#create U stairs

[padfootastic]

Lily may have brushed over it but now I’m curious, why is Sirius so familiar with the Slytherin common room? Is it just stories he’s heard from his family and their friends, or has he actually been to their common room?

hehehe anon have i mentioned i absolutely adore when people pick up on the tiniest details i leave in fics? makes my heart swell.

but! my hc is that him and james have sneaked into the common room. for all houses, really, and just because they could. slytherin was a personal challenge just bc so many people they didn’t like were housed there but they did it to prove to themselves they could. it’s a feat of sneakiness, ingenuity, and audacity ykno?

i also think,,,pre-hogwarts, he would’ve seen pictures of the common room from his parents/relatives/reg constantly asking for stories bc he’s enamored by the place but being familiar enough w it to describe it only came with experience.

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You’re an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt’s best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can’t ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don’t understand the fire you’re playing with- but Matt does. And he’s burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: heavy make out, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 7k

a/n: i didn’t go into this with the intention of creating a similar story but as i read it over I’m realizing it’s very similar to an @ariestrxsh fic with the same trope. click here to read the first chapter of that! it’s very good and I recommend strongly!

You stand in front of the hallway mirror, tugging at the hem of your navy-blue dress, smoothing the fabric with your palms. The dress fits snugly, a little more mature than what you’re used to, but tonight isn’t just any night. It’s the sports award banquet. Your brother and Matt’s banquet. And your dad only let you tag along under the condition that you “stay out of trouble.”

But it wasn’t exactly you who he was worried about.

A sharp knock echoes from the front door.

“Get the fuckin’ door!” your brother shouts from upstairs.

“Okay, okay!” You huff, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you rush to answer.

When you unlock it, the bitter January air bites at your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. Matt stands in the doorway, hand raised mid-knock, his dark brows lifting when he takes you in.

His smirk is slight but enough to notice. “Well, don’t you look all grown up,” he muses, voice low and teasing. Then, without warning, he reaches out and ruffles the top of your freshly styled hair.

You scrunch your nose but let him, even though you just spent the better part of an hour curling it.

“Jesus, Matt,” you huff, stepping aside so he can come in. The cold air follows him as he shrugs off his coat, revealing a navy-blue suit, just a shade darker than your dress. You swallow, watching through the mirror as he tugs at his tie.

“You coming with us?” His voice is lighter now, curious but knowing.

“Yep! Daddy said I could tag along if I behave.” You smile, turning back to your reflection, smoothing your hair again.

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, stepping closer behind you, his presence warm despite the winter air still clinging to him. You watch as he adjusts his tie in the mirror, his fingers long and practiced.

“You gonna behave then, sweetheart?” His eyes flick to yours in the reflection, amusement flickering behind them.

You nod, standing up straighter, suddenly aware of the way he towers over you. It’s always been like this. Him looking down at you, you looking up. The age gap was something your brother had always made a big deal about. ”Too old for you.” “Off limits.”

But Matt never seemed to care about that.

Your breath catches when his hand moves again, messing up your hair on purpose this time.

“Matt!” you whine, swatting his arm as you twist away. “I just fixed that.”

He grins, tongue running along his front teeth as he watches you pout. “Relax, kid, you still look pretty.”

Your stomach flips at that.

Before you can say anything, your brother’s voice rings out from upstairs. “Matty B! Get your ass up here!”

Matt sighs dramatically, shooting you one last glance before jogging up the stairs. You watch him go, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric of your dress.

The banquet hall is grand, chandeliers casting a warm glow over round tables covered in crisp white linen. The clinking of glasses and laughter fills the air as athletes and their families mingle, celebrating another season of victories. You follow closely behind your brother and Matt, your heels clicking on the marble floor as you take in the scene with wide eyes.

Your brother spots your dad near the head table and heads off with a wave. “Don’t get into trouble,” he mutters over his shoulder.

“I never do,” you chirp back, but he’s already gone.

Matt stays beside you, his hand hovering at your lower back in a way that feels protective, almost possessive, but he never actually touches you.

“You stick with me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the room. “Don’t need you getting eaten alive in here.”

You blink up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

But before he can answer, a familiar voice interrupts.

“Damn, Y/N.”

You turn to see Jackson, one of your brother’s teammates, grinning at you like he’s just won something. “Didn’t know you cleaned up this nice.”

Matt stiffens beside you, but you don’t notice, too busy beaming at the compliment. “Thank you, Jackson! You look nice too.”

Jackson smirks, stepping closer. “You should let me take you out sometime. We could grab dinner, maybe see a movie, head back to my place?”

