back and forth on her heels slightly.

“I kinda sorta need to like…. Blindfold you…?”

She said, her voice trailing off. His brows shot up in surprise at the request.

Blindfold?

His mouth opened slightly as he tried to process what she was asking. The moment was so unexpected, so out of nowhere that his mind had to catch up with the words. His gaze flicked from her face to the basket she was still holding.

“You wanna blindfold me?” He asked, an amused tone in his voice.

“Yeah…” She spoke out hand reaching into the basket and pulling out a silky scarf of hers which she held up. She had to purse her lips to stop herself from smiling. He chuckled as he watched her hold up a scarf, his eyes flickering from the item in her hands back to her face.

“Why exactly do you need to blindfold me princess?” He asked, eyes narrowed curiously.

“It’s a… surprise?” She spoke out as she placed the basket down onto the floor.

His eyes flickered from the basket on the ground, to the scarf in her hands and he took a step closer to her.

“A surprise” he repeated back to her, his eyes trained on the scarf she held up.

“So..?” She spoke out as she rounded to stand behind him placing the silk material in front of the boy.

He shook his head humorously as she stood behind him, hands gently touching his shoulders. He couldn’t help a slight shiver run through his body at her proximity, he leaned back slightly, his head tilting back to look at her,

“Alright, whatever you say..” He said quietly, more than a little bemused by the situation.She lifted the scarf to his eyes covering them and tying it gently.

“S’this okay?”

He closed his eyes as the soft material of her scarf was placed over them. The sudden loss of sight made his other senses kick into overdrive, and he shifted in his spot slightly as every brush of her fingers felt heightened.

“It's fine princess”

She let out a hum in response as she picked up the basket taking his hand and leading him forward. He felt the subtle pressure of her hand in his, her palm fitting so perfectly against his, his large calloused fingers intertwined with her smooth ones. He let her guide him forward, his eyes covered by the scarf meaning he had to trust her completely.

"Careful," she mumbled, her voice a soft and breathy as she guided him through the dense forest. He felt her fingers tighten around his for a moment, pulling him a little to the left, avoiding an unseen obstacle. They came to a stop and she dropped his hand slowly and turned to him,

“M’kay you can take it off…” She said, her voice quiet, laced with an unspoken anxiety that she couldn’t quite shake.

Rafe reached up and pulled the blindfold from his eyes. The cool air hit his skin, and briefly he blinked against the light, his vision adjusting slowly to the shift in brightness.

It took him a moment, but when his eyes finally cleared, he looked ahead—and then froze.

His gaze swept over the sight before him, as though he were unsure if he was hallucinating. They were standing in a small clearing in the middle of the trees, but the thing that really caught his attention was the small, weathered wooden structure standing in front of them, tucked away amongst the trees. It leant just slightly to one side, the paint faded the colors dulled by time. It wasn’t much with only a small set of steps leading up to its door, but there was something undeniably nostalgic about it. Fairy lights were strung lazily by the door, which was cracked open just a bit, inviting, like it had been waiting for them to return.

"Surprise,"

she whispered, and the boy heard the smile in her voice before he even looked at her.

This wasn’t just a hut. This was their hut.

No way

The one they had found together when they were kids, hidden away in the woods. The memories came rushing back with startling clarity, those summer afternoons when they would sneak away from everything, from the adults, to build their own little secret place to get away.

"How did you… " He stuttered out in amazement, his eyes flickering from the building back to her face.

“Took me a while.”

She spoke as she took a step towards the door encouraging him to push it open.

“Go on,” she said, a small, nervous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s just like we left it.”

He gently pushed the old door open, creaking loudly as the hinges moved, and stepped through the doorway. He let out a sound of disbelief as he stepped further into the hut, his head swiveling, eyes wide, scanning every familiar corner. She followed after him a few steps behind to give him space. The shelves were still filled with their old toys and colouring pencils in old faded tins, football and kite stacked all atop each other, old baby dolls sitting side by side, frilly lace dresses covered in layers of dust. Everything was scattered across the shelves, jumbled together as if time had forgotten to organize them. She walked over to the small table in front of an old rickety couch, its fabric faded and worn from years of use. She placed the basket she held on top of it as she watched the boy admire their childhood playground.

He was still in a daze, his eyes flickering across the familiar surroundings of the old hut, his mind awash with memories he hadn’t thought about in years.

“This is…”

He paused, searching for the right words, though none seemed to quite capture the enormity of what he was feeling.

“Wow,” He finally said, his voice tinged with amazement. He ran a hand through his hair, still a little shaken by how much this place had stirred inside him.

“I can’t believe you brought me here.”

She watched him as he stopped near the wall, his gaze settling on an old picture that hung there, slightly crooked, the frame worn with time. It was when they were all much much younger; Rafe, Y/n, Topper and Kelce all standing and staring at the camera striking silly poses. The girl had her hands up behind Rafe’s head, making bunny ears as she flashed a mischievous grin at the camera. The boy, in turn, had his tongue sticking out, eyes wide with that gleam of carefree innocence. Rafe’s breath caught in his chest as he took in the photo, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, he couldn’t help it. It was a sound of genuine amusement, a laugh that felt like a brief, joyful release from the weight he’d been carrying. He stepped closer to the picture, his eyes lingering on the faces of his friends, all of them so young, before life had gotten so complicated. He reached up, running a hand along the picture frame, looking at the dusty picture, his finger coming out to whip across the glass to see it clearer.

“We were so dumb.”

He laughed again, but this time there was something bittersweet in the sound. Y/n watched his reaction, the tenderness in her gaze softening as she joined him by the picture. She could see the way his expression shifted, how the laughter had faded just slightly as he took in the nostalgia, the way his eyes lingered on the frame.

Y/n walked up standing closely to the boy as she looked at the picture above, her, Rafe and his mother. All three together, the older woman’s arms wrapped around the two kids with a wide smile as she’s crouched next to them holding them close. A small smile lifts on the girl's lips before her eyes flicker back to the boy. He felt her presence next to him so close their shoulders were pressed together. His eyes were on the picture, taking in his mother, all of them smiling together. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"I remember this picture"

His voice was quieter than he intended, a low murmur as he glanced down at the girl. The sadness that settled in Rafe’s chest was something he couldn’t escape. Even now, all these years later, his mom's absence felt like a heavy, lingering shadow over everything.

“So do I.”

She spoke softly and reached up without thinking, her hand brushing over his arm as she spoke. It was a small gesture, but one that carried a sense of comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June’s laughter was soft, musical, and it rang in the air, soothing, like a lullaby. Her arms were wrapped around her son, pulling him close to her; Rafe, barely old enough to appreciate the moment for what it was, squirmed a little in his mother’s embrace. He’d never liked posing for photos, always too restless to stay still, but by his mother’s side he seemed to calm.

“Come on baby, just one picture,” she coaxed gently.

Y/n stood off to the side, hands gripping wildflowers she had picked earlier, the brightly coloured flowers vibrant in her grasp. The woman, sensing the silent observer, turned her attention toward the small girl, who was still standing by the door of the hut, looking at them.

"Y/n, come on," she beckoned her with a warm smile. She hesitated for a moment, then walked forward, her small feet shuffling in the dirt as she came closer to Rafe and his mother. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but there was something comforting about the way his mother reached out to her, as if she was a part of their family.

“Look at those flowers,” June said, her voice light and filled with affection as she gently cupped the flowers in the little girl’s hands. “They’re so beautiful.”

“They’re for you,”

The girl replied softly, her eyes lifting to meet June’s after lingering on the small flowers on the woman's dress. “I thought you’d like them...”

June’s eyes widened in surprise and delight, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Well, thank you, sweet girl,” she said, a hand resting on Y/n’s shoulder for a brief moment, the touch gentle and full of warmth before her finger pops out to ‘boop’ the girl on the nose, the child giggling in response.

“These are perfect.”

Rafe, who had been watching the exchange between the two, let out a small smile lift to his lips. Something about seeing his mom with Y/n made him feel... content. He didn’t have the words for it, he was only six years old after all.

June adjusted the camera sitting on the wooden steps near the door of the hut, then glanced at the two of them.

“Alright you two, ready for the shot?”

Rafe, who had been shifting from one foot to the other, suddenly stopped and looked up at his mom with big, expectant eyes.

“Do I look good mom?” he asked, holding his arms out to the sides like he was presenting himself for approval. The woman couldn’t help but laugh softly, her heart melting at how seriously he was taking this.

“Oh, you look great my handsome boy,” she said, her tone playful.

Rafe grinned, looking pleased with himself, June turning to Y/n with a teasing eye roll gesturing back to her son, the younger girl sending her a bashful smile.

June pressed the camera button, setting the timer, “Alright, on three…” then jogged over to the two children, kneeling down behind them and pulling them closer to her in a hug. Rafe wiggled a bit, trying to stay still long enough for the picture, while Y/n leaned into June’s side, her small smile soft and content.

“Say cheese!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She was happy in that picture”

“She was always happy with you.”

She spoke comfortingly before talking his hand and leading him towards the couch gesturing for him to sit down before she crouched down next to the basket pulling the towel off the top. He smiled slightly at her words before doing as she asked, the couch creaking slightly under his weight. His eyes flickered to the basket, watching as she pulled the towel off the top.

“Close your eyes,” she spoke out as she looked up to him.

His corner of his lips twitched up her orders, he let out an amused hum before obliging, shutting his eyes tightly. The sound of a lighter clicking, once, twice filled the room before the couch dipped as she sat next to the boy.

“You can open your eyes,” she spoke ever so quietly.

Rafe’s head turned slightly towards her, his eyes flickered under her instruction, slowly opening his eyes to take in the sight in front of him. The girl sat next to him, plate in hand which held a small cake with 5 lit candles on top of it. It was lined with white icing and small cherries sat on each piped swivel of the icing around the cake. His eyes flickered to the cake in her grasp, the soft flickering of the candles making the her glisten in the dim room.

"Is that for me?"

He asked quietly palms feeling clammy. Y/n looked to the boy a sheepish smile on her face as she nervously spoke out,

“Um- happy 5 months clean.”

...

She didn’t know if the boy even knew that she’d been tracking his progress. She cared about him, of course she did he’s her best friend, so when he’d told her he was stopping his relationship with the drug she observed him, although she doubted he’d noticed as she did so in silence. She’d noted each month that passed, a little star on her calendar, and now that she hadn’t seen him in a while, she thought it was a good idea to do something small to show him, that she had noticed. A wave of shock ran through him as she spoke out the words. He was stunned.

“You’ve been counting?”

He felt his heart start to thump harder in his chest, his eyes flickering from the cake to her face, slightly taken aback at the gesture.

“I-” she started to worry, overthinking that she’d overstepped a boundary,

“I thought that I’d uh-”

His heart thumped harder against his chest, beating rapidly in his chest due to a mixture of shock, surprise and… something else, an emotion he couldn’t quite name yet. Y/n, noticing his hesitation, quickly began to pull back, her fingers fidgeting nervously around the edge of the plate.

“I shouldn’t have— I mean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or—”

She stammered, her voice quiet and unsure, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.

“I just thought it’d be... nice. You know? To mark the day.”

Rafe’s throat tightened. He hadn’t expected this, he thought, maybe foolishly, that no one cared enough to notice the small milestones he was too proud or embarrassed to admit to. But here she was. “Five months, huh?” He let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“I didn’t even realize.”

Y/n’s eyes softened, a quiet relief settling over her features as she relaxed slightly. The tension that had gripped her melted, and she leaned back into the couch with a small exhale.

"I’m proud of you, Rafe."

The words hung in the air between them. The phrase didn’t seem to fit him, it felt foreign, strange, like he was standing in a moment that didn’t belong to him. People didn’t say that to him. They never had. He’d spent most of his life either fighting to prove he was worthy of anything, or pretending he didn’t need anyone to tell him anything at all. His heart skipped again. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to him, but somehow, with her, it felt different. More genuine. Less like a platitude and more like a truth. He smiled, a real smile this time, one that didn’t have to hide behind sarcasm,

“Guess I should be proud of myself too, huh?”

Y/n's laughter was light and, like a soft wind brushing against his skin. “Yeah. You should.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

Rafe shifted again, his chest feeling tight in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—vulnerable, raw, with someone else’s belief in him resting so heavily in his lap.

She gave him a gentle smile, her expression tender.

“But you did.”

Now as she was sitting beside Rafe, hearing him speak those words, something inside her clicked. Her mind briefly flickered to her brother, and the wave of grief that had followed his overdose. In a strange way, she’d felt more connected with him today than she had in a long time. There had been no ‘five months clean’, no cake, no candles, they never had the chance; so being here with Rafe, celebrating his progress, somehow felt like a way of moving forward, a kind of redemption she hadn’t known she needed. Her heart tightened in her chest, and a lump rose in her throat as the weight of the moment settled over her. She had never told Rafe how much this meant to her, when he first told her he was going to quit she expressed her support, but never truly told him how much it mattered to her, not wanting to overwhelm him.

Now’s not the time for this

She cleared her throat slightly looking down at the plate in her lap, lifting the plate up towards him passing the boy the cake, candles still flickering against the white frosting.

“You should make a wish.”

“I’m not really the ‘wish’ type.”

Rafe looked at the cake, his eyes rolling at the girl’s childlike antics, his lips quirking up slightly, he stared at the flickering flames for a beat, and Y/n could see him thinking.

“Maybe you should be,” she teased gently, nudging his arm with hers.

“I wish-”

“No!”

The girl exclaimed loudly, cutting him off eye’s wide, “can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true.”

Rafe couldn’t help but raise his brows at her theatrics, “Alright, alright, relax” he said, “I’ll keep it to myself.”

He glanced back down at the cake, the soft glow of the burning candles reflecting in his eyes. His mind wandered. He turned his gaze back to her, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to speak—but then he stopped. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his eyes tracing the outline of the cake.

I wish you knew how much you mean to me.

Without waiting, he leaned in and blew out the candles with a quick puff of air, the small flames disappearing in a soft wisp of smoke. Y/n let out a little cheer- more of a giggle- an unexpected sound of pure joy. She clapped her hands once, as if the moment deserved a celebration.

“You made a wish and everything,” she teased, her voice light and playful now. Rafe’s chuckle was low, a smile tugging at his lips,

“Guess I did,”

The girl next to him shuffled around in the basket on the table,

“Don’t know if it’ll come true,” he added, “but I think it’s a pretty good one.”

Wonder what he wished for.

She pulled out two forks holding them up for the boy to see.

“Sooo.. d’you want some cake?” she spoke, Rafe chuckled again, his hand reaching out to take one of the forks, fingers brushing lightly against hers.

"I suppose we gotta try hmm?" he reached out and took one of the forks, before looking down at the cake in front of them, eyeing the little red cherries. She took the fork in her hand and digged it into the cake then held it up to the boy in an offering,

“First bite?”

He looked at the fork in her hand, before looking up at her face, the eagerness in her eyes making his heart thump in his chest. He let out a small hum before he spoke out in a somewhat joking manner,

“Are you feeding me?”

“You got a problem?”

She raised her brow playfully. He let out a small huff in response, his eyes flickering over her face. He let a slow smile spread across his face.

"No, I have no problem with that at all princess."

He replied, opening his mouth waiting for the bite. She brought the fork towards him watching as his lips wrapped around it tasting the dessert piled on it. He held a gaze on her as his lips wrapped around the fork, taking a bite of the cake. He pulled the fork from his mouth, letting out a small hum as the sweetness of the treat coated his tongue. He let out a content hum, a small smile still on his face.

"That’s real good." He mumbled out swallowing, his eyes flickering to the cake on the plate in front of them.

“I’d hope, worked my ass off on it” She rolled her eyes teasingly at him as she took some of the sweet cream onto her finger licking it off letting out a satisfied hum. He couldn’t help but watch her lick the sweet cream off her finger. The action making his brain go slightly fuzzy and making his heart thump faster. The sight in front of him was so… innocent, but it was still making his brain buzz with something else.

Stop that

"I bet you did princess," He said, eyes glued to her still licking her finger.

“Is it up to standard?” She asked as she watched him lift another fork full to his lips. He finished eating the bite of cake as she spoke, swallowing it down and licking the lingering sweetness from his lips. He hummed out a small response as he looked at her.

“Yeah, never knew the kook princess was a little baker.”

She shook her head at his comment hand coming out to shove his shoulder. He grabbed the other fork again, his eyes flickering back to her face,

“Come here”

She leant forwards at his request, as he took his fork and ran it along the edge of the cake, scooping up some of the cream it was covered in, coating the end of the fork. He lifted it and held it in front of her mouth, an expectant look on his face as he watched her. She parted her mouth as he raised the fork to her, her lips wrapping around the sweetness coating the metal. He couldn’t help the sharp inhale he took as her lips closed around the fork, his heart thumping rapidly at the action. He pulled the fork slowly from her lips, a slow smile spreading itself across his face as he stared at her.

“Taste good?”

“Mmhmm.” She hummed back, “I should probably start a bakery, what about ‘The Sweet Spot’?" She questioned tapping her fork against her lip in mock thoughtfulness. Rafe’s face immediately lit up with amusement, his eyes widening like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing.

“The Sweet Spot?” he repeated, his voice humoured. “Sounds like a place where people go to get more than just cake.”

Y/n threw her head back with a laugh, but there was a glimmer of challenge in her eyes. “What’s wrong with ‘The Sweet Spot’? It's catchy!”

Rafe shook his head, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Catchy?” he teased. “You’re setting yourself up for a whole different kind of clientele with that name.”

She shook her head finger taking some of the cake frosting on her finger,

“Hey you’ve got a little-” She smudged the cream onto his cheek letting out a giggle. He felt the cream hit his cheek and he let out a chuckle, looking at her with raised eyebrows,

“Really princess?”

She shrugged her shoulders playfully, licking the rest of the cream off her finger and popping a cherry into her mouth with a grin. He let out a small, somewhat incredulous scoff as he shook his head slightly, the amusement clear on his face. She was acting so innocent and yet…

Stop

"You're a brat" He stated teasingly, a small smirk still tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She raised her brow at him as she watched the boy wipe some of the cream off the cake and onto his finger moving it towards her,

“Rafe!”

He let out a small huff of laughter,

"Relax"

He said in a somewhat innocent tone, but his eyes gave away his playful intentions as he held his finger up to the girl’s mouth.

Just as she moved forward to lick the cream off his finger the boy pulled his hand back at the last second, watching with a sense of satisfaction as the cream got smeared on her cheek. Her gasp made a small shiver run through his body, making his heart thump faster in his chest

“You have something on your face princess” He teased, the amused smirk back on his face.

“Rafe!”

She exclaimed as she sat back from the boy in surprise. She suddenly moved forwards taking a large wipe of the cake onto her fingers and pushed it against his cheek, he barely had time to register her grabbing a handful of cake off the plate.

“Really Y/n?”

He said with another huff of a laugh, his arm reaching around her waist, she squealed as he pulled her closer to her, smudging the cake all over her cheeks now, spreading it across her skin as a small grin appeared on his face.

“You look messy princess.” He said in an amused tone

“You're such a dick,” she laughed at him as she leant against the boy, his hand now covered in cake, the plate laying on the couch next to them. He could feel the cake getting smeared everywhere as she leant against him, but he couldn’t care less.

“I’m a dick? You started this”

He stated in a somewhat mock offended tone, his arm wrapped around her as they both sat there covered in cake. Y/n looked at the boy’s hand as he held it by her face, not wanting to get any of it on the sofa. He felt her look down at his outstretched hand, not wanting to dirty the sofa. His blue eyes met hers, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it vibrating in his ears. As he looked at her soft expression, he got a sudden idea. He mumbled out quietly,

“Open your mouth”

She swallowed, looking from the boy's eyes, her gaze landed on his hand, long slender fingers with the white sweet cream clung to them, tempting and indulgent. As his hand lifted to her face and she parted her lips for him. He let out a small, shaky breath at her action. He slowly closed the distance, his long slender fingers pushed into her mouth, coating her lips and tongue with the sweet cream as his heart thumped in his chest. As her lips wrapped around his fingers, an inexplicable feeling of satisfaction surged through him at the feeling, her hand came up to wrap around the boy's wrist; she didn't know what was taking over her as she moved.

What am I doing

He let out a hum as her mouth worked on his fingers, a soft sound catching in his throat as he caught her eyes looking up to him. He moved his fingers slowly in and out past her lips, feeling her tongue on his skin, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt a shiver of pleasure run through him, igniting something in his brain. He could barely think, his brain fuzzy and filled with sinful thoughts of her. She swirled her tongue around his fingers, licking off the cream that coated them savouring the taste, her breathing had picked up ever so slightly as she looked up to the boys eyes who were boring into hers. He groaned softly at the feel of her tongue caressing his finger, and his eyes met hers.

