#Shitty Camera Phone Edition

[bat-the-misfit]

i actually tried taking some pics but SOME STUPID CAMERA made my whole hand appear red and it was not a my-whole-hand-is-red episode it was a my-fucking-g0d-my-hands-have-two-different-colors-lmao episode and the camera fucking ruined it

[supermarketcrush]

you must not listen to the evil that is phone camera

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 01: CALL ME YOURS

a/n: somewhat (?) proofread! just needed to get it out there, before i forget. 😅 alsooooo if you would prefer shorter but more chapters, let me know 😊 🎶 call me yours by lilian helper 🎶 crush by fox gunn 🎶 there's no way by lauv ft. julia michaels

The moment you walked into the living room, you knew two things: first, the cameras were already rolling, and second, you were absolutely and irreversibly screwed.

There are plenty of things to be concerned about when you walked onto the Inside set—being without your phone for a week, tripping on your own feet, being at the mercy of seven of your most shit-starting friends, fumbling your words, or not getting along with the other contestants. But instead, all you could think about was him.

Not the cameras. Not the chaos. Not the loudness of it all. Not Milli and Cinna, who are currently sitting next to you as Cinna speculated who the fuck ordered the golden straw. Just George, standing a few feet away from you, looking completely unbothered. As if nothing happened. As if the two of you didn't just ruin your friendship two nights ago.

It happened after a year of skirting the line: hundreds of inside jokes layered with meanings, countless one-on-one moments that felt far too intimate for 'just friends', lingering glances you hoped no one noticed, and endless excuses to be near each other. Friends constantly asked "will they or won't they?" as they did whatever they could to set something up, push something to happen. Meanwhile, your fans created millions of edits, insisting that it had been secretly happening all along.

But beyond all your friends' efforts and fan speculation, nothing ever happened.

Until two nights ago, alone in his empty flat.

Both of you gave each other the heads up that for the next week, you wouldn't be able to talk due to 'important family trips'—a lie, of course, to cover up being on the show. A week wasn't long, sure, but for you two—seven days felt forever. You hadn't gone more than a single day without at least texting since you met during the Sidemen Talent Show. His roommates were out on the town, and while you were both invited, you opted to spend the night alone—just the two of you. At some point, the shitty television show playing in the background became nothing but noise—forgotten between the shared laughter and stolen glances that lingered longer than they should've. Soon, the silence felt loaded. With one too many glasses of wine, your guard dropped...but it was the way George looked at you, almost as if he was trying not to. You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but he was soon hovering over you. You could feel the warmth of his breath and see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he knew it was a bad idea but wanted it anyway. His hand brushed your jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You whispered, "We shouldn't." But you wanted nothing more. "What are we doing?" George mumbled, his eyes now locked on your lips. His voice was low and a little slurred, and for a while, none of you moved. Until you leaned up, and his lips were on yours. The kiss, though soft, was hungry and aching. Like a secret finally breaking free, like a weight being lifted off both your backs. His mouth moved against yours with a year’s worth of restraint unraveling all at once—desperate, tender, and a little clumsy from the wine, but so, so real. Each kiss tasted like everything you’d never let yourself say sober.

"Can the contestants please make their way to the challenge room?" Tobi's voice blasted from the speakers, accompanied by the screen flashing the same message in bold white letters.

Cinna and Milli stood up from beside you, prying themselves off the beanbags you'd all practically melted into. You let out a playful groan, dropping your head back. “I don’t want to go. I know they’re going to be evil,” you whined, making both girls chuckle.

Taking Milli’s outstretched hand, you let her pull you to your feet. As the others started making their way toward the challenge room, you caught George’s gaze lingering on you out of the corner of your eye. He stayed back, letting everyone else pass.

He disguised it as adjusting something on his microphone pack, which only made your chest ache. Him waiting for you wasn’t odd—no one would’ve questioned it. Everyone already knew you two were close before the show. Mandi had even declared the moment you walked in that it was unfair both of you were here, claiming you were “definitely dating,” which would make "doing nothing together too easy." Her theory, of course, was backed by the dozens of TikTok edits she and Milli had watched of you and George together.

You both denied it—laughing it off with an ease that had been practically rehearsed for months. But you silently prayed none of them noticed the flush in your cheeks, the redness in George’s ears, or the way your eyes kept finding each other across the room.

As Cinna and Milli moved ahead, their laughter blending into the buzz of the rest of the group, you hung back. For a second, it felt like it used to—just the two of you; normal, almost. You had to physically restrain yourself from throwing your arms around him and telling him how happy you were that he was here. He licked his lips, and you had to force yourself not to remember how they felt on yours.

"Hey," He said, soft enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed. "Hey."

The silence that followed stretched between you like a tightrope. One wrong word—one mention of that night—and it would snap, sending you both tumbling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to the ground and then back up at you. You noticed how they paused, just briefly, at your lips. "So, uh...how are you finding things so far?"

The conversation already felt...so small. Meaningless.

You forced a smile. "Fine, you?"

He nodded slowly at your words, sheepishly even. "Yeah...just...you know," he shrugged, "ready for the lads to fuck with us." He put on a stupid accent, one that he knows always make you chuckle. And it almost did. Almost.

Silence filled the space again, thick and charged. You stared at each other a little too long, both of you trying to refrain from subconsciously moving closer to each other, as you always have done. George shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say next.

His voice dropped down to an even quieter whisper so that no one could hear (as if he didn't have a microphone pack strapped to his chest). "You left before I could wake up. I'm not sure if you wanted to talk about it...or if we can...but I think we definitely should."

You hesitated. Too many words fought to reach your tongue, none of them right. Not here. Not now.

"Yeah, uh, I don't know..." you mumbled, "but we definitely should." Your eyes darted around. Everyone else was already in the challenge room, just two studio managers still tidying up the set.

He nodded again, too quickly this time. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just, I wanted to let you know that I don't want it to be-"

"Oi! Lovebirds!" JJ poked his head from the challenge room and into the hallway, "Get your asses in here right now! We're waiting on you two!"

George let out a low breath and let out a quick smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess that's our cue." He held out his hand for you to take.

You stared at his outstretched hand, your heart thudding in your chest.

For a split second, and against your better judgement, you almost reached for it—almost letting muscle memory win. But instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a small step forward, slipping past him to join the others without another word.

Not a rejection. Not quite. Just...space.

His hand hovered mid-air for a moment longer before dropping back to his side. He didn't say anything, just followed behind you—his eyes trained on the ground.

When you stepped into the challenge room and saw JJ, Simon, and Tobi—JJ in mid-rant about how he was this close to starting without you, you smiled.

Familiar faces. Some sort of normalcy. Even under the far too bright lights, you could pretend that nothing actually happened; that you weren't spiraling and panicking underneath your cool exterior; that George's closeness doesn't mean anything more than usual.

You mumbled an apology as you took your spot next to Milli and Dylan, trying to keep your expression neutral. Out of the corner of your eye, George slid into his place across the room.

Your eyes met once—just once. A flicker. A slient later.

But for now, the cameras were rolling, the game was beginning. And you can't let Tobi, Simon, or JJ have an idea that something was weird between you two. Then you'd never hear the end of it.

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

"The challenge is Insider Dating," Simon began, clapping his hands together. "You'll each be given two questions that you must answer to our satisfaction. Think of it as a chance to really get to know your fellow Insiders!"

The group let out a chorus of exaggerated awwws, leaning into the bit for the cameras.

"But," Simon added with a mischievous grin, "there will be distractions. You can opt out… but it’ll cost ten grand from the prize money.”

A collective gasp echoed through the room—playful, dramatic.

Tobi jumped in. “We’ve already paired you up. We’ll call your names. When it’s your turn, sit at the table, open the menu, and read what you see.”

As stage managers did a final sweep, double-checking mics and cues, everyone began speculating about what the distractions might be.

“I think we got this,” Dylan assured you, resting his hand on your bouncing knee. “Don’t worry.”

Milli grinned. “Remember, you’re a bad bitch!” You laughed, grateful, until something across the room caught your eye.

Mya leaned in toward George, who seemed to be explaining the rules again. Her hand rested lightly on his bicep, a sly smile on her lips. Your stomach twisted. She was gorgeous. And George? Maybe he’d like her more.

It shouldn’t matter. You and George were just friends who’d… hooked up. No claims. Still, the way she tilted her head toward him, the way he let her—it made your chest feel tight.

You looked away quickly, turning back to Milli. “As long as it’s not snakes, I’m happy.”

Finally, the challenge began.

First up: PK and Cinna—rats crawling over them.

Since entering, Cinna was the person you trusted most. She seemed genuine; serious about the challenge, lovely, and just overall kind. PK, on the other hand, terrified you—loud, outrageous, unpredictable. You worried he’d spend more than he’d earn.

Still, you had to give them credit. They both endured the rats. Neither tapped out.

You looked up—George was watching you. But as your eyes met, he quickly looked away.

Next came Farah and Jason. Though Farah had been rowdy so far, you admired how kind she truly was. When Jason panicked about the nail near his ear, she comforted him, hyping him up.

“This is so fucked up!” Jason screamed, sending the room into laughter. Except George. He had his own bit ready.

“It’s gonna get more fucked up!” he said, slipping into that same ridiculous accent he always used to make you laugh. Everyone cracked up—but you knew that joke was targeted particularly for you. It became clear when George's eyes looked over to see if you were laughing.

His eye contact made you feel small. You sank a little into your seat, hands beginning to fidget.

“Hey,” Dylan whispered, taking off one of his rings. “Here. Fidget with this, if it helps.” You smiled gratefully, twiddling the ring between your fingers.

Dylan and Mandi were up next—"a kiss from a chicken" as their distraction. Dylan admitted what he’d do if he could be invisible; Mandi revealed her first kiss.

“This is our only group of three—a threesome, if you will,” JJ announced with a smirk. “Milli, Mya, and Whitney—please take your seats.”

Shit. That meant you were left with George.

You were pretty sure the realization showed on your face, especially when JJ and Simon winked at you. Tobi’s lack of reaction was more concerning—did he realise something?

“You got this, Milli.” You gave her a smile as she stood.

Creepy spiders crawled across their heads as they answered: Milli’s most embarrassing date story, the most famous person in Mya’s DMs… and then Whitney tapped out. Another $10K lost. Fuck.

Now it was your turn.

