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thebearer · 3 months

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could use a push |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: sometimes carmen needs persuasion to finish his tasks. sometimes you have to persuade him.

part of the carmen x social media manager au. the two other works follow me and fall into me can be found here <3

contains: smut. slight voyeurism-ish?? oral male receiving. super sweet and smutty. social media manager!reader. carmen hates doing tasks lol.

“Carmen,” Sydney turned, carrying a large tray of vegetables that needed to be prepped, expertly dodging the other chefs working on the line. Carmen gave a huff of a grunt, not bothering to look up from his own prep, too in the zone.

“Chef,” Sydney huffed, firmer this time, catching his attention when the tray smacked on the counter next to him. “Someone’s in the office for you.”

“Me?” Carmen blinked, brows pulling in a deep frown. “No, not f’me-”

“-Yes, for you, Chef-”

“-No, that’s Richie’s job. Cousin,” Carmen leaned back, shouting towards the swinging doors.

“Carmen, will you- there’s someone in the office for you. Ok? They’re here for you, not Richie.” Sydney muttered, shaking her head in annoyance.

Carmen paused, looking at Sydney. “What’re you doin’?” He asked.

“What?”

“No, what’re you doin’?” Carmen repeated, eyes narrowed at her skeptically. “No-No one should be in my office. I’m not doin’ the interviews for bussers, that’s Richie, so who’s in the office? Hm? What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing’s goin’ on, jeez.” Sydney rolled her eyes. “There is someone in the office for you.”

“Yeah? Is it-it’s Fak? Is he fuckin’ with me? Gonna walk in there and what? Gonna spray some shit on me like we’re fuckin’ fourteen-”

“-What? No.” Sydney frowned. “I don’t- Look, I was told not to tell you who’s in there because it’s a surprise, ok? It’s not bad. Just- Can you go in there? I don’t know why they asked me to do this, but I’m clearly not good at the whole surprise thing, so just do me a favor and go see for yourself.”

Carmen huffed, wiping his hands on the clean towel next to him, craning to see his office from his spot. He looked at Sydney with a deadpan expression. “If I get sprayed with some shit, Chef.”

Sydney rolled her eyes in annoyance, turning to pass the prep to the chef beside her. Carmen looked carefully to see if anyone around him was lurking, hiding in the shadows to watch him get ambushed so they could have a laugh. He felt like he was twelve again, Richie and Mikey always fucking with him so he’d get red faced and embarrassed just so they could laugh at him.

Twisting the knob to the office, Carmen let the door fall open before he stepped towards it. Thankfully, there were no signs of shit falling from the ceiling, nobody hiding in the shadows. Instead, sitting in his office chair was a much more pleasant surprise- you.

“Hey,” Carmen’s face lit up, lips curling in a greeting. “What- I didn’t know you were comin’ today.”

“I decided to surprise you.” You smiled back. “Ambush you, really.”

“Ambush?” Carmen snorted lightly, shutting the door behind him. “What’re you ambushin’ me for?”

You stood, letting your arms wrap around his waist in greeting, lips brushing his before he took your mouth in his fully, kissing you sweetly just like he had this morning. “Mm,” You sighed, pulling back quicker than Carmen would have liked.

“I came to ambush you for content.” You batted your eyes sweetly at him, feeling his shoulders fall under your touch. “Because you were supposed to let me shoot the new menu items this week and you still haven’t.”

“Baby,” Carmen huffed, pulling a hand away from the small of your back to rub over his forehead. “I-I don’t- Why do I have to be in them?”

“Because people want to see you, Carm.” You glared at him lightly. “They see Marcus and Tina and Sydney all the time, and they want to see you too. You’re the head chef.”

“Yeah, but-but why? It’s so fuckin’ stupid.” Carmen grumbled, huffy already, the start of a bickering fight you’d had a million times before. To say Carmen was camera shy was an understatement.

“Why is it stupid?” You put your hands on your hips. “People want to feel connected. They want an inside look. They want to feel like they know you and they’re a part of something. That’s what gets people to come.” It was the same argument, every time. Carmen knew it, he understood it, he just… Well, he didn’t like it.

“I’ll prompt you on everything to say,” You grabbed at him, trying to coo at him, coax him into finally letting him do your job. It was easier before the two of you were dating, before he was comfortable, when he’d suck it up in the name of professionalism.

“All you have to do is cook me a dish, and answer my questions, and that’s it! It’ll be done in no time, and you can pick whichever one you want from the summer menu.” You ran a hand soothingly down his arm, over his toned bicep, trying not to drool at the definition.

You could feel Carmen swaying already, turning into your touch, teetering on relenting. “Does it have to be a video?” Carmen grumbled, looking at you with pleading eyes. “‘M already behind and I-I need to do some prep, and-”

“-Don’t lie to me.” You frown at him. “I asked Sydney before and she said you were all caught up for the day. Ahead, actually.” You lifted a brow in challenge.

Carmen huffed, turning to look over his shoulder, cursing Sydney in his head. “I know your games, Berzatto.” You poked his tummy lightly, trying to lighten his mood with playfulness. The last thing you needed was him to be so sulky during the filming, ruining the content. “Know all your tricks, so don’t even try them.”

Carmen let out a half huff, lips pursing in a tight line in defeat. He was so pouty, petulant, really, but you decided against teasing him about it.

“One video?” Your hand slid up his chest, cupping his cheek gently, pulling his eyes back to yours, heart fluttering when his gaze was on you. “One video and… and I’ll make it up to you.”

Carmen’s heart stuttered, leaping with excitement he tried to swallow down. “Yeah? Make it up to me how?” He muttered, voice dropping low to a near gravel.

Your lips twitched, pulling at the corners of your mouth in a wicked, triumphant smile. “If you do the video for me today,” You purred, slowly pulling away, slinking towards the door. “I’ll owe you something later. Whatever you want.” Your lashes batted in suggestive playfulness.

Carmen’s palms itched with excitement, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. “Yeah?” He tried to keep his voice steady, keep it from cracking to show his eagerness. “W-What’d you have in mind?”

You shrugged sweetly, clicking the lock on the door. “Oh, that’ll be up to you, Chef.” You grinned, Carmen’s posture going rigid with thrill.

“But if you promise after this you’ll do my video,” You stepped towards him, toe to toe with each other, though neither touched the other. “I’ll give you a little taste of what I had in mind for later.”

Carmen swallowed, nodding furiously. He’d blame the blood rushing from his brain to his cock as the reason he agreed so easily, the reason he was persuaded without much fight. You lifted your brows in an amused question.

“Yeah? You’ll do it for me?” You tilted your head to the side gently.

Carmen nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. “Yes, fuck, yeah. I-I’ll do it.”

You grinned, sliding your hands down his arms, towards his torso. “Thank you, baby.” You hummed sweetly. “You want me to give you a little sneak peek of what I had in mind for tonight? A little thank you for now?”

Carmen bobbed his head furiously, swallowing a shudder when your hands slid over his lower belly, slowly towards his waistband. “You want me to give you a little taste then?” You whispered, a purr in your tone that had Carmen throbbing, aching behind the zipper of his jeans.

“Please,” Carmen croaked, jaw tight trying desperately to stay quiet.

You grinned triumphantly, hand sliding and cupping over his bulge, palming him through his jeans. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.” You batted your lashes at him, holding his gaze as you sank to your knees in front of him. “I’ll give you a taste.”

Carmen’s head tipped back in pleasure, swallowing a breathy moan that threatened to escape, eyes darting around the small space of his office. The door was locked, the blinds shut, but still he had a nagging fear that Richie or Sweeps or someone would bust through the door, catching the two of you in the act. His veins pricked with tingling excitement at the thought, heartbeat thudding in his ears when he looked down at you through his lashes, watching you pull him from his boxers, pumping his length.

“Mm,” You moaned quietly, soft lips pressing even softer, feather-like kisses up his shaft.

“Do-Don’t tease me, baby.” Carmen whispered, voice tight in a groan. You looked up at him innocently, eyes rounded sweetly. “Please.” Carmen added.

“I won’t.” Your breath ghosted over his cock, leaving him shivering at the sensation. The pad of your thumb swiping over his already leaking head, spreading his release around. “I’ll make it quick. Just relax, Carm. I’ve got you.”

Carmen slid a hand over his mouth, muffling a moan when you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, tongue swirling around the head. His teeth sank into his knuckles, head tipping back towards the ceiling at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fu-uck.” Carmen muttered, your free hand pumping his length, slowly taking his tip past your warm lips. Your eyes stayed on him the entire time, rounded and eager to please, eager to watch him be pleased.

Carmen’s free hand moved to the top of your head, cradling it gently as you sucked him off, cupping his balls and massaging them. You’d always been so good at this. He’d told you that from the beginning, heart nearly exploding when you’d smiled sheepishly and asked him, “really?” in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard.

From then on, Carmen had never failed to sing your praises- in anything you did, but especially when you gave him head. Now, he fought back the urge to groan loudly, to look down at you and say filthy, sweet things that would have you squirming, thighs rubbing together. Anywhere else but here, he would have, but he couldn’t risk the others hearing.

Instead, he moved his hand to cup your cheek, hollowed and full with his length, thumb brushing over your cheek bone sweetly. “You’re makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good, baby. S-So fuckin’ good.” Carmen rasped, clenching his hips to keep them from bucking when you moaned around his lengths, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his core. He was close, you both knew it.

You pressed the pad of your thumb gently down the seam of his balls, hitting a sweet spot Carmen didn’t even know existed until he met you, a breathy whine of a moan catching in his throat.

“‘M close, baby. “M- Like really fuckin’ close.” Carmen whispered, brain beginning to fog, ears starting to buzz with a dull ringing that always came with his orgasms.

You picked up speed, head bobbing at a fast rate, up and down his length, swallowing him further and further, gagging when you took him a little too far. You always looked at him with embarrassment, a little sheepish when you’d do that, like he didn’t beg for you to do it again, like he didn’t bust every time you did.

“Shit, shit, shit, ‘M-” Carmen’s mouth fell open dumbly, eyes blowing and glazing with ecstasy, a strangled gasp and moan filling the room as he came, spilling his load down your throat. You kept pumping him through it, milking his length onto your tongue, hot release onto your taste buds while his body shook with pleasure.

Carmen’s shoulders heaved, rounding with exhausted pleasure as he slowly came down off his high. You waited until he looked back at you, eyes meeting yours to swallow. Carmen nearly fainted right then and there at the sight.

Thirty minutes later, you were set up with your camera, the two of you giggly and sweet in your own corner of the kitchen, while Carmen eagerly filmed your video. Even feeding you a bite when he was finished with the dish, beaming at your praise.

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haerinari · 29 days

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I don’t care about Sooha

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader. Decelis Academy AU.

synopsis: y/n has always been best friends with the seven boys Heeseung, Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Ni-ki. But ever since the new girl, Sooha, came to Decelis Academy, everything has been only about her. Heeseung, who wasn’t only y/n’s bestfriend but also the boy she liked, was the first of all of them to give all his attention to Sooha, making y/n feel a bit (a lot) jealous.

warnings: not proofread!, jealousy, cursing, fluff, smut, smut with plot, y/n being a bit hater on Sooha, kissing, boob play, nipple play, pet names (baby, love, princess, good girl), dirty talking, praises, clit play, pussy eating, fingering, cum eating, unprotected sex (don’t do this), use of the word cum-slut.

want to keep reading? click here ⬇️

“Sooha, come sit here! Right next to me!” Sunoo exclaimed with excitement pointing at my seat.

“But it’s taken” she said.

“Yeah, that’s my sea—” i tried to say but Sunoo interrupted me. “Oh, that’s fine!” he answered.

“Sunghoon can sit with Y/N.”

“Fine…” i groaned and took my bag and notebooks next to Sunghoon’s table. “I can’t believe this.” i murmured to myself.

“Don’t worry, i feel the same way about her.” Sunghoon whispered into my ear with a serious face. “There is something that isn’t right about her, she’s very…”

“Nosey? Annoying?”

“Yeah, its a weird thing y/n. But don’t worry, i’m always on your side.” he smiled.

The chemistry class went pretty smoothly, Sunghoon and I didn’t payed that much attention to it, instead we were laughing and making jokes about random things. When the bell rang, all of us were packing peacefully our things until Sunoo talked to Sooha again.

“Sooha, what are you up to now that clases are over?” the blond boy asked.

“Huh? Oh, i’m gonna clean my room today.” Sooha answered. “I got some of it done last night… but there’s still a long way to go. There’s a bunch of things to throw out too.”

“Then i’ll help!” Sunoo smiled.

When i got out of the class I saw at the end of the hall Heeseung and Sooha talking. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous about her, she has been so close to Hee lately. Before Sooha came to Decelis, he was the closest to me comparing to the others, we did everything together; lunch, siting together in class, and having deep long conversations at midnight, but it’s seems that all those things are over for now.

“Oh yeah! I sit next to Sunoo too, Y/N gave me her seat.” i hear Sooha saying to Heeseung while i was getting closer with all the other boys.

“She did?” Heeseung replied with surprise in his voice.

“Y/N didn’t give it to her, she stole it.” Sunghoon defended crossing his arms.

“Of course Y/N have it to her, she’s a good friend. You should do it too, Sunghoon. Mind your manners.” Jay talked.

“Sooha’s new in here.” Jungwon spoked. “We should be nice to her.”

“Yeah! Or you can just sit at the back with Y/N, you seemed pretty closed to her today, huh.” the blond boy said with a playful smirk.

“What?” Heeseung asked raising an eyebrow, getting in the conversation. “Yeah, the laughed and joked all~ the class”

“You-!!”

“Well, I also told them i was cleaning my room today… and the all offered to help.” Sooha said trying to relive the tension between all of us.

“Did we?” I said, Sunghoon laughed.

“What?” the girls said when Heeseung got closer to her. “Yeah… of course…”

Did Heeseung just talk to Sooha through his telepathy? No way, we agreed not to show our powers to her.

“Let’s go then!”

We all walked into Sooha’s room, there was a lot of boxes and stuff spread on the ground. Sunoo was wearing a pink apron while mopping the floor and Jay and Jungwon were taking the boxes from the floor. This room used to be were all of us hanged out sometimes, so there was boxes with weights, books, and other of our stuff on the ground.

“Uhm, guys… I can do it myself.” Sooha said.

“No Sooha, just stand there and watch.” Jay replied.

“Yeah, it’ll only take us a second.” Jungwon said.

“Cleaning is my favorite thing in the world!”

“You liar…”

“S-still, it’ll help too.” the girl said trying to take one of the weight boxes.

“Sooha…” i started. “I don’t think you can— Wow.”

“There’s 1000kg of dumbbells in it!” they exclaimed.

“How is that even possible?” i asked.

“Oh, no…”

“Here, let me take that for you.” Heeseung offered.

“Huh?” Heeseung was doing it again. “What? No! Of course not, i would never…”

“Heeseung did you just talked to her through telepathy?” Sunghoon asked shooked. “Yeah, since earlier today.”

“Heeseung!”

“Heeseung, we’re…”

“Sooha, you’ll keep my ability as a secret, right?” Heeseung said leaning closer to her.

Why did he always had to be so close to her?

“Yeah, of course! I won’t tell anyone.”

“Then let’s keep our secret between us.”

“Okay.” she nodded.

“I think your powers are really cool.”

“Yours too Hee.” Sooha answered with a little smile.

“Hell no, i can’t stand this.” i said in a low tone taking my bag from Sooha’s bed.

“What? Where are you going?” Sunghoon asked, Heeseung looked at me.

“I’m gonna be with Jake and Ni-ki on the field, they must be playing football. I’ll be there if you guys need me.” i murmured and left.

“What’s with her lately?” i heard Heeseung asked.

“I don’t know.” was the last thing i heard from Jungwon say before closing completely the door.

“What should i do guys?” i said hiding my head between my knees.

After successfully finding Ni-ki and Jake on the field, i told them everything that was happening with Heeseung and how i felt about Sooha.