Fuck me

He could feel heat begin to build within him, a mixture of desire and need. His eyes watched her intently, taking in the sight of her. Rafe swallowed slightly, his throat suddenly dry as he pulled his hand away from her, a light string of spit momentarily connecting his finger to her lips. The girl leant forwards slightly, her eyes flickering down to his lips and he was suddenly hyper-aware of her closeness to him, the way he could feel her breath on his skin. Rafe’s breathing was now ragged and uneven, and he felt himself leaning closer to her, his gaze falling to her lips, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He imagined the way they would give under the pressure of a kiss, soft and inviting, making it harder to concentrate on anything but the urge to close the distance between them. He wanted to trace the line of her lips with his own, feel their warmth, and taste whatever sweetness lingered there. He could feel the tension between them, thick and electric, and he knew he should pull away, he should stop this before it went too far, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he wanted her so badly, not when he could almost taste her on his tongue.

Y/n felt light headed as she pushed herself closer to the boy, her hand resting on his upper thigh as her gaze darted up to meet his eyes, inches away from his face. Rafe could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Y/n”

He mumbled out barely audible as he watched the girl’s tongue dart out to wet her lips. He could feel his resolve weakening, the reason and rationality fading as the pull of desire became harder and harder to ignore.

He wanted her, needed her… in a way he never had before.

What the fuck am I doing.

What am I doing?

This is my best friend

Yet even as her conscience screamed at her she didn’t pull away, she wouldn’t, she’d wanted this for too long.

The sight and the sound of her slightly breathless made something inside Rafe stir, the line between best friends and something more beginning to blur. The realization of what they were doing suddenly hit him, a pang of guilt mixed with desire flowing through him. She was his best friend, she was supposed to be just his best friend, nothing else. He couldn’t do this.

“We shouldn’t”

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she heard him speak out. His words hung in the air, the space between them suddenly feeling miles wide. She felt sick, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the amount of cake she'd consumed or because her best friend, whom she'd been pinning over for years, didn't want her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could barely move, as if the air itself had thickened, the boy sat back slightly putting distance between them.

-what?

The confusion crashed into her like a wave. Her mind scrambled for some explanation- anything to make sense of what had just happened. Had she misread something? Had she been too obvious? The nagging feeling that she might have let her feelings show too clearly, too soon, clawed at her, but that didn’t make sense. He’d leaned in.

He had leaned in.

He felt his heart sink as he’d pulled away from her.

Fuck

He watched as she sat motionless, her eyes searching for his, his stomach twisting and turning at the sight. He wanted her, more than anything, but he couldn’t risk ruining what they had, their friendship, the last stable thing in his life. He felt guilt coursing through him.

She blinked, trying to focus, but her mind was in a fog. She could see him, sitting back slightly, his gaze lowered, the distance between them growing, and it was like the walls around her were closing in. She couldn’t breathe.

Is he rejecting me?

Her throat tightened, and she almost choked on the lump that formed there. No, that wasn’t possible. Not after everything. After all the years of being close, of leaning on each other, laughing, sharing moments—this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was meant to be her moment. She had dreamt about this so many times, imagined it in a thousand ways.

But never like this.

He watched her expression, seeing the flash of disappointment and pain in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to push her away, but he couldn’t give in, he couldn’t do this to her

He didn't do relationships, he never has…

He felt his heart sink as she sat up suddenly. He watched as she shook her head, his stomach twisting and turning at the sight. He wanted her, more than anything, but he couldn’t risk ruining what they had, their friendship, the last thing connecting him to her. He felt guilt coursing through him.

“Look at me princess”

He tried to sound firm, but there was a hint of hesitation in his words, desperate for her to look at him.

“No. No you're right-”

She cleared her throat, grabbing the kitchen towel off the table and wiping her hands off the sticky cake, lifting it to wipe her cheek, before passing it back to the boy without looking at him.

You’ve fucked up

He felt his heart tug at the sound of her voice, the lump in her throat making him feel guilty. He felt sick with the whole situation. Rafe let out a breath, he knew she was lying, he could hear the shakiness in her voice; he took the towel from her, watching as she purposely avoided looking at him, and began wiping his face and hands off as well.

“Y/n.” He muttered out quietly.

She had to close her eyes momentarily to regain her composure, her back still facing him, she let out a silent breath and opened her eyes as she turned to the boy.

“Rafe, it's fine. You're right.”

He watched her for a long moment, her features composed but distant, like she had built some invisible wall between them. She didn't move, didn't say anything after that for a long time as she placed the forks and left-over cake back into the basket. The silence stretched between them uncomfortably. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the silence,

“You’re my best friend”

He said it like a confession, almost like he was trying to convince himself of it, trying to hold on to the one truth he thought he could trust. Y/n froze for a second, her fingers still gripping the handle of the basket. She could feel the weight of his words sink deep into her chest, where all the other unsaid things had already gathered. She stood from where she sat next to him forcing out a smile,

“Yeah of course- and you're mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive back was silent. Not the comfortable silence that usually lingered between them- no, this one felt different.

Tense, discomfiting, awkward.

Neither of them was brave enough to break it. Y/n’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles white, her posture stiff and forward-leaning, as though if she moved even slightly, she might shatter. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, her focus unwavering, as if she was trying to ignore the weight of the boy sitting beside her. Rafe sat in the passenger seat, his body turned slightly toward her, his heart twisting in his chest. He’d never felt so conflicted, so confused, so sick all at once. He wanted to reach out to her, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. And even if they did, he wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse.

His gaze drifted to her, taking in the tightness in her shoulders, the subtle strain in her posture as she tried so hard to hold herself together. His chest ached, and the desire to speak, to make it better, was nearly unbearable. But the words felt trapped, like a dam that was ready to break. He couldn’t bring himself to say them.

"Do you want me to drop you home?"

Her voice cut through the silence, monotone, cold, as she kept her gaze fixed firmly ahead, as though the road were the only thing she could handle looking at right now. The shift in her voice, in her demeanor, hit Rafe harder than he expected. It stung in a way he couldn’t describe but he knew he deserved it.

“Yeah.”

He mumbled, his voice barely audible against the low hum of the car’s engine. The word felt too small, too inadequate, but it was all he could manage.

The sound of the indicator filled the silence between them, the rhythmic clicking marking each turn on the route she knew so well. The road to Tannyhill was embedded in her memory, but tonight, the familiarity of the journey did little to ease the tension in the car. When they finally came to a stop in front of the estate gates, the silence stretched, once again- heavy and suffocating. She leaned back against the seat, her shoulders sinking as if the weight of the drive had finally caught up to her. Licking her lips, she pursed them briefly before clearing her throat. The words she wanted to say stuck, tangled in her chest. Her gaze flicked toward him before retreating, hesitant.

“Thanks for… Thanks for coming today.”

She finally managed, her voice unsteady. He watched her carefully, his own heart tightening at her tone, she wasn’t looking at him. He swallowed down the sharp pang in his stomach and nodded.

“Course.”

He muttered as glanced at her again, but her face gave away nothing. She shook her head suddenly, a small, sharp movement, her hands gripped the steering wheel again, her knuckles whitening. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. The sound of his seat belt unbuckling cut through the silence, followed by the soft creak of the door opening. He stepped out, standing just outside the open door, the cool air hit him, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat rising in his chest. Guilt mixed with longing clawed at him, the rawness of it almost unbearable. He glanced back into the car, his hand resting on the frame of the door. She still wasn’t looking at him, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the lights on the dashboard of the car.

“I-”

He started, his voice barely more than a whisper, she echoed, her voice overlapping his, pulling his gaze back to her.

The word hung awkwardly in the air.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time. The corners of her lips twitched into a small, tentative smile- a fragile thing that barely held together. He froze, caught off guard by the flicker of emotion in her face. She hesitated, her grip loosening on the wheel as she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words felt too big, too heavy to voice. Still, she knew if she didn’t speak now, the distance between them might never close.

“I don’t want this to… change us.”

She said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Her smile faltered, but she held his gaze, hoping he could see what she couldn’t quite put into words. He felt horrible for putting her in this situation and making her question their friendship.

He wished he could tell her he didn’t want this to change them either, but he did. He was lying earlier, he wanted more than just friendship from her. He wanted to be more than just her best friend.

His breath hitched at her words, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,”

He said finally, his voice stiff, he nodded slightly, more to himself than to her, as if trying to convince himself of the truth in his own words.

Fucking say something to me

She blinked at him, her brows furrowing just a little, unsure what to make of his response.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

He shot back, his tone sharper than he’d intended. He winced at himself and softened immediately, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean… I don’t know what to say.”

Her lips pressed together tightly, and she exhaled through her nose, her gaze fixed on the dashboard.

“Yeah, well… neither do I,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was suffocating, the awkwardness palpable. He stood there, half-in and half-out of the car, shuffling his feet against the gravel. Every second stretched uncomfortably long.

“We’re friends Y/n. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

He gestured vaguely between them as he spoke. He didn’t even believe what he was saying, but he told himself it was for the best.

What are you talking about?

Stop talking

Y/n didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t say anything at all. Instead, she slowly glanced at him, but only for a second- just enough for him to catch the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes before she quickly looked away.

“Right…” she whispered, her voice strained and hollow.

He opened his mouth to say something else, anything to fix it, but no words came, he let out a sigh, hand rubbing down his face.

“I’ll see you later,”

Rafe said, his voice trailing off, she didn’t speak, didn’t move to look at him, instead she let out a small hum of acknowledgement. Her head finally turned towards the sound of the car door shutting. She sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her hands were sore. Her eyes followed him as he walked up the path to his house, his steps slow, the porch light flickered on as he reached the door, casting a soft glow around him. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, glancing back toward her car for a moment. Her breath caught, her heart foolishly leaping in her chest, hoping- praying- he’d come back and tell her it was a mistake, that he hadn’t meant anything of what he’d said.

But he didn’t.

He turned back to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

She sat frozen, staring at the now-empty porch, her mind racing and her chest tightening. Her lip trembled and her vision blurred as tears pooled in her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to push them back, but it was useless as they slid down her cheeks. A sob broke past her lips, filling the silence that had pressed down on her for the past few hours. She slammed her hand against the steering wheel, her whole body trembling as the tears came in waves. Her forehead dropped onto the wheel, the cold leather pressing against her skin as she shook with the force of her crying.

How could she have been so wrong? So embarrassingly, painfully wrong?

“We’re friends Y/n. That’s all we’ll ever be”

She thought he’d cared—really cared. She thought there had been something between them. All those moments they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the way he’d smiled at her, the way he made her feel seen when no one else did- it had to mean something. The answer was glaringly obvious now, and it made her feel sick. Of course, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Not the way it had to her. She’d let herself believe in something that was never there.

Her sobs grew quieter, but they didn’t stop. Her chest ached as she sat there, her nose blocked as she sniffled. She hated herself for thinking he could ever see her as anything more than a friend. Her tears soaked her cheeks, and she wiped at them furiously, her hands shaking. She felt stupid, exposed, and humiliated. She let her head fall back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car, her breath coming in shakily. She looked back toward the house one last time, the darkened windows staring back at her like empty eyes.

And for the first time, she wondered if holding onto him was worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk

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fast-burn · 3 days ago

Note

sloppy seconds, landoscar + mark webber or tbh whoever

yeah i'm Down To Clown with mark webber being in this!!

kink list here

XXX

"No way," Lando blurts when he shoves his hand down the back of Oscar's shorts and finds him already hot, wet, and open. "Did you start without me?"

"Something like that," Oscar demurs, eyes flicking down and away. Lando wonders, not for the first time, what the fuck is up with his long, light brown eyelashes. Every time he looks at them fluttering against the thin, lilac skin below Oscar's eyes, it's like mental. He has girl eyelashes, honest.

"Couldn't wait, huh?" Asks Lando because he really can't stop to ponder how pretty Oscar is when he's got his middle two fingers hooked right into Oscar's bum.

Oscar kisses him instead of answering, which is alright actually. Lando likes making out more than actual sex sometimes. When you're kissing someone they usually hold you close, all snuggly, so it's double the niceness. Lando licks Oscar's tongue and behind his teeth, and uses his hand snagged in Oscar's arse to pull their groins flush together. It's absolutely mint. Lando could stay like this forever, except he does kind of want to get off. His cock is throbbing in his sweatpants, eager up against the solid line of Oscar's erection.

Lando wiggles his fingers inside Oscar, sort of digging around in there. He's really wet. It's some weird kind of lube, a different texture than Oscar's usual. Lando breaks their kiss and pulls his fingers out, curious.

It's definitely not lube.

"Osc, what is this?" Lando blurts, but it's pretty obvious that it's jizz.

Decently fresh jizz.

"You said it was okay," Oscar says, voice going really quiet, hackles up. Lando hates when he does that. It took forever to get Oscar to relax and be a weirdo around him.

"Yeah, of course it's okay. But I thought we'd maybe talk about it first."

Truth is that Lando wanted to know what kind of blokes Oscar would go for if it was truly open season. There was some competitive part of him that wanted Oscar to go looking for someone supplemental but still come crawling back to Lando, because Lando was the best. He figured Oscar would be into other shy little nerds.

"It came out of the blue, that's all," says Oscar, starting to try and wiggle out of there, so Lando tightens his arm around Oscar's shoulders. "Wasn't much time to run it by you."

"So who was it?"

Oscar goes very still. He looks away again. He mutters something.

"Say again?" Lando asks.

"It was Mark," Oscar confesses, barely above a church mouse whisper.

"Webber?" Lando blurts, makes it sound like Wibbah by accident because he's a cunt and can't help himself.

"Sorry," Oscar mumbles, and Lando kisses him because he can hear the shame, the regret. He never wants Oscar to feel bad about anything unless it's because he came second in the WDC to Lando.

And Lando is kind of upset, but not because Webber is way too old, or because he's Oscar's mentor, or because Webber is not even that hot. Lando's pissed because--technically--Mark is better than Lando. On a purely win-based statistic. So there's only one solution: fuck Webber's come out of Oscar.

"Don't be sorry. It's so hot," Lando lies, because ew he doesn't really want to think about Webber's wrinkly old dick. He's like married. And retired. Gross.

Oscar starts to melt back into Lando's arms. "Yeah? You don't mind?"

"Not if you don't mind me taking my sloppy seconds," Lando says, unbuttoning Oscar's shorts and pushing them down his thighs.

"You're such a perv," Oscar says, wrinkling his cute fucking nose, but Lando can tell that he's not seriously complaining, because he follows up with: "Don't worry about prepping me, mate. You can just slide right in."

Oscar bends over the end of Lando's hotel bed eagerly. He's actually the perfect height for Lando, which is crazy Cinderella's-slipper shit, even if the position is kind of hell on his back and he'll have to slip out of Oscar later to do physio stuff on the floor. Oscar's hole does look used. It's hot pink and swollen. Lando feels another spike of irritation looking at it, so he puckers his lips and spits on it. Oscar shivers.

He's right, though. No prep necessary. Lando thrusts in with hardly any trouble, and Oscar moans, then grunts like Lando heard him once on the massage table, all guttural and loud. Webber's jizz makes a creamy streak up the shaft of Lando's cock when he pulls out. Bad manners, isn't it? To neglect a condom when fucking someone else's man.

Or is Lando fucking Webber's man? Technically Webber had Oscar first, but not like this, Lando is pretty sure. Maybe Webber fucked Oscar because he's jealous that Lando got inside him. Maybe he was all pissed-off because Lando planted his flag in Oscar's hole and took his gay-virginity.

Well, tough shit. Lando is going to be a champion and Webber has one foot in the grave, practically. Lando is going to fuck Oscar just right.

"That feel good?" Lando asks, barely stopping himself from adding baby on the end. They don't do pet-names. That would be a slippery slope for sure.

"Uh-huh," Oscar says. "Feels like you. So good--the best."

Lando might as well be ten feet tall. He's glowing like those big tree-things in Singapore, lit up from the inside and all the way up. Webber's come is smearing around Oscar's hole, Webber is the one who made him all loose, but he's not the one making Oscar groan and whimper now. He's not the one making Oscar say Gonna come Lando, please, please, you're making me come, oh-- Because Lando is the best. Get absolutely wasted, you geriatric old prick.

#landoscar #am i doing the lando voice right?#honestly anon i feel like there are SO many options for sloppy seconds here #but this is lando sowing vs lando reaping re: open relationships #sometimes you give your exclusive fwb a hall pass and he uses it to have sex with a formula 1 legend who's basically his grid-dad #maybe you realize you don't want to share at all #kink prompts

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chilling-seavey · 2 days ago

Note

I thought of this and had to share it for TWIG. George is away at a race and you are home with the kids. The night before the race, George calls you for phone sex but you know you have to be quiet otherwise the kids will wake up

↳ A/N Thank you for this, anon! You only sent this last night but it really inspired me and I was feeling kind of down and really needed a simple, easy, lighthearted thing to write to get my mind off the craziness of life. This was perfect <3

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 2.1k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, unedited

“This triple header is brutal.”

George’s voice was tired through the phone. You could tell he was trying to hide it but you knew him well enough by then; the languidness of his syllables, drawing them out just a little more, the sparkle dulled in his tone.

Sitting on your side of your shared bed with an ocean between you, you held your phone to your ear with a melancholy smile. Your husband’s voice always warmed your heart but when he was more downtrodden, it was hard to fully feel it.

“I know.” you replied gently, your book laying open and forgotten on your lap, “They really work you and the team to the bone with those.”

“Not just that,” George sighed, “I miss you…the kids. I hate not being able to fly home between races.”

You rested your head back against the headboard with a fond smile at his sweet confession, “Aw, my love. We miss you too.”

“I really miss you.” he pressed.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of your open novel spread across your thighs as his familiar voice caused your heart to flutter. Your gaze was focused on the wall across from your bed where the dresser sat, a few of his things dotted along the surface, some spaces empty with things he had brought with him for three weeks away. With a softly playful tone, you asked, “How much?”

There was a pause through the line and then George chuckled warmly, replying with a cheeky, “What are you wearing?”

“Oh—” you scrunched your eyes closed with a gentle laugh, “You’re terrible.”

“What?” George laughed in return through the phone, “I’m serious.”

You looked down at yourself in your t-shirt and faded pyjama shorts, “Nothing sexy, I’ll tell you that.”

“You’re always sexy.” George countered with ease like he had been telling you that all his life. He pressed a little harder, “Come on. Fess up.”

“I’m wearing one of your old Mercedes team shirts from 2024.” you told him, picking at the logo of one of the now-bankrupt sponsors that had started to flake off after years and years of wash. A piece of the print fluttered down onto your open book on your lap. You added, “And some ancient pyjama shorts.”

“Ooh, the blue and grey striped shorts?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

George hummed in approval, “Those are nice. Make your bum look extra good.”

“What is with you?” you laughed breathily, shaking your head a little at the obvious intention behind his responses.

“What?” he protested, his voice raising a half-octave in defence, “I miss my wife and I want to flirt with her.”

You closed your book with your free hand and set it aside on your nightstand to give him your full attention. Your knees pulled up a little, tenting the duvet you were sitting under, and you teased him knowingly, “Your hand isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

George inhaled sharply, “Now who’s being forward?”

“Am I wrong?”

There was a pause and then a defeated sigh, followed by a one-word answer in which you could hear his playful smirk, “No.”

“Besides, tomorrow’s Sunday and you always liked to have a pre-race orgasm.” you stated knowingly, “Knocks you out like a light. Guaranteed good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know me better than anyone.” George retorted in a feigned mocking tone.

There was a pause again. You could faintly hear the sound of his breathing. You nibbled at your bottom lip as if to physically try and switch your mindset from your calm relaxing night-in to having phone sex with your husband. Through the phone, you could hear the rustling of sheets as he shifted.

“I can’t go crazy with it,” you warned softly, “the kids are asleep and you know how thin these walls are.”

“That’s okay.” George’s voice was just as quiet, as if he had any reason to whisper on his side of the world, “I’ll take anything. Even just hearing your voice.”

“Okay then…want me to read you the grocery list?”

He let out a strained sigh, “Sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay.” you chuckled.

You could picture his pleading pout in your mind, the scrunch of his eyes, the tilt of his head. Deep inside you, your stomach stirred. You wondered if he was naked in the hotel room bed at that moment.

The pause wasn’t doing any favours for your poor husband who was impatiently waiting through the line. George pleaded with you in that sweet voice that somehow always wore you down, “Please, my love, I’m already so hard.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Already?”

George’s shy chuckle melted into a soft groan of a confession, “I’ve been trying to have a bit of a wank for almost an hour now but my brain keeps thinking of strategies and tyre management and I keep going soft.”

You swallowed back a joke about soft versus hard tyre compounds for the sake of not making him suffer any longer. Instead, you got yourself comfortable in your strikingly empty shared bed and adjusted your grip on your phone against your ear. You comforted him lovingly, “My poor love. Where are you? In bed?”

“Yeah,” George’s breath was shallow. Through the phone you could faintly hear the pop of the lid of a plastic bottle opening. It didn’t take much sleuthing to figure it was lube.

“And you’re hard…again.” you continued, “And missing me.”