Tobi called out yours and George’s names. JJ led the group into a chorus of exaggerated “Ooooohs.”

You forced a laugh, heart pounding as you stood. George met you halfway, giving your hand a quick squeeze. You hadn’t realized how visibly nervous you were—but he had.

Still, he looked away quickly. His expression unreadable.

“Go on, loverbirds!” Jason heckled. The group erupted in laughter. George flipped him off, and you forced a laugh.

You sat across from each other, and today, the table felt too small. George slid his foot between yours—a subtle touch to ground you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

As always, JJ made another joke at your two's expense “This isn’t your first date, so you know what to do.” You rolled your eyes and flipped him off again, earning some more laughter.

"Please open the menus." Simon instructed.

You flipped it open.

SHOCKING QUESTIONS.

“Ladies first,” JJ said, smirking. “So George, you're up.” George nodded in resignation as a technician locked you both into the shock devices.

You look at the questions listed on your menu. "What is your worst online dating experience?"

You’d heard this one before. But instead of listening, your eyes tracked the way he flinched—eyebrows furrowing in pain. Your hand instinctively reached for his, ignoring the group’s collective aww. You squeezed it, silently telling him to hang on. He squeezed back.

“Was that satisfactory?” George muttered, wincing.

Tobi, Simon, and JJ nodded. "Please ask the next question."

Really? You turned to look at the three hosts, who all had a mischievous look in their eye. These bastards.

"Snog, marry, and avoid three Insiders." He's going to say Mya.

George hesitated. "Do I really have to answer this?"

“You can tap out,” JJ taunted, “but we all know what your going to say anyway."

“Can it be any gender?” George asked, trying to stall. A shock hit. He grimaced, then gave in.

“Snog Cinna. Marry you. Avoid Farah.” He turned to Farah. “Sorry—you’re quite loud.”

“Fair,” she shrugged. She had admitted that was her red flag.

Tobi clapped. "Good job, George. It's now your turn to ask the questions."

"Which Insider do you currently trust the least?" George asked hesitantly, his hand now enveloping yours even before the shocks started.

The jolt shot through you. You yelped.

“This is unfair—I've just met them!” you protested. Another shock hit. You squeezed George’s hand tighter.

“You can always back out,” Simon teased, shuffling the cards.

But ten thousand...

Cinna came to your rescue. "It's okay! We won't be offended, right guys?" She got everyone to agree.

“Okay, really, no offense, but—either Whitney or Mandi!” They immediately jumped up, demanding to know why.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded. “It’s obvious one of you got the golden straw, and your denial makes me not trust you. Just admit it—it’s teamwork, so there's no point in being mad. ’Just be honest.” You were rambling, rushing to defuse the tension. “Also—the prices are literally extortionate! Who the fuck charges that much for a straw?” you added.

As the group laughed at your extra comment, the Sidemen motioned that the answer was satisfactory.

“George, just—please ask the next question,” you blurted, voice getting higher as you try and ignore the pain.

He looked down, face flushing red.

“Really?” he asked the Sidemen. They nodded. He berudgingly asked the next question; “Which Insider of the opposite sex would you… uh… be willing to share a bed with?”

“Agh—literally fuck off!” you yelled, jolted by the next shock.

You could answer honestly. Or safely. But the pain—and your instinct—won.

"George." You didn't dare look him in the eye, instead staring at the ceiling. You didn't see George's gaze fixating on the menu, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"Why?" JJ prodded.

“That’s not part of the question!” George defended for you.

“Uh uh,” Simon tutted. “We decide when the answer’s complete.”

Tobi stayed silent. And that’s when you were sure—he realised something was up.

You didn’t care anymore. “I’ve fallen asleep in planes with him, and on his couch plenty of times.” Even before two nights ago, you've stayed the night countless of times; mostly on his sofa, whether that is side by side on the chaise lounge or on his shoulder.

The Sidemen finally nodded. Accepted.

With the challenge over, the hosts announced how much prize money had been lost. Everyone began to file out—some toward the shop, others back to the living room.

George lingered by the door, waiting for you who stayed behind to playfully punch JJ in the shoulder.

“Hey, can we get you in Room 19 for a confessional?” a producer asked, pulling you aside. “Tobi wants to speak with you too.”

He knew.

You turned to George, his eyes locked on yours. Sorry, you mouthed. Later.

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

Room 19 was too bright and too quiet .

Tobi was already inside, lounging on the sofa like he hadn’t just summoned you in. He’d asked the camera crew to give you two a minute.

You slid into the sofa beside him, hiding your face in the back of the sofa. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be told off?"

He didn’t answer—just looked at you, like he was waiting for you to crack.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Something happened."

You shook your head too quickly, too defensively.

Tobi, of all people, wasn’t going to buy that. He knew. He knew. Ever since the YouTuber Pub Quiz—when he’d finally gotten fed up with watching you and George make heart eyes for three hours while being far too close to him. He heard firsthand George calling you snookums and had to physically pull George closer to him in order to protect their answers, especially after George kept gravitating towards you. When Tobi pulled you aside that night, he managed to get you to confirm it, drunk and giggly (fuelled by the alcohol from the night, and the shots you did with George), slurring out your not-so-little crush.

Maybe this was your sign to stop drinking.

“Don’t even deny it,” he said. “You and Mr. Architect aren’t acting like your usual lovesick selves.”

You rolled your eyes, scowling. “Fine. But you can’t tell any of the boys.”

Tobi mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key. You sighed.

“We slept together.”

His jaw dropped. “And?”

“And… nothing. We haven’t talked about it.” You could see the panic spiral forming in his head. “We were both drunk, and it was two nights before filming. We didn’t know we’d be here together. I kind of… left before he woke up.”

Tobi groaned. “You idiot. You didn’t want it to be awkward, so you made it more awkward.”

“I panicked!”

“For what it’s worth,” he muttered, “that poor sucker looks even more in love with you than before.”

“Tobi, we haven’t even made eye contact.”

“He looked wrecked when you were hurting earlier. That wasn’t acting. And trust me—Clarkey can't act for shit. Trust me, I've seen it."

You snorted. He wasn’t wrong.

There was a long pause. You didn’t say anything more. Not yet.

“They’re gonna call you for a confessional soon,” he said gently. “You good?” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess of George. "If you ever need a break, just ask them to go to the smoker's area. And, if you ever need to talk to me, just say so. We can hear everything."

You gave him a grateful smile, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him.

The crew came back in, cameras rolling.

You straightened your shoulders, just enough to fake composure. Although the world as you know it felt shook to its core, you had to pretend it was all fine.

Giving the producer a small nod, you convinced yourself you could do this. You'd done harder things. You just should not mention George, as much as you want to.

Maybe being away from your phone is harder than you thought. You wished you could text your roommate for her advice, although you could already guess what they were. Maybe you just needed the comfort. Maybe you just need George.

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

The end of the day came around faster than you expected.

With two new faces—Patrice (or “Uncle”, as he insisted) and DDG—the group loosened up again, especially after that tense challenge. Chaos resumed not long after, as people either tried to sneakily snag meal upgrades or tried to stomach the quite...unpleasant dinner prepared.

You wanted to keep track of who was doing what, to have a better idea of who to trust. But George was already on top of it. And right now, you couldn’t trust yourself around George, let alone what you might say if you were alone with him.

So you stuck close to who you could trust so far; Milli, Dylan, Jason,a and Cinna. Luckily, DDG managed to wrangle everyone into a budgeting talk—half serious, half banter—and you nodded along, grateful for the distraction.

Across the room, George finally stopped circling the space, his self-appointed half-joking job of policing the 'ruffians' (his words, not yours) done for the evening. But his gaze kept drifting. Back to you.

His eyes were pleading.

You could tell he wanted to talk. Needed to talk. About that night.

And you knew you should.

And part of you really, really wanted to.

But you were scared.

With a week still ahead of you—and cameras in every corner—this wasn’t the time.

Not quite yet.

Not quite here.

So you laughed a little louder with Dylan, leaned a little closer to Milli, and pulled Cinna deeper into the conversation.

Maybe you could avoid him for seven more days.

Maybe by then, you’d know what to say.

Maybe, in the real world, without all these cameras, this would feel less messy.

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

taglist: @rubyskies

[cuteandhughesy]

I’m Talking Nonsense╰┈➤ MR96

summary: everyone in the avalanche social media room knows that getting mikko rantanen to participate in content was a lost cause—that is until you showed up.

[word count] 4.3k

warnings: MATURE! flirting | lil bit of pining | mature themes | lil hot and heavy kissing | allusions to sex but no actual smut | read at your own discretion

a/n: okay…so obviously I started writing this before the trade—because nobody in their right mind was expecting mikko to get traded. but I digress, anyways! I originally wanted to post this on valentine’s day but in this moment of sadness, I knew all the mikko girls (myself included) needed this pick me up ❤️ to all you liking my old mikko fic—I see yall and we got this.

🎵 nonsense by sabrina carpenter

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

mikko rantanen didn't hate social media — actually, no he did hate it. the finnish native always knew it to be invasive and impersonal, and he'd rather not have to look at fake happy, posed pictures and videos that make his life feel less than. and that's coming for a guy living as a professional athlete.

so when tiktok started gaining more traction and other nhl teams were making accounts for their respective teams—mikko was dreading it. he thought there was a level of privacy that should be respected, and having a camera shoved in your face is totally breaching boundaries. the thought of the avalanche making an account was just not something he wanted.

after a shitty practice—hell even a good practice—the last thing he wanted was to be asked if he thought he could land a plane, or if he believes in aliens...mikko just wanted to go home.

and mikko understands that the social admin was simply doing their jobs, but he couldn't help but fill with irritation anytime they'd approach him with the phone and mini-microphone and/or question cup. it was the quickest way to piss him off.

it didn't help that the avalanche fans were always in the comments asking about his noticeable absence. they wanted to see more of their assistant captain outside of gruelling post-game interviews and game highlights—they wanted the real and fun side of mikko they very rarely had the chance of seeing.

but that didn't change mikko's opinion of social media—he'd avoid the admin team at any costs, especially when he saw that stupid tiktok phone and various props he knew he'd hate to use.

that is, until you showed up.

the first time mikko saw you—standing behind the usual admin suspects with a nervous gaze and fiddling hands—he didn't think much of it. sure, you were pretty, but mikko thinks a lot of girls are pretty.

but then as the months past and your surprisingly warm and bubbly personality began peeking through your hard exterior shell, mikko begin feeling intrigued. you are always smiling, even if someone is giving you a hard time—when he is giving you a hard time—and you're constantly trying to bond with the players. you remember who these athletes are at their core—human, which a lot of people in your job description seem to forget.

the team quickly grew fond of you, and when they saw it was you in the hallway with a cup of questions, or in their locker room with that stupid tiny microphone—the energy would shift. that's just how you are though—vibrant and welcoming, and the guys feed off that energy and turn into a fun group of giddy boys.

even nathan mackinnon, who was almost as turned off by social media as mikko, enjoyed your company, doing silly things for tiktok's he'd never even dreamed of.

it had mikko's own exterior beginning to crack. before he'd be more apprehensive to the idea of participating in social media trends he had no clue about, but you and your grin had him changing.