“Well, it’s not a surprise you like Heeseung Hyung.” Ni-ki said.

“Yeah, all of us know that you both always had a thing for each other.” Jake added. “Both of us?”

“Of course that both you!” Ni-ki exclaimed. “You’re always like, eating him with your eyes.”

“Don’t say that! It’s embarrassing…”

“I remember one time he told us that he read your mind in class, it was an accident, he said. Heeseung hyung was going to tell you something via telepathy, but he accidentally ended hearing your thoughts about how handsome he looked that day.” Jake told.

“Shut. up.” i gasped.

“But be chill about it, Y/N…” the youngest of the boys said palming my back. “He likes you too, a lot more than you think.”

“Then why he is always so fucking close to her, talking to her, being with her, laughing with her!?” i said angrily.

“There is something weird about that girl, we can all feel it, he’s just trying to find out what is it.” jake explained.

“Huh? But she’s so w—”

“What are you guys talking about?” Heeseung said appearing behind our backs, interrupting my sentence.

“Nothing of your business…” i replied.

“Hyung! Good you’re here, Jake hyung and I are were just about to go, but we didn’t want to leave y/n alone.” Ni-ki said getting on his feet and doing a gesture for Jake to follow him.

“What–”

“Yeah, now that you’re here, you can stay with her. Bye hyung, see ya tomorrow y/n.” Jake said.

“Bye y/n!”

“See you around Riki…”

An awkward silence took all the place, I was still sat hugging my knees while Heeseung was standing behind me.

“Do you, maybe, want to go to my room? We can talk or do something if you like.” he spoke after a few seconds.

“Aren’t you going to be with your new friend Sooha?” i replied sarcastically.

“I think she’s on her room, i left her there. It’s been a long time since we talked, you know… you and me.”

“That’s because you are always with that girl, everywhere she goes, you have to go too.”

“That’s why I want to be with you now. C’mon, let’s go. I’m not asking if you want to or not.” Heeseung said showing me his hand.

“Fine.” i sighed and took his hand.

We walked through the Academy until we reached to the door of his dorm, when he opened it, his roommate, Sunoo, wasn’t there.

“Where’s Sunoo?” i asked walking in the bed’s direction.

“I think he went out with Jungwon and Jay, they said there were hungry.” Heeseung replied.

“Oh, how I missed your bed!” i exclaimed while jumping on his comfortable bed, it was so soft and cozy.

Every single time after we hanged out at night we used to come to his dorm and lay on the bed to watch movies, i remember how fast my heart beats were when i felt the proximity of our bodies and his scent all over the bed.

“I missed you.” Heeseung said lying by my side.

“Oh don’t say that.” i pinched him softly on the arm.

“Why not?” he smiled. “Because you know how i feel about you, and those things make my heart go crazy…”

“I don’t know what are you talking about.” he shakes his head.

“Don’t play dumb on me, Heeseung. Jake and Ni-ki told me about that time you read my kind in class, about how you heard how handsome i thought you looked that day.”

“Those assholes, i told them to keep their mouths shut!” i laughed. “I don’t care about Sooha, Y/N. Not in the way you think i do.”

“Your actions says other words Heeseung.” i looked at the ceiling. “It’s all right tho, i don’t want to loose our friendship…”

“Okay, now you stop playing dumb on me.” he laughed. “I like you, Y/N. I don’t like Sooha, i’m not interested in her. I like you and only you.” Heeseung confessed.

“Are you sure? I mean, like… like like?”

“Yes, Y/N. Like like.”

“Why didn’t you told me earlier?”

“I think i was a little scared… i knew you liked me but, i wasn’t completely sure and also didn’t want to lose our friendship. I couldn’t lose you, how could i live without you?”

“Oh stop saying those clingy things!” i said hiding my red face on his pillows. “I’m flustered.”

“Y/N” he called. “Hmm?” i said with my head still between the pillows.

“Look at me, please.” i turned at him, looking directly at his precious eyes. “You’re the only girl I have eyes for, you’re the only girl i can look at. Why would i be looking at some other woman when i have the girl of my dreams right in front of me?”

And with that, I instantly crashed my lips against his. As our lips finally met, it was as if time stood still; the kiss was tender yet electric, igniting a spark that both of us had expected for a really long time. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration that spoke of shared secrets and unvoiced emotions. Heeseung’s lips brushed against mines, warm and inviting, as if testing the waters of a new adventure. A rush of warmth flooded through the kiss, igniting a spark that quickly ignited into something deeper. He got on top of me, the kiss growing more passionate. His hands cradled into my face, his thumb lightly tracing my cheek, grounding them in the moment.

“Do you want to… keep going?” Heeseung asked, trying to catch his breath.

“If you stop now, i’ll kill you.” he giggled. “That’s want i wanted to hear.”

The kiss was deeper this time, one of his hands went from my cheek to the buttons of my shirt, untangle them. He took all of my shirt off, revealing my black lace bra that was covering the upper part of my body.

“Fuck…” he sighted.

He kissed me again, now trailing his open mouth kisses from my mouth, then my neck, until reaching to my chest. His hand moved to my back, unbuttoning my bra and throwing it to somewhere at the room.

“Such pretty tits, baby.”

I let out a loud moan when i felt his mouth in one of my nipples, sucking it hardly while his other hand was pinching my other boob. His mouth felt like heaven, the wetness between my legs starting to grow wider by the sensation of his cock hardening on my core. My hips started to moved back and forth, searching for some kind of relief.

“Hee —fuck— please…” i begged.

“Aww, is my pretty princess needy, huh? You want to feel me all inside you, don’t you? Want me to break you apart…” he spoke with a smirk, his lips red and swollen from sucking my tits.

“Fuck yes.”

“Hold it a little longer baby, let me take care of you…”

He went down on my stomach, kissing every single part visible of my body. He took off my uniform skirt and kissed my iner-thighs, placing his hands over my knees to keep them open. My hips started bucking into him, trying to feel some kind of friction. He kissed my core through my panties, an embarrassing wet patch showing off. Heeseung moved the to the side, reveling my wet core begging for attention.

“Such a pretty pussy, such a pretty girl… I’m going to eat you out, and going to lick all of your pussy until you’re dripping into my face, baby.”

He started sucking my clit, his tongue lapping at it while he sucked here and there my pussy lips, making slurping noises as he devoured my cunt. My hand went directly to his hair, pushing him deeper to chase that feeling i’ve been searching for. He groaned, causing a vibration in my pussy and sending shivers down my spine.

“Fuck i love your pussy, i could fucking eat it all day, such a sensitive clit and wet pussy. You’re such a good girl.”

“Shit!” i gasped. “Heeseung ple —ah— please fuck me alredy.”

His index finger entered my tight hole, causing me to scream his name. His finger felt so long and deep inside me, i could imagine how good his dick was going to feel.

He added another finger, moving them in and out in hard pace while sucking my clit meanwhile.

“You’re so good, Hee. Shit, shit. You’re fingers feel so good.” i cried.

“If my fingers feel like this, imagine how good my dick is going to stretch you out. If you can’t take my finger, how are you going to take my cock? Huh, Y/N? Tell me…”

“I…I—” i sweared i could see stars in that moment. “I’m gonna cum.”

“You cuming baby? C’mon, cum all over my fingers. Let me taste all of you, baby.”

His fingers went faster, hitting that sweet spot deep inside me, his tongue sucking my clit. The knot in my stomach felt tighter and tighter until it finally explored.

“Fuck!” i gasped grabbing the sheets under me. “Oh my good, Hee.”

“That’s it baby… That’s it, so sweet. You’re such a good, good girl.” Heeseung said sucking clean all my pussy.

He came up to my face, kissing me with hunger and allowing me to taste myself.

“You think you’re ready for my cock now?” i nodded. “Yeah?”

“Please Hee…”

“Shit, anything for you baby.”

He took his pants and boxers down, revealing his long, thick cock leaking with pre-cum.

“There—There’s no war that’s gonna fit inside me.” i lowered my voice.

“That’s why stretch you out before, love.”

He thrusted his cock in his hand a few times until he aligned into my entrance. With a deep groan, Heeseung thrust himself into my tight hole, making me moan. His cock sliding deep into my wet, tight pussy.

“So, so tight baby.” he moaned. “This pussy was made just for me.”

“Yes, Hee. It’s feels so good.” i gasped.

His hand reached to rub my clit, making me moan even louder as he fucked my pussy senseless. He groans softly as he feels the tightness of my pussy around his cock. He begins to move faster, his hips slapping against my ass as he pounds into my cunt relentlessly.

“Hee, baby, i’m gonna cum again…”

“—Fuck— that’s it baby, cum with me okay? Let’s —shit— let’s cum together.

You couldn’t last any longer, not with the way he was rubbing your clit and not with the way he was burying his dick inside you. And with a loud moan, he buried his cock deep inside, his hot cum flooding my pussy. His hands on my hips holding me in place, making sure every last drop is deposited inside, marking me as his own cum-slut. His orgasm seems to go on forever, leaving me with a dripping, cum-filled mess.

“That was… wow.” Heeseung said collapsing next to me on the bed, i smiled.

“Yeah… wow.”

“Just for the record, i don’t want this to be just some one-time-hookup. I really have deep feelings for you, Y/N.” he said, wrapping his arms around my body in a tight hug.

“I want to be with you, Hee. I really like you too and i want to to this with you forever, you’re the only one.”

“My pretty girl.” he said giving me a kiss on the head. “You’re the best, y/n.”

“I know.” he laughed. “Love you, Hee.”

“Love you too, princess.”

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bluejeanstrash · 7 months

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tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, domestic scenes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of marriage | wc: 744

‘is he okay?’

‘mmm’ seungcheol nods, carefully closing the door behind him. ‘he’ll be fine. he fell asleep but i’ve kept the puke bucket next to the bed incase he needs it’

‘cheollie, we really need to throw that thing’ you make a face, thinking about how many times it had been used.

‘yeah, but people keep throwing up in our house!’

‘that’s because you keep making them drink way too much!’ seungcheol’s “home bar” was 3 bottles short of a liquor store. he was extremely proud of his collection and very generous with it, offering offensively expensive drinks to any and every guest that entered your home.

tonight, passed out in the guest room was hoshi, who had been taken out midway through his fourth drink. he hadn’t even made it to the dinner part of the dinner party you both were hosting.

seungcheol pouts in response, picking up a dirty glass left on the bar ‘do you want me to do the dishes, my love?’

‘nope, i’ve got it. can you clean up and take out the trash instead?’ he gets on it right away, pausing for a second to rub your shoulders when bringing the glass over. a second turns into a minute, and the rub into a mini massage as his fingers move deftly, kneading all those little knots away.

‘thank you baby, i needed that’ you sigh, and the next thing you know his arms are wrapped around you, his chin resting on the slope of your shoulder ‘you know what was really nice today?’

‘hmmn?’

‘you know when joshua’s friend…mark? yeah, mark. when he thought we were married’

it was first time it had ever happened. ‘so, how did you and your husband meet?’ mark had asked.

‘oh, he’s my boyfriend’ you had corrected him and moved on, but seungcheol was stuck right there. boyfriend? no, that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore. why would he ever want to be called your boyfriend when he could be your husband instead? a demotion, really.

‘i liked it. a lot. husband-’ he presses a kiss to the warm skin of your neck ‘-and wife’, and another, before pulling you into him. he brings his arm forward to turn off the tap before turning you around to face him.

‘what do you say? should we do it? get married?’ each question asked in between little pecks.

‘if this is your idea of a proposal-’

he chuckles, circling back ‘get married. make you my wife. get you…pregnant’ seungcheol feels a little giddy honestly, giddy at his own words. he’s already made up his mind — he wants this future, and only with you.

‘you want to put a baby in me?’ you tease, starting to feel a little hot under your clothes.

‘oh, i want to put many, many babies in you’ he mutters, his lips parting yours, impatient hands coming around to untie the knot of your apron.

‘want to put one in you right now...’ he grabs your ass to lift you up, your legs wrapping around him instantly. you pull off your rubber gloves, tossing them aside and lock your arms around his neck. you kiss him, a little needily, tugging at his hair to let him know you need him right here, right now. he turns around to take you to the kitchen island, opening his eyes for a second to see hoshi — hoshi who’s discreetly trying to make his way out of the kitchen.

‘shit!’ seungcheol’s grip on you loosens abruptly before he catches you, carefully putting you down.

‘sorry! i’m so sorry!’ hoshi covers his eyes, stumbling back ‘i didn’t see anything. i just..i threw up..in that bucket thing and didn’t know what to do with it’

‘it’s fine, it’s fine. go to the room. i’m coming’ seungcheol takes a second to calm himself down, taking deep breaths to redirect his blood flow.

‘this is what it’s going to be like with a kid, you know’ you joke, bending to grab the fallen gloves which doesn’t help his raging boner at all ‘at least hoshi can clean up after himself up. who’s going to clean up our child’s projectile vomit?’

there’s a moment of silence.

‘not it’

‘not it!’

you both giggle — you turning back to do the dishes, and seungcheol going to check up on hoshi, both of you back in the moment, dreaming of the future to come.

#random drabble to get back into writing #scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye’re off yer head.”

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins.

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way.

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.”

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now?

He’s really going to kill you this time.

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this.

You still have your sanctuary.

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath.

Still…

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse-

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny?

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him.

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear.

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner.

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words.

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly.

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it.

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily.

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them.

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling.

“Good night, bunny.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost

2K notes · View notes

zeroreasonstocare · 3 months

Text

One day, Choso is confused when you cancel watching Yuji with no explanation. Usually, there’s a long apology and reasoning, usually a last-minute scheduling issue, but today? Radio silence. After getting his uncle over to watch Yuji, Choso walks next door to check on you, knowing he’ll be late to his nth part-time job.

When you don’t answer the door, he uses the spare key you gave him, and he calls for you. Still, no response.

He gets to your room to see you passed out on your bed, phone in hand with a half-typed explanation to him, and blankets twisting with your legs. Choso picks up your phone, reading the half-typed text with multiple spelling errors, able to make out “ghreq ip” and “um so sprty”, knowing it probably means “threw up” and “I’m so sorry”.

The dark-haired male frowns and shuts off your phone, putting it on the charger and onto your nightstand. He then shuts off your lamps and fixes your blanket. Choso then goes to your kitchen and calls into work, claiming he’s sick and can’t make it to work. He then starts to cook your favorite soup.

You wake up to the smell of food, the feeling of dread instantly occurs, thinking you accidentally cooked something while delirious after throwing up. You scramble out of bed and hurry into the kitchen and find none other than your neighbor cooking soup for you.

“Choso?” You mumble, sleepy and confused, throat hoarse from your earlier vomiting.

“Go back to bed,” he mumbles, not even turning to look at you as he continues to cook. “Actually, try the soup, does it need anything?”

He carefully blows on the spoon to cool the broth and then brings it to your lips. You taste the soup and nod.

“Good.” Is all you manage to say as you watch him cook. It never gets old. Watching how docile and domestic he can be while looking so imposing and menacing.

He lays you back in bed despite your protests, and leaves the room. He quickly returns with a bowl of soup and sits in front of you.

“Here, open up.”

“Nooo, go work, I’ll get you sick,” you mumble.

“Don’t care, open up, I already said I’m not working today.”

“Fiiine…”

He carefully cools each bite of soup for you and spoon feeds you. Choso smiles at your tired, sickly expression.

“Yuji’s with our uncle, if you were wondering,” he mumbles and feeds you, letting you sip your water.

“What was his name again?” You mumble.

“Sukuna. He instantly thought of something inappropriate when I said you cancelled today.”

“Oh god…”

“Yup. Instant smirk on his face.”

“What’d he say?”

“Said that you and I should be more careful.” Choso rolls his eyes at the innuendo left by his uncle’s words.

“He thinks I’m bedridden because… that’s so inappropriate…” It took you a while to get the innuendo, but when it did click, your cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, it is.” He agrees.