“Yeah,” his voice was a little softer, the word drawn out a little longer than previous.

“Missing what part of me?” you asked.

George hummed lowly, “All of you, love, you know that.”

“My mouth?” you taunted, letting a moment for your two words to settle before adding, “My pussy?”

The tight inhale of breath through the line was answer enough.

“Yeah? That’s what you want, don’t you?” you whispered to him, “Want to be buried nice and deep inside me…right where you belong. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah…” George nearly purred.

The sound of his voice alone was enough to make your insides burn and your thighs clenched together a little tighter. You could faintly hear the slick sound of his hand stroking his lubed up cock through the phone, keeping to a slow languid pace as you eased him into the wonderful pictures your words could paint. His every soft breath had you shivering, feeling his need through the phone and, almost, the heat of his familiar breath against your skin.

“Just want me squeezing around you so tight?” you continued.

“Yeah…so warm.” George slurred out.

“So tight and warm and all yours. All yours to stretch out and fill up.”

“Baby.” George moaned, elongating the vowels.

You knew not to stop, you knew just how much he loved your endless stream of consciousness, how your words didn’t hold back when you got in that right mindset. He loved your voice and every thought that spilled from it.

“What I wouldn’t give to be in that hotel room with you right now…in that bed with you…just bouncing on your gorgeous dick.”

George’s breath caught a little. You could hear his hand speed up.

He let out a shaky, “Mm, please keep going.”

“And you can hold my hips and move me how you want…”

“Mhm…”

“And you could just feel how wet I am for you…leaking all over you…”

“Fuck—” George choked out, almost a sob, as if he were vividly picturing everything you were saying. In a barely there breath, he added, “Please—”

You shifted in bed a little as the sounds of him getting himself off through the phone went right between your legs. With your children sleeping just down the hall, you couldn’t stomach the idea of sharing in his pleasure just in case they heard you; it was always easier to be convinced when George was there in person. When it was just you, all alone in your bedroom, your nervousness out-powered your desire. That was okay; you were perfectly content just helping him out anyway.

“You sound so good, baby.” you breathed, your ears perked to his every small moan or groan or gasp. “Keep moaning for me…you know I like it when you’re vocal.”

George swallowed thickly, his words strained and drunken, “Yeah…feels so good…”

“Would feel better with my hands all over you, wouldn’t it? Kissing your neck…pulling your hair…”

The shaky moan he replied with was erotic, sending your heart racing and your thighs clenching.

“Yeah, I know, you love that.” your voice was low and languid, dragging on your words in a way that had him soaking in everything you were saying, “Letting me pull on the ends of your hair while I fuck myself on your lap…on your perfect fucking dick.”

George’s breathing was getting heavier through the phone, almost as if he was so in his head that he forgot you weren’t even there with him. The steady slick rhythm of his hand on himself was hypnotizing to you, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, knowing exactly what he must have looked like alone in that empty hotel room half-way across the world. It was a sight you had seen more times than you could count but one that always had that unmistakable warmth pooling in the depths of your belly.

George writhed, his voice strained and urgent, “Don’t stop. Please, keep talking. Please.”

“I can tell you're close…listen to those pretty sounds you’re making.” you purred, rambling anything that came to mind, “I’d be all over you if I was there…I’m sure you’d have already made me come twice over by now…making me come all over your cock just squeezing around it and soaking it.”

George’s breath caught. You heard his hand speed up a little more.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” you pressed on, “Wanna feel how hard you can make me come? Knowing you’re the only one who can do that to me? That I’m all yours? Absolutely wrecking me and still making me want more and more and more of you?”

“Yeah.” George moaned, “Fuck, I’m so close, baby, please—”

You always knew exactly what he wanted to hear, speaking to him with ease of your trust and familiarity, “You wanna come inside me? Wanna put a baby in me?”

George choked out your name in the handsomest groan.

“Yeah? I know you’re so close; bet you’re just throbbing. You gonna give me what I want? Gonna give me all your cum as deep as you can?”

“Uh huh—”

“Uh huh? Yeah, you are. That’s it.” you encouraged, your free hand dropping beneath the bedsheets around your middle to rub over your clothed pussy. You could feel your wetness already seeping through your panties and your shorts, your cunt only throbbing more beneath your fingers at the sounds of his strained breaths and soft moans as he drew closer and closer. “Come on, gorgeous. Gimme it. Come for me.”

After years together, you didn’t have to be in the room with him to know exactly when he came. Your ears easily picked up on the hitch of his breath that was laced in with the prettiest whimper (something that he was always a little self-conscious about, but something you loved most) before letting it out a second later with a wavering moan and another and another, falling into those long-awaited waves of pleasure.

“There you go,” you cooed softly, “That’s so good. Give me every last drop.”

“Yeah…” George panted, “Yeah, fuck, that’s…it.”

“Good?” you chuckled through the phone as his build up eased into silence of nothing but his breaths.

“Yeah. Perfect. You’re perfect.” he whispered dreamily, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you reminded him sweetly, before following it up with a casual, “But you owe me when you get home.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” George chuckled, his tone clearly worn out, “I would have done so anyway, even without you asking.”

There was a peaceful pause between you, both of you lost in your thoughts.

“It’s late here.” you finally stated, pulling your phone away to glance at the time before resting it back against your ear, “I should sleep. You know the little guy is going to have me up at the crack of dawn.”

George’s voice was soft and laced with a knowing smile, “Of course. I’ll let you sleep. I have to…clean up anyway.”

You laughed breathily and lolled your head back against the headboard with a dreamy smile at how flushed and gorgeous and messy he must look after all that. But, you knew the conversation needed to be wrapped up so you kept your thoughts to yourself and, instead, reminded him, “We’ll definitely be watching the race tomorrow…even if it means a bit late to bed for the tot. Give us a call after, okay?”

“Always do.” George replied simply, “I love you.”

“I love you.” you echoed with ease.

Another pause as if you both just wanted to hear the sounds of the other breathing for a moment longer.

Finally, George whispered a tender, “Good night, darling.”

“Night, my love.”

And the call disconnected.

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hanbinics · 23 hours ago

Text

'tis the damn season — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !fem reader genre ⟶ angst, pining. word count ⟶ 4.3k

warnings ⟶ smut, unprotected sex, p in v.

snow blankets the small new england town, turning every road, roof, and branch into a picture-perfect image of the season. it’s the kind of stillness you can only find in winter—the muffled quiet that settles deep in your chest and makes you nostalgic for things you haven’t thought about in years.

you tighten your grip on the handle of your suitcase, gaze locked on the sturniolo household still standing tall before you. it looks the same as it always has with its weathered shutters and the christmas lights strung haphazardly along the gutters. the same inflatable santa bobs in the front yard, defying the frigid wind. it’s all so achingly familiar, and yet you know you’re only paying this much attention to avoid walking up those cement steps and facing the inevitable.

it's a strange feeling being here again, but you don’t have much of a choice. your parents had moved away after you left for college, uprooting the life they’d built here for a quieter one halfway across the country. visiting them for the holidays would have meant burning up the little vacation time you had left from school.

the sturniolos had offered without hesitation. they’d been like a second family to you growing up, and their door was always open. it was a comforting thought—or it would be if it didn’t mean facing the one thing you have to force yourself to stop thinking about.

before you can knock, the door swings open.

matt leans casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. his hair is slightly mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he still looks good. he’d never really had a baby face in his teenage years, but somehow the cut of his jaw seems to get sharper every time you see him, the shadow of stubble decorating his pale skin in a way that nearly has you clenching your thighs. what remains almost always the same, however, are his eyes; bright and steady, holding an unreadable expression that flickers briefly only when landing on you.

“you’re early,” he says, voice low and even.

“you’re predictable,” you counter, lips twitching into a half-smile despite the way your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.

he raises an eyebrow, but you don't miss the subtle twitch of his mouth, like he's trying not to smile back at you. when you think he's going to respond, a light and airy voice cuts in before he can.

“matt? who’s at the door?”

your stomach tightens. you don’t have to see her to know who it is. the cheerful lilt in her voice is unmistakable, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent an embarrassing amount of time looking through photos of her and matt on his mother’s facebook page. try as you might, that whole “forcing yourself to stop thinking about him” thing doesn’t always work.

“i’ll get your bag,” matt says quickly, stepping aside and avoiding your eyes entirely as you step into the painful world of complete nostalgia.

matt’s fiancé, willow, is everything you aren’t. she’s the type of girl that’s effortlessly kind, her smile bright enough to light up a room—forget needing a christmas tree. she reminds you of the kind of girl your mother used to beg for you to be, but she could never quite smooth out your rough edges, much to her dismay. you can’t help but think about how much she would love matt’s soon-to-be-wife, the thought making your gut coil painfully.

willow doesn’t seem to notice. she’s all too warm in the way she greets you, pulling you into a hug like you’d known each other for years.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she breathes into your ear, her enthusiasm genuine. “matt’s told me so much about you.”

“has he?” you question, forcing a smile. but your curiosity is genuine, and you find yourself turning to chris just in time to catch sight of his shit-eating grin.

“you serious? kid couldn’t stop asking about how long you’d be here, when you’d be here. ‘s like havin’ to calm down a kid waitin’ to see santa,” he teases. you know he’s probably exaggerating, especially when matt mutters an obscenity while punching his brother’s shoulder, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body anyway.

in all her perfectness, willow doesn’t seem to think twice about chris’s teasing. a laugh falls from her mouth instead, the pretty girl still beaming as she turns to you and nods.

“he really does talk about you all the time—about growing up here and all the memories you guys share. it’s sweet,” she admits, gaze full of nothing but adoration as her hand finds matt’s once he’s close enough to her, his usually pale cheeks harboring a bit of a pink flush to them now and his smile somewhat uncomfortable.

your heart twists painfully at her words, but your face remains neutral, only mustering up the smallest upturn to the corners of your mouth in response. you’re sure there’s truth to matt talking about you, but it mostly serves to remind you that he’s so curious because outside of these little trips home—which are few and far between—the two of you don’t talk.

you could say it’s because you’re both just so busy, that it’s hard to maintain a friendship with so much distance between the two of you, that your lives are just going in such different directions. but deep down, without a smoke screen and the fear of wearing your heart on your sleeve the way matt always has, you know unanswered texts and missed calls from the boy you’ve always considered to be home has truly driven a wedge—one you feel you can’t dig out anymore.

while matt says nothing about everyone basically speaking for him, you can tell he’s avoiding your gaze entirely, and guilt swirls in your chest even as mary lou and the rest of the sturniolos parade you around the house, showering you with the kind of attention you’ve never been fond of simply because it puts you in the spotlight.

but you let them because you return the love these people have always had for you, a genuine smile resting on your mouth when mary lou finally ushers you to the couch with a warm cup of hot chocolate tucked between your icy hands.

“sweetheart, it’s been too long!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “how’s life treating you? are you eating enough? you’re staying through new year’s, right?” she asks, kind eyes expectant. you can’t help but laugh softly at her string of questions.

“just through christmas,” you correct her, but the words feel hollow in your mouth and guilt comes with the delivery. it never fails to feel as though you’re running every time these trips come to an end.

“you should stay longer,” the older woman immediately responds, undeterred. “it’s not the holidays without you here.”

you breathe out an awkward laugh at that, the rest of the family beginning to chime in about the fact that you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you want, memories of past holidays soon being brought up. it’s all nice, and it makes you feel all the warm fuzzies that you don’t normally allow for yourself, but it doesn’t change your mind.

staying here any longer is dangerous, and you know it. for as long as you can remember, you’d ached to get out of here. growing up in a small town, surrounded by the same people and the same days, drove you absolutely crazy. you’d had big dreams from a young age, and you knew you’d do nothing about them if you stayed here.

as the family chatters around you, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. you don’t have to look at him to know it’s matt, but you do anyway. he’s leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. he hasn’t said much since you’d arrived, but then, he’s never been all that talkative. your mouth twitches at the corners, a soft, almost sad smile threatening your visage. you think he might return the sentiment, but you watch with disappointment as he pushes himself from the granite countertop supporting his rigid spine.

“you know where the guest room is,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the chatter.

all you can do is nod as you watch him disappear, your timid smile now disappearing all together, nothing but a quiet “thanks” falling from your lips that he doesn’t acknowledge.

the first night back was always the hardest. the familiarity of everything—the creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater kicking on—is both comforting and suffocating. it should be of no surprise to you when you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night in need of a distraction, but you quietly curse yourself anyway as you pad down the creaky stairs as carefully as you can.

when you turn the corner, you’re surprised to find matt already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as the soft refrigerator light pours over the otherwise dark room. you’re silent for a moment as you stand in the open frame, arms crossed over your chest while you just watch him, relishing in the fact that he’s not staring at you with those longing blue eyes—the ones that seem to be constantly trying to figure you out while simultaneously reading you like a book.

after another few seconds, you finally build enough courage to speak. “couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

when the brunette turns, he doesn’t seem all that surprised that it’s you standing there, but you suppose it isn’t odd. you’d know the sound of his voice anywhere, and apparently it’s the same for him. still, it doesn’t calm the rapid pace of your heart inside your chest when he looks at you.

“usually up around this time anyway,” he admits with a shake of his head. you watch as he reaches for another glass from the cupboard, and then sets it next to his before filling them with water. “willow isn’t great at sharing the bed.” a roll of his eyes accompanies the confession, but you don’t miss the fondness to his voice, and though you laugh quietly in response, it comes out painfully forced.

“you’re, um... you’re really happy, huh?” you find yourself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes. matt’s gaze flickers from you to the glass of water his fingers occupy the rim of before finally answering, “yeah. willow’s... she’s great.”

the words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on both of you. you nod, forcing a smile. “she is.”

there’s another few seconds of awkward, tense silence, the only sound heard being the contact of glass against granite as matt slides one of the cups towards you carefully until you can reach it for yourself. you offer a polite smile as you step closer to him, fingers wrapping around the coolness of the glass. you want the uncomfortable weight settling around the two of you to go away, but you don’t know how.

finally, the brunette clears his throat. “you leaving after christmas?” he asks, his voice steady but quiet. you figure it’s just a way to change the subject, but your gaze narrows slightly with curiosity as you look at him, nodding your head once.

“that’s the plan,” you admit, though it feels sour on your tongue.

you watch as he nods, his jaw tightening. “figures.”

your fingers tighten around the glass, eyebrows furrowing. the only light coming through the kitchen window casts shadows across his face, making him look a bit older, more tired.

“matt...”

he shakes his head, cutting you off. “don’t. it’s fine.”

you want to tell him that it’s not, that you’re sorry, but you can’t get a word in when a humorless chuckle leaves his mouth, and he begins to shake his head slowly now.

“’m used to you runnin’. it’s been radio silence for years.”

this time it’s you who laughs, lacking the same humor he couldn’t muster seconds ago. “what am i supposed to say to you, matt? ‘congratulations on your engagement?’ ‘happy holidays?’ ‘thanks for letting me crash here while i pretend everything’s fine?’” you ask incredulously, watching as his own gaze hardens.

with his jaw tight, matt sets his glass down on the counter with a little too much force behind it. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“don’t i?” you shoot back, the words sharper than you intended.

the air is thick with tension between you, crackling with electricity. it’s almost suffocating as the brunette steps closer, his gaze locked on yours and his large hands anchoring themselves on the granite countertop on either side of you, caging you in. your breath hitches in your throat, and you can only hope that he can’t hear the ridiculous pounding of your heart inside your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line as you look up at him with curious—yet knowing—eyes.

“this was a lot easier when you weren’t here,” he finally says, his voice low and strained as he studies you.

you swallow hard, knowing you shouldn’t answer him nor entertain this pull between the two of you, but you feel like you’re being tossed out at sea where it’s inevitable to crash into the ocean rocks.

“i know,” you finally answer quietly, but your voice betrays you, shaking ever so slightly, and you know it’s all he needs.

for a moment, neither of you move. then, like magnets, you find yourselves drawn together, his mouth inching closer to yours while you press up on the tips of your toes to meet him there, until finally, you’re kissing him.

it’s heated once the two of you actually connect, matt’s strong hands finding your waist immediately. he uses the grip to pull you against him as if he can keep you there, tethered to this moment despite the truth lying just beneath the surface. you tangle your fingers in his hair, tongue greedy and imploring as years of unspoken feelings spill out in every touch, every breath shared.

as the kiss grows hungrier, sloppier, both of you pouring everything into it—love, anger, regret—his hands roam your back before sliding under the hem of your sweatshirt, his touch searing against your skin.

“tell me to stop,” the brunette breathes into your mouth, his voice breaking. it sends a pang of guilt through your abdomen, but you don’t listen to him. instead, you pull him closer, your hands clutching at his hoodie as though letting go would shatter you completely.

as if frustrated by the fact that you’re letting this happen, matt presses your spine into the counter behind you, his hands sliding from beneath your sweatshirt down to the backs of your thighs where he digs his fingers into your skin for a better grip and lifts you onto the counter, his desperate mouth never leaving yours. the kitchen is freezing, but your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat and frustration between the two of you melting away every last thread of restraint.

clothes fall away in a blur, your breaths mingling in the cold air as his hands explore every inch of you, like he’s trying to memorize what he can never have again—what he knows will be gone soon. you’re still trying to adjust to every sense being so overwhelmed with matt’s presence that you hardly notice the fact that he’s already working on dragging your panties down your thighs, your hips and legs thrashing around on autopilot to help him out.

when his fingers make contact with your sopping pussy, your head almost immediately falls back, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. “fuck, matt. need you so bad,” you admit to him, the groan that leaves his throat causing your pussy to throb with desperation, walls fluttering when the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit.

he plays with you for a few seconds, giving into the way your hips buck forward in search of more friction, more attention, but eventually the brunette must decide enough is enough. you watch as he takes his hand from between your glistening inner thighs in favor of pushing his sweats down from their place on his hips, the fabric of his boxers following suit. you’re almost amazed at the sight of him already so hard for you, but you can’t say you’re surprised. being in matt’s vicinity is enough to fill you with the need to ease some of the tension between your legs, so you can understand how the dam of years’ worth of need for one another finally breaking could get him to this point so quickly.

after stroking himself a few times, you watch with hungry eyes as matt pulls you to the edge of the counter, a whine escaping your lips when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your clit. you can tell by the subtle smirk on his mouth that he knows how badly you want it, but you’re too eager to care that he can see right through you in the moment.

“matt,” you say again, his name falling from your mouth this time as a warning not to tease, but he cuts you off with a quick, hungry kiss to your mouth before parting once more.

“say it again.”

you blink at him, breathing heavily as your brow furrows in confusion. “what?” you breathe out.

“that you need me—say it again,” he elaborates, and while sirens immediately go off in your head, your heart aching at the desperate gleam in his pretty blue eyes, you find yourself swallowing thickly before nodding slightly.

“i...” you trail off, watching his eager expression carefully, knowing you shouldn’t.

but you’re selfish.

“i do. i need you, matt.”

you don’t have time to feel guilty. your mind goes completely blank when he finally pushes into you, it not being gentle, but not completely careless either. it’s everything—raw and frantic, but deeply, heartbreakingly intimate. you cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

it doesn’t feel like just sex, but a confession. a plea. a goodbye.

as if reading your mind, matt’s voice breaks through the haze of your chaotic mind. “why do you always leave?” he asks, his voice rough and barely audible as he moves inside of you.

tears sting your eyes, but you don’t answer. you can’t. instead, you pull his face from your neck and kiss him, swallowing the words you can’t bring yourself to say.

i have to.

if i stay, it’ll ruin you.

it’ll ruin me.

when he finally pulls away from your mouth, you bite down on your lower lip to stifle a cry as he fucks into you deeper, his movements desperate, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with his body since words are failing him at the moment. you can feel in his movements that he blames himself for this, and it breaks your heart. you don’t understand how he can believe this has to do with anything other than the fact that you’re entirely a coward. that allowing yourself to feel what you feel for him scares you. that it could make you stay.

“i hate this,” matt whispers to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i know,” you choke out, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i do too.”

his rhythm slows with the moment, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you softly now, the intensity giving way to something tender, almost reverent. it’s like he’s trying to say everything he never had the courage to despite knowing it’s too late—that nothing could have changed the outcome of this.

and then, with the realization, his hips are moving again, picking up in pace, and your head feels fuzzy. he’s fucking you like he hates you—like he loves you—and your heart clenches in your chest at the same time that the walls of your pussy begin to flutter around his relentless cock.

“matt, oh my god—i’m coming!” you cry out to him, one hand digging into the middle of his spine while the other cradles the back of his sweaty head, pressing his face further into the crook of your neck where his hot, labored breath hitches against your damp skin.

each slow, deliberate movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it's the intimacy of it—the way he holds you as though you might vanish—that makes it almost unbearable.

you come with a string of cries, some jumbled and indecipherable, and some of his name, your body jerking with the ripples of your orgasm that he works you through with his fingers against your puffy clit. your nails rake across his back as you listen to him murmur your name like it's the only word he knows, his breath hitching as he buries himself deeper inside of you. his previously perfect movements falter with his orgasm, fingers tightening on your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away as soon as the moment is gone.

he doesn’t move when it’s over, instead pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut while soft shutters wrack his body. you can feel just how tense every muscle is, his hands clinging to you with a desperation that mirrors the one buried in the depths of your being. but it's still not enough. it still doesn't change anything.