—

lina, your co-worker looks at you over the top of her laptop, analyzing your soft face as you work on your own computer—editing a tiktok that needed to go up today. you're left with very minimal time, as the avalanche practice finishes in 5 minutes. which means in 15 you both have to head down for some more content.

it's the third time in the past minute lina as looked at you—you can feel her eyes burning through the middle of your forehead. slowly, your eyes trial up and meet hers, a questioning pull to your furrowed eyebrows. "you okay?"

she huffs—not in annoyance or impatience, but rather curiosity. lina flicks her red hair over her shoulder, and then crosses her arms—her gaze never leaving yours. "i'm trying to figure out how you do it."

you're even more confused now. "do what?"

lina snorts like it's obvious. "you've been here five months, y/n. it's been five months of watching you work with the guys and more specifically, getting mikko to work with you."

your lips contort into a confused pout—any more confusion and your head will begin to pound. you're not sure what lina is trying to imply, because as far as you know all the guys on the avs are extremely good with you and have never given you a hard time—that's just how they are...right?

"mikko is great." you hum dismissively, your fingers resuming their place on your keyboard as you continue the code in your side bar to enable the audio change in the clip—attempting to remove ross' loud voice from the background so you can better hear cale's answer.

"that's the thing," lina starts, eyes full of amusement as she leans over the table. "he's really not."

you pause. "what?"

"before you showed up, mikko was always turning a blind eye to me and nick. if we even attempted to talk to him the way you do—well, it never ended how we wanted it to." her face contorts as if she's reliving it.

one of your brows raise in question. "did he like...sentence you to a guillotine or something?"

lina disapproves of your humorous tone, sending you daggers across the meeting room table. she shuts her laptop, resting her elbow atop the logo as she puts her chin in her palm. "ha ha."

satisfied with her pointed response, you get back to work. but, lina isn't done. "he hates this kind of stuff."

"no he doesn't," you retort quickly. "mikko seems happy when I have questions for him. in fact, yesterday he came over to me and asked for one—said something about how they 'make his day bright'" you mimic mikko's deep accent to the best of your abilities, but you sound more like a drowning troll rather than the 6"4 winger.

lina's eyes widen comically—she can't believe what's she's hearing. "anytime I even point the phone in his direction he scowls and walks away. so what are you doing to get him to cooperate?" she eyes you quizzically for a moment before a devious lightbulb goes off in her head, expression morphing into a playful, teasing one. "are you fucking him?"

you squeak, and your cheeks heat up to an undeniable level of embarrassment. "no!" and it's true—of course you're not sleeping with mikko.

she raises her hands in surrender, but her smile doesn't let up. "I wouldn't blame you if you were, y/n. he's hot—like stupid hot."

"okay," you huff, covering your burning cheeks with your hands. "maybe you should sleep with him then."

lina snorts. "trust me—if I could get near him I would."

"you know," you start, "I really don't think what you're saying is true. maybe mikko didn't like it in the past, but I think he's changed his option on the social media stuff."

she raises her brow—almost challengingly. "think so?"

"yup." you hum.

"let's test it, then." lina chimes. "today i'll go up to mikko first, and ill do exactly what you would do when approaching him. and when he sends me away—which he will—then you'll go up to him, and we'll see what happens."

it's tempting—mostly because you're certain there won't be a difference in the way mikko acts towards you then he does lina. sure, mikko isn't always the most sunshine and rainbows when it comes to his personality, but he's always been compliant with you.

so although he's broody and definitely not in love with the idea of having a camera in his face—you're sure he's not going to turn lina away.

"you're on."

it's not 5 minutes later you're both packing up your respective things, preparing to make your way down to the locker room where the guys are surly anticipating your and lina's arrival.

the room is bustling with people—half dressed hockey players and pressing reporters fill the locker room, which creates a slightly hectic environment—but you're used to it by now. so neither of you seem suspicious, you ask a few of the other avs players your selected questions for the day. questions you and lina had argued about for the entire morning—she thought most of them were stupid, you thought they were was hilarious.

plus, the reporters are still swarmed around mikko's stall—the finnish native standing in the middle with a deadpanned look on his face, barley listening to them as they ask the same repetitive questions as usual.

you and lina get some good content from ross colton and josh manson, both players giving you ridiculous and enthusiastic responses to the absurd questions you'd earlier shoved in the alumni silver cup.

lina's mischievous look is back as the sea of middle aged reporters move onto their next victim—cale makar—leaving mikko by his lonesome. "i'll be back." before you can react, she plucks the phone out of your hands, effortlessly making her way through the room until she's in front of mikko.

you strain your ears, but it's no use as the chatter in the locker room is too overpowering, and you're unable to hear lina or mikko. miles wood gives you an odd look—eyeing the way you stand ridged beside his stall, gnawing your thumb as you watch lina talk to the blonde winger—but you don’t notice.

it's only a moment before lina turns around, her grin even wider than it was before as she makes her way back towards you. "your turn." she chimes, thrusting the phone back in your palms.

"what happened?" you question.

lina raises one her brows, pushing you in the direction of mikko's stall. "he didn't want to answer anymore questions."

"okay," you draw. "so maybe I shouldn't go over there."

lina continues guiding you in his general direction. "no it's actually exactly why you should go over there."

you don't get to argue any further as you're suddenly right in front of mikko—almost too close, and if you take another step towards him you're thighs will bump his knees.

speaking of thighs—mikko's are on full display. the huge, muscle carved limbs spread wide as he manspreads in his stall. the expanse of smooth, hard skin making you feel flustered and suddenly intrigued. your eyes flicker upwards, finding the icy blue ones of mikko looking back at you.

you swallow, a heat rising to your cheeks. "hi, mikko."

"hi, y/n." he says your name playfully, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. "you okay?"

you nod too quickly and immediately curse yourself for acting so uncool. you've never been this nervous around any of the avs, especially not mikko, but lina's comments about his looks earlier are lingering in your mind—leaving you flustered.

because obviously you are aware mikko is hot, but now you can't help but be really aware of the fact. damn lina.

"yeah," you clear your throat, clutching the cellphone tightly in your hand. "I was actually just wondering if you'd answer a question for tiktok? for me? promise it'll be quick."

his eyes flicker over your warm, hopeful face, and after a beat he sighs gently, a quick nod following. "yeah I can do that for you."

you can't help the way your eyes widen at his agreement. mikko seems oblivious to your shocked state, removing his remaining elbow pad and tossing it towards the back of his messy stall.

you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, and even with the sweat lingering across his forehead and soaking his branded undershirt, mikko smells so good. he's always been enveloped in a cloud of clean laundry and something slightly woodsy, and even though you're extremely professional, it never fails to make you falter.

you clear your throat and your head. "really?"

mikko runs the damp towel previously hung around his neck through his messy curls, making the appearance of them even more fluffy and soft. his eyes twinkle with amusement, a matching half smile blossoming on his lips. "yeah, really. why do you sound shocked?"

you make a tiny noise of confusion in the back of your throat, shooting a glance to lina over your shoulder. she sends you a triumphant look, brow raised like she knew that she was right.

she is right.

you look back at mikko quickly, "I just thought..." you trail off, brows pulling tightly as you think about the excuse he gave to lina—you're so confused. you've never noticed before if mikko had a certain favouritism towards you over lina, or even nick. I mean, you never paid attention to anything like that—but now you feel like you should be more aware, because this doesn't make sense.

"you thought..?" mikko raises one eyebrow, waiting for the second half of your sentence.

"nothing." you blink quickly, adjusting the phone in your hand. "sorry, let's just get to it."

you're still in some sort of shock for the rest of the day—the pieces of the puzzle in your mind loose and turned upside down as you try and understand mikko's dismissal of lina, or better yet, his compliance with you.

it had you further trying to solve the mystery. does mikko just prefer you? does he like your voice over your co-workers? maybe you smell like his favourite desert? does he like you? does mikko want to fuck you?

you're not sure where to pinpoint the source, but you're also determined to find the answer. with some help for lina, and even a little input from nick, you conjure up a plan—which lina finds the upmost entertainment in.

but you mean nothing but business. for the next few weeks it's only you who works with mikko rantanen—it's you asking him questions and having him participate in stupid games. and without fail, every single time you ask him, mikko complies.

so you get crazier with it. whether it's a questions about my little pony—a show mikko has never even heard of—or having him lift you onto his shoulder while a sabrina carpenter song plays through the tiktok recording—he is participating without complaining.

every. single. time.

it has your good friends, but ever so annoying colleagues theorizing.