He goes back to feeding you instead of continuing the topic.

“Yuji misses you already. He said he wanted to play hide and seek today.”

“Maybe we’ll play next time.”

“I’m off work for the rest of the week.”

“Oh, guess I’ll have to wait til next week, then.”

“Who says my dear neighbor can’t visit any time when they feel better?”

“Right, we’re neighbors, friends, not just babysitter and employer, huh?” You smile, starting to feel better after eating.

“Yeah, we are, aren’t we?” He smiles too, always smiling when he sees yours. “Feel better and the three of us can all play.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on feeling better. Give me like, a day or two,” you mumble and lay down.

Choso chuckles and contemplates lying beside you, but doesn’t want your protests about getting him sick. He decides to let you rest and he fixes your covers, then puts up the leftover soup and cleans the dishes, staying quiet so he doesn’t wake you. He could get used to doing small things for you.

Masterlist

#brothers babysitter au #choso kamo #choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #jjk #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso kamo #felt sick and then felt inspired

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christinarowie332 · 11 months

Text

“sit on my fucking face .”

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

requested !

warnings : language , smut , pov switching .

not proof read

———

“yo y/n are u listening right now?”

i’m snapped out of my trance i was in by matt’s voice , i snap my head towards him on the couch we were sat on . realising i have literally just been staring at chris opposite me .

“yeah sorry , just zoned out , carry on” i reply while turning my body towards him , tucking one leg under the other so i’m half cross legged . i glance back at chris , noticing a small smirk he has on his face , his eye brows twitch before he breaks the eye contact and looks at matt . i follow his gaze .

“as i was saying , imma drive nick to the airport to pick up nate , but the house is a mess so you and chris should stay here and clean it up a bit , we will be gone for a while cause of the traffic so you have plenty of time” matt explains to us , moving his gaze from me and chris . everytime he looks at chris , i also look at chris , his nose and lips are kinda red from the cold , god i want my thighs wrapped-

“Y/N!?”

fuck

“yeah sorry matt ,” i turn my head towards him

“what did i just say?” matt asks while slumping into the couch pillows , rolling his eyes .

“clean the house ? picking up nate , me and chris stay . we have a long time” i reply , a blush creeping to my cheeks as i feel my heart race .

matt shakes his head and gets up from the couch , he says something but honestly i was too busy thinking about chris , how his eyes would look from below me , blown out , rolled back in his head , mouth covering my-

“which rooms do u wanna start on”

chris’s voice booms , snapping me away from my thoughts .

“uh . idk …. the kitchen and your room are the only messy ones , so let’s just start with the kitchen i guess” i reply back , trying to shake away the tremble in my voice .

“you okay ?” he says taking a step forward , face painted with concern , tilting it sideways , crossing the room to stand infront of me .

i take a shakey breath in before speaking, my bestfriend inches away from me , being so sweet but all i can think about is suffocating him with my-

“there is is again.”

“what ? there’s what again?” he fully has my attention now , my face being just as confused as him.

he laughs slightly and searches in my eyes , jumping between them rapidly. “you keep just going somewhere else … what are u thinking about?”

oh idk chris , your face pressed against my-

“i’m not thinking of anything chris , i’m perfectly okay !” i reply instead . laughing awkwardly to try and deminish the growing tension.

“sure” he drags out , taking a step back , “i’m gonna pretend i believe you” he continues , shaking his head and turning around to the kitchen , i exhail once he turns , closing my eyes and relaxing my shoulders .

i follow him to the kitchen , bending down to go in the cubbord, grabbing a bin bag and the rest of the cleaning stuff .

chris’s pov:

i turn around from the fridge i was grabbing drinks from , to see y/n slowly crouch down to the bottom cubbord .as she meets the floor , knees tucked into her chest , i see her thighs flatten , getting squashed slightly between her calves at the pressure . god to have those wrapped around my head , they’re so fucking-

“hey chris?” i remove my eyes from her ass and meet her gaze as she turns to look at me .”do you know where matt put the disinfectant, it’s not in here?”

the light from the window is perfectly hitting her face , making her glow , how the fuck does she do that-

“hellooooo ???” i blink a couple times and scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, “disinfectant chris ? where is it?” she continues.

“oh right . um . idk probably in the garage” i shrug my shoulders and look away from her , turning around and staring to shove the rubbish into a bag she threw over to me .

i hear her leave and turn around , leaning against the counter closing my eyes . i quickly get lost in my own thoughts . she’s been looking at me today , i’m not going crazy right ? so if i just ask? no . she’s my bestfriend, i can’t do that . what if she’s been looking at me because she knows i’ve been looking at her , imagining my face inbetween her legs , i bet she sounds so nice when she moans . fuck.

i look down to see my dick , half hard . FUCK .

y/n pov :

as i reach the garage . i stop in my tracks . he was definitely staring my my ass right ? no what if he was just looking at the floor . i can only ask . but what if he freaks out and gets all weird .

fuck it

i make my way to the kitchen , faster then i’ve ever walked , and freezing when i get there . where the fuck is this kid ?

i turn around and see the bag placed on the top of the stairs , look back at the kitchen and it’s clean , so he probably just went to start on his room .

i start walking towards the stairs to his room , slowly creeping down them , reaching his door and knocking .

“yeah come in”

i hear this and immediately walk in . he meets my eyes and gets up from his bed . i slowly walk towards him anxiously, trying to think of a way to bring up the fact i want to literally ride his face . even thinking it sounds insane .

“bro , what is up with you today ?” he asks and my eyes peel away from the floor .

“i wanna ride your face” my eyes immediately widen , hand slapped over my mouth . why the fuck did i just say that . i bet he hates me . oh my god i just fucked up our entire friendship . what the fuck do i say now-

“all you had to do was ask ma” my eyes meet his again watching a smirk crawl onto his face , he snakes a hand to my waist and pulls me into him , smashing our lips together . i put both hands on his chest and walk him back wards to the bed , not once breaking the now heated makeout .

the moment i feel him hault and meet the end of his bed i pull away and push him down . i take off my tank top and throw it to the side , watching him crawl backwards to the top of his bed .

“you have no idea how much i’ve been wanting this” he says as he watches me , leaning back on his elbows , looking at me while i take off my sweatpants , and walk to the side of his bed .

his eyes trail down my body , and i feel a wave of embarrassment hit me , he is still fully clothed , he notices this and tilts his head “do u want me to take this off baby?” his voice croaky and gruff , making my core grow even wetter .

i nod my head before climbing onto the bed , straddling his lap and helping him peel his top over his head . i can feel a hard object pressing against my pussy , looking down at it and meeting his eyes , him also looking down , noticing it the same time as me , “you really did want this huh?” i tease , tilting my head and smirking , matching his energy.

“shut up” he laughs out before grabbing my face and bringing his lips to mine again , i hold his face , elbows supporting me as i deepen the kiss . his hands run down to my ass , down to my thighs , making me arch my back and hum into his mouth.

we stay like this for a while , our kiss growing more aggressive and needy by the second , tongues battling relentlessly , before he moves his mouth down to my collarbone , biting and leaving open mouthed kisses , for sure leaving some nasty marks

“sit on my fucking face” me whispers into my neck , i pull away , out of breath . his eyes completely blacked out with lust . nose red and lips swollen.

“gladly”

with that sit up and slowly push my underwear down , he watches and helps me pull them down while still on the bed .

i make my way to his face neck , hovering over him , suddenly feeling anxious . he rolls his eyes before grabbing my thighs and pulling me over his jaw . basically suffocating him under my pussy.

his nose immediately hits my clit , drawing out an embarrassingly loud moan from my mouth, grabbing the head board for stability.

he licks a long stripe though me , before landing on my clit and wrapping his wet lips around it . my hand flys to his hair , gripping it tightly , making him grunt , sending vibrations through my core as he continues to explore my pussy with his mouth .

my legs start to shake , as i’m still not putting my whole weight oh him , noticing this he pulls me down by my hips , forcing me to fully sit on his face . i start to move my hips forward and back wards , using his nose and tongue as friction.

“FUCK CHRIS” i scream out as me shoved his tongue deep into my pussy , causing my thighs to close slightly , trapping him inbetween my legs .

“keep talking , i want to hear you ma” he says out of breath , fingers replacing his tongue as he gets his breath before re- attaching his tongue to my clit , flattening it and shaking his head sideways.

“fuck-FUCK CHRIS, i’m gonna FUCK” is all i got out before the knot snaps in my stomach , feeling shocks fill my entire body as i clench around his fingers . coming undone ,all over his face whimpering , eye’s clenched together and my jaw falling slack.

i slow down my movements,grinding against his face as a ride out my high , before i see chris face lift , his nose and chin practically dripping with my arousal . a huge teethy smile plastered on his face as he heaves out breaths . the cold air hitting my wet clit , making my body shudder .

“holy fuck chris” i say before removing my pelvis from his face , throwing my body down to sit next to him , back against the head board my chest rising and falling . i laugh out of breath and look down at him , him allready watching me from below , still smiling while trying to catch his breath.

“i meant what i said when i said i was a munch” is all he manages to say before i throw a pillow at his head rolling my eyes and laughing

“oh shut the fuck up chris”

—————-

me writing this knowing i’m terrified of doing anything in this oneshot ! (including the cleaning, i am not a house wife !)

really hope i did anon proud with this ! love u all

-🍼

—————-

tglst:

@mangosrar @azkabanstar @bluesturniolo333 @urmyslxt @littlebookworm803 @strniohoeee @biimpanicking @parkerssecrets @soursturniolo @lividnity @kenzieiskoolaid @sssturniolofart @cybrrrs1ut @freshlovehacker @f4iry-dvst @sturniololvr12 @tcvazq @lovingsturniolo @def-livv @deatthmatch

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #milkietalks #nicolas sturniolo #milkie is down bad #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo toxic #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut

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alisonwritesimagines · 1 month

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Cramps ~Logan Howlett Imagine~

Summary: You have some bad cramps. Luckily your boyfriend is there for you.

Author's Note: As a girl who suffers from cramps, this is for the other girlies who suffer from cramps.

Part One | Part Two

Reader's Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

You gave Logan a key to your apartment in case he needed time away from Wade or if he wanted to see you. Though, you had already told him to move in with you already since he spent most nights with you. But today was no different than some days.

Logan walked in, expecting you to either be cleaning or grading papers. But instead, he found you in bed. Curled into a position that made you feel better as much as possible.

“You okay?” Logan asked you as he sat on the bed.

“My usual cramps. Was feeling them all day and wanted to die,” you whined.

“Do you have your heating pad?” Logan asked you.

“I rushed straight to the bed after I finished school,” you tell him.

“I got you. Give me one moment,” Logan told you.

He grabbed your electric heating pad and plugged it in before placing it over your stomach. He lied down next to you before turning on the TV for you.

“I got you. Did you eat?” Logan asked you.

“Not yet.”

“Want me to cook you something?” Logan asked.

“Yes please,” you nodded.

“I’m on it,” Logan said, kissing the top of your head. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to cook for the two of you.

He was grateful that in his universe, you would make him learn how to cook since you got busy with teaching sometimes. Now he was able to show off to you here.

Logan cooked the dinner before prepping the table a little.

“It looks nice,” you say out loud. He looked over to see you out of bed and standing by the doorway.

“Aren’t you supposed to be lying in bed?” He questioned.

“I’m feeling a little bit better now,” you tell him.

“Well luckily for you, dinner is ready,” Logan said as he gave you a quick kiss.

“Thank you for this. I’m sorry if I was a bother.”

“You can never annoy me. And besides, we’re friends with Wade. Nothing can ever annoy me as much as him.”

“True,” you giggled.

After dinner, you curled up to Logan as you both watched a movie together.

“You should move in with me already,” you tell him.

“You sure you want that?”

“Yes. You’d be closer to me and Laura. And you don’t have to give anymore excuses to come see me,” you tell him.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll move in.”

“And if you brush up a little on history, you can make a good history teacher. We both know Professor Xavier would like to have another teacher in the school.”

“I’ll think about it,” Logan said, kissing your forehead.

Logan picked you up from the couch before heading to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed before changing into something more comfortable before joining you.

"Summer vacation is coming up. Maybe we can do something fun?" You asked.

"Like what?"

"Well, maybe, you, me, and Laura can go to California? We can check out San Francisco or we can go to Disneyland?" You asked.

"Sounds like a plan. Whatever you want to do, we'll plan it," Logan said.

"Okay," you smiled before giving him a quick kiss.

You felt another cramp making you groan a little. Logan moved his hand under your shirt and over your stomach. He began to rub your stomach, making the cramp less painful. You smiled up at him and leaned your head on him.

"Thank you."

"I got you," Logan tells you, kissing your head again.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman imagines #xmen #xmen imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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arsenalfanf1 · 5 months

Note

can I request a smut? if you don't wanna do it you can just ignore me ig, but i'd like something where lando is the one that always gives, he'd rather be the one to give than receive, but one day we're desperate so we basically beg him to sit down and let us suck him up, and when we do that he just becomes a mess, he ends up thrusting into our mouth while whining

You were desperate, you had saw photos of Lando on your timeline and how hot he looked and now all you could think about is pushing him onto the bed and sucking him off until he saw stars.

“Baby I’m home” you heard a voice say, you didn’t even realise the time, he had been out on the track today and had an early morning so this was the first time you would see him. “Hey love” you said meeting him in the kitchen, he had a tight fitting shirt showing off his abs. “I missed you today” you complained “I missed you too but I’m here now” he replied “Saw you showing off on twitter today looking all hot, made me horny” you complained “Sorry love” he kissed your mouth, before moving down to your neck thank god you wore a oversized top today.

He unbutton your jeans but before he could get any further you stopped him “please let me suck you off, all I’ve been thinking about all day please” you didn’t care how desperate you sounded you were desperate “Please sit down let me pleasure you for once” you very rarely got to give him head he would always been the one to pleasure you, he was never a selfish lover.

“I’m never going to say no” he unbuttoned his own jeans pushing them down to his ankles before sitting down on the seat, you had never done anything in the kitchen before thank god you spent the day cleaning it.

You got down on your knees and you pulled down his pants and took out his dick before you started stroking him, he was always hard “I can’t wait to put your cock I’m my mouth” after a couple seconds you felt he was ready, you licked the tip first licking his pre cum, moaning while doing so.

“Fuck we should have done this sooner” you complained. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, playing with his balls. Lando was a moaning mess, he was so use to being the one giving head, he forgot how much he liked receiving it.

You could tell he was desperate, grabbing your hair and putting it into a ponytail gripping on it. “Fuck you take me so good pretty girl” he moaned out. “As much as I love it if git to fuck your mouth you would like that would you?” He asked already knowing your answer, you just nodded too focused on sucking him off.

He kept a hold of your hair and held you in place so he could thrust into your mouth “Fucking hell baby” he moaned, you had never been so turned on before, you wish you did this earlier.

“Look how pretty and desperate my girl looks” he said all matching with his thrusts. You couldn’t care how desperate you looked you were, you had been thinking about it for so long, he went too deep at times making you gag over his length.

“I’m gonna cum” he moaned out “where do you want it? Tits? Or mouth” he asked letting you reply “mouth” before he thrusted back into your mouth.

He cummed right in your mouth, slowing down his movements, talking about how good you did and how you would definitely do that again soon. “You taste so good baby” you moaned, trying to give him a kiss “no kisses till you brush your teeth I don’t want to taste myself” he complained, instead of fighting it you got up brushed your teeth and even used mouthwash before making your way back over to him to give him a big kiss.

—

Sorry it’s a short one trying to get my requests out I’m struggling a bit

Tag list @ur-fave-ave @nickxcorpse @may7460 @babyprofessorsharkpalace @kennysimp101

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one #formula 1 smut #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #formula one smut #f1 smut #f1 2024 #formula #smut

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ginax0916 · 5 months

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✿𖡼 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐟, 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐞 𖡼✿

Sturniolos x little sister (LS)

Warnings: Blood mentioned

Synopsis: The triplets and their LS decide to try the blind deaf mute challenge, without knowing the chaos it would cause.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✩

LS POV:

“Hey everyone! Welcome or welcome back to our YouTube, so today we’re doing another part to our Blind, Deaf and Mute series. But today we have our little sister here so she will be joining as well” Nick introduces the video.