“you’re still leaving,” he says after a long silence, his voice breaking. your lower lip trembles, and you’re glad he can’t see you just yet.

“i have to.” you nod, your fingers brushing through his short hair.

you watch as matt pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dull and glassy. “you’re gonna ruin me,” he breathes out, his voice cracking at the end. “y’know that, right?”

again, you nod, your chest tightening painfully.

you don't have the heart to tell him you already have.

morning light streams through the window, golden and soft, but it only makes the heaviness in your chest worse. your bag sits by the door, packed hastily in the early hours of dawn while the house was still quiet, the weight of everything practically crushing you.

matt hadn’t spoken to you after last night. you hadn’t expected him to. after sneaking back upstairs, the realization had hit you like a tidal wave: nothing had changed. what you and the brunette shared in the kitchen—desperate kisses, the raw and aching connection, the unspoken words in every touch—hadn’t erased the fact that he’s engaged, and you don’t belong here anymore.

when you finally build the courage to head downstairs, nobody is awake, and you’re grateful. and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly cowardly it is, but running without the offer of closure has always been the more appealing option for you. it leaves no room for confrontation and hurt, or at least none that you have to face until you’re all alone again with regret and hatred swirling deep within your aching core.

you’re already thinking of what you’re going to say later when you inevitably receive a few confused and probably hurt messages about the fact that you’re leaving unannounced when matt finds you by the front door. the same hoodie he wore last night hangs loose around him, his face unreadable, though his eyes carry the storm you’ve come to know too well.

“leaving already?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

you inhale shakily, but nod, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. “yeah. figured it was time.” figured it was easier like this, is what you don’t say, but you don’t have to. he knows. and you know he hates you for it.

you watch as he steps closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. there’s a pause, and then, “last night—”

“don’t,” you cut him off softly, shaking your head. “please, just... don’t make this harder than it already is.” your voice is quiet, and it breaks at the end, but otherwise your expression remains neutral.

the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you refuse to say. the words press against the back of your throat, tears threatening the corners of your eyes, but you know better than to ever let any of it escape. words won’t fix this. they won’t undo the lines that have already been crossed or change the fact that you’re leaving. again.

“i mean it, you know,” matt says suddenly, his voice breaking, “that you’re taking a piece of me with you. that you’re ruining me.”

your eyes burn, but somehow you force a wavering smile. you want to tell him that you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind, but you don’t.

“isn’t that the way it’s always been?”

he doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says enough. his jaw is tight and his fingers twitch inside his pockets, flexing and unflexing. he hates you.

but his chest heaves, quickening with the beat of his aching heart, and his eyes are shiny with emotion you always seem to elicit. he loves you.

as you step outside, the cold air bites at your skin, but it feels like a relief compared to the suffocating weight of the house, of what waits inside for you. every day. every year. you don’t look back, but mostly because you can’t.

as you drive away, the road stretches out before you, empty and endless, but your heart stays behind—a piece of it, anyway. a piece you know you’ll never get back.

you’ll come back to this town some day—maybe next christmas or the one after that. but you know it won’t matter. the hurt will still be there, lingering like the ghost of what could have been.

matt, however, you know you’ve lost. and you can’t help the shaky smile on your lips as you leave yet again because you absolutely deserve it.

©hanbinics

divider credit; @issysh3ll.

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo one shot

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 day ago

Text

Drunk N Nasty PT. II 🥂🩷✨ (poly!Pro!Bakusquad x Black!Fem!Reader NYE 18+ One Shot)

✨Pairing: poly!Bakusquad x Black!Fem!Reader

✨Synopsis: In which you and Mina didn’t learn your lesson the first time about pushing your boyfriends’ buttons, so you decide to once again do something you’re not supposed to at a boring NYE party when their attention is adverted somewhere else instead of on their pretty girlfriends. But they’re on the exact same type of time you and Mina are, so why not celebrate the new year in a way only they know how AND teach you a lesson about being good girls too?

✨Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged-Up!Bakusquad (Late 20s-Early 30s); Black-Coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Polyamorous; Established Relationship; Alcohol Consumption; Drunk Sex; Dubcon; Groping; Thigh Grinding; Dry Humping; Spit Play; Edge Play; Girl on Girl; Mutual Oral; Bondage/Tape Play; Shock/Electro Play; Daddy Kink; some DDLG; Spanking; Choking; Hair-Pulling; Facefucking; Spitroast; Degradation/Praise; Multiple Creampies/Throatpies; Facials; Some Aftercare

✨Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

✨Writer’s Note: Happy New Year & (almost) 2025, sweeties!!!! Sooooo I remember how much fun I had writing "Drunk N Nasty" so I decided to do one for NYE. I hope y'all enjoy it! Idk if I did as good of a job, but I still hope it's enough to scratch the deviant itch that y'all have like me lol. This one is still very NASTY tho -Jazz 💋💋💋

Read PT. I HERE!

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“Baby?” Bakugou asks in that raspy, gruff voice that never fails to send tingles up your spine. “Yeah, babe?” “If you don’t want me to lift up that dress and embarrass you in front of all these people, I suggest you take your hand off my knee.”

The blonde, looking so scrumptious in his burgundy suit and undercut, is serious about his threat and you know it. He truly doesn’t give a fuck.

His lewd threat sends shockwaves throughout your body and makes the most forbidden part of you, the part of your body you should NOT be focused on at the moment, throb. Slowly, you slide your hand off of your boyfriend’s knee despite wanting so desperately to run it up his muscular thigh and grip his—

“That too, Pinkie,” Bakugou growls, not even looking up from his menu for the party. “Hands off. Now.” Your perfect, pretty, pink pro hero girlfriend, who currently looks delicious in her backless mint green gown, begrudgingly takes her hand off Sero’s thigh. He, too, looks delicious in his suit just like the rest of your boyfriends sitting at your assigned table.

“So bossy,” she pouts, her glossy lips puckered. Sero shrugs, grinning wolfishly at Bakugou. “I dunno…I kinda liked it. A lot, actually.” The platinum blonde glares at him over his reading glasses which only makes you hornier. Bakugou looks so goddamn good in glasses. “You’re a perv just like her,” he grunts. “Usually, I don’t give a fuck who sees us, but I’ll be damned if All Might looks over here and sees a hand on my cock.”

He gives you a side-eye that makes you flush hot despite the gorgeous strapless red gown you’re wearing as part of tonight’s festivities. “So lewd,” you tut. “And you complain about us.”

Suddenly, you smell familiar Gucci cologne and your stomach flips. “He’s not the one gropin’ you though, is he, naughty girl?” Denki asks, his lips suddenly at your ear. “Mmm-hmm. I saw that aaaall the way at the punch bowl.” The honey-haired blonde, along with Kirishima’s sexy, redheaded ass, sit on your left while Bakugou occupies your right.

Sero sits across from you with Mina who is about to drop her head into her shrimp salad. “Spiked, I hope,” she mutters. “This party is soooo boring!”

You silently concur. As a fellow pro hero, you were invited to attend the Heroes’ Annual Christmas Party along with your partners to celebrate all heroes and the holiday season. Though you feel extremely glamorous in your dress with the thigh slit and your gold Jimmy Choo heels with your face beat for days and your skin smelling intoxicatingly sweet, this party is anything short of “glamorous”.

Despite all the famous pros and important folks being here, and the ballroom being swaddled in gorgeous Christmas trees, centerpieces, and expensive o'devours, you have never been so fucking bored in your life. Hence why you’ve been teasing your boyfriends for the past hour since you’ve been here.

“What the hell did you expect, mamì?” Sero asks, nudging Mina with his elbow. “It’s a NYE party where very important people, like us, are in attendance, including city officials.” He pops a shrimp into his mouth and you zero in on his lip piercing. And the rings adorning his fingers that you’d love to feel wrapped around your neck right now.

Curse your boyfriends for being pierced up, tatted up, and hella sexy! Why the fuck would they choose tonight of all nights to look so damn good? Why couldn’t you go to the club, get drunk, sloppily make out on the dance floor, and then go back to the crib to “celebrate in private”?

Or stay home and spend NYE fucking until the sun came up?

Or fuck in general?

You wrinkle your brows at your advanced horniness. You can’t remember the last time you were this aroused and in need of your boyfriends’ attention. Perhaps it’s because the busy holiday season has brought too much work and not enough play that now you and Mina both are feening for some dick that your men aren’t free to give at the moment.

The rush of the holidays and working overtime for more money to buy gifts and still pay rent has affected all of you to the point where you and Mina are teeming with arousal and desperation, and your boyfriends are overcome with exhaustion. Too exhausted to dom their pretty babies and give them the attention they so desperately need.

“But no alcohol though?” Denki scoffs, his tiny hoop earrings glistening in the soft glow of the lights above. His honey-blonde hair, streaked with one single black strand in the shape of a lightning bolt, is styled back in a man bun for the special occasion tonight. “C’mon, they’ve gotta be kiddin’ with that one! Do the party planners know a single pro hero?”

“You don’t have to drink to have fun, Denks,” Kiri criticizes, mouth full of steak. He looks absolutely mouthwatering in his tailored suit, his long red locks cascading down his broad shoulders. “You’ve just got a problem.” You tut, rolling your eyes at the redhead. "Says the one who can chug five beers in one sitting,” you giggle. “And then pass out.”

Mina, Denki, and Sero laugh at your little quip while Kiri gets a playful fire in his crimson eyes. “Don’t try me, baby. I’ll show you your man can do six.” Unlike Bakugou, he doesn’t ignore the flirty energy that is emanating from your smile or eyes rimmed in mascara. You reach across the table to take his big hand in his, an electric shock coursing through you at his touch.

He must feel it too because his body visibly tenses and his pierced tongue juts out to lick his lips. “Fuck, you look good,” he sighs. “Both of you do.” He turns to Mina and her hooded, inkwell eyes, the sexual tension becoming more obvious with the unwavering look she gives you and Kiri.

“Mmm, agreed,” Denki sighs, swallowing so hard that his Adam’s Apple bobs. “It’s taking everything in me to not pull you both out of here and tear these dresses off of you.”

Boldly, Mina takes her glass of punch and slowly drinks from it, making it a point to play with the straw with her tongue. “What’s stoppin’ you?” she purrs. Your cunt throbs impatiently under your dress, needing so desperately to feel her tongue in other places. You want to be between all of them, feeling each ridge of their muscles and caressing their warm skin.

“Stop flirting,” Bakugou grunts, his eyes flaring at the pink-haired pro. “You can do that at home.” He puts his menu down and turns to you, making your blood run hot with the seething intensity and lust in them. “And when we’re there, you know you two are gonna get it, right?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hoping that he promises. And you hope that you all can go home ASAP to make up for the weeks of constant missions, patrols, and paperwork that kept your Daddies away from you and Mina. You girls can only get so much satisfaction out of each other and while sex with Mina is always great, you miss Bakugou’s hand gripping your throat while he’s fucking you into the bed or Kiri’s touch as he litters your body in kisses where he left bruises.

Sero obviously sees the molten lust in your eyes and smirks. “Seems like that’s the plan,” he chuckles. “You know how these two operate, Kats. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The look he gives you and Mina is enough to make you explode.

“Can’t we just go home now?” you tiredly suggest, pouting. “No offense to All Might and the others here, but this party is damn near putting me to sleep!” Kiri chuckles, aiming those damn crimson eyes your way. “Or maybe you’re just desperate to get home so we can put your fine ass to bed. Is that it, little lady?”

You suddenly feel his hand ghosting over your knee and do your best to hide your gasp. Every slight touch is like kryptonite to you. Bakugou is gripping his glass so tight that you’re afraid he’ll break the thing. “I said cut it out!” he growls at the redhead. “I can see your boner from here!”

Kiri blushes as red as his hair and places a tablecloth on his lap to cover himself. You wither at the loss of contact and sexual chemistry, needing so much to feel both.

“This is probably the only time I’ve ever sided with Bakugou,” Denki huffs. “As much as I love the sexy game-playing, ladies, I really don’t wanna be walkin’ around with a stiff one if you catch my drift.”

Kiri sighs, staring down at his lap. “Same here. With my quirk, it’s much worse.” Now your mind has drifted to think about their boners. Could you dare to take a peek under the table and see for yourself? Are you bold enough to reach over, grab their hard cocks, and stroke them through their pants until—

“Well, can’t we hit a club around here and then come back before the midnight toast?” Mina suggests, snapping you out of your nasty, depraved thoughts. “I mean, it’s New Year’s Eve! We’re supposed to turn up!”

“After the party,” Bakugou firmly says, rubbing his undercut in obvious frustration. “It’s a charity event and we’re doin’ charity. Now both of you brats pipe the fuck down before I really give you somethin’ to complain about.” Anyone else would be damn near pissing themselves at the hot-blooded look Bakugou is giving, but you and Mina know better. He is just as worked up as you are.

You both turn to each other, sharing a playful smile with one another. Kiri, Denki, and Sero watch on, all equally turned on by the bratty energy emanating from you and Mina…especially Mina. That girl isn’t afraid of anything and won’t stop until she’s a writhing mess after too many orgasms and spankings. “Like what, Kats?” she quips. “Are we gettin’ you hot and bothered too?”

Feeling your girlfriend rub off on you, you take a hand and slyly squeeze Bakugou’s thigh, making his knee hit the bottom of the table. He turns to you, cheeks flushed and bottom lip pierced with snake bites caught between his teeth. “You little fuckin’—“

“Ohhh, look at this!” a sudden voice interrupts. You jump in surprise and turn to the balding city official standing by the snake table nearest to you. “It’s my favorite hero couple all here together! You must come and meet the other officials! They’re big fans of Dynamight and Red Riot, apparently, so I said I’d bring you guys over.”

Kiri, for one, is happy for the distraction before Bakugou possibly tackled you to the ground, ripped off your dress, and fucked you dumb in front of all of these poor people. “Sure! That’s what we’re here for!”

Bakugou stiffly gets up and walks over to the city official, obviously hard, while Denki and Sero trail behind him. You and Mina share a look, neither one of you wanting to socialize and pretend to be interested in anything other than sex with your boyfriends. “We’ll stay back and finish eating,” she tells Mina with a smile. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll keep your seats warm.”

Kiri fixes you both with a “you’d better behave” look before he walks off to be the buffer for his boyfriends. You sigh, placing your nails, glossy, red, and almond-shaped, under your chin. Mina does the same, running a hand through her pink curls. “Are you as bored and as horny as I am?” she deadpans.

“Hell yes,” you reply with a scoff, “but as much as I wanna leave, I don’t wanna ditch the guys or make them angry.” You already know that this is what Mina is going to allude to, just like the last time you two didn’t get enough attention. “Oh, who cares about that?” she scoffs, waving a hand at the idea of your boyfriends being pissed at your decisions. “They’re bored and horny too, but just don’t wanna give us what we want. I don’t appreciate being denied.” She gives you a devious smirk that will only lead to trouble.

As much as you enjoy the idea of teasing your dudes for the night, you also know that ditching them just to entrap them wouldn’t be the best idea on NYE. “Well, we only have an hour until midnight,” you say, checking your phone. “We can just get some dessert, gossip with Uraruka and the girls, and—“

“Oh, you two are still her!” Kiri says, pleasantly surprised. You turn to see him back now, holding a new glass of punch in his hand. “I was sure you ditched us.” You grin up at him, hope blooming in your chest. “Never, baby. How was the meet n’ greet?”

The usual chipper and bright redhead rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Fuckin’ annoying and my social battery has just about reached its limit. How about we leave in say…” He pauses, checking his Rolex. “Twenty minutes?”

Mina groans in happiness, dramatic as usual. “Oh, yes!” you reply, grinning happily. You could kiss your Red Riot because you’re so damn happy to finally be rid of this party and get dicked down before midnight…and after. Kiri laughs at you and Mina’s cute antics as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll tell the guys in the group chat and—“

“Oh, Kirishima!” Fat Gum hollers from across the room, waving a pudgy hand. “Come over here! These girls wanna meet you!” He points at the girls in question—three very pretty, modelesque, and expensive-looking ladies who look very interested in meeting your man.

Kiri looks wearily at you and Mina before sighing, apologizing with his eyes. “Twenty,” he mouths to you and Mina, but you both know that this won’t be twenty minutes at all. When he leaves, you huff in frustration and turn to Mina who suddenly produces a tiny vodka bottle out of her purse. “Good thing I bought this,” she giggles with a mischievous wink. “Don’t tell the guys, okay?”

You smirk at her, passing your cranberry juice over to her for some of that liquid confidence. “Only if you pour me a shot.” Your girlfriend is happy to oblige and discreetly pours you a glass under the table, spiking your drink. When you take a sip, you feel your bones melt and your face flush from the strong vodka mixed with the sweet, tangy cranberry juice.

After thirty or so minutes of drinking, you and Mina are good and tipsy. You can tell from the way she keeps giggling at nothing and your erogenous zones are more sensitive than usual. Your nipples feel puckered, tight, and flushed while your pussy throbs insistently for attention. You desperately turn to search for your boyfriends and find them still chatting with the three girls.

Only this time, there are more than three. More women have seemed to gravitate over to your Dynamight, Red Riot, Chargebolt, and Cellophane, gushing over their hair and their quirks. One of them blushes as she asks Sero for an autograph on her napkin, placing a hand on his arm in gratitude when he takes out a pen.

You also know that you’re tipsy when you begin to feel quickly irritated at seeing another hand that isn’t yours or Mina’s on your man’s arm. Your jealousy and illogical anger only intensify when you see a blonde with long legs standing between Denki and Kiri for a photo.

The blonde’s hands are placed dangerously low on your boyfriends’ backs…any lower and she’d be cupping their asses. “Are you seein’ what I’m seein’?” Mina whispers, irritation in her voice. You slowly nod, barely even looking at her. You’re too focused on the bitches all over your men. “Yeah, and I don’t like it.”

Another fan, a ginger with a curvaceous body and a beautiful gold gown, is chatting Bakugou up, her hand placed on his shoulder as she laughs. Why is she touching him like that? Why is he allowing that? You know that your boyfriends are quite popular among the female population, but shit, don’t they know that these four sexy men are off-limits?

Flushing with envy that would make anyone green in the face, you begin to search for something. A distraction. A diversion. Something to catch your boyfriends’ attention. You find it in the emerald eyes that are currently staring you down from across the room at another table. The eyes belong to a handsome lizard hybrid with scaly skin, claws, a tail, and a tongue that you’ve heard can do wonders.

Next to him sits another pro adorned in piercings with spiked, black locks and eyes the color of molten silver. He waggles his ringed fingers at you though his eyes are pinned on Mina. There is no doubt in your mind that the two haven’t been watching you and your girlfriend all night despite you clearly having dates. Then you get a very bad, very stupid idea. “I’ve got an idea,” you mischievously giggle. “Follow my lead.”

You rise from your seat and Mina follows, the both of you slowly strutting across the room over to the two pros. They drink you in with every step, their lips curling up into pleased smiles at the sight of you and the pink-haired pro. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. The alcohol has made you too reckless…but it also feels kinda good, like being on a rollercoaster and waiting at the top just before the drop.

“Well, it’s nice to see some familiar faces here,” you say, making your voice as flirtatious as possible. The lizard hybrid smiles up at you, drinking a glass of punch. “H/N and Pinkie,” he greets in his raspy voice, on the same exact time as you. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your boyfriends.”

“Lizard and Slipknot,” Mina giggles, nodding at the grey-eyed pro. “What are pros #12 and #15 doing here at a party like this? I figured you two would be out hunting for some pretty girls to celebrate NYE with.”

Lizard and Slipknot are known for their monthly (if not weekly) girlfriends and hookups, having been trending on social media many times for being snapped coming out of hotels. “You make us sound so predatory, Pinkie,” Slipknot scoffs, pressing a hand to his heart. “I’m a little hurt…unless those pretty girls happen to be you and your girl.”

He gives you each a flirty, almost lecherous smile that Lizard wipes off with a punch in the arm. “Dude, don’t push it. Don’t you know who they’re with?”

You look across the room at your boyfriends who are still annoyingly occupied. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them,” Mina replies. “They’re busy.” Slipknot quirks a brow in interest. “And left you two alone?” he huffs. “Lucky for us, I guess.”

He and Lizard share a secretive smile with each other that you’re too drunk to question. “That being said, you guys wanna have a drink with us?” you suggest. “And maybe…talk?” It’s the most you can come up with. The vodka has started to make your head throb and your mind sluggish. But the duo are more than happy to agree to your suggestion of shots and chatting.