"maybe he's got a thing for girls with her hair colour? can't resist them." nick chimes, sipping some piping hot coffee from an avalanche branded mug.

you roll your eyes, pulling open the microwave to grab your shitty frozen meal.

lina's laugh echos through the staff room, "mhmm...or maybe her eye colour." she sends you a teasing look before slurping some saucy noddles up into her mouth.

before you can respond nick pipes up again, "he definitely wants in her pants."

you take a seat beside lina—across from your male coworker—and send them both a slightly amused, but deadpanned look. "are you guys done?"

despite your attitude towards them, you can't help but wonder if their theories are correct. sure, mikko seems sweet enough—towards you anyways—but with the way you're barley pushing him into participating in stupid little tiktok's, has you pondering. mikko is nice...but not that nice.

is he just trying to get into your pants? and then forgot about you? the thought has you feeling angry, because you're not just some girl who he can treat nicely until he gets what he wants—absolutely not. and you're not going to let him treat you like a fool, just because he wants his dick wet.

the following day you’re determined to get answers and put your mind at ease. you like mikko—he’s a great guy—but you don’t want to feel like you’re being used. there was a team meeting and breakfast today, without the pressure of practice or a game—essentially an off day for the guys.

as the chaos of the dining room begins clearing out, only a few lingering athletes and staff members at some of the tables, you make your way across the room with a determined step, looking for mikko.

you catch the broad expanse of his back and blonde hair sticking out from underneath his beanie just as he slips out the door. you grumble to yourself, speeding up in hopes to catch him before he leaves the facility.

pushing open the rather heavy door to the hallway, you’re immediately greeted by his familiar laugh and gabe landeskogs smooth voice—spewing some dad joke that only mikko would find funny.

before you can sike yourself out, you march up to the two european teammates. “rantanen, I need to talk to you.”

they pause in their slow steps, conversation halting abruptly as both men turn to look at you. the sight of your hard expression and pointed gaze has mikko swallowing roughly, eyeing you with confusion.

gabe snickers quietly, the sound missing your ears, and pats mikko’s shoulder sympathetically. “last name, huh? good luck.” with that the avalanche captain stalks off, disappearing down the quiet hallway.

you cross your arms defensively, looking up—way up—at him, tone rough and determined. “are you trying to fuck me or something?”

“whoa whoa, just hold on a second.” mikko’s eyes widen, looking around the hallways quickly to ensure you were alone. even though he doesn’t see any physical bodies, mikko can’t be too sure—especially when he can sense the conversation is going in a direction that doesn’t need to be overheard.

he gently takes ahold of your wrist, guiding you towards the open meeting room directly across from the kitchen. the censor lights flicker alive as you step into the empty, quiet room—illuminating the once dark space.

mikko lets go of your arm, shutting the door with a soft click before turning back to you. he analyzes your face, eyes flickering over your still pointed eyes and the angry pull to your mouth. confused, he steps towards you. “are you joking with me?”

you raise your brows. “do I look like i'm joking with you, mikko?”

he shakes his head gently, like he’s trying to come up with a reason for your sudden coldness—you’ve never acted this way around him, and seeing you so irritated is rather strange. “why are you asking me that?”

he’s referring to the first question you’d asked him—rather angrily may he add. mikko is unsure what brought on the rather sexual outburst of a question, only because it’s so unlike you. in fact, one time ross colton tried to make a sexual innuendo with you, and you just about turned the colour of a ripe apple.

mikko thinks he must’ve done something—or said something to make you not only think like that, but ask him about—without so much as a blush on your face. you were serious.

you cross your arms again, defensive walls still built high. clearing your throat, you look away from mikko and towards the navy blue patterned rug covering the floor. “ why are you so nice to me?”

you practically whisper, timidly running your foot along the worn out carpet.

mikko blinks. “what?” he’s even more confused now—because why wouldn’t he be nice to you. you’re sweet, and respectful, and funny, and beautiful, and you’re you.

you meet his eyes again, expect this time there’s more emotion swimming in them, and you’re slowly coming down of your flurry of anger—left with fear and your own confusion. “like..,” you start unsure, “you only do the media stuff when i'm the one asking you to. are you only being nice to me so that like, you'll get in my pants?”

you’re right, he thinks. he only does media when you ask, but it’s not because he suddenly wants to if you’re the one asking, it’s because he can’t say no to you. mikko never wants to see you sad—he never wants to see the current look on your face when he can help it.

mikko shakes his head, slow and steady. “no. that's not why i'm nice to you.”

“no?” you parrot, the tiniest hint of disbelief in your tone.

“no.” mikko repeats firmly. “i'm nice to you because I like you.”

“like as a friend?” you gulp, arms falling to your sides as you’re no longer strong enough to hold them around yourself.

mikko doesn’t see the point of hiding his true feelings any longer. the thought of you thinking he had ulterior motives with his kindness literally makes his stomach hurt, and he can’t have you believing he’s trying to use you for his own benefit.

so with a gentle sigh, he takes another step closer to you, eyes softening as he takes in your hesitant gaze and red cheeks. “more than a friend.” mikko admits gently.

your face falls, “oh.” you’re in some sort of shock, looking up at the winger with parted lips and wide eyes. the way mikko is looking at you, so raw and real, has any lingering hesitance falling away, and your expression quickly shifts.

“yeah, oh.” the corner of mikko’s plump lip slides upwards, the beginning stages of a lopsided smirk growing on his flushing face.

he reaches towards you, slowly, hands enveloping the sides of your head as he holds you in his palms. mikko’s hands are so warm and big, completely covering your cheeks and ears—the feeling itself has you turned on.

your breath hitches as mikko’s rough thumbs begin running over your cheekbones, stroking your warm skin absentmindedly.

his tongue licks along his bottom lip, moistening the skin slowly. mikko swallows gently, not once taking his gaze off your flustered face. “but like, just so there’s no confusion, I would eat you out on the table until you’re crying if that’s what you wanted.”

you inhale sharply, stomach dropping with excitement and adrenaline. your body flutters at his words, “mikko.” you whine in a whisper, hands reaching out and resting against his hard pecks. you have no control of your hands, the need to feel him under your palms too strong. you begin running over his covered chest, his muscles tightening and nipples hardening under your deliberate touches.

mikko huffs shakily before he comes down, kissing you with as much passion he can manage. his lips are surprisingly soft and smooth, enclosing and teasing yours in a messy, hard way. the feeling has your stomach swooping further, toes curling in your shoes as the kiss grows harder—needier.

suddenly, mikko’s hands run down your body, passing over your ass with a firm squeeze. you moan into his mouth as his hands find the backs of your thighs, picking you up.

you gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, sitting you on the table like it’s nothing—mikko smirks at the sound you make, and he can’t help the way his dick twitches in his pants. his wet lips trail off your mouth, travelling over your jaw and down your neck where he continues giving you hot, and hurried kisses.

reluctantly, your eyes flutter open, running a hand under mikko’s beanie, gripping the base of his hair between your trembling fingers. “we can get in a lot of trouble for this.” you breathe.

despite your words, your hips rolls against his hardening length, your cores at the perfect angle with you sitting on the table to grinding together deliciously.

mikko pulls back, eyes glazed with lust as he grins. “I know. so we'll just have to be sneaky.” his words are husky, sending your blood pumping and head swirling with need.

he leans back in, giving you another eye rolling kiss. you push his hat off his head completely, giving yourself free reign of his messy curls, tugging the blonde strands as your heart desires.

mikko pulls you closer on the tabletop, further bumping your clothed heat against his. his large hands slide underneath the back of your top, running over your spine and fiddling with the edge of your lacy bralette.

you sigh trembly, disconnecting the kiss. “i'll have to stop asking you questions though. because now I really won't be able to control myself around you.”

the admission has mikko smirking, biting his lip seductively. one of his hands round to your front, groping your tit over your bra. “I turn you on baby?” he already knew the answer to his question—your hardened nipples and shifting hips giving him all the information he needs.

you laugh through a breathless exhale, and you gently hit his shoulder. “be serious. you'll have to tolerate lina, and start saying yes when she asks you to do things.”

“no promises.” he chimes playfully, hands running back down your torso—leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you give him a soft, serene smile, which as mikko following suit—looking at you the way he always has. “I really like you, mikko.” you admit gently, one of your hands running over his building bicep before sliding around to rest on his shoulder blade.

for a moment, his smile remains admirable, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that has ever mattered. mikko has been dreaming of the day you say those words, and actually hearing you speak them is just otherworldly.

but because he’s a boy, and you’re his dream girl with his spit coating your plump lips—he can’t help himself. mikko’s hand rounds to your front, dipping underneath the waistband of your leggings and sliding over your underwear. he thumbs your clit over the thin material, and your mouth goes slack at his touch.

he breathes, smirking at the feeling of your arousal soaking through your panties. “yeah I can tell.”

“shut up.” you huff, pulling him back in to continue your desperate kiss.

[teaboot]

It just now occurred to me that some of yall don't remember a time before touch screens

Like. The first popular touch screens I knew of were high end new-edition ipods and that was their defining trait. No buttons.

"But how do we use it without buttons?" Well. It has three buttons. Power and volume.

My whole class full of middle class kids had ipod nanos, ipod shuffles they got for Christmas. I had an MP3 player, and before that, a cassette player and a portable CD player.

The 'ipod touch' was goddamn crazy. Like, space-age shit.

I swear to god when I got one as a gift from a well-off relative it had no music, no games, I didn't know how to connect it to the internet, nothing, but the reality of a smooth screen that responded when you touched it like some kind of goddamn hologram, like a pocket mirror with color-changing cuttlefish skin that knew I was touching it, that I just spent a solid hour and a half in my room just swiping the screen back and forth.

And the idea that you could connect to the INTERNET on it?? And not the expensive shitty pixelated crap you paid $50 a minute for on your flip phone, but WHOLE WEBSITES? JUST LIKE ON A LAPTOP? Ooooooooooohmygod.

And it was small enough to hide under the covers with!! I could read after bedtime!!! Before that, I had a second-hand digital camera, and I'd take photos of my comic books during the day so I could read through them later on the tiny ass 2"x2" view screen. And before THAT, it was a bedside lamp I'd scramble to turn off if it sounded like someone was getting close to the stairs.

And after the ipod touch, card readers started getting touch screens. I didn't think I'd ever get used to being encouraged to smear my fingerprints on the glass.

And SMARTBOARDS? Hoooooooooooooooly shit.

Like. I'm not even old yet, and every so often I just suddenly remember that the world I knew at that age doesn't exist anymore.

And what's all this going to become?

Who knows

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Get Your Fuckin Ass Back Home 🏡

Jey Uso x Bratty!Reader

WARNING: Brat taming, creampie, rough sex, heavy dominance and submission themes, consensual power imbalance, safeword use (“blue”), face fucking, throat fucking, hard spanking, overstimulation, claiming and breeding kink themes, slight spit play and spit kissing, light degradation, possessive behavior, slight humiliation kink, minimal aftercare, and explicit sexual content (18+ only).

NOT BETA READ! LIGHT EDITING (I took my lunch break early for this.)

INSPO from pic above.

requested by: @acknowledge-reigns

bffls: @spiicii @cheappop @love4brutality @isabella-2025 @maineventabbey

You weren’t trying to start a fight with Jey.