“Since there’s 4 of us, one of us will have to be both blind and mute so we’re gonna do rock paper scissors to determine who is what” Matt adds on.

“Ok ok Rock paper scissors shoot!” Chris’s says as we all play the game. The winner of each round gets to pick what they want to be, the last one is the one who will be blind and mute. And due to my luck, it was me.

“Ok so I will be mute, Chris will be deaf, Nick will be blind and y/n will blind and mute!” Matt says.

“Thank god I won’t have to hear her annoying voice” Nick mumbles quietly.

“Hey! I heard that!” I angrily say.

“Alright alright enough let’s start” Chris yells not knowing how loud his voice is because of the noice canceling headphones which are blasting music in his ears.

I put on my blind fold and put one of Chris’s bandanas over my mouth and so does Matt meanwhile Nick puts on his own blind fold.

Truth be told not being able to see is quite scary. Especially around my brothers.

“Ok let’s fucking start already get the stuff out!” Nick screams.

“Shut up Nick I can hear your loud ass voice even with the headphones on!” Chris screams back.

It hasn’t even been 5 minutes and the screaming matches have already began. I know for a fact it’s only about to get worse.

As I’m emptying the bag of cake mix into the bowl, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I jump from the sudden touch but then I realize it has to be Matt since he hasn’t said a word. He carefully hands me 3 eggs which are needed.

I proceed to crack the eggs into the bowl using my hands to guide where the bowl is. As I’m about to crack the last one, Nick pushes me as he’s trying to get to who knows where. The egg falls onto the counter and completely shatters causing it to go everywhere.

“Ughhh” I groan into the bandana.

“Nick you made a fucking mess!” Chris screams at him as he sees the mess all over the counter.

“I can’t see mother fucker it’s not my fault!” Nick screams back.

“So then stop moving around dumb fuck!” Chris replies.

All their screaming isn’t going to help clean the god damn mess up. I start growing irritated at them from screaming instead of helping me get paper towels since I can’t see either.

I feel two hands on my shoulders, I’m guessing it’s Matt, who guides me to the counter on the other side where the paper towels are. But then the hands let go.

“Matt get off!” Chris screams. Well there goes Matt into the fight.

I feel around the kitchen with my hands trying to find the counter where the paper towels should be. Finally I find it, but to my luck, once again, it’s a closed packet of paper towels. I try to feel around in hopes of finding an opened roll but nothings around.

I grab the pack and try to rip it open with my hands. It doesn’t even budge. I feel around some more and I finally touch something other than paper towels. It’s scissors. I carefully try to place the scissors at a correct angle to cut through the plastic. Without a thought I snap them shut.

“Oh my god” I say, muffled through the bandana. A stinging sensation starts to form. Only getting worse and worse. I rip the blind fold and bandana off with my free hand only to be met with the sight of blood on the counter and on the scissors. It’s not a huge amount but it’s still there. I look at my finger and it has a pretty deep cut. Not deep enough for stitches but deep enough to bring tears to my eyes. I don’t do good with blood so I start to panic. With my shaking hand I grab some of the paper towels I just opened and put them on my finger.

“Guys I need some help” I say with a trembling voice.

“Stop being fucking idiots and mix the fucking batter!” Nick screams at Chris and Matt.

“You’re being an idiot you aren’t holding the bowl strong enough so every time I mix it moves around moron!” Chris screams back. Matt only groans loudly since he can’t speak.

“Guys seriously I need help” I say a bit louder.

“NICK STOP!” Chris screams louder if that’s even possible.

I can’t do this. The screams. The blood. The stinging. I start to breathe heavily and my eyes fill with tears. I run out of the kitchen and up to my room quickly. As I shut the door I burst out into tears holding my bleeding finger close. Small blood stains get all over my shirt. What am I meant to do?

Matt pov:

“Y/n can you pass me another spatula please?” Nick asks.

“Y/n?” Chris calls out.

We all turn around only to find her nowhere in the kitchen. We all take off the stuff we had and realize that she isn’t in the kitchen at all anymore.

“Ok guys seriously where did she go?” I ask.

“I don’t know but there’s fucking blood on the counter” Chris says with panic and he points to the counter opposite from us.

“What the fuck” Nick says as we all walk to the counter with blood and paper towels.

“Ok c’mon let’s go find her she’s obviously not ok” I suggest while walking to her room, my brothers following behind.

As we get to her door, I knock three times but no answer.

“There’s blood on the counter and she wasn’t in the kitchen I’m not fucking waiting for her to answer the door. God for all I know she could be dead!” Chris says as he barges into the room.

“Don’t say shit like that!” Nick replies before following us into her room.

“Y/n?” I call out.

“What do you guys want” She responds with an angry tone while walking out of the bathroom with a first aid kit in her hand.

“What happened? We saw blood on the counter” Nick asks.

“You would know what happened if you had answered me when I asked you guys for help but you were too busy screaming at each other to even hear me” Y/n says angrily as she digs through the first aid kit for bandaids.

“Look we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to get into an argument” Chris speaks up.

“The video was meant to be fun but I ended up with my finger cut open and you idiots going at each other” Y/n says with an angry tone.

“Y/n please. We’re really sorry ok? We didn’t mean to ruin the video and we didn’t mean for you to get hurt” Chris speaks while walking closer to her.

“Here let me help” I say as I grab the bandaid from her trembling hand.

“Does it hurt?” Nick asks.

“Mhm it really stings” She nods while flinching as I try to put cream on her cut.

“Hey it’s ok” Chris says hugging her as he noticed tears prick at her eyes.

“We’re so sorry we ruined the video y/n I know you were looking forward to it” I say as I finish putting a bandaid on her finger.

“It’s ok just try to get along better sometimes please. I don’t like watching you guys scream at each other all the time. Especially when we’re trying to do something fun” She speaks.

“I know and we promise we’re gonna try ok?” Chris says, still hugging her.

“Alright then” She smiles.

“Last one to the kitchen has to clean all the mess!” Y/n screams and takes off running in a fit of laughter.

“Hey that��s not fair we weren’t ready!” Chris screams as we run after her.

Low key hate this 🤗

#y/n #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #brother x sister

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thatlittlered · 12 days

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i want you | logan howlett

warning(s): afab!reader if you really squint, cursing, immense and unbelievable heartbreak, spoilers for Logan (2017)

GIF by anonymous

author's note: I'm back where I came from writing x-men fanfiction and naming chapters after songs, life has truly come full circle. I could sit here and write some smut, talk about how much I want lick Logan (Hugh Jackman in general) from head to toe, OR I could break all of our hearts so guess what I chose :)

This is going to be a series so let me know if you want to be tagged.

-.-.-

It’s embarrassing; shameful, but he needs to have something.

Charles has to know about this little habit, somewhere in his few moments of clarity.

It’s practically morning when he comes back from work, but the water is running. He lingers; he always lingers when he realizes it’s you behind that door. He tells himself it’s typical animal behavior, he’ll guard you like the dog he is.

Today he’s not even good at that. His legs can’t hold him up any longer.

His feet take him to your room.

It’s probably the only part of this godforsaken place that smells nice. Almost feels like a real home in here, with your fresh cotton sheets and plush comforter. He won’t sully them, so he sits on the floor instead – a proper dog.

He should just fucking die already. Just send you off to a better life and die.

It’s what he deserves and long overdue.

You wouldn’t leave him though, and you most definitely wouldn’t leave Charles, or to be exact, what measly bits are left of both of them.

What a fucking waste.

You find him asleep there. Exhaustion took over when he leaned back against your bedframe, yet his body doesn’t seem at rest. Where can peace be found if not in sleep?

You sit next to him, now clad in soft pajamas and he’s already awakened by the smell of your shampoo before you call out to him.

“Logan?”

He blinks once, twice.

Even his eyes are not working properly these days. Always a little out of focus.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

He gives a half-grunt and moves to get up, but a brave hand on his thigh stops him. He surrenders to your insistence and the warmth of your fluffy carpet under him.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Of course, you are. You never sleep.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can take my bed if the problem is the mattress.”

You watch him pinch his nose. Can’t be sure if he’s annoyed at you or himself.

“It’s not the fucking mattress, sweetheart, alright? I’m rotting from the inside out, no bed on earth can change that.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that.

It’s no secret to any of you that Logan has been struggling as of lately. He won’t speak of it, won’t ask for help. He's Atlas and the world is slipping.

“Did you need something?”

He doesn’t look you in the eye anymore, you notice.

“I was just checking up on you with how much time you spend in the shower. What do you even do in there?”

“I like it. It makes me feel normal.”

Logan merely hums in response. His hand reaches for the flask inside his pocket in a well-practiced motion.

“Is that whiskey?”

Of course it is.

You can make out his little smirk in the dim lighting. The odd little bit of humanity left in him that you always seem to attract. The tenderness they’ve tried time after time to rid him of.

“Can I have some?”

He watches you drink and lick your lips clean; admires your little frown at the taste. Decades alive and you’ll never grow used to it.

Your hands brush as you hand it back—an intentional act on your part—and he jumps. A shiver runs through him when it turns into a caress. Your hands are so much softer, so much gentler. A feather touch on his knuckles where the pus has begun to gather.

He should just fucking die.

“You should cut down on your hours. I can get a job, something part-time.”

His laugh is angry. It’s cruel and unnecessary.

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, but what does it matter?

“No need, bub. No point in it either.”

“You can’t go on like this, you know that.”

He drinks and drinks until the flask is almost empty.

“You should go somewhere else entirely; somewhere they won’t find you easily. Maybe your trouble will be worth something there.”

Maybe you’ll even have a life there.

“Is that what you think? That I’m here out of necessity?”

Logan chuckles, but there’s no humor in it.

“That’s why we’re all here, doll, but you- it could work. You should leave.”

Leave him. Never look back.

“It won’t. I won’t – I can’t.”

Something invisible tugs at his heart. Your glassy eyes, your loyalty.

Argos waited for Ulysses till death. For which master do you endure?

“For what? For whom, Charles? He’s barely even himself anymore, he doesn’t recognize you half the time. What’s the point?”

“So, he’s right, you’re just waiting for him to die.”

He falls silent again. The words cut deep.

“What about you, Logan?”

“What about me?”

“I should just leave you behind?”

It can’t be the heat, it has to be the alcohol, but the air is getting thicker in here.

He practically tears his suit jacket off. He’s usually nicer than this, always respectful of your efforts. The neat way you iron his shirts. Your ways of taking care of him.

The booze has started to get to him lately, as every other thing. He feels it now as it slurs his mind and speech. A shadow of his former self in every way.

It makes it even harder to look at you.

“I’m dead fucking weight. If you knew what’s right for you, you’d run and never look back at this shithole… you certainly don’t need me either.”

“I don’t stay because I need you, Logan. I stay because I love you.”

It’s hard to breathe. There’s unease in the way he holds your gaze and he almost looks small for a second. It doesn’t last. He’s quickly an animal again, now wounded and hurting. His growl is sign enough.

“Don’t say that.”

“Logan-”

You reach for his hand, but he doesn’t let you. He tries to stand up. His legs don’t listen.

What a pathetic excuse of a man he’s become.

You reach for him again when he lands back on your floor.

His voice is small and quiet, “Shit, sweetheart. You can’t fucking say that to me.”

He’s practically shaking in anger. Or sadness. Whatever this is, it’s overwhelming.

It’s easy to give up and lean into you; face landing on the softness of your middle.

“You can’t-you can’t say that to me.”

He can hear your heartbeat so clearly, it’s almost deafening when he presses his ear to your stomach. Everything hurts.

“I love you.”

You see his eyes close gently.

He wants to lose all his other senses, if only for this moment, if only to focus solely on the softness of your skin. The gentleness of your fingers when they gather in his hair.

“It’s okay, Logan.”

He only looks up when you take his face in your hands. You can feel his breath on you. All you can do is look at each other. His hand comes up to your shirt and lifts it, just enough for his lips to touch there – just this once.

He only needs this one thing and he’ll be good for the rest of his pitiful, miserable life.

“I have things I need to do.”

You only nod.

You offer your hand, but he doesn’t take it, drags himself upwards instead. The moment of weakness has passed.

“I’m going out. You should get some rest, don’t forget to lock the door.”

There is no point in arguing or asking where he’s going. He needs to be away from you.

“I won’t.”

He nods back at you, but avoids your eyes as he leaves. He’ll sleep in the car tonight.

Just this one little thing might be enough.

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #james logan howlett #old man logan #xmen x reader #the worst logan x reader #deadpool and wolverine #logan 2017 #the worst wolverine

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pennylanewrites · 8 months

Text

teacher’s aide (levi ackerman)

warnings: m!masturbation, voyerism, alcohol, smoking, age gap (15 years), me pushing my smitten!levi agenda

levi ackerman was an esteemed and recognised sociology professor. stern, strict and to the point in all of his lectures. most of his classes kept quiet, trying to take notes while he talked fast and went through powerpoint slides like it was the morning paper.

you had been working hard for that teacher’s aide position for two years, when you finally got the acceptance email. it was no secret on campus that professor ackerman’s assistants worked closely to him and got accepted in prestigious firms right after college, with his recommendation of course.

it was also no secret that professor ackerman was incredibly good-looking. his veiny arms and broad shoulders made up for his short height and the way his raven hair fell over his rectangular seeing glasses was so…

“y/n.” his stern voice shook you out of your thoughts. crap. the whole auditorium was staring at you. “the papers.” was all he said before going back to his laptop. you looked down at your hands, realising you were holding the class’s tests for more than you should. you cleared your throat and went through the auditorium, leaving a stack of papers in front of each student. as you walked down, your eye caught his.

levi noticed everything. he noticed how today you were wearing lipgloss instead of your usual lipstick, he noticed the rip in your tights that went down the back of your leg, your new platform loafers and the beads of sweat on your forehead. levi ackerman was not the kind of man that would catch feelings for a student, but you were so…good.

yes, at first he thought you were very attractive, and maybe that’s why he always rejected your aide application. but he also got to know you better every time you replied to one of his questions. you were the only student brave enough to raise their hand, and he appreciated that. sooner than later, you stayed back every day after class to clean up the mess of loose papers and pens, and before he knew it he was smitten.

maybe it was the way you brushed against him to clean the board and shut the projector, a timid apology escaping your lips, or the way you weren’t afraid to challenge him in a theoretical conversation about archaic philosophy during class.

or maybe…shit, how long have i been staring? levi looked away and cleared his throat when he noticed you trying to contain your smile.

class was over and you were going through your usual routine, marking left over questionnaires from the last lecture as he went through tomorrow’s one.

“sir, i’m wondering about…” you rolled your chair across the auditorium’s stage, holding onto his desk to stop the chair, “this one.” you pointed at a question on the paper.

levi was not one to lose his temper, but he was finding it very hard to contain himself when your knee was touching his and your perfume could reach his brain through his nose.

“well, this-this one…” he trailed off, watched you push your hair off your neck, leaving the bare skin on sight for him. god, he could eat you right then and there.

levi had never been more thankful for his phone to ring in his life. the vice dean’s name flashed on the screen, and you leaned back to allow him to get the device.

“i have to go…meeting…come by my office tonight, okay?” he scrambled to get his things and ran off, leaving you in the empty auditorium.

you let your head fall on your pillow, groaning with despair. he hates me. he can’t even talk to me.

you had seen him earlier with petra, his old t.a who graduated last year. he was laughing, for fuck’s sake. he was laughing and buying her coffee in the campus coffee house, and they were sitting over a book and…

“ugh! what is she even doing here?” you threw your pillow on the floor, but it hit you back in the face.