Somehow that “talk” leads to you, Mina, and the two hot guys who aren’t either one of your boyfriends leaving the party early to go to a club two blocks down. If your boyfriends notice then you don’t realize it.

The cold air is thick with anticipation and excitement for the new year as the men lead you and Mina down the street, stumbling around and loudly laughing from the alcohol. As soon as you’re in the popular, crowded, and sweltering nightclub, more alcohol starts to flow, shot after shot coming thanks to Lizard and Slipknot’s wallets.

It’s only a matter of time until all of the flavored vodka shots—birthday cake, caramel, and sour green apple—start to collide and work their effect on you. The world comes softer and fuzzier as your vision starts to blur, but the music blasting from the speakers overhead sounds sharper. You can feel the bass pumping and throbbing in your head as you stand on the dance floor with Mina.

Speaking of which, your girlfriend has never looked prettier. She danced to the music in her gown, hiking up the skirt over her toned thighs as she winds her perfect ass. She turns to you, eyes aglow and slightly hooded from the vodka. “Now this is a party!” she laughs. You giggle with her, agreeing. The loud music, crowded dance floor, flashing strobe lights, and endless alcohol are exactly what you need.

You slip your phone out of your clutch and hold it up to get you and Mina in view. “Let’s take a photo!” you shout at Lizard and Slipknot who have been surrounding you two like vultures since you came to the club.

Slipknot tosses up a middle finger and makes a show of leaning in towards Mina’s shoulder while Lizard hugs in close on your left, one hand on the small of your back. He lets it linger there even as you snap the photo, the white flash capturing your big smile and the drunk look in your eyes.

Quickly, you post the photo on your private IG, smirking to yourself. Maybe that will make your boys pay some attention to their pretty girls and make them remember what the fuck they have.

Mina’s eyes grow soft in the glow of the colorful lights as she gazes at you. Nobody but you despite the two hot pros you came here with. “Come here. Dance with me, Y/N.”

In one hand, she holds a cup of drank while she takes your hand with a free one. Interlacing your fingers, she invites herself into your space and presses her back flush against your front. Her ass presses against your crotch, grinding back into you as the music glows to a chopped and screwed R&B classic that would definitely get the whole floor pregnant.

Lizard has long since taken his hand off of your back, but he still lingers behind you, watching you and Mina dance with a predatory look in his reptilian eyes. You can’t pay close attention to him because Mina is tossing a sultry look at you from over her shoulder, swishing the alcohol in her cup around. “Want a taste?” she whispers, her tone soft and low.

It makes your pussy throb something awful. All self-control and the ability to make good decisions gone, you nod and allow her to carefully tilt the cup into your mouth, giggling apologies when some of it spills onto your bosom. You’re surprised to find that it’s fizzy champagne that makes you feel bubbly the moment it goes down your throat.

“Lemme get that up for you, darling,” Mina purrs before turning around to slowly lick each droplet of champagne off of your chest. Her glossy lips stick to your skin, leaving stains of Fenty Gloss on your throat and chest. You softly moan at the contact, so drunk off of her and the alcohol that you can barely comprehend that you’re doing this in public.

And with an audience. Lizard groans at the sight. “Fuck, you two are too hot,” he groans. Mina giggles, giving you a mischievous wink. “We know.”

Slipknot corners her front, the lights flashing against his glassy, drunk eyes and sloppy smile. “What I wouldn’t give to take you both home with me.” His hands graze Mina’s waist, trying his luck, but the pink-haired pro steps out of the way to press closer to you. “Uh-uh, Slip, watch it. Our boys could be lurking in any dark corner right now!”

Your stomach drops and reality barely breaks through the comfortable, glittery wall that the alcohol built for you tonight. Any one of your boyfriends could be in this club, couldn’t they? They could’ve arrived at any point and are watching this.

Suddenly, you have the urge to call either one of your men. They must have that urge too because when your phone buzzes, it’s Bakugou calling, his fine ass popping up on your caller ID. You begin to nervously sweat, unsure of whether you should answer or not.

Lizard bumps into you by accident, inching a little closer to you to stand behind you. You notice that he has gotten closer. Extremely close. He’s so close that if you were to lean back, you’d be right against him. You turn to face him, your throat clogged. “That your man?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You should say yes. You should stop this recklessness and answer your boyfriend like a good girlfriend should. But the alcohol and the urge to be a brat win. “No,” you reply, ignoring Bakugou’s call, but you keep the phone in your hand.

Lizard smiles, pleased. “Good. You’re here with me right now.” He inches closer to you and begins to sway to the music that has picked up to a song you’ve heard a thousand times on TikTok. “So what’s up for the night after this?” he whispers.

Under the lights, you see the seductive look in his slits of eyes. You can’t find the words to speak. You don’t want to say yes because hello?! You’re dating people! Four very hot, very famous people who will most definitely kill you tonight.

The urge to call one of your boyfriends and apologize for your behavior returns, sobering you up. Luckily, your phone buzzes again and it’s Kiri. You give Lizard an apologetic smile and put up a finger for a minute. As you strut off of the floor, Mina calls you, mindlessly dancing by herself while Slipknot watches her. “Y/N, get off the phone!” she hollers above the music. “This is our song!”

“Hang on!” you reply, raising your voice enough to be heard. You stand against a nearby wall away from the writhing bodies on the floor and press a hand to your other ear to hear your boyfriend better. “Yeah?” you shout into the phone.

”You two are in big fuckin’ trouble,” Kiri growls. Your stomach flips at the irked, seething tone of his voice that dips into a low rasp that usually occurs when Kiri is very pissed off. “Where the fuck are you?”

You smirk to yourself, glad to have riled him up. “Oh, you’re startin’ this by arguing with me?” you scoff. “Now I’m glad we left.” Kiri scoffs to himself, obviously done with your ass and your brattiness. “You’re lucky it’s me callin’ you and not Bakugou. He just about blew a hole in the wall at the party.”

You stifle a laugh, picturing your hot-headed blonde shooting a hole into one of the ballroom walls after finding you and Mina gone. You picture all of them losing their shit, sweating over the whereabouts of their girlfriends, and then growing angered at the photo on your IG.

“Good! Maybe then you’ll start listening and attending to your girls instead of entertaining your big fans.” You can’t keep the venom from leaking out of your voice. Kiri pauses, assessing the damage and the sound of your voice. “Y/N, you been drinkin’?” he asks, slight worry in his tone. “I can hear it all in your voice.”

He should be worried. Leaving his poor, horny girlfriend to search for excitement on her own is not the kind of treatment you deserve. “Yes,” you pointedly answer. “And I plan on going back to doin’ just that with my pretty girlfriend. We’ll explain everything when we get back.”

Kiri makes a sound between a laugh and a sigh, making your smile slip from your face. “Oh, you can explain everything to me now, baby girl,” he says. “‘Cause I’m right here.”

Confused, you begin to look around the room, squinting into the flashing blue and purple lights that illuminate strangers’ faces, clothes, and bodies. Finally, your eyes land on a pair of big dress shoes standing inches away from the club entrance. Your eyes trail up their thick, muscular legs and broad, tall build to their red locks and handsome face frozen in a steely expression.

Shit.

Kiri stands there with his arms crossed over his beefy chest, his lips pursed in a thin line…which means he isn’t happy. Fear and anxiety sober you, plunging you back into reality like Superman crashing headfirst into Earth as your six-foot-something boyfriend begins to walk toward you. People ogle in shock at him, snapping photos of Red Riot in the club for NYE. But Kiri keeps his eyes locked on you, the hot red of his irises stirring something inside of you. You already know what is in store for you tonight…or do you?

Finally, he stops in front of you, inches away from you. You drop your phone from your ear, stunned. You can’t speak. Words evade you. The corner of Kiri’s mouth turns up into a knowing smirk. “What’s the matter, mama?” he asks, condescending and smug. “Ya look like you just see a ghost.”

“Y-You’re here,” you squeak.

“And you’re in very deep shit,” he replies without missing a beat. “You and that other brat. Where is she, anyway?” Before you can even utter a breath, Mina is dancing up to you with her curls sweated out and her cheeks flushed from dancing. “Y/N!” she laughs, waving her phone at you. ”Slipknot just gave me his number! I can’t wait to see the looks on the boys’ faces when I—“

Her smile instantly fades when she sees Kiri standing there glaring at her. The situation only goes from worse to worser when suddenly, your phones are snatched from your hands as if out of thin air….but not thin air. From two translucent shots of tape that can stick to anything it wants because of how strong the user is.

“Busted!” Sero cackles, snatching your phones away and pocketing them in his suit. He, too, looks very irritated, but also more excited for tonight’s plans than Kiri does. “Now let’s get you two sluts home where you belong.”

You can see flashes of cell phones snapping pics and videos of your private situation, making embarrassment flood inside of you. Mina stands next to you, her head bowed and her lips wobbling nervously. “Boys,” you begin. Like a flash of light, Kiri and Sero’s expressions grow darker and firmer, their eyes flashing with a hot wildfire. “Who?” they question.

You swallow hard and look around, noticing the eyes and the whispers. You know that people can barely hear over you the music, but God, if this isn’t humiliating! “Daddies,” you whimper, gripping your clutch so hard that your nails dig into it. “We’re sorry.”

But your boys aren’t swayed. In the blink of an eye, Kiri is hiking you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Save it for the bedroom, mamas,” he sighs. “Now let’s go before Bakugou gets in here.”

Sero does the same to Mina, making her squeal once and then twice when his hand slaps her hard on the ass. “Wait!” she shouts. “Where’s Lizard and Slipknot?” You look around for the two pros too, now realizing that they are nowhere to be found.

“Nowhere you need to worry your pretty head about,” Sero replies, walking in stride with Kiri through the club. “Only thing you need to worry ‘bout is us.” But as you pick your head up from Kiri’s shoulder, you see them: Lizard and Slipknot tied up in Sero’s tape in the corner of the club, sitting back to back.

You have no time to feel anything but humiliated as Kiri and Sero carry you and Mina through the throng of clubgoers who stare like you’re some exotic animals being hauled off to the zoo. You suppose that this is what you deserve. Pissing your boyfriends just for good sex? Only the brattiest bitch alive does that!

Finally, outside in the bitter winter cold, Kiri and Sero lower you and Mina onto your feet and hand you the fur coats that you left at the party. Bakugou’s sleek, black Range Rover sits in front of you along with your two other boyfriends in the front seat. The passenger window rolls down and your heart jumps at the sight of your other two partners.

“Got ‘em!” Denki joyfully hollers, smirking wickedly at you. Bakugou twists his head to glower at you and Mina, his look dripping with promises of endless torture. “Get your asses in the car now,” he demands, his tone not up for discussion.

With your heads hung low, you and Mina crawl into the backseat of the Range Rover only for Kiri and Sero to crawl in behind you and force you both onto their laps just as the door closes and locks. You are trapped. Denki turns the volume to the music up just as Bakugou hits the gas, and the car zooms down the street away from the club.

You have to grip the car door and Kiri’s thigh to keep from falling forward due to the speed. It feels like Bakugou is going about ninety, especially without a seatbelt. Kiri tuts as he squeezes you in his lap, your ass sitting perfectly on his cock. “You two just won’t learn. What are we gonna do with you?”

The bass to the music pumps through your ears and shakes the windows just as Kiri snakes a hand down between your legs, hiking up the skirts of your gown. He begins to palm at your thighs, his calloused fingers snaking across your skin. You do your very best to keep your thighs closed, not wanting him to expose your secret.

You turn to look at Mina who is sitting in Sero’s lap, biting her bottom lip as he presses sloppy kisses to her neck and plays with her tits outside of her dress. “You wanna explain yourselves?” he asks, sneaking a glance at you.

Before you can open your mouth, Bakugou hits the gas harder and the car accelerates down the highway, now going about one hundred. You would lurch forward and probably end up in the front seats if Kiri didn’t tighten his hold around your arm.

“Bakugou!” you shriek. “Please slow down!” The platinum blonde’s crimson eyes shift to yours in the rearview mirror, silencing you with the level of irritation in them. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do in my car,” he growls.

Kiri’s knee has begun to slide between your thighs, unfortunately rubbing against your pussy. The speed of Bakugou’s driving and the slight bumpiness of the street help to stimulate you against your boyfriend’s knee, no doubt staining it in your juices. Denki tosses an arm over the passenger’s seat to look back at you and gasps, a wicked smirk curling onto his lips. “Ohhh, I know why she wants you to slow down,” he giggles. “Just look down.”

Kiri and Sero look down at you where, sure enough, a slight peek between the slit of your dress gives you away. “Jesus Christ,” Kiri hisses, ogling at your bare cunt rubbing against his knee. “No wonder your ass looked different from the back!”

He turns to Mina who is now sitting with her legs forced open by Denki, her bare, pink pussy, freshly shaved and pierced with a tiny hoop, is on display. “No panties, babies?” Sero mockingly gasps. “Shiiiit, you two were askin’ to get fucked tonight by anyone, weren’t you?” He snakes a hand down to toy with Mina’s pussy, earning a soft moan in response.

Kiri does the same, two of his digits slowly sliding along your slit and up to circle your clit. Your body tenses at the slight yet torturously pleasurable touch, all of your senses coming to life once you finally, finally, get your man’s hands on you. “N-No,” you whimper. “Never.”

Mina whines in agreement as Sero begins rubbing her clit, playing with the cute little clit piercing she has. Denki watches like the pervert he is, damn near having a nosebleed.

“Then why the fuck were you in the club with those two extras like you were plannin’ on fuckin’ em, huh?” Bakugou snarls, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. “You tryna get a rise out of us? Because you’ve got it.”

Kiri has begun to kiss your neck while he toys with your clit, so words evade you. It’s up to Mina to save your asses. Sero nibbles on her earlobe, continuing to play with her exposed cunt on his knee. “Open that mouth up, slut,” he growls. “Answer the question.”

Then one finger sinks inside, making her choke on a moan. “W-We just wanted to have some fun!” she whines. “W-We—oh, fuck!—we weren’t gonna fuck those guys, ‘Suki, we promise! We love you!”

“So much,” you add, pathetically moaning as Kiri bounces his knee up against your cunt as Bakugou stops at the red light. “Well, you can show us how much when we get home,” the redhead hums, smiling almost wickedly at you and Mina. “You can prove it to us like we know you can.”

He uses his other hand to pry your thighs apart, keeping one leg firmly spread away from your cunt as his fingers play away like one would with piano keys. You moan, your voice drowned out by the music and have the urge to grind your hips in Kiri’s lap. Your pussy is throbbing and gushing around nothing, desperate for more.

But a sharp smack on the thigh stops you. “Ah-ah, puta,” Sero hisses at you, still fingering Mina. “No grinding. You just sit tight and don’t you dare try to touch that pussy either. This is what you fuckin’ get for your choices.” You whimper pathetically, doing your very best to keep your body still despite the rippling pleasure inside of you.

“And if you two whores even think 'bout cumming now, you won't get to later,” Bakugou growls, glaring at you and Mina in the mirror. “Trust me: I’m not playing.”

You know he isn’t and that scares you…scares you because there is no telling what kind of torture he and the boys have in store for you until they finally make you cum. That could be all night or not at all.

As soon as you get home to your beautiful and expensive penthouse, luckily not getting pulled over because of Bakugou’s reckless speeding and swerving, Sero and Kiri are carrying you and Mina across the threshold of your bedroom like brides. Once you’re there, the duo toss you and Mina onto the bed in your gowns, making you squeal as you soar through the air before landing on the soft, king-sized mattress underneath you.

And there you and your girlfriend are, trapped in your own bedroom because of the four big, tall, and sexy pros that stand before you, surrounding you like predators. Their gazes are hot and lustful yet intimidating, promising you a night of endless punishment and possibly orgasms until you cry and beg them to stop.

“Now don’t you two look adorable,” Denki coos and then taps his finger against his chin. “But somethin’ is missin’…” Bakugou snorts, crudely cupping his crotch where his cock has begun to harden and chub against his slacks. “It’s those damn dresses. Sluts don’t wear clothes, especially expensive ones.”

The look in their eyes is damn near evil as they pounce on you and Mina, yanking down the zippers to your dresses and nearly breaking them just to get your dresses off as quickly as possible. You gasp as Bakugou yanks the gorgeous red number off of your body, leaving you in just your heels, the same as Mina. “Leave the heels on,” Sero hums, staring hungrily at your and Mina’s slender feet. “I like ‘em on.”

“Mmm, me too,” Kiri hums, kneeling before Mina’s pretty feet in her strappy Louis Vuitton heels.

A hiss whistles through the pink-haired pro’s teeth as Kiri begins kissing over her stomach and down her thighs, his big hands grasping her ass to hike her legs up. He tosses them over his broad shoulders as his pink lips cascade over her inner thighs, earning soft moans in response. He lifts his gaze to her, locking eyes. “You like my kisses here, Mina, baby?” he murmurs.

Mina slowly nods, lips parted and panting, just as Denki kneels by her head on the bed. “Y-Yes, Daddy,” she whimpers. The honey-blonde is now shirtless and just in his briefs, his hard cock chubbing against his Calvin Kleins. He produces a bottle of champagne from behind his back, grinning down at Mina. “You’ll like this too.”

Pop! The cork of the champagne bottle pops off and Denki successfully catches the champagne fizz into his mouth before leaning down to transfer into into Mina’s mouth. You watch the two messily makeout as Kiri begins to dive into her pussy, gently nibbling on her pink pussy lips before his tongue drags across her clit.

Your watching is interrupted when you suddenly feel Sero’s mouth on your pussy, the cold metal of his piercing melting against your hot pussy lips. “Hope I ain’t interruptin’ you,” he teasingly murmurs against your mound. “You just looked too good, mamì.”

You moan and writhe against the bed as your boyfriend lashes your pussy with his tongue, caressing your clit and your lips, sucking on each one before dragging his nose up to lightly brush against the needy button of your clit.

Beside you, Mina is caught in the rapture of pleasure as Kiri dribbles champagne onto her pussy and greedily sucks it up. Sero catches on and takes the bottle from him, pouring the fizzy alcohol onto your soft, wet cunt. You jump at the cold sensations of the liquid hitting your hot, sensitive skin, wetting you up.

“Goddamn,” Sero sighs, his eyes hooded and dazed as he stares at your cunt dripping in champagne. “I swear this pussy was made for me.” He goes back to greedily sucking and lapping at the alcohol as he drinks in your pussy, making you nearly arch off of the bed.

Bakugou hovers over you now, his vermillion eyes drilling holes into yours. He is semi-naked, the same as Denki, each muscle rippling with veins and power. Your eyes indulge in his tattoos–one on his right pec, one on the left side of his neck, and the others trailing across each toned arm in sleeves.

He smirks down at you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from the tent in his Armani briefs. “Ya like whatcha see, baby?” he murmurs. You nod, answering with a sweet moan as well when Sero swirls his tongue over your entrance, messily eating your pussy. “S’good,” he moans into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me.” Bakugou places a hand on your throat, forcing you to pay attention to him. “Tilt your head back for me.”

You do as you’re told and he snatches the champagne bottle from Sero before taking a swig from it. He then places the bottle aside on the nightstand and leans down to press his lips to yours. The cold liquid pours out of his mouth and into yours, forcing you to swallow all that he gives you before his tongue caresses yours, swirling and dancing in the middle of a very messy, very sloppy kiss.

When you suddenly feel Sero’s finger prying your asscheeks apart and the familiar, bulbous tip of a butt plug, you hurriedly pull away from Bakugou. The metal tip is cold against your asshole and though isn’t inside of you, your body reacts as if it is. “A-Ah!” you gasp. “Wait, don’t—“

“‘Wait, don’t’ nothing,” Bakugou growls, gripping your throat and briefly restricting your airwaves. “Whores like you don’t get a choice in this. Are you dumb?” He squints down at you like this is the first time he is realizing it.

Denki laughs, pinching Mina’s nipples while Kiri is still lapping, sucking, and slurping away, her heels pressed against his back muscles. “Obviously if she thought she was gonna get away with tonight.” Denki glances at Bakugou, mirth in his eyes. “They complained all night about the party, fellas. I think we should give ‘em somethin’ to really complain about.”

The excited and greedy glow in your boyfriends’ eyes is the stuff of nightmares as you share a withered look with Mina.

You can only wonder what the four pros have in store for you and your girlfriend for the rest of the night until the dawn of 2025 hits the skyline.

Will they bend you over and take turns filling you up with their cum until you’re begging them through tears to let you cum? Will they not fuck you at all and instead spend time between your thighs, eating your pussy until it’s falling off the bone and overly sensitive? Will they spank your ass until it’s coated in their handprints and force you to deepthroat them until you choke?

None of these thoughts even come close to what they do to punish you and celebrate the coming of the new year. You come to know what true pain and suffering are when you and Mina are forced onto your hands and knees with your wrists and ankles tied in the sticky tape that Sero’s quirk produced for the occasion. “Now don’t move too much, mamìs,” he chuckled as he wrapped your ankles up. “This won’t come off even if ya squirm. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourselves before we have any fun.”