But then again, you weren’t trying not to either.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you pushed back, rolled your eyes, tossed that slick little “whatever, Josh..” over your shoulder like you weren’t poking a damn bear.

Jey’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it crack.

“You gonna fix that fuckin’ attitude, or do I gotta fix it for you?” he asked, low and dangerous.

You just smirked, shrugging, playing dumb like you didn’t know the heat rolling off him was a warning.

Instead of answering, you grabbed your purse and headed toward the door.

“I’m going out with the girls,” you said sweetly, “Don’t wait up.”

You could feel Jey’s stare burning through you as you slammed the door.

⸻

Four hours later, you were three shots in, two tequila sodas deep, laughing too loud at a shitty joke at the bar.

Your phone buzzed once on the sticky table.

You ignored it at first. Then it buzzed again.

And again.

Rolling your eyes, you snatched it up and saw his name light up the screen.

And attached to the latest message — a picture.

One you knew he kept for when he meant business.

A picture of Jey standing near the edge of your shared bed — shirtless, legs spread, his cock bulge through his sweats with that pretty little champion belt he was always so proud — glaring straight into the camera.

The caption underneath was simple:

“Bring your ass home. Now.”

Your whole body heated instantly — not just from lust, but from that possessive command dripping off the words.

You shifted in your seat, thighs pressing together, your stubborn heart still trying to hold the line.

You typed back:

“Maybe I’m busy.”

Not even fifteen seconds later:

“Last fucking warning before I fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for a fucking week..”

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. Your instincts wrestled with your bratty need to push.

But you knew better.

Knew what would happen if you ignored that tone one more time.

With a huff, you snatched your bag and muttered something about feeling sick to your girls.

—

The ride home was torture.

Your thighs rubbed together the whole way.

Your pussy throbbed.

Your mind ran wild with all the ways Jey was probably going to handle you the second you walked through that door.

You fumbled with your keys at the door, nerves and excitement tangling together in your gut.

When you stepped inside, you barely had time to blink before a large hand wrapped around your throat and pressed you back against the wall.

“You think you grown now, huh?” Jey rumbled against your ear, voice thick and mean.

Your heart skittered wildly, whimpering without thought.

“Talkin’ back… leavin’ like that… Ignorin’ me…” he growled, nipping sharply at your jaw.

“You asked for this, baby.”

You squirmed under his touch, pretending to be bratty still — but he wasn’t having it.

“You gonna learn tonight,” he promised, his free hand slipping down between your legs, cupping his pretty little pussy that he knew would be soaking through your panties.

You writhed under his grip, still trying to act like you weren’t five seconds away from crumbling.

Still batting your lashes like a brat, even though every second was turning you on even more.

“Awww, poor Daddy is mad ‘cause I went out without him?” you mocked, smirking even as your chest heaved.

The fingers around your throat tightened — just enough to make your toes curl — before he yanked you forward, dragging you by the back of your neck through the living room, down the hall toward the bedroom.

“You gon’ keep runnin’ that smartass mouth, huh?” Jey muttered darkly, kicking the bedroom door open.

“You want it rough, baby? You gonna get it rough.”

He shoved you down to your knees by the bed, your hands instinctively catching yourself on the floor.

You looked up at him, lips already twitching into a smirk.

“So what, you gonna spank me and call it a night?” you taunted, tipping your head to the side.

Jey barked a short, humorless laugh.

“Nah, lil’ mama. I’m boutta break you tonight.”

He leaned down, gripping your chin hard between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“You listen good now you filthy slut..” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours, voice dropping so low it vibrated in your bones.

“Your safeword is blue. You say it if you need to. Otherwise, you take what I fuckin’ give you.”

You clenched violently.

But you still couldn’t help yourself. You still had to mouth off.

“I dunno,” you said airily, blinking up at him. “You sure you got the stamina to back all that talk up, old man?”

His nostrils flared.

Without another warning, he pulled his cock free, thick and already leaking at the tip.

Before you could get another word out, he gripped the back of your head and thrust deep into your mouth.

Your eyes widened as he sank all the way down your throat in one brutal glide.

No teasing.

No warning.

Just pure throat fucking.

You gagged immediately, nails digging into his thighs for balance, but he didn’t ease up.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, holding your head still while he fucked into your throat at a savage rhythm.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought,” Jey grunted, looking down at you, dark eyes blazing.

“Smart lil’ mouth… finally put to some good use.”

You tried to glare up at him, tried to glare even with tears prickling your lashes, but it only made him snarl and thrust harder.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that,” he panted. “Go on. Be a little brat. See where it fuckin’ gets you.”

You whimpered around him, half from the way your throat burned, half from the wetness pooling between your legs.

Your hands fisted the sheets behind you, legs trembling.

You wanted to be mad.

Wanted to stay bratty.

But you were drowning in him — specifically his power — and it was breaking you down minute by minute.

Jey yanked out of your throat abruptly, strings of spit connecting you as he tilted your head up.

“You done bein’ a fuckin’ brat yet, mamas?” he asked, voice rough with dominance.

You panted, spit running down your chin, mascara smudged, chest heaving — and somehow you still found a way to smirk.

“Not even close,” you croaked out, defiant.

Jey grinned — a feral, predatory flash of teeth.

“Good,” he said, dragging you up onto the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and second your body hit the mattress, smack— his hand came down hard across your ass, the sound echoing through the room.

“‘Cause I’m just gettin’ started.”

You jolted forward with a sharp gasp, but before you could catch your breath — SMACK — another slap, harder.

“You think you run shit, huh?” Jey grunted, landing another vicious spank, his palm connecting with the same tender spot.

You bit your lip, trying to muffle the whimper that climbed your throat.

“You think you can walk out,” smack, “mouth off,” smack, “and not get checked?” SMACK.

Your ass burned, the sting radiating up your spine. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes — not from pain alone, but from the way your body ached for him, despite your pride screaming not to give him the satisfaction.

He landed one final, punishing slap, making you yelp.

Your fists twisted the sheets under you.

And still — still — you couldn’t help yourself.

When he leaned down over your back, you huffed out:

“That all you got, bitch?”

Dead silence.

You couldn’t even turn your head before he grabbed your hips roughly, yanking you up onto your knees.

You barely had time to gasp before he slammed into you from behind with one brutal thrust, splitting you wide open.

You cried out, your walls fluttering helplessly around him.

“Keep talkin’ now,” Jey growled, snapping his hips against you, setting a ruthless, punishing pace right from the start.

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, filthy and hot as fuck.

You clawed at the sheets, your body lurching forward with every savage thrust, but he just dragged you back onto him over and over again.

“You want rough?” slam

“You want punishment?” slam

“You fuckin’ got it, baby.”

He gripped your hair again, yanking your head back so you had no choice but to feel every inch of him stretching you to your limits.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you still bared your teeth — biting back your whimpers.

Jey let out a possessive moan deep in his chest — a dangerous sound — before he flipped you over onto your back in one brutal move, not even bothering to slip out of you.

You cried out from the sudden shift, thighs trembling from how deep he hit inside you now.

Before you could do anything, he grabbed both your wrists and slammed them above your head, pinning you down hard into the mattress with one massive hand.

His hips never stopped snapping into you, brutal and relentless, making the bed frame crash against the wall.

You squirmed beneath him — one last surge of bratty fight — but he just pinned you harder, grinding deep until you screamed his name without meaning to.

“Uh-uh, don’t run now,” he snarled.

“You was big n’ bad an hour ago you fucking slut..”

You shook your head weakly, tears sliding down your cheeks, your body betraying you completely — clenching around him, aching for him, loving the way he manhandled you.

“Say it,” Jey demanded, his forehead pressing to yours, hips punishing against yours.

You whimpered, trying to turn your face away.

He bit his lip and snapped his hips hard, making you cry out again.

“Say who you fuckin’ belong to!”

You panted, shaking, the fight finally leaving your bones.

The orgasm building between your legs made your head spin.

“You,” you sobbed brokenly beautiful.

“I belong to you, Daddy!”

Jey groaned in approval, slamming even deeper, grinding hard against your sweet spot.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your tear-stained cheek.

“All fuckin’ mine.”

He kept your wrists pinned, kept you trapped under him, until you shattered around him — your walls clenching so tight around his cock that he finally let go too, cumming deep inside you with a loud, guttural moan.

Pinned, claimed, ruined — exactly where you belonged.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Jey’s rough voice rasped against your ear:

“Lemme taste you, baby.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, lips parted — but you were too weak, too wrecked to stop him even if you wanted to.

Jey slid down your body slowly, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wide, ignoring your feeble whimper.

You tried to squirm — still too sensitive, your pussy clenching around nothing — but desperate for something.

And then —

He buried his face between your thighs without mercy.

His tongue lapped greedily at the mess leaking from you — his cum, your cum, all mixed together — and he groaned deep in his chest like you were his last meal on earth.

You cried out, trying to twist away, the overstimulation making your legs kick, but he just gripped your thighs harder, forcing you to take it.

He devoured you shamelessly, not caring how sloppy, how wet, how absolutely filthy it was — in fact, he seemed to love it even more.

Your hands scrambled for the sheets, looking for something to hold onto as your body trembled uncontrollably.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with you, his eyes were molten.

But he wasn’t finished.

He crawled back up your body, pinning you down again easily, his mouth hovering over yours.

You could see it — the juices dripping from his bottom lip — seconds before he crushed his mouth to yours.

He kissed you hard, messy, his tongue forcing your lips apart, feeding you the taste of yourself mixed with him.

You whimpered into his mouth, too wrecked to fight it — tasting everything, gasping as he groaned into the kiss.

He pulled back just a little, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, babygirl,” Jey murmured, his thumb brushing your swollen lower lip.

“You taste like mine.”

You whimpered again, your thighs rubbing together instinctively, even though you were already so wrecked you could barely think.

Jey smirked down at you as he brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“You got one more in you, baby?” he asked, voice dark and teasing.

“Or you tappin’ out?”

And god help you —

Even after everything, that bratty little fire in you flickered again.

You blinked up at him and whispered:

“…Is that all you got?”

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

extra: she’s really empathetic, she’d make a great wife.

➴ chapter warnings: rumors, mentions of cheating.

➴ word count: 2.9k

💌 from me to you: and today i reached 600 followers. may or may not have cried. thank you so much. i hope you enjoy this one, and thank you anon for giving me this idea, i hope i met your expectations!