“oh my god, shut up!” your roommate kept hitting you with the pillow, until you grabbed it. “enough, y/n, please.”

“mikasa, do you think they’re dating?” you sat up on the bed, looking at the girl across you. “be honest, i can take it.”

“i think you’re sick. there’s something seriously wrong with you.” she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“he’s so…”

“old.”

“mature.”

“he’s mature because he’s old.” your roommate kindly reminded you of your age difference. “get over him, please. even if he liked you, he’s your teacher. i doubt he would put his job in danger.”

your eyes lit up, an excited smile covering your earlier gloom.

“you think he likes me?”

“that’s not what i said. where are you going?”

you only grinned before grabbing your bag and barging out of the dorm room. your shoes squeezed against the polished floors as you made your way to the teachers’ wing, and to the third door to your left, your favourite wooden door in the world.

with a sigh, you lifted your fist to knock, but something made you freeze. you looked around to make sure no one was in the corridor, before pushing your ear against the door.

shit, shit, shit, shit

he was moaning. fucking moaning, in his office, when he had specifically told you to visit him. you thought of the possibility of him having a girl in there, even petra, but no one else could be heard. everything right in your head was telling you to turn around and leave, but your hand was on the doorknob, and you were slowly twisting it.

just one look. one look and i’ll-

your eyes grew wide at the sight. a half empty bottle of bourbon sat next to an empty glass, a cigarette was slowly burning on the ashtray, the first two buttons of his white shirt were undone. god, you could clearly see his nipples through the fabric. the desk obscured your vision, but you could see his hand moving up and down, up and down, up-

“fu-fuuuck.” his voice strained, his head fell back and you were wet a creep.

you turned around and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. looking at your reflection on your phone, you made sure pervert wasn’t written across your forehead, and turned back around.

two soft knocks on the door. levi fixed his hair quickly, buttoned his shirt and put the cigarette out.

“come in.” you entered the room and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“long day?” you pointed at the bottle, smiling softly. he chuckled and motioned for you to sit down. “i can come back some other…” you trailed off when he took another glass out, filling it halfway and pushing it towards you.

you fidgeted with a ring on your finger, unsure of what to do.

“i shouldn’t…”

“i won’t tell if you won’t.” he filled his own glass and raised it to you, before taking a sip. you smiled softly, taking a sip of the drink. it burned coming down, just like his gray stare on you did.

“i have the tests marked. that question i was wondering about earlier,” you took the stack of papers out of your bag, leaving them in front of the man.

“yeah, i looked it up. it’s actually-”

“i figured it out.” you cut him off. he raised an eyebrow and put his glasses on, looking down at the marked paper, and the right answer which you had wrote down in red ink.

“you did.” he agreed and looked at you through strands of his raven hair. “good girl.”

you froze. you could feel your whole face turning an ugly shade of red. a million disgusting thoughts ran through your head as he walked around the desk to sit on the chair across from yours. his muscles flexed as he reached over the desk to get the ashtray and his drink. you took a big sip of the drink, trying to convince yourself the sexual tension was just in your head.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

“what?” he shook you out of your thoughts. he knew you were staring at him.

“nothing. i’ve never seen you like this.” you admitted, still sipping your drink.

“like what?”

like you don’t have a stick up your ass.

“relaxed.” you opted for the nice comment.

“i’m far from relaxed, trust me.” you watched as he placed a cigarette between his wet lips, lighting it with a white lighter.

“those are bad luck.” you took the lighter in your hand, fidgeting with it.

“huh. maybe that’s why my life’s shit.” he chuckled, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“come on…” your eyes fell on a book on his desk.

masculine domination, pierre bourdieu. you grinned, taking it in your hands to inspect the front page.

“take it. it’s for my doctorate students, but i think you-”

“i’ve read it.” you closed it and put it back on the pile.

“of course you have. you’re a smart girl, you know?”

he was praising you. and he was filling your glass again. when did you even finish the first?

“are you trying to get me drunk, sir?”

“i think you’re capable of controlling yourself.”

“don’t be so sure.” you mumbled, staring at your feet.

“what was that?”

“nothing!” you shook it off with a smile, but he had heard you just fine.

god, you wanted him so bad. as the hours went by, and the bottle came to its’ end, you became more and more impatient. you were scared of what you would do honestly, if one more drop of alcohol entered your system. but, were you crazy to think he wanted this too? why would he pour you a drink, and ask you all these questions, and make you laugh with stupid jokes if he-

“what are you thinking about?” he shook you out of your thoughts. you showed him the clock on the wall.

“that i should get going. some teacher thought it would be a good idea to have an 8 am class.” you grinned. you reached your hand out to return him his lighter, but you dropped it instead.

“that’s one lousy teacher.” he chuckled, kneeling on the floor to get the lighter. you waited for him to get up, so you could too, but he wouldn’t move. still kneeling, he came closer to you, his hands hesitantly moving to rest on the sides of your thighs.

internally, you were screaming. but not a single breath came out of your mouth as you watched him. he sighed and finally locked eyes with you.

“i’m not crazy, am i?”

“wh-what?” your voice came out as a whisper. pathetic.

“to think there’s something, right? here. there’s something here and i-”

“sir-”

“don’t.” he squeezed your thighs and you swore your heart would jump out your chest sooner or later. he straightened his back and got up, pulling you with him. “don’t call me sir.”

you let him seat you on top of his desk, you let him spread your legs and stand between them. he pushed your hair behind your ear and inched closer. his breath against your neck made you shiver, and a soft kiss forced a small gasp out of your mouth.

your hands trembled as you placed them around his neck, and his breath staggered when you played with the strands of hair that fell on his undercut.

“please kiss me.” he swore his knees would give when he heard your voice, so soft, so sweet. you were as needy for him as he was for you.

his strong hands met your face, his silver ring cooled your burning cheek. you closed your eyes, and his lips finally met yours. it was careful at first, both of you scared the other would change their mind. but all it took was you pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, and he lost his mind. his hands slipped down to your waist and you arched your back to get closer to him, if that was even possible. your mouth trailed to his jaw, leaving sloppy kisses all the way down his neck. a playful bite made him gasp. you chuckled.

“stop. you’ll drive me crazy.” he squeezed your hip.

“good.” you grinned and leaned in to kiss him again, but his hand in your hair held you back.

“you have to go…” he managed between soft kisses down your chest, at least as far as your shirt allowed, “or i won’t be able to stop.” he held your hands, and kissed them both, maintaining eye contact with you.

“then don’t stop.” you whined, but your grin turned into a frown when he pulled you off the desk and fixed your skirt. “levi-”

“save something for later, right?”

his promise of a later was enough. you left him to clean up and walked out the door with a sheepish smile and a whispered goodnight.

your phone buzzed on your way back to the dorms, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw the name on the screen.

professor ackerman: wear that green dress tomorrow.

you raised an eyebrow.

just the dress.

#aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan smut #aot college au #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi x reader #levi x reader smut #levi aot #levi snk #levi smut #soft levi #n/sfw

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carleycore · 3 months

Text

When they insult you (Osamu and Kageyama)

A/N It's been a while since I've done this series so hehe

Genre: Hurt/comfort Angst

Warnings: Insults obvi

Part one Part two Part three Part four

(being too clingy)

The bustling noise of Onigiri Miya's kitchen is a familiar symphony to you. You sit at the counter, watching Osamu expertly prepare a new batch of rice balls. His usual focused expression is slightly strained today, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to the long hours he has been working lately.

"Do you need any help, 'Samu?" you ask, hoping to ease his burden.

Osamu barely glances at you, shaking his head. "No, I got it," he replies curtly.

You frown but decide to give him space. You know running a restaurant is stressful, and Osamu has been pushing himself too hard. You want to be there for him, to support him, but he has been increasingly distant.

"Are you sure?" you press gently. "I can help with the orders, or maybe clean up a bit."

"I said no, (Y/N)," Osamu snaps, his voice sharp. "Just stay out of the way."

Taken aback, you recoil as if you have been struck. Hurt flashes across your face, but you bite your lip, trying to keep your composure. "Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

You stand up, intending to give him the space he seems to need, but Osamu's next words stop you in your tracks.

"Why do you always have to be so clingy?" he mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear. "I can’t deal with this right now. You’re just making things harder by hovering."

Tears well up in your eyes. "Clingy?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "I'm just trying to help, Osamu. You've been working non-stop, and I thought you could use some support."

"Well, you're not helping," he retorts, slamming a rice ball onto the counter. "You're just making everything more stressful by constantly being here and trying to do things your way."

The silence that follows is heavy and suffocating. You stare at him, your heart aching. Without another word, you turn and leave the restaurant, the bell above the door jingling sadly as it closes behind you.

Hours pass, and the sun has long since set by the time Osamu finally closes up for the night. Exhaustion weighs heavily on him, but the memory of your hurt expression gnaws at his conscience. He knows he has crossed a line.

When he arrives at your apartment, he hesitates for a moment before knocking. The door opens slowly, and you stand there, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Hey," Osamu says softly, his voice filled with regret.

You look at him, a mix of sadness and anger in your eyes. "What do you want, Osamu?"

"I wanted to apologize," he says, stepping closer but stopping when he sees you tense. "I was out of line. You were just trying to help, and I lashed out. I’m so sorry, (Y/N)."

You cross your arms, looking away. "You really hurt me, Osamu," you say quietly. "I know you're stressed, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure, but that's no excuse. I should have appreciated your help instead of pushing you away."

A tear slips down your cheek, and Osamu reaches out, gently wiping it away with his thumb. "I love you, (Y/N)," he says earnestly. "I don’t want to lose you because of my stupid mistakes."

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them. Slowly, you uncross your arms and step closer. "I love you too, Osamu," you murmur. "But you need to let me in. We're a team, remember?"

Osamu nods, pulling you into his arms. "I promise I’ll do better," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to push you away ever again."

You hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothing your aching heart. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper. "We’ll get through it together."

Osamu holds you close, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. "I will," he vows. "Together."

As you stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the hurt begins to melt away, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

(misplaced anger)

You stand by the kitchen counter, finishing up the dishes from dinner. The clinking of plates and running water are the only sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. It's been a long day for both of you, and the tension in the air is palpable. Kageyama sits at the dining table, staring intently at his phone, his brows furrowed in frustration.

"Tobio, is everything okay?" you ask, drying your hands on a towel. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine," he replies curtly, not looking up from his phone.

You sigh, walking over to him. "You don't seem fine. If something's bothering you, you can talk to me."

He finally looks up, his eyes dark with irritation. "I said I'm fine, (Y/N). Why do you always have to make everything a big deal?"

His words sting, but you try to remain calm. "I'm just worried about you. You've been on edge lately, and I want to help."

"Help?" he scoffs, standing up abruptly. "The only thing you're doing is making things worse. I don't need you hovering over me all the time."

Your heart aches at his harsh tone. "I'm just trying to be there for you, Tobio. We're supposed to support each other."

"Support?" he snaps, his voice rising. "All you do is nag and worry. It's suffocating, (Y/N). Sometimes, I just need space."

The words hang heavily in the air, each one cutting deeper than the last. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them away, not wanting to break down in front of him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I didn't realize I was making you feel that way."

Kageyama's expression softens slightly, but his frustration is still evident. "I just... I need some time to myself, okay?"

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Okay, I'll give you space."

Without another word, you turn and leave the room, heading to the bedroom. You close the door behind you and sink onto the bed, tears streaming down your face. The ache in your chest is overwhelming, and you clutch a pillow tightly, trying to find some comfort in its softness.

Hours pass, and the apartment remains silent. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of Kageyama's words pressing heavily on your heart. You want to support him, to be there for him, but it feels like everything you do is wrong.

A soft knock on the door breaks the silence. "Y/N?" Kageyama's voice is gentle, hesitant. "Can I come in?"

You sit up, wiping your tears away. "Yeah."

The door opens slowly, and he steps inside, his expression filled with regret. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I shouldn't have said those things. I was frustrated and took it out on you. It's not your fault."

You look at him, your eyes still glistening with tears. "I just wanted to help, Tobio. I hate seeing you stressed."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I've been under a lot of pressure with training and everything, but that's no excuse for how I treated you. You were just trying to be supportive, and I pushed you away."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours. "I love you, Tobio. I want to be there for you, but you need to let me in. We’re a team."

He squeezes your hand, his eyes filled with guilt and affection. "I love you too, (Y/N). I'm sorry for hurting you. I'll do better, I promise."

You move closer, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, his warmth comforting and familiar. "Just talk to me next time, okay?" you whisper against his shoulder. "We’ll get through it together."

He nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I will. Together."

As you hold each other, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of closeness and understanding. You know there will be challenges ahead, but as long as you face them together, you'll be okay.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #kageyama #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #car writes

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mcondance · 1 year

Text

other side of the game; hobie brown

summary // hobie swings by when you’re cleaning your room, and you know exactly what he wants.

cw // dubcon-ish (you say stuff akin to no but like.. you want it. it’s just a game you n hobie play), they talk a lot of shit, missionary

extras // you and hobie r Black so i don't wanna hear anything abt the grammar i used! "it's supposed to be doesn't" kill yourself idc, the song has. nothing to do with what happens in this fic btw it just.. it makes sense when you read it and it helped me write

wc // 2.6k

song shoutouts // special thanks to other side of the game by erykah badu and i get lonely by janet jackson

signing off // thank you to poetnon for this idea i hope you like this <3

you know the second you hear the knocks at your window that you won't be getting anything else done today. he does this every fucking time.

walking across your room, you unlock the window for your boyfriend, eyes meeting his as you psyche yourself up for what you know is coming.

you return your attention to your desk, and with your back turned to him, you hear him slide his lanky body through the frame, landing softly on your carpeted floor.

"you busy?" he muses pointlessly, already shrugging his jacket off and reaching down to untie his boots. player one, ready?

"yeah," you hum pointlessly too, hands fiddling with the trinkets on your desk. maybe if you don't look at him, you won't cave. player two, ready?

"what you up to?" his voice grows closer. you close your eyes, breathing deep and slow to try to build your resolve, but you can hear him inching towards you, the clinging of his belts giving his movements away.

"cleanin' my room." you spin around, figuring you'd face your doom instead. his shoes are off now, placed up against the wall under your window. and now the game has started.

"mhm. well don't let me stop you," he smiles, and you wish you could say that it didn't put another dent in your already rusty resolve, but it does. with shaking hands crossed in front of you, you push yourself up and away from your desk and move across your room to your pile of clothes, folding shit hastily, already so fucking nervous.

he takes your place leaning against your desk and scans your room, taking in how much you’ve already gotten done. it makes him feel a little less bad about what he’s going to do. “looks good already. how long you been cleanin’?”

“since like, 10.”

“mhm. ‘s 2:24 now. think you’re ready for a break?” you snap your head towards him, rolling your eyes and screwing your lips up at the implications of his words.

“not the kinda break you’re talking about,” you sneer, rolling your eyes again as you return your focus to the meaningless pile of clothes.

“and what kinda break is that?”

“the kinda break when you end up inside me. i don’t have time for it.” you don’t face him as you speak. you can’t. if you do, it’s all over. you don’t want it to end just yet. it’s fun. it always is.

“what, you think ‘m just tryna get in your pants? i jus’ think my girl should have a little rest, yeah?” at his words you drop the shirt in your hand, switching gears to organize your nightstand instead.

“you’re lying. you always do this.”

“do what?”

“this. you come here and sweet talk me and the next thing i know i’m under you and my room doesn’t get cleaned. i’m not doing this today.”

he’s silent— your brain isn’t. you know it’s only a matter of time until he’s doing exactly what he’s doing now.. wrapping his slim fingers around your waist and pulling you back onto him.

speaking directly against your ear, he finally comes out with what he wants. “take a break, baby, lemme make you feel good." his lips meet your neck, ghosting over your heated skin.

"can't, hobes, i gotta clean up,” you whine, but it's futile at this point, cause you're already leaning back onto him, already tilting your neck to the side to give him more access, already dropping the half-empty water bottle in your hand.