But that isn’t even the worst of it. All four of your boyfriends make it a point to strip buck naked in front of you and Mina’s excited eyes, each article of clothing falling to the floor making arousal stir inside of you. Your wide pupils glide over each vein in a hand or forearm; each muscle jumping under a thick thigh or a bicep; each patch of hair on their chests or on their toned lower bellies that are in need of some licking.

Your eyes lower down, down, down to their bulges, each one different in size or shape but still the very things that you breathe for at this moment. Kiri notices your pitiful expression and coos at you, his hair tickling your face as he leans down to peck your lips.

“Is my baby feenin’ for somethin’?” he asks, his tone saccharine and almost mocking. You nod, leaning your cheek into his hand as he presses it against your face. “Well, that’s too bad,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna have to wait a little longer to get what you want, baby girl.”

Somehow, Denki finds it funny to give both of your pretty, plump asses spanks that are sparked with electricity, causing painful sparks to pop against your skin with each fall of his merciless hand.

Spank! Spank! Spank!

He cackles like a madman while Bakugou and Kiri kneel behind you and Mina, both of them fucking your pussies with their tongues while rimming you with matching butt plugs, all slick with cherry-flavored warming lube.

You feel tears cling to your lashes at the mixture of pain and pleasure, your hands writhing in the binds that Sero created for you, your ass shamelessly tossing back to fuck Bakugou’s face. “F-Fuck, ‘Suki, please!” you cry out, desperate to be released from the hold he has on you.

“S-Shit, Kiri!” Mina whines beside you, only growing louder when Denki yanks her up by her hair. “Please, please go faster! Please–”

Her pleas are silenced when Denki pulls his briefs down with one hand and shoves his throbbing cock, flushed with arousal, into her unprepared mouth. He hisses at the contact, strands of his hair falling into his face. “Goddamn, Mina,” he groans. “You talk too fuckin’ much. Had to give your pretty mouth somethin’ else to do.”

Sero hums in agreement, his own cock now throbbing and pulsing in front of your eyes. The sight of it makes you wetter, much to Bakugou’s enjoyment. “Want me to fuck your throat too, babes?” Sero asks, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin. You silently nod, your mind too blank to reply with coherent words.

With a moan, Sero slides his cock into your mouth just as Bakugou’s tongue rolls around your clit while your asshole clenches around the buttplug. All of your holes are played with as you sit on all fours between Sero’s body, hardened by years of training and hero work, and Bakugou’s wicked, pierced lips and tongue. “Fuck, mama, yes,” Sero hisses, his fingers digging into your hair, wrapping your braids around his fist. “Wanted to do this to you all night.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Kiri moans into Mina’s pussy, pulling away with a wet, smacking sound. “Me too. I would’ve done it at the party though that wouldn’t have been too manly.”

His cute little response probes some giggles out of you and Mina, causing Sero and Denki to shudder at the vibrations that travel up the bases of their shafts. “Even your laughs are hot!” Denki groans, in full goon territory for his girls. “How the fuck are you both this fuckin’ sexy?”

He and Sero each pull their cocks out of their mouths and hold them together, side by side, slick with your and Mina’s saliva and their balls heavy with unreleased cum. “Go on,” Denki sniggers. “Give us a kiss.”

You and Mina each lean over to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to your boys’ cocks, moaning like you’re straight out of a porno…but that comes naturally since Bakugou and Kiri won’t let up behind you, tonguefucking your pussies until the both of your moans reach a crescendo.

Mina pulls away from the sloppy makeout session and Denki’s cock to cry out in desperation, her pink curls bouncing around her face. “O-Oh, my God!” she whimpers. “I-I think I’m gonna–”

“No, the fuck you’re not,” Bakugou growls, tearing himself away from your pussy to glare at the pink-haired girl. “You’re gonna wait ‘cause you didn’t get permission yet.” He swats you across the ass, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your core. “That goes for you too, slut. What, you think I can’t feel that pussy tightenin’ up?”

You whimper pathetically as Sero taps his cockhead against your soft, wet lips, applying his own kind of stickier lipgloss to them, moaning at the feeling on his sensitive head. “I-I can’t—h-ha—help it, ‘Suki,” you stammer. “I-I….oh! I need to–”

Abruptly, you stop when you feel Bakugou’s cock slap against your wet pussy, making your jaw drop at the immense pleasure that the slight little thwack gives you.

“Nah,” Bakugou huffs as Sero moans, still sliding his cock against Denki’s and your lips for some relief. “What you’re gonna do is cum all over my dick when I tell you to. You know why?”

He circles a hand around your throat, squeezing harder than he did before, as his lips ghost over your ear. “Because you’re mine,” he whispers. As soon as the last word is uttered, he is sliding that gorgeous cock inside of your soft, wet, velvety pussy, stretching you out in just the way you’ve been craving.

From beside you, Mina lets out a high-pitched moan that is almost worthy of a Grammy when Kiri slides inside of her. You turn to watch him grasp her hips with his big hands, digging them so deep into her ass that he is surely leaving bruises, as his own hips begin to rock against her.

His cock plunges in and out of her cunt, his balls swinging between his muscular thighs, just as Denki inserts his cock back into her mouth. Mina looks so small between them, each of your boyfriends towering over her as they fuck each of her holes with a plug still plunged snuggly between her asscheeks.

And then it’s your turn. Sero finally slides his cock into your mouth just as Bakugou begins to fuck you from behind, slamming his hips into your ass that bounces with each mind-blowing thrust. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts, using one hand to massage one of your drooping, gorgeous tits while the other toys with your ass, spanking it as much as he sees fit. “You fit me so perfectly. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

Kiri laughs, the sound like an aphrodisiac to your ears. “This one is too.” He nods down at Mina who is bouncing against his thick cock like a remote-controlled bunny, split between the buff redhead and Denki as he ruts into her mouth, cackling when her body thrashes at the feeling of his electric fingers tweaking her nipples and sending shockwaves throughout her body. “Think you good girls can cum for us soon?” Kiri pants, his handsome face flushed as red as his hair.

You frantically nod while Mina whines in response, each of you unable to speak ‘the English’ right now. “Bakugou, quit hoggin’ her,” Sero angrily grunts, his hand laced in your scalp. “You’re not the only one who’s fuckin’ her. The hotheaded blonde looks at the black-haired pro like he just insulted him. “You’re lucky I’m even lettin’ you fuck her, dickhead,” he growls. “Just try to keep up.”

Unfortunately for you, Sero can and he does. He and Bakugou fuck you between them like your body is going out of style, using your pussy and your mouth as much as they want and need. It doesn’t take long for Bakugou’s cock to stroke your insides and massage your G-spot so fucking well that you reach your first peak of the night. Bakugou feels you squeeze around his dick and grips your throat, massaging Sero’s cock down your throat in the process.

“Give it to me, babe,” he demands, using his other hand to twist the plug inside of your asshole. “Cum for me. Show these extras how good of a girl you can be.”

“You too, cutie pie,” Kiri coos, petting Mina’s ass the way she likes as he continues to rail her from behind. “Cum on that dick and be my good lil’ slut, hm? Don’t disappoint us now.”

Mina whines around Denki’s cock, spit dripping from her lips and all over the bedspread. You can’t help but stare at her as you feel pleasure ripple through you the more Bakugou fucks your cunt, making you see dozens of stars with your eyes wide open.

When your orgasm hits, it hits you hard like a freight train or a villain’s punch. Your eyes close and you see the entire galaxy, planets and all, as the first wave of total bliss hits you and submerges you in pleasure. Your pussy grips Bakugou tighter than a vice as you gush all over his cock, stroking and milking him of all that he is worth. Your voice is loud enough to worry the neighbors as you moan and cry around Sero’s cock, the sounds of your release as muffled as they can be during such an intense orgasm.

Mina cums in unison with you, the both of you coming undone on your boyfriends’ cocks just as the clock hits midnight. As your sweet moans echo throughout the bedroom, filling the walls with the echoes of your pleasure, the sounds of distant cheering from the penthouses next door and fireworks popping somewhere in the distance explode from all around you. In your delirious mind, you think that these people are cheering because you were finally allowed to cum.

“A-Ah, fuck!” Denki gasps, gripping Mina’s hair as Kiri grips her ass, pressing himself flush against her. “She just latched onto me tighter!” Sero breathlessly laughs, pressing his cock deeper down your throat as your lips tighten around the base, his balls flush against your chin. “So did this one. I bet they needed that.”

“And I fuckin’ need it too.” Bakugou grips you tighter as he begins to slam his cock into you again and again, turning your cunt into silly putty around his throbbing length. Your mouth falls open at the sensations, the pleasure almost agonizing. Your pussy is so sensitive from the orgasm that it quivers and clenches around Bakugou who fucks you like he’s trying to fill you with his kids.

“Not done,” he grunts, groping your tits and tweaking the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Gotta fill you up first. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson about fuckin’ with me.”

Kiri begins to fuck Mina at the same breakneck pace, his big body mounting her tinier frame as he pistons his cock into her again and again. “Oh, fuck, this is gonna make me cum!” he warns, making Mina bounce on him like she’s on hydraulics. “You gonna take it, Mina, hm? Like a good lil’ slut?”

“Yes!” Mina gasps, her moans and sobs of pleasure broken because of the speed Kiri is fucking her. “Yes, Daddy, I promise!” Denki quiets her down by slipping his cock back into her mouth, making sure he is nice and snug in her throat before thrusting in her face. “Don’t leave me out,” he groans. “I’m about to bust too.”

“M-Me too.” Sero slips his big dick in your mouth, collecting saliva from your bottom lip before swishing it around the inside of your mouth with his cock. “‘Bout to fill this pretty neck up,” he pants, fucking your face like he would a toy. “You’re gonna be feelin’ all of this shit for days, mamìs.”

You know that, and you couldn’t be more prepared to feel the rawness in your throat and the soreness in your muscles after this. You let your boyfriends use your body, see-sawing you between their cocks as they use and abuse your holes like they were made for them and them alone. Their rough fucking causes the bedsprings to bounce and creak below your bodies, no doubt signaling the neighbors below that you are, indeed, fucking.

When your boyfriends’ moans begin to grow louder and more intense, you know that they are right at their peak. And so are you. Because your wrists are still tied, Bakugou has to reach down to rub your clit with his calloused fingers, quick and precise. “Cum with me,” he demands, his voice all in your ear. “Cum with me right fuckin’ now. Gimme another one, baby.”

With a muffled whine, your second orgasm roils through you just as Bakugou’s body tenses and he stills. With a guttural moan of pleasure, he fills you up with his cum, flooding your insides with a week’s worth of nut. Sero cums too, spilling curses in Spanish as he slams into your throat with one final thrust. His spunk coats your tongue and spills down your throat, forcing you to take every ounce of it down your throat to your tummy.

Beside you, Kiri and Denki’s moans are loud, unabashed, and extremely verbal as they get closer to their end. Chants of “M’gonna cum, m’gonna cum” and “Take it, baby” escape them as they finally fill Mina to the brim with their streams of spunk.

The pretty, pink pro takes it all as she shudders between them and thrashes against Kiri’s hips, her own orgasm taking control. Her eyes roll to the back of her head at the intensity of the orgasm, her long, doll-like lashes fanning across her cheeks as she closes her eyes at the bliss.

“Oh, my God,” she sighs, her tone breathless and soft. “That was amazing.”

“And you’re not done yet.” Bakugou slows his fast, rough thrusts down to a slow, gentler yet deeper pace, stroking your sensitive pussy walls. You feel like running from him at this point. “We’re not finished here yet, little girl,” he whispers, his voice low and raspier than usual. It makes your cunt throb around his pulsing cock, making the pleasure almost agonizing. “We’ve still got plenty of tonight to punish you little whores.”

“And celebrate 2025,” Kiri chuckles, stroking Mina’s ass before giving it a firm, open-palmed smack. “I can’t think of a better way to ring in the new year than makin’ these cuties cum over and over again.”

Bakugou presses his hand against your cheek, making you turn to look at him over your shoulder. With his hips still rolling sweetly against your ass, plunging his cock into the wet depths of your pussy over and over again, his hooded vermillion eyes lock with yours, daring you to not look away.

“You can handle that, can’t you, sweetness?” he asks, cheeks flushed and muscles clenched from the force it takes him to not cum. “You can go all night and take what we give you without question, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sero hums in agreement, sliding his cock out to wetly tap against your tongue. “After all, you and Pinkie still got some apologizing to do for earlier.”

He reaches over to give Mina a smack on her ass, making her moan against Denki’s balls that he’s got in her mouth. You stare up into Sero and Bakugou’s eyes, melting under their hot gazes. “Yes, Daddies,” you answer for both you and Mina. “We promise.”

Mina tears her lips away from Denki’s balls as he strokes his cock in her face, ogling at the way her ass looks squished against Kiri’s toned lower abdomen. “Just please fuck us!” she whines, tears glittering across her thick, black lashes. “We promise we’ll be good girls for you, Daddies! Just don’t tease us!”

The four pros smirk at each other, each one planning their own bullshit for their pretty little brats. Anything to force their babies to understand the error of their ways and take responsibility for their actions. Anything to make very sure that you understand that if you even look at another guy, you won’t be able to walk for days afterward.

Fortunately for you and Mina, your private NYE celebration lasts for several hours where your boyfriends and Daddies put you in every position possible to fuck more of their cum into your holes.

After Bakugou’s cock, you get Sero’s and then Denki’s and then Kiri’s, each of them spreading you out and dicking you down the way they see fit. And then each one of them fills you up with their spunk or coats you in it, decorating your ass, tits, and face in their cream the same way they do their kisses and bruises.

Finally, after what feels like all night, you and Mina lay on the bed, naked, exhausted, and covered in cum. You heavily pant next to each other, exhaustion taking over. Your makeup is destroyed, running mascara coating your cheeks, and your hair is a sexed-out mess. Both of your tinier frames twitch from your orgasms, your pussies leaking with spunk and your assholes clenched around the butt plugs still nestled in your asses.

Your boyfriends kneel over you with their sweat-soaked muscles and flaccid cocks, watching their girlfriends tap out for the rest of the night. Supremely satisfied but absolutely winded and sore. Bakugou reaches down to grab both your and Mina’s chins in his rough hands, his crimson eyes intense and stern.

“So,” he rasps, “you two lil' bimbos gonna fuck around and act up like that again?”

You and Mina share a soft-eyed, dazed, and cum-drunk look before you look back up into your man’s eyes. “No, Daddy,” you answer in unison. “We promise.”

Until next New Year’s, at least.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #bnha smut #my fic shit #poly smut #bakusquad x black!reader #poly bakusquad #bakusquad x reader #mina x black!reader #kirishima x black!reader #bakugou x black!reader #sero x black!reader #denki x black!reader

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jenosbliss · 3 days ago

Note

Pleaseeee can I request either Jaemin or Johnny and a female reader hurt-comfort using 11,19,25 ? And for a dash of random razzle-dazzle, could it be 7th year Hogwarts au? :D

pairing. fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin | genre. fluff, enemies to lovers | wc. 1.2k | warnings. mentions of bullying and reader injures her leg

a/n:: tbh jaemin is such a perfect slytherin! and also ppl need to ship ravenclaws and slyrherin more

The library was supposed to be your sanctuary. Quiet, orderly, and far from the petty rivalries that filled Hogwarts’ halls. But today, it had failed you.

You sat at a corner table, your face burning as you stared at the Potions essay that had been unceremoniously ruined by a flick of Ming Zheng’s wand. He was a smug Slytherin who had made it his personal mission to torment you this year just for his petty amusement.

Zheng’s voice echoed in your ears as you stared at the ink-stained parchment in front of you.

“I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart,” he’d sneered, his entourage laughing as the ink spread like wildfire across your essay. “Guess even your brains couldn’t make up for that handwriting.”

Zheng Yi wasn’t like Jaemin Na, your archnemesis. Jaemin teased you, pushed your buttons, and made your blood boil in ways you secretly enjoyed. But Zheng Yi? He was cruel. Sharp. His insults weren’t playful—they were designed to cut deep.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have a backbone. You’d always stood up to Jaemin, giving back as much as you got. But with Zheng Yi, it was different. Any attempt to fight back would only escalate things, and you couldn’t risk drawing more attention to yourself.

So you avoided him. Kept your head down, swallowed your pride, and let him think he’d won. You hated it—hated him—but you hated the thought of drawing more trouble even more.

The laughter still echoed in your ears as you fought back tears. Zheng had walked off with his entourage before you could muster a response, leaving you feeling small and humiliated. You’d tried to rewrite the essay, but your hands were trembling too much to hold the quill properly.

“Pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, blinking back frustrated tears.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a pity party?” You froze, the low, teasing voice unmistakable.

Looking up, you saw Jaemin leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his emerald-and-silver tie loosened, his smirk firmly in place.

“Go away, Na,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “I’m not in the mood.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t leave. Instead, he walked over and pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down like he belonged there.

“I saw what happened,” he said, gesturing to your ruined essay. “Zheng’s a git.”

“Since when do you care?” you asked sharply, glaring at him. “I thought you lot stuck together.”

“Maybe I don’t like seeing people like him thinking they’re untouchable. Or maybe…” His voice softened, surprising you. “I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

The sincerity in his tone disarmed you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“None of that matters now,” Jaemin said, pulling out his wand. Before you could protest, he muttered a quick spell, and the ink stains on your parchment disappeared as if they’d never been there.

“You’re helping me?” you asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t read too much into it, Ravenclaw. I just hate sloppy work. That essay looked half-decent before Zheng wrecked it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smirking again. “Literally. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” He was nothing like Zheng.

A few days later, you found yourself facing Zheng in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The moment Professor McAllister paired you with him, your stomach sank. Dueling wasn’t your strong suit, and Zheng knew it. The smirk he gave you before raising his wand made your blood run cold.

At first, you managed to hold your own, dodging his hexes and firing back with as much precision as you could muster. But Zheng was relentless, his attacks growing more aggressive with each passing second.

When his final hex hit, it sent your wand flying out of your hand and you sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through your leg as the impact knocked the wind out of you. The class erupted in murmurs and cheers, but all you could hear was Zheng’s voice.

“Better luck next time, bookworm,” he sneered, stepping closer as if to gloat over your defeat. Before you could respond, another voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough.” All eyes turned to Jaemin, who stepped forward with a glare that could have frozen the entire classroom.

Zheng smirked, crossing his arms. “What’s it to you, Na?”

“Why don’t you try competing with her in Transfiguration or Charms? Afraid your stupid ass won’t survive?” Jaemin said, his voice low and cold. He walked past Zheng without another glance, kneeling beside you.

“Can you walk?” he asked gently, his hand already reaching for yours. “I-I think so,” you stammered, though the sharp pain in your leg made you doubt it.

Jaemin frowned, slipping an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “We’re not taking any chances.”

“Jaemin, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

Without another word, Jaemin helped you to the hospital wing, his arm steady around you as he shielded you from the prying eyes of your classmates.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey healed your leg quickly, though she insisted you stay seated for a while, but Jaemin stayed by your side long after the matron left to tend to other students.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

Jaemin leaned against the wall, his smirk returning. “Maybe I felt bad for you. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to miss class.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” he said, stepping closer. His smirk softened as his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. “But Zheng’s an idiot and you don’t deserve to deal with him. You’re better than him. Smarter, stronger—and definitely more fun to mess with.”

A laugh escaped you despite the lingering embarrassment. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” Jaemin said, sitting down next to you. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike him, that it left you momentarily speechless.

“You’re supposed to be my enemy,” you teased, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Jaemin smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Guess I’m breaking the rules.” Your cheeks burned, but this time, you didn’t mind.

“Next time Zheng tries anything,” Jaemin added, his tone serious, “tell me. I’ll handle it.” You gave a small laugh, squeezing his hand. “You already did.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek now. “Good. But just in case, stick close to me, Ravenclaw. I don’t mind breaking the rules for you.”

As he pulled away, you stared at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Thanks,” you murmured again, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with a smirk, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his words.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, your nemesis wasn't your nemesis anymore.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 followers event 🌷

navigation.

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thatdesigirl17 · 2 days ago

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fading

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

based on this request

warnings: language, a lot of angst, heartbreak?, reader being really in love with mattheo, overthinking

requests are open.

Y/N and Mattheo had been dating for almost two months now. It seemed to be going perfectly, the phase where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and would talk about anything, do things for each other, look after each other andjust crave each other every moment, their honeymoon phase as her friends phrased it. Y/N was happy, Mattheo was perfect, she sometimes wondered if he was even real or if had she just made him up.