𖧷

𖧷

JACK BLINKED slowly, as if he wasn’t really sure if what he was seeing was actually real.

He sat up straight, resting his naked back against the wooden headboard, staring at the girl in front of him.

Sophia was resting against the glass door, wearing nothing but one of Jack’s old t-shirts that he doesn’t even recall putting inside his luggage, which can only mean she did it herself, something the singer’s often doing, wearing his clothes around, like she’s seeking for some kind of closeness that only he can provide.

She’s breathtaking, Jack remembers thinking. Even with no makeup on, even with puffy, tired eyes, and even with her hair slightly tangled from sleep, she’s breathtaking.

She’s not even doing anything important; she’s not singing, she’s not dancing, she’s not smiling for the thousands of cameras which are frequently shoved up her face. She’s simply existing, simply breathing, and that is enough to make Jack Hughes believe she’s the one for him.

He knows he is lucky. He knows she’s too good for him, and he knows that, one day, she’ll probably realize it, if she hasn’t already.

But, he also knows that as long as she lives, and maybe some time after that, he won’t ever love someone like he loves her. His heart won’t ever beat this fast for someone else, even if he wanted to.

Her laugh is enough to get him through his hardest days, her voice enough to bring him out of his dark thoughts. When he watches her on stage, dancing, singing, smiling and doing what she loves most, he’s certain that she’s enough to make him the happiest man alive.

So, that’s why they are where they are today. Because he can’t lose her. Not again, not ever.

He remembers feeling his heart dropping inside his chest when he read the article. "NHL Star Caught in Cheating Scandal: Sophia Montenegro and Jack Hughes Relationship in Turmoil".

Gladly, he had been one of the first to read the excruciating story. After that one incident where Sophia thought he was fucking his ex, Ava he thinks, his Google Alerts notifications for himself and Sophia are always on, and he doesn’t miss a single thing anymore.

That’s why he almost crushes his phone inside his hands when he reads the article, over and over again, memorizing the nasty, evil words plastered for everyone to see.

There’s a picture, too. A blurry, probably edited one, showing his face beside a random girl’s he doesn’t even know. His name is beside the word “cheater”, “unfaithful” and he’s being compared with that one asshole named Harris Dickinson.

He wants to kill someone.

It’s late at night, and he is away. Sophia is back in Newark at their shared apartment, and he knows she’s probably asleep by now. He won’t get home until later that night, and he’s seriously considering murdering whoever thought that coming up with this lie, now out of all times, would be a great idea.

She’s not answering her phone, as expected, and Jack Hughes wants to scream. He just had a shitty game, they lost 4-1, even after he shot the puck at the net twenty-three times alone— not even one earned him the glorious “goal honk”.

He spends the entire ride silent, because he knows his teammates have already seen the article. He can feel their eyes on him, and he can sense their pity too. Even Luke, who always chooses to stay quiet and watch from afar, is looking at him with worried, hooded eyes.

“I didn’t do it.” Jack mumbles, looking through the window and watching the dark sky above them.

“I know,” Luke hums, sounding upset. “That’s why I am worried.”

“They can’t fucking leave us alone,” Jack hisses, his frustrated tone echoing through the silent bus. “Do they have any idea what this does to Soph? Do they have any idea how fucking messed up this is?”

“She’s a tough girl,” Luke tries. “She’ll get over this.”

“What if,” Jack stops himself. No. Sophia will hear him out, she won’t shut him out like she did last time. This isn’t the first dating scandal they have to deal with, and it certainly will not be the last. “Fuck.”

“I know nothing I say will help but,” Luke sighs, then turns his head around until he’s facing his brother. “I’m here, we’re here. I love you.”

Jack blinks, nodding once. “I know. It helps.”

He arrives at their home at three forty-nine that night. He opens the door and closes it in record time, and he doesn’t even think twice before running to their bedroom, desperate to see if Sophia had run away and desperate to see if he’d find their bed empty.

He doesn’t, though. Sophia’s there, just not like he expected her to be, asleep. No. She’s sitting on top of the covers, resting her back against the headboard, eyes glued to the TV in front of her, some random show Jack didn’t even bother acknowledging playing in the back, muted.

“Baby.”

Her eyes are tired when she looks at him, and he hates it. Hates it because he knows she isn’t tired because she spent the night doing what she loves— she’s tired because she’s thinking nonstop, and she’s not well.

“Jack.”

“You’re not asleep.” He stated, standing in front of her, looking for something he wasn’t really sure of in her face. He didn’t find it.

She smiles, tiredly, tilting her head to the side. “Had this bad feeling on my chest, like something I didn’t even know what was about to blow up in my face.”

“I didn’t do it,” he blurts out. He’s panting and he knows he probably looks awful, but he doesn’t care. “Soph, listen to me. I didn’t d—”

“I know,” she softened her tone, patting the seat beside her, on Jack’s side of the bed. He immediately complies, sitting beside the woman he’d buy the moon for if she asked to. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know your heart, Jack.”

“Soph…”

“I know you,” she gulps, looking at something on his face, as she raises her hand and rests it against his chest. “I know you’re not him.”

“I fucking love you, Soph,” he says, and he can’t believe he’s on the verge of tears. Jack Hughes, the sassy, though player, is on the verge of crying because he can’t stomach the thought of losing his girlfriend. “I’d give you my life if you asked me to. You know that.”

“I don’t want you to,” she smiles, softly, her eyes filled with tears too. “Where’s the fun in that? I want you by my side, every day. I want people to write your name on my biography when I die, and I want people to know that you’re it for me.”

“I’m going to kill whoever wrote that,” he promises. “I know I can find them, and I know I can make them pay for what they did, I just know that,” he’s seeing red, and he’s ready to punch someone in the face when Sophia kisses him, sweet, honeyed lips touching each other.

“Let’s make the most out of this,” she whispers. “This time, let’s just see the glass half full.”

Making the most out of that awful situation turned out to be spending a week at Calilo, a private, five star hotel in Ios, a Greek island.

The room they chose had a private pool, and a private entrance to the beach, which they were in love with. Sophia cried when they opened the hotel’s room door because of course she did, and Jack took a picture of her there to send to the family group chat, before turning his wifi off, something he promised he’d do once they arrived at their destination.

For seven days, one hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eight minutes, six hundred four thousand, eight hundred seconds, they weren’t going to be the famous singer and Hockey player, Sophia Montenegro and Jack Hughes.

No. They’d be Sophia and Jack, a normal couple living a normal life.

“We could be royalty, king and queen of nowhere,” Sophia sings, voice smooth and quiet, yet enough to make Jack want to jump out of bed and kiss her senseless. “Lose it all, everything. As long as we got you and I, you and me, they can tear this whole house down. All we have is love.”

“Did I die and go to Heaven?” Jack mumbles, and smiles as Sophia turns around and faces him. He barely tries to hide the way he scans her body with hungry eyes, lingering over the outline of her boobs for longer than he probably should.

“Some people do say I’m an angel,” she blinks innocently, and walks towards the bed, sitting on Jack’s lap, gracefully putting her legs on each side of Jack’s body. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a girl who just got knocked up.” He smirks, and Sophia laughs, throwing her head back as Jack holds her in place with his hands on her waist, carefully arranging her on top of him.

“We’ll have to work on this newly developed kink of yours…” she winks.

“Like it isn’t your fault,” he rolls his eyes, playfully, staring at the outline of her panties sitting right on top of his own boxers. “Making a song about wanting to get knocked up. Singing said song in front of thousands of people. Asking me to fuck you in unthinkable positions just so you could do them on stage.”

“I mean…” she smirks. “I gotta keep my fans interested, right? And what are boyfriends for if not for helping their girlfriends out?”

“You’re unreal, Sophia Montenegro,” Jack says, leaning forward and kissing the singer fervently. She tastes sweet, she tastes like his favorite person in the world.

But maybe that’s just because that’s what she is.

𖧷

SOPHIA HAD already forgotten how good it was to live a normal life.

She loves her fans, she really does. She also loves to sing, and she loves to be this huge pop star people say she is, but also loves to be human. She loves to walk around without thousands of people taking pictures of her and analyzing everything she does. She loves to eat a silent dinner by herself or with her friends and family and not have several cameras in her face.

When Jack suggested, after that terrible article, that they should travel somewhere quiet and safe, she thought he was just kidding. It was June, he was technically off his NHL player duties, and she did have some time before she had to headline festivals and make appearances in TV shows so it made sense for them to take some time for themselves, but they had never done that before— why, she doesn’t know, but now she realizes how dumb they had both been.

Ios was a small island, and the few people who were there didn’t know who they were. They walked around with their hands together without anyone batting an eye at them, and even when they asked for people to take pictures of them together, no one hit them with the usual “oh my God, are you that one singer and that one player?”

People treated them normally, and she couldn’t be happier. The past few weeks had been like hell, living on the edge and worrying that something would break them apart, but now?

Now, they were walking together after eating Chicken Gyros and Bubble Waffles with chocolate ice cream (“That’s too sweet, baby, it’s disgusting.”, “You’re disgusting, Rowdy.”), making their way to the private beach in front of their bedroom, which Sophia promptly said it belonged to them from now on.

She spent the entire walk singing, because Jack had asked her to. The lyrics of I Have A Dream slipped out of her mouth like syrup, each sentence sweeter than the previous one. Jack, who has been holding her hand and watching her the entire time, smiled and felt his hands getting sweaty.

“I have a dream, a song to sing. To help me cope with anything, if you see the wonder of a fairy tale, you can take the future even if you fail. I believe in angels.”

She loved this song, it had been one of the many who inspired her to be a singer. And to get to sing it in Greece, while holding hands with the person she’s sure to be the love of her life?

She won.

Her white sundress contrasted perfectly with the sunset in the background, and when she and Jack decided that they wanted to sit by the sea, the sun was already saying its last words.

“It’s beautiful.” She sighs, content.

“It is, yeah,” Jack answers, but when she turns around, he’s not looking at the view, he’s looking at her.

She laughs, smacking his chest. “Did you just call me ‘it’?”

“I don’t know, man, I heard the word beautiful and thought we were talking about you.” He cheesily answers, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re actually so annoying,” Sophia chuckles, moving the sand around with her feet. “I don’t know how I’ve been handling your ass for almost five years.”