"you sure, love? y'can clean up after we're done, hm? i'll help you.” he sounds earnest, like he really cares. you shake your head no, but you let him pull you away from your desk and turn you around. "gotta clean," you repeat, but you let him push you down onto your ruffled sheets.

"then clean." he’s standing over you now with his hands tucked into his pockets, and he motions towards the pile of clothes with his head, knowing eyes fixed on your frame sprawled out on your bed. from here, the light frames him perfectly, and he looks so damn pretty. maybe you'll blame what you do next on that. doesn't matter now, though. eyes meeting, you both know you're not getting up— seconds pass with you both staring, a silent confirmation, and hobie knows your answer.

shrugging, he leans down with his hands still in his pockets, placing a damning kiss on your lips, murmuring "gave you a chance, baby. knew you didn't give a fuck about cleanin'." and he's right, embarrassingly so, so you roll your eyes, channeling your faux-frustration into a rough kiss, curling your hands under the straps of his t-shirt.

he falls forward, hands flying from his pockets to balance himself on top of you. smiling against your lips, he speaks again, “see. . you want it. you’re desperate.”

his hips start to rock against yours, stacked belts clinging against your dangling legs. hands finding the side of his face, you huff at his irritating need to almost shame you, to show for some made-up record that no matter how much you turn him down, you want him. you need him.

so you push your hips against his, humming at the groan that flies from his lips. tapping your thigh, he ushers you up the bed, your bodies turning until your head is laid on your pillows.

he reaches down between you two, sliding your shorts to the side to rub his fingers against your already sloppy cunt, smiling when he feels and sees how wet you are. “cleaning my ass,” he jokes, kissing you before you can get upset again.

sliding his fingers up, he brushes the pads of them over your sensitive clit, swallowing the pretty moans that start to flow from your spit-slicked lips. hobie knows you like the back of his hand, knows just how much pressure you need, how tight his circles have to be, knows how to make you cum hard, and cum fast.

it’s always like this when he comes by with the goal to distract you— you always end up under him with whatever you have on pushed hastily to the side, fully clothed and his hand between your legs, shaking arms wrapped around his neck. it’s desperate, really, both your need to get off.

though you try to remain steadfast, try to act like you don’t want this, the way your hips move against his hand gives you away. “did all that sayin’ ‘no’, bu’ look.” he points his eyes down, towards where his hand is hovering above your cunt, fingers glistening.

“‘course ‘m wet, don’t mean shit.”

“it don’t? that’s wild, love,” he slides two fingers in without warning and presses his thumb against your clit before he starts his circles again, other hand moving to hold you in place when you thrash against him, “cause last time i had t’almost beg. ‘n the time before that, i did beg.”

you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes heat rise in your face and makes your eyes close, cause you can’t face him. no matter, though, cause he grabs your face, spits, “open your eyes. look a’me.”

you open your eyes and meet his low ones, ones that are always black with lust, ones that bore straight through you and make you feel so small and dirty underneath their gaze. he nods at your obedience, and then his fingers catch that spot inside you, and the licks of flame inside you morph into something like a fire, lighting you up with pleasure. you’re close, so close.

“you’re gettin’ easier, baby. act all you want, you’re desperate.” that sends you over the edge, and it’s embarrassing. it’s filthy, how he just has to talk to you a little mean and you’re cumming on his fingers, shaking as you choked out sobs of his name, like you weren’t just telling him to leave you alone 10 minutes ago.

before you even come down he’s kissing you, pulling your shirt up to free your tits.

"fuck you." you spew as you separate, but you still pull him closer, position him where his clothed dick rubs right against your cunt, kept away by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts that have almost rolled back into place.

"you will, in a second," he bites back, a wicked smile plastered across his ethereal features— features that are driving you fucking insane.

you’ve grown sick of his mouth— fisting his hair, you yank hard, drawing a pained moan from him and another drag of his cock against you. “you keep talking all this shit, but you’re the one who came up to my window looking for some ass. i don’t wanna hear it.”

“yeah? and you’re the one who kept going on about havin’ to clean your room, but i got you in bed so easy. we’re both fucked.”

and it’s true. the statement grounds both of you, and you both realize just where you are— inches apart, seconds away from what you both want. snapping out of it at the same time, your hands tangle together as you reach for each other’s bottoms, you freeing his pretty dick and him ripping your shorts right down the middle.

you laugh at his haste, his deep chuckles mixing with your giggles, foreheads meeting as you both calm down after your frenzy.

“‘m sorry. still forget how strong i am.”

“‘s fine. just fuck me already.”

“ehhh,” hand around his cock, sliding his tip up and down your waiting cunt, he teases once more, “y’sure you don’ wanna clean? room’s still a bit messy.”

“hobie, i swear to god, if you do not put it in me now i will pin you down and take it.” reading your eyes, he can tell you’re dead serious.

“‘s much as i’d love that,” he slides in with a pretty groan, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a throaty whine, “i want you like this.” pushing his hips up, he seats himself inside you.

breathing heavy, you both just take a second to calm down, to bask in the feeling of being intertwined with your lover again, no matter how annoying they can be. with closed eyes, you throw your head back, resting on your pillows. hobie takes that as a sign to spread kisses down your jaw, grinning when you smile.

“move,” you breathe, shifting your hips to give him better access.

that first stroke always drives you both crazy. the slow pull out, faces contorting in pleasure, bodies getting closer and closer until the next best thing is merging together again, you pushing down and him pushing up and then his cock takes its rightful place inside you, sensitive tip leaking against your cervix.

“‘m all the way in, love, can feel the end of you,” he murmurs against your neck, and you nod, curling your arms tighter around his neck. then, he just grinds, circles his hips, just barely pulling out.

it’s perfect, the way your bodies move against each other, giving and receiving pleasure at the end of the game you both love playing. with fluttery glides and soft slides, and pitchy whines and deep groans, you dunk yourselves into that familiar pool of feeling, let it fill up your noses and mouths until it’s spilling over, your bodies shaking and jerking against each other.

blissed out of your fucking minds, your lips meet the others, lazy connects of your lips that you can just barely call kisses. they’re slack-jawed and sloppy, spit-swapping, the lewd smacks filling the air, mixing with the harmony of fucked-out sounds.

slowly, hobie starts moving his hips around differently, on a mission now, one that has you tensing up, cause it never takes him long to find it, that sweet spot that has you—

“fuck,” you drawl, throwing your head back, and hobie just smiles and keeps his hips moving that way, keeps his cock kissing that same spot.

"that's it?" he hums.

when you try to articulate what you're feeling, try to tell him "yeah", the words never come. instead, he's raising up to spread your legs and balancing himself above you, switching from slow grinds to deep thrusts that have him pressing against that spot even more now.

now, with him slapping his hips against yours and his thumb on your clit, the sound fills the room, skin against skin. jolting against him, his eyes are still trained on yours, fixed on the furrow of your eyebrows and the o-shape your lips make, focused on how pretty you look when he fucks you.

your choppy moans fill his ears, the background to his barrage of words that fill yours. sentences about how pretty you look, how good you feel, how he just wants to fuck you forever, and then for the second time without warning, you cum again, right when he says something about wanting to keep you fucked and filled, "'s why i keep comin' over, cause i wan' you full of me all the time."

it's gentle, this time, streams of feeling flowing softly through you. hobie makes sure to keep his pace steady through it all, makes sure he prolongs it as long as he can.

when you come down, you're pushing up on his hips with shaking hands, nodding your head and telling him to move. he doesn't waste a second, lifts up and grabs your headboard with one hand to give himself some leverage, his other hand resting on your calf. this time around, he's forgotten all that slow shit.

he rocks his hips hard and fast, jolting you up, and your back rubs against your sheets, your hands fly to your thighs to ground yourself.

"keep 'em open," he slurs, eyes fixed on where he disappears inside you, on the way you cream on his cock, his pretty dick painted white. "watch," he tells you, "she swallow me up so nice." his tone is awe-filled, brown eyes lit up at the visual of you taking him so well.

your eyes roll back in your head, another wave of arousal overtaking you and you can't watch any longer or you'll go crazy, so you watch his face instead. watch his pretty fucking face contort in pleasure, watching his eyebrow piercings dance in the light, watch his sharp jaw clench when you clench around him.

and god, it’s building up again. how could have ever even thought you’d clean up today, when this is so much better. “you gonna cum?” he asks, cause he knows your tells better than you do. you nod shakily, hands gripping onto your thighs so hard you swear you feel your fingers going numb.

“then do it.” it’s an order, really, and you know what he means. hand flying to your clit, you rub messy circles, and hobie moves his hand from your calf to your thigh to keep you open for him. nodding with wild eyes, he watches you make yourself cum, watches your circles became sloppy side-to-side motions while you whine and almost fucking cry, watches your cunt clamp down on him and suck him in “like she don’t wanna let go.”

through the mind-fuck in your head, you hear him groan loud, and then he’s cumming too, gripping your headboard so hard you swear you hear a soft crack, but fuck the headboard, cause hobie looks so pretty when he cums that it don’t even matter.

laughing, blissed out of your minds, hobie lays down on top of you, breathing hard and sweaty as shit, just like you are.

“i really did need to clean my room though, hobie.” you hum, turning your head to face him.

“i wasn’t just tryin’ to get in your pants, love, i was serious about helpin’,” he mumbles against your neck. and he does help. by the time he’s sliding back through your window and kissing you goodbye, your room is perfect.

#hobie brown x black reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie smut #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #prolly flopped cause i tagged it wrong so here y'all go again

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 3 months

Text

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 1

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: A reimagining of 50 Shades of Grey, featuring a healthy, consensual relationship and safe BDSM scenes. And lesbians, of course. Wanda meets Natasha, and their captivating story begins.

content warnings: none

word count: 4.9k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Chapter 1

Wanda frowned, running her fingers through her hair. The auburn locks mocked her, laying over her shoulders as she ran her eyes over them. There was something wrong, whether it was the curls or the style, Wanda couldn’t tell. Whatever, fuck her hair, and fuck her roommate for getting sick.

A groan sounded out from the other room, and Wanda let her frustration slip away. It wasn’t Kate’s fault for getting sick, but it just so happened to be at the most unfortunate time. Really, Wanda should be studying for her finals, her textbooks laying open on the kitchen counter. But instead, she was here running her fingers through stubborn hair and mentally cursing out her roommate as she searched for a hair tie.

The only thing that would save her appearance now was a ponytail, high on her head. Anything to give the illusion of confidence. At least her slight curls would give her hair some dimension.

Sighing, Wanda let herself look away from the mirror, catching a glimpse of dark circles under her normally vibrant green eyes. Were her cheeks more hollow than usual? She couldn’t tell, but judging by the way her stomach rumbled, she knew she had forgotten about eating in favor of studying for the past few weeks.

Swiping some concealer under her eyes, Wanda dabbed the product into her skin as she walked towards the living room. Kate was a good roommate, always cleaning up after herself and offering Wanda ice cream after every failed date she went on. But truly, she’d chosen the worst time to get sick. Wanda had volunteered, of course, but interviewing some rich multi-millionaire was not high on her fun list.

“You’re a lifesaver, truly,” Kate mumbled, her flushed cheeks appearing over the arm of the couch. She’d been running herself ragged, trying to write papers and organize some questions for this interview. It was at Romanoff’s Global Enterprise, a special section for the school newspaper. Goddamn Kate and all her extracurriculars. Now, instead of losing herself in textbooks and notetaking, Wanda was driving 165 miles into Seattle in her shitty old Honda.

Evidently, the CEO she was meeting today was an enigmatic and charming woman, one of the youngest millionaires in the country. Natasha Romanoff. God, even her name sounded rich.

“I’m so sorry Wanda,” Kate’s voice was raspy, and Wanda filled a glass of water for her. “This interview took me months to get, and by the time I would be able to reschedule, we’d both be graduated. You know I’m the editor for the newspaper, I can’t give up this opportunity. I’m not even kidding, it's the chance of a lifetime.” Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. Even though she looks like she’s on death's door, Kate still manages to have flawless skin and long, flowing hair. Wanda feels a pang of sympathy, bringing the glass of water over and swiping a bottle of NyQuil from the counter.

“It’s okay, Kate. I promise. Take this and go the fuck to bed, you look like you’re seconds away from passing out.”

“Fine, but here are the supplies you’ll need,” Kate reaches for her bag, pulling out a recording device and a printed stack of questions. “Just hit record and ask all these questions, I’ll transcribe everything later when this fever goes away and I can finally think straight.”

Wanda suppresses the wave of panic that rises in her, taking the questions and recording device with slightly trembling fingers and tucking them safely in her messenger bag. She wouldn’t do this for anyone else, only Kate.

“Go to bed, I’ll be fine,” Wanda says, her voice not sounding as confident as she’d like.

Giving her a knowing look, Kate shuffles off towards the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around her. “You’ll be fine, just ask the questions and that’ll be enough information to get you through the interview. And Wanda,” Kate pauses at the door, her tired gray eyes finding green. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’d better get going,” Wanda smiles, her hands shooing her roommate through the door. “It’s a long drive, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Good luck, you’re my favorite roommate.”

“Kate, I’m your only roommate.”

—

The drive is easy, not many people are up this early. The trees whizz past, Wanda’s foot never leaving the gas pedal as she makes her way towards the city. She doesn’t have to be at the interview until two this afternoon, but there’s something intoxicating about driving 15 miles over the speed limit on a bare highway.

Pictures of a tall, curved glass building float through Wanda’s mind. She was certain that the pictures of Romanoff’s Global Enterprise on Google didn’t compare to the actual building itself, and she brushed off the waves of anxiety building inside her chest.

It’s a quarter to two when Wanda pulls her car in front of the building. The reflective glass stares down at her, the top of the building too high to see without craning her neck. Large lettering spells out Romanoff above the entryway, and Wanda feels her fingers trembling as she hands her keys to the valet driver. Honestly, a valet driver? How much more over the top could this day get?

Walking into the lobby, Wanda hears the muted click of her low heels as she tugs her dress shirt down. A tall blonde woman walks towards her, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes rake up and down Wanda’s body, no doubt judging her outfit. The woman looks pristine, with a slicked-back ponytail and a subtle hint of mascara. Her blazer is sharp and tailored, and Wanda fights the urge to tug her dress shirt again.

“I’m here to see Ms. Romanoff, my name is Wanda Maximoff,” The statement comes out as more of a question, and Wanda blushes under the scrutinizing look the blonde gives her.

“One moment, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman says, her perfect brow arching slightly as she appraises Wanda one last time before turning her attention to the large iPad in her hands. She swipes a few times, a small smile gracing her features as she finds what she’s looking for.

“Ah, Ms. Bishop was expected, but I see that was changed last minute. Right this way, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman turns, walking confidently towards the elevators. “If you could sign this, please.”

The blonde hands Wanda the iPad, and she quickly signs her name. It looks illegible, and Wanda hopes her signature isn’t going anywhere except to the security office for verification. She fights the urge to fix her ponytail, her eyes landing on the blonde woman’s slicked-back hair tied high on her head. Maybe a quick tightening of her hair tie wouldn’t hurt.

“Press the button for floor twenty.” The woman turns, catching Wanda’s hands as they shoot down from adjusting her ponytail. A graceful smile spreads across her face, “Have a good interview.”

Wanda thanks her, accepting the badge the blonde hands her. It has the words VISITOR stamped across the surface. Awkwardly adjusting the badge until it’s pinned to her jacket, Wanda scoffs internally. As if anyone in this building didn’t already know she was only a visitor. She might as well write the word on her forehead to go along with her outdated shoes and slightly too-large jacket.

The elevator ride is quick, shooting up towards the twentieth floor smoothly. Wanda is greeted by the sight of yet another pristine, clean lobby. Another blonde woman sits behind a desk, quickly rising as Wanda steps out.