It was just another day for them at Hogwarts with their classes. Y/N was leaning on the pillar in one of the arches near the classroom, waiting for her boyfriend. Mattheo soon came in, walking hurriedly as he smiled as soon as her eyes landed on Y/N. ‘You’re late.’, she said, crossing her arms across her chest. ‘Sorry, love, you know the guys.’, he said, leaning in andkissing her softly. The kiss made Y/N forget everything as he pulled away, a smirk gracing his lips. She smiled, holding his gaze as he looked down at her and then noticed as his gaze faltered, flickering over to the corridor. Confusion grazed Y/N’s mind, never once did Mattheo’s attention ever leave her, that was until now, she turned her head slightly, to look at what her boyfriend’s eyes were following.

A girl, from Ravenclaw, was probably a year younger as she passed them in the halls. Y/N’s stomach dropped as she turned to look at Mattheo, who was now focused on her again. ‘Let’s get to class, love, wouldn’t wanna be late, yeah?’, he said, striking a charming smile as he intertwined his hand with hers and led them to the classroom. Y/N pushed her doubts away for the moment, concluding that she was probably overthinking, following Mattheo into the class.

A few days later, Y/N sat in the Transfiguration classroom. Mattheo had told her that he was going to skip this class and go smoke with Theo and Enzo, it was normal for him and Y/N was accustomed to this habit of his by now. ‘Alright, that’s all for today. I have some rather important commitments to adhere to. I hope that all you will complete the reading assigned till the next class.’, McGonagall’s stern voice echoed in the classroom as she cut the lesson short. Y/N packed up her stuff and made her way to the spot near the Quidditch pitch where the guys used to smoke.

She exited the classroom and walked towards the courtyard, in a deserted hallway, just when she heard the sound of laughter, belonging to Mattheo which she recognised immediately. She turned as she followed the sound, peeking through a pillar as the sight in front of her made her step falter and her stomach drop. Mattheo was sitting on the ground, with the same girl from days earlier, the younger Ravenclaw who had soft blonde curls. Y/N looked away for a moment as if the sight before her would vanish and then rechecked, it was definitely her boyfriend, leaning close to the other girl like he did with her. Y/N took a deep breath and made her way to the common room, her mind flooding with thoughts and feelings.

She was probably just a friend, right? Mattheo is allowed to have friends? Maybe I’m just overreacting, it’s nothing. Y/N’s mind raced as she entered the common room. She sat on the couch by the fireplace, fidgeting with her sleeve as she tried to process what she had just witnessed.

‘Hey love.’, her thoughts were stopped as Mattheo entered the common room, sitting down next to her. She smiled softly at him, ‘McGonagall ended the class early today, I came to look for you but you guys weren’t there.’ She looked up at him expectantly as he shifted to face her, ‘Yeah we got done early and then when we were walking back, a group of juniors wanted some help and we got held up.’ ‘Oh, what help?’, she enquired further. ‘About some directions. Theo and Enzo went with them and I stayed back with the others, they had some questions.’, he explained nonchalantly. ‘Huh.’, she exhaled, wanting to believe his story but it just seemed so out of character for him to just help. ‘What’s up, darling?’, he asked studying her expressions, sighing. ‘Oh, nothing, it just seems a bit weird that’s all.’, she remarked. ‘Weird? What I can’t help people now?’, he scoffed. ‘You usually don’t.’, she huffed. ‘What’s gotten into you, love? Why are you being like this?’, he asked, leaning a bit closer and looking at her cautiously. ‘Nothing, just tired.’, she said as she made her wayup the stairs to her dorm. Her mind raced with confusion, he was lying but maybe he was just leaving out some details. The door to her dorm opening silenced her thoughts for a minute. Mattheo followed her as he got into her bed right next to her, slowly kissing her temple, mumbling against her skin, ‘I love you, Y/N.’

She pretended to sleep, as she tried to convince herself to believe her boyfriend, to stop overthinking and to stop being so insecure and jealous.

Soon, all of this was forgotten and things returned to normal, almost. Mattheo got busy with the Quidditch season coming up and couldn’t spend as much time with her. Y/N noticed how Mattheo didn’t do things that he used to do, like wrapping an arm around her everywhere, resting his head on top of her and kissing her forehead, he seemed a bit distant. She thought that phase in their relationship was gradually fading like it does after some time and didn’t think about it much.

‘Matt, did you take back your green jumper? The one you gave to me when we first started going out.’, Y/N asked as she searched her wardrobe. The two of them were currently in her dorm. ‘No.’, he replied shortly as he lay on her bed, his body tensing at her question ever so slightly. ‘I can’t seem to find it.’, she muttered as she continued searching, unaware of his reaction. ‘Leave it. I’ll give you a new one. Let’s just go to dinner for now, yeah?’, he remarked as he got up from the bed and walked over to her. ‘You’re right.’, she said, glancing at the time, ‘We should go if we wanna eat.’ She reached out to hold his hand as she intertwined their fingers, following him to the Great Hall. A few steps before the entrance to the Great Hall, he drops her hand, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket instead. A pang of hurt hits Y/N as she looks at him, her brows furrowing slightly. ‘It’s cold tonight.’, he said with an unreadable expression, her voice giving out the slightest bit of irritation, further confusing Y/N. Whenever it was cold, Mattheo would stuff both of their hands in his pocket, not letting go of her hand. ‘Right.’, she breathed out, feigning a small smile, trying to hide her hurt.

Something wasn’t right, she was sure of it now. The changing behaviour, and the distant nature, meant something. Her mind recalled the past few weeks, the Ravenclaw girl, it had to be her right? Did Mattheo cheat on her? The man who was so whipped for her was now not? Her eyes scanned the Ravenclaw table, stopping right on the girl they were searching for.

The colour from her face drained, her gut-wrenching inside her as she took in the sight of her. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she adorned a green jumper. Mattheo’s green jumper, Y/N was sure it was his, she had worn it a thousand times before, and there was no way she could have mistaken that piece of clothing. She stopped in her tracks, as the girl turned around to face her friend, Y/N's heart shattered further as she noticed the scrunchie that was entangled in her hair. It was hers, it was Y/N’s favourite scrunchie that Mattheo insisted on wearing, to remember her when she was away and to let everyone know he was hers, as he had said when they had just started going out. She took in a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes as she saw Mattheo walking down to the Slytherin table, unaware that she had stopped following him. She turned on her heel and hurriedly stepped out of the Great Hall. Mattheo, who finally noticed her absence, turned back, calling out her name and following her.

She rushed through the halls and turned around the corner, her tears streaming down her face. Her emotions channelled from sadness, anger and frustration all at once as Mattheo’s voice echoed in her ears. She turned around and yelled, her fury evident in her voice, ‘Tell me you didn’t do it. Tell me what I saw was not true.’ Mattheo stopped, his expression reading between annoyance and anger, ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking lie to me or play innocent? Don’t make me feel any more stupid, do at least that for me, yeah?’, she spat, her tears still running as she stepped closer, fisting his collar. ‘You did it, didn’t you? You cheated on me with that Ravenclaw. She was wearing your jumper, the one you gave to me! My scrunchie that you begged me to let you have!’, she said through gritted teeth. Her eyes searched his, the guilt evidently surfacing in his brown orbs. She scoffed, letting him go as he stumbled back. She ran her hand through her hair, ‘How could I be so fucking stupid? It was right there in front of me the entire fucking time.’ She took another shaky breath, she could feel her heart aching, her chest tightening. ‘Y/N, I-‘, Mattheo’s voice cut through, soft as he reached out to hold her. She took a step back and held up her hand as a guard, ‘Spare me the shit, Mattheo. Don’t act like you care now, you made it evident that you never did.’ She wiped her tears as Mattheo looked at her with guilt, silently pleading with her to let him explain himself. ‘Y/N, please, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I did love you, I just-‘, he looked at her only to see that she wasn’t paying any attention to his words.

‘I hope you know what you did, Riddle. Don’t ever talk to me again. If I knew I would have to see you fall out of love with me like this, I never would have loved you.’, she said turning away and leaving him stranded in the hallway.

#fanfic #writing #harry potter #hogwarts #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #wizardblr #hpimagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter fandom

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cloudiia · 2 days ago

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★ ─── yandere sagau.

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

Barbatos simply pushed that information far back within the confines of his mind, it wouldn't have served to sway his judgement anyways, because regardless of his divinity, he was but a servant when faced against a being higher than that of celestia.

𝕿𝗛𝗘 imposter was a florist.

He exists for the sole purpose of appeasing the creator, he will do well in bending to their will, to scramble for perfection at even a mere flick of their hand, and if that same hand demands the death of the mortal brave enough to usurp the creator right beneath their noses, then that is what shall happen.

But venti, was an entirely different tale.

He was a mere bard, who sang rhymes as old as time in a tavern filled with drunk rowdy men. Spending the hours of the late day drinking his sorrows away with his seventh glass of dandelion wine, he likes apples just as much as wine, and has a particular disdain for cats and slimy things.

He was not as mighty of a god as some may claim him to be, for what he held was not strength, but love. So much of it that he'd cut down terrains to make the lands more habitable for his people, granted everyone freedom above all else because he couldn't do the same for the very first person he knew had yearned for it.

Sometimes, he finds himself sitting at the hands of his own statue, a reflection of his status as an archon, even if the eyes that have been carved to look so kind were not his own. He still finds comfort in the way it reminded him of how he was once held as a small sprite.

Gentle.

Like the way you had gifted him dandelions upon learning of his habit to reminisce beneath the stars. You didn't say a word as he took them from you, but with the way you had looked at him so warmly, strangely apologetic for an event in his life that you weren't even around to witness, like you knew, somehow more than he did, and it was more than words could ever offer.

Yearning, healing, and growth.

But what is love to mindless devotion, anyways?

He used to watch you kneel over flower beds, harvesting the prettiest pairs of Cecilia's you could wrap around your fingers, just to neatly distribute them amongst the graves behind the church.

Freedom, honesty of heart, and immortality.

Your own silent way of telling them that they shall never be forgotten, immortal in the way they remain forever living within memories, free in the way they're no longer burdened by the hardships of being alive.

Venti believes you're the kindest soul Teyvat has ever gifted them.

But what is love to mindless devotion?

Now, he watches you kneel before a throne made of gold, with a face mirroring yours looking down upon you. Venti wonders why it's easier to look at you, he wonders why it's only now, that he realized you bore resemblance to the creator, he wonders why he's gripping onto the dandelions within his pocket, now wilted and dried, all in the ways he wishes they weren't.

You're still silent, neither a twitch nor tremble on your form as you took everything they give you, violence and all, with nothing but open arms. Your own silent way of saying their hatred will not be taken to heart.

Venti wishes you weren't that, silent. Somewhere within his conflicted heart, he wishes that before everything had come to this, before the creators descent had shackled you to the fate of death, you'd at least given him your name.

He'd recognize your looks blind from the way the winds seem to lovingly caress your hair, he'd know your voice deaf from the way you'd knowingly hum along his songs like you've heard it all before.

But he doesn't know your name.

As you await your fate by the blade in the creators hand, smiling so softly as if you weren't about to bleed out on the ground in mere seconds, all Venti could think was;

They look nothing alike.

Not in the way your features seem to drip with compassion and humanity, so soft in the way the petals which you harvest seem to be. Has the creator always looked so, vicious? With the way their eyes seemed to widen with pure madness, the grin on their lips was anything but kind, anything but the way the scriptures had once to describe them to be.

Loving.

What's loving about all this?

Having their acolytes stand in a line beside them, with an audience surrounding your shriveled form, chanting for a punishment he couldn't understand why you deserved.

Venti remembers the heavy atmosphere that once engulfed the air as an order was placed upon them to hunt you down and drag you back. He remembers being sick to his stomach as he watches the adeptus, xiao, step over your carefully planted garden with little care and demanded that you surrender yourself.

Venti remembers feeling angry at you for doing so willingly.

He wishes you'd at least put up a fight, he wishes you had at least turned to him for help, wishes he had given it.

Venti wishes for a lot of things.

But what is love to mindless devotion?

"You're a brave little thing."

The creator begins, cooing almost, as if talking to a child that had taken something they don't own, but every word was spiked with venom, so much so that despite them being directed at you, everyone else feels oddly poisoned.

"You've played a mockery out of me, did you enjoy every second of it?"

From the corner of his eye, Venti watches as Morax twitch. The only sign of doubt he was willing to show as the creator's most devoted acolyte, in comparison to him, whose hand, still gripping the dandelions within his fist, began to tremble.

Nahida wasn't here.

Morax tries to ignore what her absence could've been insinuating. He tries to ignore the way a feeling of revulsion ignites within him as he stands closest to the creator. But he wonders how long he could play blind to every cry Teyvat seemed to let out as every second of this goes on.

He knows better than to assume it's due to the creators foul mood, for does the sky mourn so deeply for mere anger? The soil beneath his feet grieves for something they have yet to lose, for someone─ his eyes briefly flicker to your knees, where grass strangely grow the softest, as if hoping to cushion your inevitable fall.

He lets his gaze wonder, from the darkening skies, to the wilting plants, all the way towards the crowd that surrounds them. Citizens from only four nations had came to watch the show, something that Zhongli knows is simply a threat hidden beneath the guise of justice being served, a warning.

Anyone who's willing to go against the creators claim to the highest of all thrones will be dealt with.

Yet three archons and their people remain absent, and the creator has yet to bat an eye to the obvious rejection of their existence.

Zhongli feels his finger twitch.

The chants ringing against his ears, grating and annoying.

Beelzebub remains stoic beside him.

"Don't worry, I'll grant you the mercy of sharing your final words." The creator sighed heavily, as if that mere decision took more than it did to take a life.

You remain silent, gaze wandering slowly, carefully, as if you were searching for something yet nothing at all. Kaeya, alone in the crowd without his brother there─ Diluc couldn't come, couldn't stand there without feeling as though he'll empty his organs out at the very sight of you hurt─ wonders exactly what it is you're looking for. It couldn't have been sympathy, you seemed so full of it already, why would you desire more, especially from these people?

He doesn't think you're looking for a savior either, perhaps it's been well over an hour since you've been brought there, forced to kneel on the dirty ground, submitting to everything the crowd would throw at you. Threats, curses and stones, all of it without much of a fuss.

If it was help you're looking for, you would've been begging for it from the start. Strange, you seemed almost resolved to accept your fate.

The calla lilies burn at his palms, he's gentle with the way he holds them, afraid that if he had held it even a tad bit firmer, it would crumble. Like how he feels as though if he removes his eyes from your form, you'd be gone in a blink. It doesn't matter if his eyes are stinging from dryness, or were they tears? Kaeya didn't wish to know, all he wanted was to engrave every edge of your existence in his memory if this shall be the last chance he'll ever get.

Most people aren't often aware of how much time they have with someone, he's anything but lucky, but to meet your eyes for the very last time, to receive that loving smile of yours despite the bruises on your skin, he feels like a star had fallen just for him.

His own to make a wish from, but what if what he wants is more time with you?

Your smile just turns all soft, the way he's familiar with it.

I'm sorry.

Huh, you seem to always know, don't you? Somehow it's as if you can speak to his soul, a language he was never familiar with yet know so fluently just to answer you.

I'm sorry too.

"Hm? Nothing at all? Fine then."

Upon your silence, the creator gestures to Morax, telling him to do the honors.

Venti feels his chest thud violently.

Ei sways in place, before stilling once more. Wondering what kind of honor is given from killing someone who'd remain innocent until the creator's arrival. Her mind wanders back to the carefully preserved flowers, Padisarah Orchids, hidden somewhere within her quarters. A gift from Yae who had claimed to have gotten it for free from a traveling florist.

She'd describe them as beautifully gentle in every way, like the very flower they carried with them.

Ei didn't know what other description would've fitted you so perfectly.

Purity, admiration and respect.

Everything she should've, but couldn't't feel for the creator.

You'd like Sakura petals, she couldn't help but think. It's color was as delicate as your soul, as beautiful as the smile you wore now despite the darkness which surrounds you. Ei was once like that, sinking into oblivion for what she believed was necessary, but she had hands to pull her back up.

You do not.

Ei was conflicted.

But love was small against mindless devotion, and Beelzebub couldn't have agreed less, yet regardless of her thoughts, she was still nothing more than a mere tool for the creator to puppet for their desires, no matter how selfish.

If that were true, why do you tremble so, Ei?

She chooses to look away.

Furina though, felt hopeless. She regretted not taking Neuvillette's offer to attend in her place. She knew that if it were him standing before such injustice, he would've done something, would've spoken up to defend the innocent soul being painted a villain right before her very eyes.

She was an archon yes, but ultimately powerless against gods who have lived far longer than she had, known more than she ever could. Because alas, the curse of immortality did not make her any less human.

500 years did not make her wiser nor stronger, perhaps all it ever did was remind her of the loneliness she had endured. The pain of being left in the dark, of playing a role she did not want. She was given a script with no context and was told to do what she must.

Was it the same for you? She wonders. Were you given the gift of life as well, to experience the beauty of time and the end of it, but with the consequences of something as simple as existing?

Furina knew better than to scorn you for the sin the creator had claimed you've committed. For she knew that at times, you aren't given the chance to write your own fate. Sometimes, the pen dances along your pages for you, leaving you to slip on leftover ink.

Furina remains silent, the heavy mask she put on as an obedient acolyte was slipping ever so slightly.

Don't look at her like that.

Like you see right through the cracks and love her anyways.

Zhongli approaches you with a spear held loosely within his hand, hoping if he'd wished enough, it'll slip through his fingers and everyone would simply call it a day. But things don't exactly work out that way.

Zhongli wishes, that instead of the warm eyes you fix on him, it was a glare instead, as vicious as the ones being directed at you, because then maybe, it would've made it easier to point the the sharp part of the weapon against your chest, right above where your heart hid, but not really.

It's almost as if your heart was glowing, in a way, he supposes that's what people would describe as wearing your heart on your sleeve. He could almost feel it beat if he focuses hard enough, in fact, if everyone would just shut up for a moment, he bets he can hear the way it thuds against your ribs so calmly, easing away his worries.

Zhongli had never envied a mortal more than he did now, he wonders what it feels to be like you, does your soul find it easy to rest when night falls unlike he? Unburdened by the decisions he had to make for the better and worst? Is your skin as warm as the expression you give him now?

You still haven't spoken a word.

And for a moment, he finds himself envying flowers, as childish as it was. For they know the sound of your voice, they're familiar with the touch of your hands, they're aware of every single one of your doings, and Zhongli wishes they were anything but good. Because then maybe, maybe, sinking a blade to your heart and depriving it of life would be easier to do.

He doesn't want to, truly.

But Morax, despite his divinity, is a servant through and through. For his people, for order, and for the creator, and they, had grown impatient.

"Ugh, enough of this. Kill them." Venomous, like every fiber of their being knew nothing of gentleness, not like how you seemed to drip with nothing but that. The crowd is silenced with fear, and Zhongli, despite himself, raises the weapon in his hand.

And at the same moment as you finally spoke, Morax hurls it into your flesh with eyes closed.

"Why do you smell like hyacinth?"

And oh, your voice was so fucking small. Barely a whisper against Zhongli's ear and his eyes shot open, trembling upon the sight he was met with. Your kneeling form, unable to fall with the way the spear has gone through your chest, all the way through the middle and back out, embedding itself on the ground, prompting you up like some kind of doll made for a circus attraction.

Nobody could cheer, they could not find it in themselves to do so, as they watched you bleed, crimson liquid, as warm as the sun, dripping down the handle of the weapon, slowly, almost hauntingly. They're once again reminded of their humanity as they see the light fade from your very eyes.

Then, a clap. Alone in the silence, the creator laughs in glee at the sight, and nobody else could recall why they were cheering in the first place. This was supposed to be a well deserved punishment no? For daring to usurp the creator, for daring to, what? Sell flowers while they wore the face of a being that holds power over them all?

Zhongli is sick to his stomach.

There's no boom, no light that sparks or any kind of darkness vanishing upon your death, there's only silence. Loud, ringing, he briefly questions what he's done.

Why do you smell like hyacinth?

Hyacinth? Ah, yes. He's familiar with that kind of plant, they're associated with rebirth and deep love. Known for their gorgeous visual appeal, they're mostly popular in spring with a very distinct fragrance.

But Zhongli knows better than to assume that's what you meant.

No.

Why do you smell like sorrow?

Yeah, that makes much more sense. Zhongli smells of deep regret, before he even took a life that was not his to take, he smelled of a deep desire to grieve. That's what purple Hyacinth symbolizes, right?

He remembers now, the day Hu tao had come back to the parlor with hundreds of Hyacinths within her arms, a mix of purples, blues and whites. Upon being asked where she got them, she spoke of a traveling florist, who offered them to her as a gift to the dead. She rambled on about how strangely endearing this person was, how eager they seemed to be to share their knowledge of flowers.

The white ones are purity, but they can also represent prayers for a loved one.

The blue ones were as simple as something tied to sincere care.

Zhongli represents purple ones.

I'm sorry. Please forgive me.

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator. Gasp and shouts could be heard, but Zhongli pays them no mind, eyes trained on your unmoving form, focused on the regret he feels, on the apologies he cannot push out with his tongue, distracted with the way something shines against his eyes.