Jack stays silent for a while, something that isn’t like him at all, but Sophia doesn’t ask anything. He’s been like that since that one article, and even though she can tell it still bothers him, she promised him she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

It was upsetting, to say the least, to know that people were constantly praying for their downfall. At least once every two months they would come up with a new genius idea of how they weren’t together anymore, and how they hated each other, and how Jack was a freaking cheater and how Sophia was a homewrecker.

She understands that they may not look like the perfect match— who would’ve thought? The bratty, Mr. I-hate-media-attention dating the singer whose name is practically in every headline and whose face is in almost every magazine cover, not to mention her songs always doing numbers in the charts.

But they are happy.

So, so happy.

“I don’t think I want to leave,” Sophia whispers, listening to the sounds of the waves in front of them. Her head is resting on Jack’s shoulder, and he has his left hand wrapped around her thigh. “Like, ever.”

Jack hums. “Not even to make concerts?”

“Well. Maybe,” she sounds childish and Jack smiles. “I wish I could have all of that with all of this. You know what I mean? This peace, their love. Is it weird?”

“Not really, baby. A bit confusing, though.” He kisses her temple, and she chuckles.

“I’ve been in the spotlight for half of my life. Ever since I’ve decided that I wanted to be famous, I’ve been watched like some kind of wild animal,” she whispers, voice filled with emotion. “I love what I do. But… I also love who I am when I’m not performing. When I’m not Sophia Montenegro. I like it when I’m just… yours, for example.”

“Soph—”

“I’m sorry if it sounds confusing…” she pouts, and Jack smirks.

“Do you like being mine?” He asks, and she rolls her eyes at him, annoyed by the obvious question.

“You already know the answer to that,” she says. “Of course I do.”

“Would you like to be mine for the rest of our lives?” He lowers his voice, and Sophia furrows her eyebrows, lifting her head up and staring at the man sitting beside her.

“I mean I would but…” she watches his face. He looks beautiful, she thinks. His eyes match the sea. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I want to know if you’d say yes.” He simply says. Sophia notices he’s shaking, though.

“If I’d say yes to what?” She answers, but she can feel her heart racing inside her chest already.

“To be my wife,” he finally says, pulling a black, velvet box out of his jeans pocket, and opening at the same time her first tears start to roll down her cheeks. “I also love who you are when you’re not performing, but I love it even more when you’re just mine. So, please, Soph, tell me—”

“Jack—” she gasps, putting her hand in front of her mouth.

“Will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest man alive and let me make you my wife?” He asks, blue eyes full of expectations and hope.

Sophia laughs wetly before throwing herself in front of her boyfriend— fiancé—, kissing him messily, just because she can. And because she wants him to feel the turmoil going on inside her, and what he did to her.

How he found her, a garden with no flowers— and then he bought the seeds, planted and watered them, and how he’s now watching them grow and bloom. How he delicately took care of each one of them, and how he’d kiss them gently before going away.

“This could go very wrong,” she says, voice trembling as Jack puts the ring, a very fancy one she notices, on her finger. “You could get tired of me. And you could realize I’m not that cool—”

“Soph, forget it,” Jack laughs. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon. So either you start getting used to being called Sophia Montenegro Hughes now or you’ll have a very hard time.”

“I fucking love you.” She sobs, rolling her wet eyes at him.

“Always so romantic, my postar,” he kisses her cheeks, wiping her tears with his lips. “I happen to fucking love you too.”

𖧷

sophiamontenegro

Ios, Greece

liked by morgan.grace, tyla, elblue6 and 3,902,012 others

sophiamontenegro that feeling when you’re sooo empathetic he had no other option but to make you his wife 💌 that’s that me engaged i guess

View all 9,103 comments

user1 SOPHIA I FUCKING LOVE YOU

user2 HARD LAUNCHING YOUR ENGAGEMENT WHEN PEOPLE SPEND THE ENTIRE MONTH TALKING ABOUT YOUR “BREAK UP” WHAT A QUEEN

trevorzegras That feeling when you have knee surgery tomorrow :/

sophiamontenegro trevorzegras 👍🏻

morgan.grace YOU BETTER CALL ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW SOPHIA WHAT THE HELL

sophiamontenegro morgan.grace on it baby 🫡

user3 THE CAPTION

user4 ngl i thought they wouldn’t last a week but look at them 4 years later getting married

user5 soph you better live stream your wedding pls

jackhughes 😈

user6 we survived another “jack and sophia broke up” moment let’s GOOOOO

user7 album when

𖧷

jackhughes

liked by lhughes_06, njdevils, curtislazar95 and 293,928 others

jackhughes

View all 2,892 comments

lhughes_06 👍🏻

user0 lhughes_06 average hughes brothers reaction

user1 It’s okay Jack we know how overwhelming choosing a caption talking about your engagement with the world’s most famous pop singer can be…

user2 THE SCREENSHOT LMFAO HE DID SOPH DIRTY

sophiamontenegro delete that or i’m asking for a divorce

jackhughes sophiamontenegro we’re not even married yet ?

nicohischier Congrats Jack and Soph ❤️

_quinnhughes congrats!! love ya

elblue6 🥹

subbanator HELL YEAAAAH

trevorzegras Can’t wait until the priest says speak now or forever hold your peace and I get up 😌

jackhughes trevorzegras you’re not even invited

trevorzegras jackhughes 🙁

user3 didn’t know yall were locked in like that

user4 my sister just started screaming and crying 😂

user5 Mama and Papa 💜

user6 THE CONTACT NAME NOOOO

[dykeadvocate]

streamer!ellie HCs

i have no idea if doing drugs and making out is against twitch TOS but pretend that it isn't if it is.

i know everyone HCs her with a shitty setup, but she definitely takes pride in her setup.

ellie has all the expensive equipment and is constantly upgrading to have the best gameplay (she's spent over 8k on her equipment).

her camera is definitely the most expensive. she wants everyone to see how sexy she is (plus the edits of her HAVE to be good quality)

omg talking about the edits, her phone would be STACKED with them all saved. purely for flexing reasons.

the comments are filled with thirst for her and she shows them off with pride.

"look at what elliewilliamslefttit said about me, dina. they're literally in love with me. should i start an OF? they'd all subscribe."

dina shut down the idea of starting an OF very, very quickly (jealous gf core).

she mainly plays horror games and PVP games.

her favourite games are overwatch, fortnite, dead by daylight, and resident evil (resident evil 8 to be specific).

whenever she plays horror games, she sits with her back very straight and hyperfocuses on the game.

she tries to prepare herself for the jumpscares but she always lets out a high-pitched scream and gets embarrassed.

there are definitely memes of her screaming on tiktok.

when she plays pvp games, she has to mute her stream mic occasionally so she can threaten her teammates and not get banned on twitch.

her usernames are something stupid. probably like "dinastoenail" or "dinosaurlver69420".

she smokes on stream sometimes and her fans go crazy. she purposely makes herself look hotter when smoking too.

whenever she feels possessive over dina, she makes out with her on stream for like a few seconds.

ellie 1000% has a cringy outro. she says cringe stuff and throws in some hand signs to top it off.

her fans love her tho.

[beautyconsumer]

I simply love the Waynes as problematic rich people to cover up their identities.

I've seen enough of Brucie Wayne or Richie Wayne or even CEO Tim Drake taking after his mom but we're really missing out on Jason, Cass and Damian being messy.

Give me Cass who's so annoyed at the media because she can easily see the photographers intentions and the overstimulating flashes paparazzi shower her with, but is inevitably at the spotlight because she's the daughter of Bruce Wayne.

Give me her barely being caught glimpses by the cameras of phones because she's became a master at dodging being spotted when it wasn't vital for her "rep" and sometimes when it is much to Bruce's dismay.

Give me Damian Wayne "where is the rest of your servants?" Al Ghul who is so used to being treated like a prince that the moment he enters American media he's used to it, but the media isn't because this kid is used to better treatment and worst demands.

Gimme Jason who ends up "wasted" in important events to gather attention of the rich people so they can donate to the charities he wants. Gimme messy videos where he ends up being sassy and making fun of the cops trying to arrest him, being way less violent than he gives people the impression of but surely leaving a memory, and leaving pages and pages and articles and articles for the media to write about.

(Because Jason doesn't have a second identity it'd be so fun to explore Jason's reputation as the Gotham Prince influeciating his prestigious family but that's for another post.)

Give me Gothamites making edits a la Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan of them in their "worst moments" give me people romanticizing their shitty behaviors and the bats using this to their advantage for covering themselves for their vigilante bullshit.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Hi beauty!! I had an idea. Now, I've been gone for like a whole ass year so idk who you're obsessing over. But I will never tire of the TokRev guys or Kafka or Reiner (*bites fist*). Will you please whip up a little something where they're a realtor by day and you're just a poor college student trying to make ends meet with your garbage coffee shop job. So you turn to making nighttime videos of yourself doing horrendous and just stupidly incredibly sexy things on the marble countertops of a new apartment complex that has yet to be fully occupied by the richest of the rich.

And whoops. You were running late. You forgot to lock the door. And Draken (or whoever) thinks he forgot his phone in the windowsill... whatever will we do 🤭.

I hope you're doing well. No rush, obviously, lovey.

Thank you!!

Realtor!Draken x College Student!Reader: A Complex Situation

♡ NSFW, fem + camgirl!reader, mean dom!Draken, use of a dildo, sex in an unoccupied apartment (so specific Ik), unprotected sex + creampie ♡

note: SARAH YOU'RE BACK 😭 (I lowkey cried when I saw this in my inbox) you missed a lot Idk where to even start, but yeah I wrote about Draken since you name-dropped him and I haven't written for him in forever

note 2: over 800 words, not proofread, finished at 2am

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Tonight was a night like any other, your boyfriend had left his keys on your nightstand before heading out to do God knows what with his friends at almost two in the morning. Little did he know this was your time to shine, the most opportune of times for you to make a little extra cash on the side and balance out your expenses that your shitty shift as a barista didn't cover. You snatched up the keys as soon as you were sure he was gone, pulling on some clothes and tossing a few sets of lingerie into a small duffle bag before making your way out of your apartment and into your car.