Running a hand over her hair, Wanda reaches into her bag. She’s never felt self-conscious about her hair before, but after seeing no less than five impeccably dressed blonde women, she can’t help but think she sticks out like a sore thumb.

Pulling out the recording device and the slightly crumpled stack of questions, Wanda curses herself for not researching Ms. Romanoff. The woman could be ninety years old for all she knew. She hadn’t searched up her name at all, and fights the urge to smooth down her shirt as she glances towards the receptionist.

The upcoming one-on-one interview looms in the front of her mind, nerves causing her fingers to systematically rub the pages in front of her. Wanda hated attention being focused on her, much preferring the anonymity of a group discussion or a crowded room. Sitting on hard white leather chairs and staring at the city skyline from a large floor-to-ceiling window was not something Wanda would consider as a happy place.

Wanda wonders if Ms. Romanoff insists on all her employees being blonde as yet another smartly dressed woman appears from around the corner. The blonde’s eyes glance towards her, doing a subtle double-take before smoothly stepping towards her.

“Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes,” Wanda hopes her voice isn’t trembling too badly.

“Ms. Romanoff will see you shortly, can I offer you a refreshment? Coffee, tea, water?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” Her throat is suddenly parched, and she takes the cup from the blonde woman gratefully.

“She will see you shortly.” The woman says, a small smile plastered on her face as she turns and walks towards the desk. She sits next to the other blonde woman, her attention focused on the computer before her. Wanda wonders if she should call them Thing One and Thing Two as the clacking of a keyboard fills the empty, sterile feeling space.

A door opens, a tall man stepping through as he chuckles at something. He bids a brief farewell, barely glancing at the blonde woman, who Wanda notices has jumped to their feet in his presence. They seem nervous, one woman ushering the man towards the elevator while the other hurriedly gestures for Wanda to stand.

“Ms. Romanoff will see you now,” she says and pushes Wanda towards the open door.

Wanda walks through the door, one hand gripping the recording device and the other holding the stack of papers close to her chest. She steps through the door, catching a glimpse of a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows, before she promptly trips.

Her palms catch her, the papers flying from her hands as the recording device clatters to the floor. Fuck. This was a terrible first introduction.

The sound of heels steadily approaching reaches Wanda’s ears, and she feels her face burning as she scrambles to pick up the items now strewn across a polished marble floor. Bracing herself, she manages to glance up.

“Ms. Bishop,” A long-fingered hand is extended. “I’m Natasha Romanoff, are you alright?”

Holy shit. Wanda finds herself speechless, her lips parted as her mouth hangs open slightly. She quickly gathers the rest of the papers, gratefully taking the cool hand with her own as she stands.

Ms. Romanoff is absolutely stunning. There are no words to describe her, and Wanda feels herself taking in the woman’s appearance. Long legs and a tight, black pencil skirt, an hourglass figure that means this woman spends countless hours in the gym, and a dark green button-up shirt with just enough buttons undone to show the barest curve of her chest. Blinking, Wanda feels herself flushing further, the sight of Ms. Romanoff’s rolled-up sleeves and bare forearms sending her head spiraling.

“I’m okay,” Wanda manages, feeling her breath catching. She finally manages to drag her eyes toward Ms. Romanoff’s face, finding the barest hint of a smirk and kind, vibrant green eyes. She’s mildly surprised to see dark red hair, and she suddenly doesn’t feel as out of place as she did before.

Looking down, Wanda startles at the sight of a hand still outstretched. She takes it, shaking firmly as a spark of something runs through her fingertips. It travels down her spine, filling her with warmth.

“Um, it’s actually Wanda,” she begins, flushing under the sharp eyes that remain locked with hers. “Um, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. Kate, I mean Ms. Bishop is sick so… here I am.” She concludes lamely, the barest hint of amusement in Ms. Romanoff's eyes.

The silence stretches, and Wanda finds herself speaking again. “I study English literature. With Kate, I mean um… Ms. Bishop. At school. Our school, Washington State. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here.”

“I don’t mind.” is all Natasha says, and she gestures towards a leather L-shaped couch. “Would you like to sit?”

This office is far too big for one person, a large desk near the center of the room. Wanda assumes it’s Ms. Romanoff’s. She walks towards the corner of the office, large glass windows extending around the couch and a few comfortable-looking chairs. There’s a dark mahogany desk, with enough chairs to seat a dozen people all around it. She wonders if Ms. Romanoff ever leaves this office, and takes in the minimalistic artwork hanging on the walls.

“The table was handmade by a local artist,” Ms. Romanoff says, her head tilting when Wanda looks back at her. She flushes, knowing that the woman had been watching her look around the room.

“It’s beautiful,” Wanda murmurs. “Seemingly ordinary resources crafted into something exquisite.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Natasha agrees, her voice low and sounding like melted butter. Wanda finds herself blushing at the sound.

Distractedly, Wanda sinks onto the couch as Ms. Romanoff gracefully sits on one of the black leather chairs across from her. Her fingers fumble, dropping the recording device onto the wood roughly. The blush must be semi-permanent at this point, spreading across her cheeks and over the tips of her ears as she turns the recording device on. Finding the first page of questions, Wanda realizes that she never read the questions in advance.

Off to a great start, then.

“I apologize,” Wanda lets a hand run along the side of her head, a ghost action of tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m not really used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“One-on-one interviews, they feel oddly intimate. I’m much more acquainted with blending into the wall in a crowd.”

“Take all the time you need,” Ms. Romanoff says, a small smile on her face. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Do you mind?” Wanda gestures towards the table, “I would like to record your answers for my roommate, I mean… Ms. Bishop.”

Ms. Romanoff smirks widely at that, amusement dancing on her flawless features. “You already started recording, now you’re asking for permission?”

Is she teasing? It sounds like she’s teasing, but Wanda is too flushed with embarrassment to really place the emotion behind Ms. Romanoff’s words. The woman takes pity on her.

“I don’t mind.”

“Did Kate, uh… Ms. Bishop explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes,” Natasha settles into her seat, a faint look of boredom overtaking her face. “This interview will be placed in the school newspaper as a feature article since I will be the featured speaker at this year's graduation ceremony.”

Oh. Kate had forgotten to mention that little detail. Wanda hoped the surprise at the news wasn’t showing on her face.

“Oh, good,” Wanda cleared her throat. “In that case, let’s begin.”

“Yes, let's.”

Is she… teasing? Again? Wanda feels as though she’s been thrust into an alternate dimension. She sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to look more confident than she is. Professional, that’s what Wanda is hoping to achieve.

“You’re very young to have amassed such an impressive empire.” The words feel almost monotone. Scripted. “To what do you owe your success?” Wanda glances up, and Natasha’s smile falls into a vague look of disappointment.

“In short, business is all about people. I excel at knowing what makes a person tick, and I am an excellent judge of character, Ms. Maximoff. I know how to inspire, and most importantly, how to incentivize.” Natasha’s dark green eyes lock with Wanda’s, pinning her to her seat. “I believe that I must know every detail in order to achieve success, knowledge is power after all. I make my decisions based on logic, not feelings. In short, I know people. I know how they tick, and I know how to inspire them.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders, the answer sounding rehearsed to her ears. God, this woman is arrogant. “Maybe you’re just lucky.”

A startled look flashes across Ms. Romanoff’s face, surprise appearing in her eyes momentarily before it’s brushed away. “I don’t believe in luck, Ms. Maximoff. I believe in my own abilities, and I believe in the team that surrounds me. I select only the best to work for this company, and that is the reason for my success.”

“You sound like someone who is obsessed with control,” the words escape Wanda’s mouth before she can restrain them.

“I exercise control in all things, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha says, not a glimmer of humor in her words. Her steel gaze locks with Wanda’s, impassive as she watches Wanda flush again.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Natasha continues as if she never heard Wanda speak. “Immense power is only acquired by those who are convinced that they have the ability to control the things around them.

Immense power? Yeah, total control freak.

“So you believe that you have immense power?”

“I employ over fifty thousand people, Ms. Maximoff. I am responsible for all of them. This responsibility gives me a certain sense of power. If I decided that a department wasn’t needed one day, such as a social media section of my team, hundreds of people would struggle to find a replacement job. So yes, I have power.”

The complete lack of humility and apparent empathy causes Wanda’s mouth to open, her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

“Is there a board you answer to?”

“I own this company. I don’t answer to anyone.” Ms. Romanoff raises a single eyebrow.

Wanda feels herself flush yet again. If she had done any research, she's certain she would have known the answer to that question beforehand. She changes the topic.

“What are your interests outside of work?”

The sharp curve of Ms. Romanoff’s eyebrow suggests that she knows what Wanda is doing, but the woman answers the question gracefully.

“I have many varied interests outside of work,” Natasha’s tone is bordering on playful, the slight curve of her lips almost teasing.

“Well, what do you do to relax?” Wanda asks, rephrasing her question. For some reason, the previous answer sent a flush down her spine.

“Relax?” Ms. Romanoff sits back in her seat, the heat of her gaze never leaving Wanda’s. “I engage in multiple physical pursuits. I’m a wealthy woman, Ms. Maximoff, I never tire of looking for hobbies.”

Not knowing how to respond, Wanda glances at the next question.

“You invest in engineering, why?”

Ms. Romanoff’s response is quick and practiced. “I enjoy the creation of things. I like knowing how they work, what makes them tick. How to build and create. I enjoy the process of creating something, adjusting to flaws, and perfecting things.”

“That sounds awfully sentimental.”

“Does it?” That damned subtle smirk is back, and Wanda looks down at the page in front of her. “There are many who say I don’t have the heart for sentiments.”

That makes Wanda look up. There’s a curious expression on Ms. Romanoff’s face. It disappears before Wanda can decipher it.

“Would your friends say you don’t have a heart?” Fuck. That wasn’t on the list of questions. Kate is going to kill her.

“Why would you presume they say that?”

“I assume they know you well, and you’re easy to get to know…” Wanda responds, her heart thudding.

“Well,” Natasha leans forward slightly. “I’m a very private person, Ms. Maximoff. I go to great lengths to ensure my privacy is well maintained. There is a reason I don’t often give interviews.”

“Then why did you agree to this one?” The question escapes Wanda’s lips before she can stop it, her curiosity taking over.

Natasha leans back, crossing a leg delicately over the other. “I’m a generous benefactor to your University, and in all honesty, Ms. Bishop was extremely insistent. She was relentless in her communications with my PR and assistants, and I admire her motivation.”

Fully aware of how tenacious Kate could be, Wanda curses her out mentally. Instead of studying for her finals, she was sitting in this cold, expensive office and interviewing a successful, rich woman not much older than her.

Wanda glances at the next question.

“Do you have a philosophy you live by? If so, what is it?”

“It's not so much a philosophy as a guiding principle. As Carnegie said, ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I like control of myself and those around me.”

“You sound like the ultimate control freak.”

Ms. Romanoff smiles sharply, a dangerous look appearing in her eye. “I suppose I am.”

Swallowing, Wanda feels as though the woman seated across from her is talking about something else entirely. She can’t quite pinpoint what it is. It frustrates her to no end, but Wanda just shakes her head and continues with the questions written before her.

“You were adopted,” Wanda pauses, this information is a surprise to her. She risks a glance up. Ms. Romanoff’s face is impassive. “How do you think this shaped the person you are today?”

Biting her lip, Wanda hoped she didn’t cross any lines. Ms. Romanoff doesn’t seem to be offended, but her brows furrow slightly.

“I have no way of knowing, Ms. Maximoff. My adoptive family is all I’ve ever known.”

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

Natasha’s lips curl into a wry smile. “That is information available by public record.” Her tone is stern, her words sharp. Wanda immediately flushes, feeling like hitting her own forehead against a solid surface. Repeatedly.

If only she’d done some research ahead of time. Well, no time to dwell on the past. Wanda speaks quickly, suddenly wanting this interview to be over.

“Does your family life encroach on your work?”

“It does not.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is flat and hard, her response quick.

Wanda feels red-hot embarrassment slink down her spine. She should have looked over these questions ahead of time. Curse her inability to think ahead. She barely glances at the next question before the words are spewing from her lips.

“Are you gay?”

Ms. Romanoff blinks. Wanda feels her eyes go wide, darting down to the paper in front of her. Why the fuck is that question in here? Why didn’t Kate warn her, or… matter of fact, why did Kate think that was an appropriate question to ask?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Wanda trails off, her flush returning. “I didn’t know that was a question. You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry. Let's move on.”

“I am.”

Wanda’s head shoots up so fast she strains a muscle. It shoots painfully down her neck, but the only thing she’s focused on is the dark green of Ms. Romanoff’s unwavering gaze.

“You didn’t write these questions.” It’s a statement, and Wanda finds herself nodding.

“Like I said before, my roommate was supposed to interview you today. These are her questions, for our school newspaper.” Wanda feels her fingers clenching the paper. She hopes she isn’t thrown out of the office. She couldn't bear the shame and judgemental looks the blonde assistants would surely send her way.

“Are you also a part of the school newspaper?”

“No, I-” Wanda falters, wincing at the dull tone in Ms. Romanoff’s words. “Kate asked me to come since I’m her roommate. She had no other options.”

“That explains a multitude of things,” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is quiet, her eyes boring into Wanda’s.

A soft knock sounds out, the door swinging open as blonde thing number one steps into the office. Wanda immediately resents her presence, a strange atmosphere encroaching on the space she was occupying.

“Your next meeting is in five minutes, Ms. Romanoff,” The assistant says, not sparing a glance towards Wanda.

“Cancel it, we’re not done here.”

Wanda looks up, her hands already preparing to sweep the recording device into her bag as she makes her escape. The assistant is gaping, her eyes flicking between Wanda and her boss. Natasha raises a single eyebrow, and the assistant bows her head slightly before leaving and gently shutting the door behind her.

“I hope I’m not taking up valuable time,” Wanda says, her hands still hovering over the recording device.

“You aren’t. Besides, I want to know about you.” Ms. Romanoff tilts her head slightly, her lips turning up slightly. “It’s only fair, after all.”

That damned flush makes itself known once again, traveling over Wanda’s cheeks and down her neck. She folds the corner of her paper, the crease sharp beneath her fingers and she bites her lip briefly.

“There’s not much to know, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Ms. Romanoff’s eyes are sharp, assessing. “What are your plans after graduation?”

Wanda recognizes the escape for what it is and seizes it wholeheartedly. “I don’t have any plans, I’m too focused on exams at the moment.”

“I see,” her voice is low, her posture relaxed, and her eyes piercing. Ms. Romanoff uncrosses her legs slowly, leaning forward slightly. “We offer an excellent internship program here.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Wanda smiles slightly. “I’m sure you do. Although, I’m not sure I'd fit in here.”

“No?” Her head tilts again, green eyes unwavering. Wanda feels trapped suddenly, the weight of the woman’s gaze pinning her to the couch. She lets out an uncomfortable cough.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The statement is evasive, but Ms. Romanoff answers without hesitation.

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Her gaze is heavy, eyes all-knowing and locked on Wanda. There’s a new sort of tension in the air, all traces of awkwardness gone and replaced with something heady. It’s making Wanda’s head spin, and she breaks eye contact with some effort. Reaching towards the table, she turns the recording device off, placing it gently into her bag.

The tension breaks, Ms. Romanoff standing slowly as Wanda shoves the papers into her bag.

“Would you like a tour?”

Wanda pauses, her hands stilling. Why is she asking that? Isn’t she the CEO of the company?

“I’m sure you have many other important things to attend to, Ms. Romanoff. Besides, I should get on the road before it starts raining too heavily.” Wanda glances out the window, taking in the dark clouds on the distant horizon.

“You’re driving back to campus today?” Ms. Romanoff sounds almost concerned. Wanda tries not to stare at her in shock, blinking quickly. The woman clears her throat, an authoritative tone taking over as she speaks. “Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you for the interview.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she says, polite and dismissive.