Gold.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah, that was ass.

And for anyone who's wondering, yeah I pulled those flower meanings out of my ass. Not literally tho, I just searched them and used the first thing I saw, don't come for me/hj

Also each of the characters inner monologues or, whatever you call them is my own interpretation of them, may or may not be cannon, I honestly wasn't trying to make them accurate, this was just for fun so don't come for me for that as well/srs

There will be multiple parts to this if I ever get motivation, mwah.

#genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #yandere x reader #yandere sagau #creator reader #genshin venti

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redocity · 2 days ago

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buck x cop reader with 7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) and 2) hate fucking because of the whole rivalry thing between cops and firefighters

𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐄.𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘

7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

2) hate fucking

even buckley x fem!cop!reader | 1.5k | smut | masterlist.

WARNINGS | THIS POST IS 18+ MDNI. unprotected piv, buck dirty talks a whole lot, arguing during and after sex, creampie, porn no plot, uniformed sex, semi-public sex

𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 !!

“Just fuck me already—”

How did you get here?

“Yeah, you’re a cop alright,” Buck huffed with a smile, gripping your hips and angling your ass upwards. “Impatient.”

Dragged into an empty office during a first-responders after party, Cargo pants tugged half way down your thighs.

“And you’re a firefighter,” You muttered back, forearms planted on the desk. “Cocky.”

And by a firefighter no less.

“You like it,” he responded, voice low in your ear.

He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, a breath leaving his parted lips.

“You’re the one who let me drag you in here, remember?”You squeeze your eyes closed as he curls his fingers upwards, a sharp breath breaking through your nose.

“You could have run away at any time but you didn’t. You want this,” he whispered, using his other hand to undo his belt.

“I wonder what your superiors would think— knowing that you’re getting fucked in a back office of some random party,” The sound of denim hitting the floor behind you, and the withdrawal of his fingers forces your eyes open again, an involuntary noise of disgruntlement leaving your throat.

“I bet they’d be shocked knowing that you’re getting pounded by someone that you didn’t even give your name too.” He lined himself up against your entrance, pushing inside torturously slow.

“God, they’d be pissed if they knew you were getting bent over by a— oh Jesus- by a Firefighter,” Seemingly half way through, Buck loses his patience, bottoming out with a harsh thrust that doesn’t stop at just that.

“So tight— fuck—” He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he set his pace, one you didn’t have any say in, not that you minded anyway.

Neither of you were completely inebriated, but a bit of alcohol made the whole situation a bit more fun—less worrying, if you will.

And honestly, at this point, what really could go wrong?

“Bet no one back at HQ knows you’ve got a pretty little cunt like this—” He breathes out a groan. “God-”

You bite back a groan of your own with your reply. “Do you always talk this much-?”

Buck didn’t seem to appreciate that question.

The sounds of skin clapping against skin were pretty loud in the confined space of the office, most definitely not helped by the occasional groans and whimpers shared between the two of you as Buck hardened the impact of his thrusts.

Anyone walking down the corridor outside would definitely know what you’d been up to.

He pushed your torso against the desk, his pace fast—furious—his grunts and curse words coming from behind you.

“Jesus you’re so tight—” he bit out, head lolling backwards and mouth left open in pleasure “Should’ve - oh- should’ve known you were a good fucking lay, just looking at you-”

God, how did you two end up like this?

You were bent over a desk in some random private office, getting railed by a firefighter you met less than an hour ago and loving every minute of it.

“You gonna come for me? You gonna come all over my cock?” He panted, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other coming down to your waist.

And obviously, the answer was a resounding yes.

The way you were feeling—his touch the sound of his voice, all of it was just so perfect. And as you came you were certain that this experience had ruined you for anyone else.

Buck would definitely never forget the sounds that were coming from you, the way you felt around him as you came, he knew that for sure.

He’d probably be thinking about this for weeks.

His pace became more frantic after that—desperate— chasing his own release and leaving you no time to recover from your own.

“You’re so fucking good—” he muttered, his hands gripping you, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Gonna fill you up-”

He was getting so close, and the temptation to spill his spend inside you was so present he couldn’t really refuse himself. “Gonna fill you up and let you go back to- oh Jesus- let you go back to the party with my come inside you-”

The image that it put in his head was just so perfect.

“Let you walk back out there- oh- let you talk to your colleagues while they all have no idea—”

They’d all wish they were him.

“No one- no one knowing that you’ve had your brains fucked out by a Firefighter—”

And the thought was so good—seeing you later, talking to all the people at that party, knowing that the reason you looked so flushed was because of him.

“And you’re gonna walk over and make small talk- pretend you’re not thinking about my come leaking out of you-”

Because honestly, he’d be shocked if you could think about anything else, if you weren’t still feeling him hours after this.

“Then you’re gonna find me and we’ll do it all over again-” Like hell was this ending tonight.

And that was it.

The last straw.

As his imagination ran away, his mind filled with thoughts of what you’d look like in the morning—after he’d gotten you alone again, that knot in his stomach finally snapped.

He came with a loud moan, his hips stuttered against yours, his hands on your waist gripping you so hard that you’d most definitely have little fingerprint shaped-bruises come morning.

He was completely fine with that.

The both of you just stayed like that for a few moments, your chests heaving. But slowly, he pulled out and took a few steps back, his eyes not once leaving you as he watches the drips of his spend drip down your thighs.

He was practically hard again by the time he tucked himself into his boxers and his pants, a sudden overwhelming urge to fuck you all over again encroaching on his conscience.

But he did have some self control.

He watched as you pushed yourself up—barely able to make yourself stand straight and he couldn’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. He watched you fix your clothes, your hands a little shaky, and a smile crept onto his face.

He’d done that to you.

He took another step back, his eyes on your face, watching a few different things pass through your features.

It seemed like you finally remembered where you were, what you’d both just done.

“Wow,” he said, his tone teasing, almost mocking. He ran a hand through his hair, still watching as you tried to regain some sort of composure.

“You alright there, officer?” He leaned against the edge of the desk, his eyes still roaming your body as you straightened yourself out.

“Yes- I’m fine,” you tried to sound annoyed but he’d be able to hear the breathless tone in your voice—god he was so full of himself.

“You sure?” He feigned innocence. “You look a little… disheveled,” he added, letting his eyes rake over you once more.

You tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the fact that you were still out of breath.

Honestly, the bastard was far too arrogant for his own good.

“Don’t inflate your own ego, it’s unbecoming,”

He feigned offense, a hand going up to his heart. “Officer, I am a hero,” he said, his tone overly dramatic, “Firefighters are literally the most humble first responders.”

“Yeah, you really seem like the picture of humility,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“Oh please,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips, “Just say you enjoyed yourself. You’ll feel better,”

You wanted to hate him, you really did.

He was cocky and conceited and so full of himself, but you also couldn’t deny the fact that - for some reason - it all just made him so damn attractive.

“I hate you” you muttered, your eyes on the ground.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his voice so confident, so cocky, that it almost made you wanna punch him in his beautiful face.

“You don’t hate me, you think I’m hot as all hell,” he took a few steps closer, a smirk on his face, “and you love how I made you feel tonight.”

Damn him and his piercing blue eyes and his cocky smile and his stupid gorgeous body.

The bastard was absolutely right, and you hated every last bit of it.

“Get outta here, asshole,”

He smiles.

“Meet me out back in an hour,”

#𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝐤𝟐𝟒 ᯓ ★#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #oliver stark #evan buckley smut

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isagispuzzle · 1 day ago

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EMMMAAA CONGRATS ON 200!! I love reading the scenarios u post :3. For my req, I think my most fav trope(s) ever are misunderstandings, soul mates or the amnesia one hehehe, u can just pick one ! again congrats 🫶

HEHE THANKYOUU the amnesia trope is so fun to write, idk how i completely forgot it exists HAHAH thank you for reminding me of it!! anyway i'm really hoping you don't mind angst bc this was too irresistible to write

you wake up in a bed that's not your own. you recognise the pristine white walls and the lingering smell of rubbing alcohol in the air, and you know you're in the hospital.

the memories rush back. you were filming your newest action movie, and your wire snapped mid-jump. you remember falling, you remember the fear solidifying in your veins, and you remember thinking about him.

the door opens and sae walks in. his eyes widen the moment he sees you're awake, and the next thing you know, he's leaning over you with a hand carefully pushing your hair out of your face. he quietly asks you how you feel, in a voice so soft and tender, while his eyes turn glassy. he cups your cheek and squeezes your shoulder, the uninjured one, and you freeze.

you know he's the one you thought about right before you hit the ground, you remember every eyelash and every line on his lips, but you know you're forgetting something.

sae, ever so attuned to your every emotion, pulls away. the vulnerability drains from his eyes and he stares down at you from his full height. you look back at him, and you know that he's already read you like a book.

the doctor diagnoses you with selective retrograde amnesia as a result of trauma to your head. while most of your memories are intact, you can't remember much about your relationship with sae. the doctor assures both of you that your memories will return as you recover, and to help, you can revisit important or meaningful places.

sae brings you to your shared apartment after your discharge from the hospital. you remember picking out every piece of decor with sae, you remember assembling the shelf with him, and you remember falling asleep on the couch while waiting for him to come home. he brings you to the sushi bar you two always visit, and the beach where he confessed his feelings to you, and the hotel you're going to have your wedding at. you remember hiding from the paparazzi on your first date, you remember telling sae to wait till after your movie premier to hold the ceremony, and you remember going for cake tasting sessions alone, because sae was in spain and he didn't care what flavour the cake is.

you look up articles about you and sae to jog your memory too. countless tabloids have covered the two of you over the course of your relationship, teasing that you're the only one who can melt itoshi sae's icy heart and speculating that you're engaged after seeing a ring on your hand during a table read. you see comments online praising the picture-perfect relationship between you, an up-and-coming actress, and sae, the pride of japan's football. hell, you even scroll far enough to see fan edits of the two of you in hopes of remembering the rhythm your heart used to pound around him.

months pass and the day of your wedding marches closer. you remember all the details of your relationship with sae, you remember how much sae and everyone around him cares for you, and you remember how much you loved him before the accident.

you look at him across the dinner table and you know that he is your fiance, the man you're promising to spend forever with, the man you're supposed to love. you know and remember all this, but you don't feel it.

sae looks back at you, and you know that once again, despite your perfect line delivery and method acting, he's already read you like a book.

#mmm the pain of knowing someone a little too well #isagispuzzle hits 200 followers!#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #emma is thinking...

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annievrse · 14 hours ago

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happy new year!

roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: watching explosions of colour in the sky on the night the year changes from old to new… but something else is changing too. c/w: so extremely self-ship coded, she/her, no use of y/n, ‘pretty girl’ aka zoro’s fave pet name for fem!reader, one sex joke, alcohol a/n: happy new year!! i started writing this in september but never posted it, so i changed the occasion and speedran to finish it so it would be ready for nye. i hope you guys enjoy it!! see y’all next year ;)

“Here, let me—“

“Wha—?” Zoro ducks away when he sees your hands nearing his collarbones, his palms covering the sides of his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna tickle you, you freak,” tilting your head in annoyance, you sigh, hand falling to your sides. “Your collar’s messed up.”

“Oh,” Zoro stands up straight and steps toward you, shoving his chest in your face. You go to step away but are pulled closer to him when Zoro grips your hips and grunts in irritation. A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat. “You don’t need to go that far away to fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your arms again and pull at the fabric to right it. Zoro’s breaths are heavy and warm against your forehead, and you refrain from peering up at him, knowing what will happen if you do. Your fingers knock his earrings gently, and the sound, combined with the silence, makes a shiver go down Zoro's spine.

The girl's quarters of the ship are quiet, unlike the boy's quarters, which are overly rambunctious at all times of the day. The perfect hideaway for the pair of you while the rest of your crew gets ready for the explosion of colours in the sky. A fleeting moment of peace and privacy amid the usual chaos of the strawhats.

You stand like this for a while. His collar has long been fixed, yet your hands remain firm on his collarbones, smoothing the fabric. You’ve forced him into his only suit, one that strains against his broad biceps and deliciously thick thighs.

Zoro exhales deeply and drops a kiss on your hair, his fingers dancing on your spine, the backless dress doing wonders for your figure.

"We should hurry up," He mumbles against your scalp, making no moves to do so. "Who knows what those idiots are up to."

You laugh breathlessly and nod, shrugging one shoulder hopelessly. "Surely, they'll be fine without us for once."

Zoro hums in disagreement but dips his head down, nudging your nose with his. "Doubt it."

You roll your eyes and press your mouth against his. Zoro inhales sharply and squeezes your sides, lifting you up against him.

"Anything you want tonight, I—"

"—they're down here having sex!"

You jump away from your boyfriend, accidentally biting his bottom lip when the wooden door slams against the wall. Your eyebrows furrow at the familiar yell of your captain, your mind still hazy.

"Literally what, moron?" You don't even see Zoro's mood shift; his face has already morphed into his usual scowl before you can comprehend what's happening.

"Fuck," Zoro mumbles as an afterthought, his thumb coming up to wipe the dot of blood collecting on his lip. He throws you a heated glance, and you try to ignore the connotations behind his look in front of your captain.

Luffy stands in the doorway proudly, sporting a suit jacket and his usual denim shorts, his scar on full display. "No wonder they're not helping!"

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment as your mind finally catches up to what he initially claimed. "Luffy—"

"Luffy, get out! No boys allowed in the girl's quarters!" Nami's voice echoes down the hall, and the younger boy's mouth opens to respond. But before he can, Nami stands beside him and eyes you and Zoro wearily.

Her shimmering green mini dress reflects the warm glow of the lamp in the corner, and she looks as dazzling as she always does.

"Get upstairs! You need to move the dining table," Nami barks at Zoro, who rolls his eyes and leaves you standing there, shoulder-checking Luffy as he passes.

“Can’t that damn cook do it?” He mumbles as he walks through the doorway, sending you a transient glance of annoyance—not at you, never at you. You smile warmly, ignoring the glare Nami gives you.

"Go!" Nami snaps at Luffy, who salutes and stretches his arm down the hall. And from the strangled yelp that follows, you know he's grabbed Zoro by the throat. Nami kicks Luffy's shin, and he cackles before shortening his arm and flying to meet Zoro wherever he stands.

"And as for you," Nami points at you. "Robin and I are sitting in the Crow’s Nest. C’mon.”

—

With a glass of something sparkling in your hand, you lean back and watch the stars twinkle. The island a few hundred metres away is alive with rambunctious laughter and squeals of joy, and the music that echos across the water makes you eager to dance.

“If you want to leave,” Robin side-eyes you, ever the observer. “You can.”

You shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s having fun with the boys.”

“You know he’s not,” Nami quips, sipping from her glass. “He’s probably in a corner, sulking with his sake.”

The image in your head of Zoro doing so is not an unusual one, but it makes you giggle nonetheless. “I don’t want to ditch you guys; the show is about to start.”

Nami flicks her wrist. “We don’t want you here.”

Robin rolls her lips between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s a little intoxicated. “Yeah, go to the back of the ship; I’ve heard there’s something waiting for you.”

“Guys,” You sigh, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Go!” Nami almost yells, her cheeks pink. “He made us do all this for you anyway.”

Robin slaps the navigator’s shoulder and laughs, and you know she’s trying to keep her composure. She says your name softly and nods. “He’s waiting.”

You twist your lips and place your drink on the wooden floor. “Thank you.”

They brush you off and urge you to leave, both grinning wide with sparkles in their eyes.

The trip down the ladder is a shaky one, thanks to the sparkling wine the girls had been feeding you. Your hands may be steady, but your heart thunders loudly in your ears.

When your feet hit the deck, you see Luffy and the crew laughing on the grass, their backs to you and attention on nothing but the drinks in their hands and the anticipation of the incoming celebration.

You follow Robin’s instructions and make your way to the back of the ship, your footfalls quiet. Peering around the corner, you see familiar green hair.

Zoro paces back and forth, whispering things far too quiet for you to hear from here. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind him.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You sigh with exasperation, though there’s no irritation in your tone. “Seriously?”

Zoro smiles; a real smile that reaches his eyes despite one of them being permanently closed. You grin back, forever grateful that he chooses to present himself in such a way to you—he’s utterly and irrevocably beautiful.

He shrugs, reaching for your waist before pulling you into him. “I always know where you are.”

You shove your face into his neck, cheeks warming at his admission. “You’re weird.”

Zoro scoffs, the action vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, okay. You’re the one who says she loves me so… who’s the weird one now?”

You peer up at him, eyes wide with adoration. “Still you.”

All he does is hum and drop his lips to your forehead. “Guess I am considering I love you more.”

“Hey!” You giggle, pulling your face back. Zoro’s dark iris is obscured by his blown out pupil, and the tender look in his eye makes you shiver. You sigh after calming down. “Why’d you wanna meet out here?”

He tilts his head. “Thought it’d be a good spot to watch those things in the sky… you know, since you’ve been talking about them so much.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, but his intention is enough to make your heart flutter tenfold.

“And, I, uh—”

“It’s starting!”

You ignore the yells from your captain and focus on Zoro, who is trying to formulate what he wants to say. He averts his eye when you give him a look that tells him to keep going.

Bang!

You jump in surprise at the explosion behind you, but the urge to turn and watch doesn’t cross your mind, not when Zoro is before you.

He looks up, and you can see the reflection of the pink sparkles lighting up the sky in his eye.

You nudge him. “What do you wanna say?”

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, and looks at your hairline. His fingers move quickly to brush away the stray hairs that got swept out of place by the breeze.

“It’s nothing, just that I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This time, Zoro startles. He blinks into the night once more, and blues and greens reflect off the glassiness of his eye.

“Zo.”

His attention returns to you, and you squeeze his clammy hand.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoro’s inhale is sharp as he nods, cheeks blooming with a pink hue.

“I love you,” He says, swallowing thickly. The cheers and laughter of your crew fade into nothing, and the explosions of colour in the night don’t dare deter you from the light expression on Zoro’s face.

“You know I’m bad at this shit,” He grumbles, brushing a pretend eyelash from your cheekbone. “Words.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t disagree, but you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

You wait patiently for him to continue, and the joy around you is nothing compared to what you feel inside.

“I, uh,” He finally says, digging his hand in his pocket. Your heart starts racing before you can even fathom what’s happening. “I found this on an island a few years back.”

From his slacks, Zoro pulls out a gold ring. Its intricate diamonds and elegant design cause your breath to catch in your throat, and you feel your bottom lip start to quiver. He grips the metal a little too tight between his fingertips and it catches the orange hue of the fizzing lights.

“It’s not an engagement ring, or whatever Nami keeps telling me to get you, but a promise ring.”

Your chest aches and tears blur your vision as your shaky fingers hover in the small space between you. Zoro’s own trembling hands slide the ring onto your ring finger, and it’s a perfect fit.

“A promise that no matter what happens to us, to our crew, I will always be with you. You’ve got me for as long as you want me. There’s nobody else I wanna do this shit with.”

There’s an unspoken vow—every broken part, every scar, every piece of him that’s been lost along the way of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, it’s yours.

“Zoro…”

His hands cover your cheeks and he smiles. You blink away your tears, choking out a laugh of pure happiness. Zoro’s palms smooth down your hair and return to your cheeks before he leans in close.

“Don’t get mushy on me,” He whispers, breath hot on your lips. You giggle as his thumbs wipe away the wetness under your eyes. “You’re the one thing in this world I’m not willing to lose, alright? I’ll fight for you, protect you, be there when you need me—whatever.”

His words are quiet, almost lost in the moment, but the weight of them hangs between you—real, undeniable, and from the deepest depths of his soul.

“You mean to world to me.”

You sniffle and lean forward to capture his lips with yours. His wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into him. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but that reality is far from where you stand now.

“I love you,” You whisper against his mouth. It doesn’t feel like much after he’s poured his soul out to you, but Zoro doesn’t need it. He already knows, from the way your eyes shine and your heart pounds relentlessly against his chest, that you feel the same. He always knows.

“Did he do it?”

Zoro groans into your mouth but refuses to pull away. The crew gathers on the deck behind you, all snickering but with hearts full of warmth for their crew mates.

When you lean back, Zoro chases, and the world fades back in. The whole crew stands there, shaking with anticipation before Luffy breaks first, flinging himself at you. He wraps his arms around you and Zoro multiple times, squeezing you together as the rest of the crew, all eight of them, rush to embrace you too.

The salty air and the dying bursts of coloured light make the night feel like a transition; one that marks the end of another year, and the start of a new, exciting embodiment of raw commitment.

And in the midst of the group hug, Zoro finds your lips again. All that matters is the quiet weight of the promise he’s just made, and the ring on your finger that shines, not in the warm light of the hanging lanterns, but with the love and respect it’s been holding for years, waiting for this moment.

#hehehehehee happy new year!!!!#one piece #roronoa zoro x fem!reader #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #— ann writes!

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