The screech of your tires could be heard from across town with the way you were practically speeding to get downtown. Where were you heading? To your boyfriend’s place to surprise him? Hell no! You were on your way to one of the most upscale, fancy apartments in the city, using the keys your boyfriend had because of his realtor job for easy access. As soon as you reached the street where the apartment was, you slammed on the brakes, rushing out of the car and inside the unoccupied building. Even with no furniture or special touches to make it feel like home, the apartment was still opulent and pristine looking, the marble countertops in the kitchen shining even with the lights off – the perfect place to film for the night.

You started unpacking your bag, sitting some toys to the side before setting up your phone to film. You hurriedly changed into a lacy, black lingerie set and hopped up on the countertop, grabbing one of the small dildos you packed and sensually sucking on it for the camera. Your bra and panties were swiftly discarded onto the hardwood floor as you repositioned yourself on the counter to slide the toy inside your sopping wet cunt, the soft sounds of your pussy squelching and your moans reverberating off the walls. Just as you were getting into it, you heard the door being pushed open and moved to cover your body with the clothes you showed up in. You tensed up as you made eye contact with your boyfriend, Draken. His sharp gaze narrowing in on your bare body, mouth agape in disbelief and eye twitching with irritation.

“Y/n what the fuck?!”

“Ken?! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I left my wallet in the windowsill in the bedroom…what the hell were you thinking coming here and doing…this.” He gestured to you and your phone held up by your tripod.

“It’s not what you think…I edit my face out before I post anything.”

“You’re using a listed rental to film porn y/n! I hope you were going to wipe the counter down after.”

“Of course I was!” “Y’know if you needed money you could’ve asked. Or do you just enjoy doing this? Showing your body off to perverted fucks online.”

He stomped over to you, the anger radiating from him evident as he towered over you.

“It’s not like that Ken, I just needed some extra cash…I didn’t want to ask you.”

“So you decided to put my job in jeopardy by filming in a place I’m supposed to be showing people?” “Baby I’m sorry!” “I don’t want your empty words angel…bend over so you can give me a proper apology.” “What about your jo–” “Don’t you wanna put on a show? You need money, right? Let me help you make it.”

You briefly hesitate before bending over the cold marble countertops, gripping the edge of the counter for dear life as you hear him unbuckle his belt, your legs shaking in anticipation. A sharp squeak slips from your mouth as he thrusts inside of you, giving you slow and deep strokes.

“You good down there?” He asks sarcastically, intentionally thrusting harder and hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. The wetter he felt you get, the more obligated he felt to ruin you, he both loved and hated the fact that you were enjoying this so much when he intended for it to be a punishment of sorts. He reached his hand around to gently rub your clit, overstimulating your senses and making you squeeze his cock harder, milking him for every drop of cum he had to offer.

“That’s it love, let the camera see what a filthy girl you are. Cum for the camera”

Your legs almost gave out on you as the immense amount of pleasure you were experiencing finally overtook you, your pussy making a creamy mess of his dick just as you felt him spill load after load of his hot, gooey seed deep inside you.

“Next time, let's film at home, yeah?” he teases, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You nod against the counter, your pussy clenching weakly around him as he starts to pull out, his cum dripping down your thighs. Maybe filming with someone else wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @prettytanii @happy-trenchcoated-impala @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl @eroticdarling @beetusbritt

[startagainaprologue]

consider. bonnie makes cooking videos on youtube. very very shitty camera quality cooking videos.

I DO CONSIDER. they would they r trying sooo .so hard to use their phone camera but they do not have a good setup and arent the best at editing yet. i believe in them though.

[ludolka]

I just imagine the video editor for activity detected trying to find out what’s wrong with the camera and realizing it’s grian but not at the same time like they just assume dust or light reflection somehow clings to him more for some reason and just goes with that or something else equally stupid

They don’t have an editor, it’s mostly just Jimmy putting together clips from their phones/cameras on some shitty free editing app on his laptop :’) Paranormal Traffic might be semi-popular in its niche, but they aren’t professionals by any means

But yeah, he just tries to rationalize why Grian in particular messes up the footage with increasingly dumber and less logical explanations because he has no idea why this is happening and there’s nothing wrong with Grian as far as he knows

[beckpoppinscosplay]

Taking more interesting portraits on your phone for minimal money and equipment that can fit in a duffel bag

a guide for cosplayers, fashion folk, and people who like looking nice in selfies.

By Beck Poppins

first off, its nice to have a big blank background. Some of us are lucky and have big massive white walls, most of us don't. My space that I can take photos in is my shitty midwestern basement. It has the best light control (i can get it nice and dark) and i have space to set up this bad boy, the photo backdrop.

These stands are very common, usually around 30-40 bucks, and they are so god damn useful. Not only can I light it from the front but from behind, they fold up REAL small and don't take up room, i can hang up any kind of fabric. I so also use them for things like party backdrops and some video calls. This is pictured here with 2 of my 10 dollar ring lights, we are only going to be using one of those today.

Fabric wise you can use anything, bed sheets, raw fabric off the bolt, party streamers, whatever. I am using a wrinkle free panel photo backdrop that i think cost me like 25-30 bucks and it was worth it to me because i don't have to iron it but you can use whatever. I will also say plain white gives you a LOT of options when it comes to lighting, we can make this look like whatever we want, no editing in post needed.

It's important to remember all of this wouldn't need to be bought all at once OR in total. these are loose suggestions that can be collected over time. before we get snapping, one last important bit of kit, I love bluetooth photo clickers they are SO cheap and you can stick em in your pocket and you dont have to fight getting your camera to get the right shot.

So where we are, my overhead lightbulb, my back drop, and my clicker.

I will be in boring clothes, no make up, and a mask in each picture so you are just seeing the unedited shot and nothing else, not even expression.

We can soften this shot up with that cheap ring light right in front of us that is holding up our camera on its little attached tripod. Most ringlights have at least 3 settings and you can fiddle with cold, warm, and neutral (seen here)

Now that we have a basic set up, lets play with junk!

My favorite extra style of light right now is a sunset lamp, about 15 bucks and a REAL power house. It blasts extremely bright blended colored light and has so many settings which really give you options.

Straight white light from a sunset lamp

straight pink light from a sunset lamp

Sunset lamp in blue and a ring light set to warm

If you have that backdrop and it a little sheer you can move that sunset lamp behind it and do some really cool stuff!

Red sunset lamp behind, warm ringlight infront

If its behind its a great way to use shadows and add some props and imagery to your photo

We can also put stuff between us and these lights to add interest, one of my favorite things is to use a recycled plexiglass out of a thrift store frame and hot glue.

here i attached it with photo clamps to an extra photo stand, but if you wanna be cheap you can prop it up between stacks of books or clamp it to the back of a chair, play around. This is a very simple way to add texture and interest.

Neutral ring light, blee sunset lamp, hot glue/plexi sheet

sheer fabric also makes a great layer, I used a sheet of sequins on tulle here, but you can use anything sparkly, or embroidered, or knit, there is a lot of texture to play with.

orange sunset lamp through sequins

another great recycled item is hooch bottles with the labels peeled off and filled with water, they gives a soft watery refraction for zero dollars. I am using the sunset lamp but honestly, a flash light will also give you a little bit of this.

blue sunset lamp through rum bottle, overhead lighting.

If we wanna get really fancy and nuts, try a projector. Mine is a bare bones model around 70 bucks and I use it for a lot more than photos. (you can watch movies! project ghosts on halloween! do family slideshows)

This is your option if you wanna add SPECIFIC imagery to your photo.

You can just add a nice high res photo to a thumb drive and BAM (a lot of museums have open download services for everything they have that's fair use, a great place to find images!)

painting projected, warm ring light

pool photo projected alone

Now lets mix them all up! Once you have your photo lights all set up, don't be afraid to add some in photo light source as props to bring it all together.

bubble photo projected, behind backdrop sunset lamp in light blue through rum bottle full of water, warm ring light, cheap led moon lamp held in hand.

rear used led light in gold and a projected painting

projected magic nonsense, distant blue sunlamp, LED in a little 3d printed orange bubble on a bit of fishing line

All these options are editing free, infinite, and all fit in one duffle bag and can be used again and again and again to make all kinds of photos! try different backdrops and lights! Once you add a little costumes and editing? WOW!

[ilikesoupandcookies]

Your photos are great and you inspired me to create my own photography blog and I only have a phone so it's not the greatest quality photos but I want to capture some of the same vibes you had so thank you and again I love your photos they just have such a comforting and slightly eerie but homely feel to them (idk dude that's the best I can describe)

Anyway here's my blog-

@midwestern-boyfailure

this is a beautiful thing isnt it

when that itch strikes fuck im just going to tell you to scratch it

on the topic of great artists who excuse the prospect of sharing their own work because of limitations like bad quality, or shitty cameras, i invite a new prospect, a tool, just as the camera is

editing

maybe im a pretentious dickhead and this is a far-off shot over the head of people who care about photos, but i spent 5 minutes in google snapseed editing your first beautiful photo, even adding a double exposure of another photo you dont have anything to do with, but one i think you might care about

i love taking the photo with my camera, it has been an extension of myself for quite a while now, and i am constantly researching new methods to make my work more unique and interesting, but with a photo that just you took, one only you could take, and another, and a little work with the aforementioned tool

i now have three beautiful things to admire

you are good, and you are great, and i love you, and im so happy you started

[dershoimvik]

"i still know where i've been"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64106011

“What the fuck is this?”

A photo of Ian flipping him off.

Mandy took it in the early spring. It was cold enough that there was still snow on the ground, and they were playing around with the camera on Ian’s new iPhone while waiting for the lunch period to finish. He took several pictures of her from below, unflattering angles, until she snatched the phone from him and tweaked his nipple. He stuck his middle finger up at her, and she took the picture.

Printed out on shitty Walgreens photo paper, it sits in Mickey’s hand, mocking him. Ian howls.

gallavich, 7.1k words

tags: introspection, time skips, angst with a happy ending, light angst, mild smut, implied/referenced rape/non-con (in ref to mickey/svetlana in season 3), POV ian gallagher, self-destructive behavior, married ian gallagher/mickey milkovich, scent kink, biting, canon-typical misogyny

title from "peaks and troughs" by we were promised jetpacks, and especially inspired by this gallavich edit to the song

[electric-shoop]

bug watch:

absolutely couldn't get closer without startling it, so shitty mobile phone camera zoom will have to do, but !! dragonfly thingy!!! edit my trusted Bug Advisor echo told me it's a damselfly actually !!!!