Wanda stands, closing her messenger bag. She takes in the woman in front of her, letting her eyes glance over the impeccable outfit the woman has put on. Truly, she should be taking notes on how to dress in a business formal manner, and she’s got the perfect model in front of her. Blinking that thought away, Wanda takes in the small smile creeping onto Ms. Romanoff’s face.

“Until we meet again, Ms. Maximoff,” she holds out her hand, gripping Wanda’s fingers in a gentle yet firm hold.

Will they meet again? Wanda can almost guarantee that they won’t, but something in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes tell her differently. She shakes it off, labeling it as nerves running rampant through her mind. Of course, they wouldn’t meet again. A classic case of a rich, hot CEO meeting a poor college student, their paths crossing once and never entangling again, akin to a set of perpendicular lines.

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda nods slightly, letting the woman walk her to the door.

Opening it wide, the woman holds out a hand. A small smirk graces her features. “I am averse to my guests tripping more than once in my presence, and I’d like to ensure your safe journey from my building, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you.”

At least someone is amused, Wanda thinks as she steps through the door. She considers shooting a victorious glance back at the woman, but decides that the action would be too childish.

Evidently, Ms. Romanoff doesn’t often escort her guests from her office, judging by the surprised looks the blonde assistants shoot their way. It all seems quite suffocating for a moment, and Wanda takes a deep breath.

A hand on her shoulder halts the escape she is about to make. The warmth from Ms. Romanoff’s firm fingertips sends something intoxicating through Wanda. She hopes the ensuing shiver isn’t too obvious.

“I have to swipe my card for the elevator to work on this floor,” Ms. Romanoff explains, pressing the down button.

Of course. That makes sense. Then why is her hand still resting on Wanda’s shoulder?

Almost as if she’s reading Wanda’s mind - or maybe her body language - Ms. Romanoff releases her hold. Her fingers linger briefly, tracing briefly over her arm as she fixes Wanda with a look.

The elevator doors open, and Wanda gratefully steps through. Turning, she sees Ms. Romanoff leaning casually against the wall. The sight is attractive, and Wanda finds her eyes lingering on the exposed forearms crossed in front of her body.

“Wanda,” the woman says, a goodbye, but without a note of finality.

“Natasha,” she replies.

The doors close.

Next Chapter

---

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loveharlow · 5 months

Text

SEVEN [THE INBETWEEN] - P4L

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[3k] Two weeks since John B and Sarah have been gone and the pogues decide it's time for a proper memorial to say goodbye, but an impulsive gesture leaves two of the four remaining pogues heads spinning.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, unestablished relationship/unrequited love (Pope x Kiara), mentions of child abuse/neglect, general angst

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ This is where things get a little tricky. Also, tumblr decided to kick me out of my mf account so thats why this is like 2 days late instead of one, I DID NOT LIE TO YALL😭 and sorry if this chapter moves a little fast

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“RISE AND SHINE, BLONDIE.” You whispered in the sleeping boy’s ear. JJ immediately slapped a harsh palm over his ear, effectively slapping himself and waking himself up, groaning in pain as you stood by giggling.

“Fuck you.” He mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, Marley emerging next to him from under the covers. You tilted your head at the dog, scoffing.

“You do know that is my dog, right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at a sleepy-eyed JJ who simply looked at the animal over his shoulder before turning back to you and shrugging with a sly smile on his face.

“Not anymore. Her real owner gives her bacon and she loves it.” He retorted, throwing an arm over Marley and pulling her into his side as he rubbed the top of her head. “Ain’t that right, girl?”

You rolled your eyes, your bare feet patting against the hardwood floors of The Chateau as you left the room, calling over your shoulder. “Then her real owner can clean up the aftermath when she vomits it out because she refuses to chew.” You reprimanded playfully, sliding your slippers onto your feet that were sat by the front door. “I’m gonna clean up a bit. Pope and Kie should be here soon. And I bought more cereal, it’s above the fridge.” You called out before going out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you, the screen rattling.

Today marked two weeks since John B and Sarah disappeared.

Pope and Kiara had finally made time in their schedules to do a proper send off. Not that you blamed them — Kiara’s parents wanted her as far away from the pogues as possible, with you being a semi-exception. They’d swamped her with work after school at The Wreck, working from the time school ended until the street lights came on. The weekends were no different, with the addition of taking the car away, only allowing her to drive it on the weekdays to and from school.

Heyward had Pope doing grocery run after grocery run, as well catching some of the seafood supply himself. Pope didn’t mind though, he was working on repairing his relationship with his parents after everything that happened. Things seemed to be looking up, Heyward didn’t scowl when you all came around anymore and his mother started to greet you all again. They were easing up on the restrictions, too — allowing Pope to drive the car again and be out past ten.

You and JJ had been managing — he was taking small, odd jobs here and there. Mowing lawns, fixing cars just to keep the lights on and the water running. You did what you could — sneaking into your house, only once or twice, to take some necessities and things to sell. You’d managed to pawn off a good chunk of your mother’s jewelry and some things you didn’t need anymore. It was enough to keep you both fed and clean.

Life was starting to seem okay again. It didn’t seem like there was such a large storm cloud over you and your friends anymore. Now, you just all felt an emptiness when you were together, which was probably why you weren’t together as much anymore.

School was…well, school. You and JJ hadn’t been since it happened. No adults to force you to go, right? Pope and Kie had been a few times, but their parents allowed them some time to themselves occasionally.

Despite everything, today was the first day you all would be hanging out as a full group again. The Chateau always looked a mess but admittedly, you and JJ hadn’t been helping the place to look any better. The porch was littered with beer bottles, soda cans, snack wrappers. Things that had been piling up from your late night talks.

Grabbing a plastic bag, you started gathering all of the trash and throwing it inside, the space already looking better.

“SO, HOW ARE WE DOING THIS EXACTLY?” Kiara asked, hands in her pockets as she stood in front of the big tree, next to Pope. The sun was starting to set, casting a low, orange hue over the backyard.

She and Pope had arrived not too long ago, the gathering not being as lively as it used to be. Less smiles, less laughs. There was small talk and a few jokes here and there but it just seemed so forced, as if no one wanted to say “let’s just get this over with”.

The group had been divided, although none of you would admit it aloud. It seemed as if Pope and Kiara did their thing, while you and JJ did yours.

“We could just carve it. Might take a while, though…” Pope pitched, rubbing his hands over the top of his head and shifting his weight.

“I mean, we got all day.” JJ shrugged simply, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. “I say we carve this baby up.” He shrugged, hiking up the toolbox in his hand, the metal objects inside rattling, and walking to the forefront of the group. You walked up beside him, looking up with your hands in your back pockets. “Care to do the honors?” He smiled down at you, flicking out a pocket knife in your direction.

Taking the object from his hand, you faced the large, loud live oak tree and began carving the initials of your fallen friend into the wood.

THREE HOURS AND TWO BEERS LATER AND THE TREE WAS CARVED AND BRANDED. A tan-colored, heart-shaped splotch in the center.

2003 2020

JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

P4L

After you’d finished carving, JJ had done the honors of engraving the words with a heated piece of metal, burning the words forever into the oak. The four of you raised a beer to John B, hoping that he could feel you wherever he was.

You’d branched off afterwards, something that never happened before but you’d grown accustomed to the odd dynamic between the group now. You all tried your hardest to ignore it or remedy it but it was useless.

Pope was sitting on a log, staring at the fire JJ had started. JJ was swinging in the hammock as you made your way over to Kiara, who was sitting on the steps of The Chateau.

“Hey. You alright?” You asked, sitting down next to the girl as she took a sip of her beer, humming in response.

“As alright as I can be, I guess.” She replied almost despondently. You were all grieving in your own ways but something about Kiara’s grief didn’t seem like grief. It was like she was dealing with some other conflicting emotions on top of it all. “You and JJ have been keeping this place up, huh? I can actually see wood on the floor.” She joked lightly.

You chuckled in response. “Yeah... yeah, we’re trying. The place is one kick away from collapsing but it’s a home, nonetheless.”

“Have you been home? Since…” You nodded your head at the girl’s question, staring down at your sneakers.

“...Once or twice just to steal some shit to pawn off. I don’t really care for anything in that house anymore. Or anyone…” Kiara simply drew her lips into a thin line, nodding silently with no clue as to how to continue the conversation. So, you took the initiative for her. “How’ve you been? With your parents? Pope?”

She just grimaced and shrugged, playing with the rim of the open beer bottle. “They’re... going, I suppose. My parents don’t even know I’m here right now. If they did…” She trailed off, scoffing. “And Pope, I don’t know. He’s sweet, he’s just not…” She trailed off once again, but this time it was like she knew what she wanted to say but it was almost as if she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She seemed weary, hesitant — eyes fleeting between your own and the blades of grass beneath her feet. “Whatever. Forget it. Me and Pope are figuring it out, I guess. I’m trying to give it a chance.”

“That’s good.” You smiled smally, nodding absentmindedly. “If it helps, he really does like you. So, even if you two don’t work out, just let him down easy. He’s our friend and a really good guy.” She simply nodded, taking another swig of her beverage and looking out into the distance. Suddenly, she was standing from the steps, hands on her knees.

“I’m gonna go get another beer...” She sighed before walking back inside.

Maybe you were reading too much into it but Kiara’s grief was seeming more like a cold shoulder...

“YOU WARM ENOUGH, POPE?” You inquired, sitting next to the boy on the log, him shooting you a small smile before returning his gaze to the flames in front of him. The fire casting an amber glow over his skin, making his eyes seem browner, almost softer.

“Yeah, a little too hot.” He chuckled lightly, leaning back further onto the wooden seat, placing his hands behind him for support. “...I meant to ask, is JJ okay? Like, actually?” He asked with a bit of hesitance, eyeing the blonde swaying calmly on the hammock. You followed his sights, spotting JJ swaying lowly before turning back to Pope.

“He’s…doing better than I expected. But that goes for all of us, I suppose.” You offered honestly. “Why’d you ask?” You questioned, to which Pope shrugged one shoulder before replying.

“I know John B was a really big part of his life. If I was as close as those two, I don’t know how I’d feel. I know we haven’t been around much, Kie and I, but he just seems…too calm.” You didn’t know how to tell Pope that JJ was far from fine. That you’d hear him crying at night, muffled as he tried to wake you not knowing that you couldn’t sleep knowing he was outside the door crying and you couldn’t do anything to comfort him.

You’d tried asking him about it yourself. He simply acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about and you weren't one to push him. Not now, at least.

“He’s handling it all in his own way.” You reassured with mild uncertainty. “But I’ll keep an eye on him. How are you, though?”

The boy drew his lips into a thin line, tilting his head to the side in thought before shrugging and looking out at the fire in front of him. “I…don’t know.” He struggled out, almost as if he wasn’t completely sure of the words but also unsure if he was truly unsure. His brown eyes met yours, slightly glassed over with frustrated tears. “I really just don’t know.”

You gave him a pitiful smile before scooting closer and throwing your arm over his shoulders. The two of you sat in warm, content silence. In all your time of knowing Pope, he was never either fully closed off or openly emotional. He was the definition of a ticking time bomb — bottling everything up until he reached a certain breaking point. But this time, you’d figured he’d had all the meltdowns he could.

AS YOU APPROACHED THE HAMMOCK, another figure became clear next to JJ’s — Marley curled up in a sleeping ball of fur next to the blonde. You chuckled under your breath at the sight, nudging the swing with your knee to prompt JJ to open his eyes. The boy peeked one eye open before the other, eyes fleeting the yard at Pope and Kiara’s frames talking at the bonfire before returning to yours.

You took a seat on the grass in front of the hammock, looking up at JJ as he made the small effort to turn on his side to look down at you without disturbing the peaceful animal beside him.

“Done being the group therapist?” He yawned, pushing the blonde locs of hair out of his face. You simply shrugged, rubbing a hand across your forehead.

“Yeah, my office is closed.” You sighed, leaning back on your palms — small pebbles and mulch chips digging into them but you were too tired to care. “But you know I’m always willing to listen for you.” You said playfully, shooting the blonde a wink. He giggled in response, leaning forward in the hammock with one hand clutching it for support.

“You promised no pushing.” He mumbled sleepily.

“I’m not pushing.” You assured, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I’m just... politely suggesting that you open up to your best friend, is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to pick at your nails.

“Right...how about we do a little switch-a-roo then, hm?” He threw out, shifting around once more in the hammock, eyes piercing yours. “How have you been? With everything. Bree, your mom…” He trailed off, eyes never leaving yours even though you avoided eye contact the moment he started listing issues. “I mean, The Chateau is nothing compared to your beachfront palace in Kooklandia. You gotta miss it sometimes. You’re telling me you never think about goin' home?”

You snarled, shrugging off his statement. “This is my home.” You declared, drifting your eyes upwards to connect with his, the amber glow of the bonfire making his eyes appear more green-toned than blue. “I never wanted to move to Figure Eight in the first place. I didn’t care about the ocean view or the fact that our living room and kitchen didn’t have to be one room anymore.” You explained, drawing shapes into the dirt. “I feel safe here.” You muttered. “I feel safer with you guys...”

He simply hummed and nodded in agreement. “I get that.” He sighed. “I feel the same about my house. I don’t really care that all my shit is there and that I have to sneak back and forth to get what I need. My dad… he makes me hate that house. And I hate myself for being able to hate the house because of him but not being able to hate him.”

“He’s your dad, though. It’s understandable. You feel like you should love him no matter what.”

“...Do you hate your mom?” You paused your drawing in the dirt to peer up at JJ through your lashes, his eyes wide and wondering. The question caused you to feel a way you’d never felt before. It was such a loaded question and even with everything that happened, you figured the answer should be easy but...it wasn’t. Saying that you hated your mother felt like venom on your tongue. Even if you knew you had every right to say that you did.

“No.” You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears. “But, it’s like, I don’t love her either. I just…don’t recognize her anymore. In my eyes, she’s not my mother. But in my heart, she is and always will be. And I hate that.”

The two of you fell into silence after that, the only sound being cicadas and crickets. You directed your gaze up to the sky, counting the stars and silently acknowledging constellations while JJ kicked one leg out to swing the hammock gently as he stared up as well.

You figured the conversation ended there. It was getting late and you’d scored a babysitting gig for tomorrow that was paying good money. So, you figured heading to bed now was ideal because being late wasn't. You sighed, hands slapping your knees as you stood up with a groan, stretching as JJ’s eyes drifted to your frame.

“Well, I think my social battery has officially died.” You yawned, stepping closer to the blonde to ruffle his fluffy head of hair. “Night, blond-” You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence before JJ’s hand was wrapping itself around your wrist, pulling you down until your faces were just centimeters apart, him taking the opportunity to connect your lips with his, placing his free hand on the nape of your neck.

Your eyes went impossibly wide as the blonde pressed his lips to yours firmly, his eyes closed blissfully. A normal, friendly reaction would be to push him away, to say that you shouldn’t be doing this. But the way he was kissing you..

It was like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

From the way his fingers dug into your skin to the amount of force he was using to hold you in place.

Something in you suddenly relaxed, allowing you to close your own eyes and move your lips to kiss him back. Your lips moved in perfect sync with his for the moment. But you figured it would be nothing but. This was JJ, your best friend. He knew you like the back of his-

Oh. Oh, God. You were kissing your best friend. You were kissing JJ.

You pulled back so fast you nearly stumbled over your own feet, head whipping around in panic to find Kie and Pope still engulfed in their own conversation before turning back to the starstruck blonde in front you. His hair was messy and his lips were swollen with a deep shade of red blooming within the lower one. His own blue eyes were wide but you didn’t know for what reason.

You just looked at each other with an unknown expression. Terror? Confusion?

Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other, panting in panic. Your heart was beating wildly out of your chest prompting you to adjust the neckline of your top away from your throat, the material suddenly feeling constricting.

You didn’t know what else to do so you did the only thing you could do.

Swallowing harshly and touching your aching, wet lips, you swiftly walked off in the direction of The Chateau. The last thing you heard was JJ call out your name one, heart aching time before the door of The Chateau closed behind you.

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