Before you can answer, Matt shifts slightly, his broad frame stepping just enough into the space between you and Jackson to make it clear. “She’s not interested,” he says casually, though there’s an unmistakable edge to his voice.

Jackson’s smirk falters. “She can answer for herself, can’t she?”

You glance between them, feeling a little lost. “I mean… I do like movies.”

Matt exhales sharply, running a hand down his face before placing it firmly on your lower back, actually touching you this time. “C’mon, angel. Let’s find our table.” His grip is gentle but insistent, steering you away before Jackson can say anything else.

As you walk away, you glance up at him. “That was kinda rude.”

Matt scoffs. “No, sweetheart. That was necessary.”

You frown but don’t push it, too distracted by the sight of the massive dessert table at the far end of the room. “Ooh! Can we get something sweet?”

His jaw clenches, but he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Before you even make it halfway there, another one of your brother’s teammates- Tyler- sidles up beside you, grinning.

“Hey, Y/N,” he drawls, eyes trailing over your dress in a way that makes Matt’s fingers twitch against your back. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“My daddy let me come,” you say cheerfully. “It’s so fun! I didn’t know it’d be this fancy.”

Tyler smirks. “Your daddy, huh? You look real good all dressed up. Bet you’ve got guys falling all over you tonight.”

You blink. “Huh? Oh no, I just came with Matt and my brother.”

Matt sighs, long and slow. “Yeah, and she’s leaving with us too. Right, sweetheart?”

You nod, completely missing the way Matt glares daggers at Tyler. “Yep! Daddy said I had to go home when they do.”

Tyler chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s a shame. If you ever wanna have a little fun after curfew, you know who to call.”

You tilt your head. “Fun? Like… Games or…?”

Tyler lets out a loud laugh, but before he can respond, Matt steps in front of you completely, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Walk away, Tyler.”

Tyler holds his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Relax, man. Just messing around.”

Matt doesn’t budge. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t blink.

Tyler’s grin fades slightly before he turns and disappears back into the crowd.

You tug on Matt’s sleeve, pouting. “Why are you being so mean tonight?”

Matt exhales through his nose, looking down at you with something unreadable in his expression. “I’m not being mean, angel. Just looking out for you.”

You huff but let it go when you finally reach the dessert table, distracted by a chocolate fountain. “Oh my gosh! Look at this!”

Matt watches as you grab a skewer and dip a marshmallow into the melted chocolate, completely oblivious to the attention you’re getting from half the room.

His jaw tenses as he glances around, making sure no one else even thinks about coming near you.

Your brother would kill him if he knew how he was feeling right now. But as you happily hum while licking melted chocolate from your fingers, utterly unaware of the way his entire body is locked up with restraint- Matt knows he’s in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

The banquet is in full swing as the night goes on, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement as awards are handed out. Your brother wins MVP, grinning as he walks up to accept his plaque, you and the rest of the crowd erupting in applause. Matt wins Best Defensive Player, and when his name is called, you clap so enthusiastically that he shoots you a look- amused but slightly exasperated.

“Calm down, angel,” he murmurs as he sits back down, placing his award on the table.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, grinning.

Matt shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he nudges your knee under the table.

Throughout dinner, glasses of champagne are passed around, and even though Matt gives you a warning look, you take one anyway.

“It’s just one,” you assure him, lifting the flute to your lips.

“That’s not just one,” he mutters as you reach for another a little while later.

But you don’t listen. The bubbles tickle your throat, making you giggle, and before long, there’s a slight warmth settling over you, your limbs loosening, the room feeling lighter, happier.

Matt groans when you sip your third glass. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

Your brother, too busy celebrating with his teammates, doesn’t even notice.

Matt does, though. Matt always notices.

By the time the banquet winds down, you’re giggling at everything, eyes bright as your dad rounds everyone up to leave.

The ride home is quiet, the hum of the car filling the space. Your dad drives, your brother is on your left, and Matt is on your right. Somehow, you’ve ended up in the middle seat, legs tucked under you, your body loose and relaxed from the champagne.

You lean against Matt’s shoulder, sighing dramatically. “M’so sleepy.”

Matt stiffens, his whole body going rigid.

“You shouldn’t have had all that champagne,” he murmurs, voice low, almost strained.

You ignore him, nuzzling into his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “But it tasted so good.”

Your brother snorts. “You’re such a lightweight.”

You pout, shifting slightly, pressing even closer to Matt. You don’t realize what you’re doing, the way your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on his forearm, the way your cheek presses against the fabric of his jacket, how warm he is.

Matt notices.

His jaw is clenched so tight it aches. He keeps his hands firmly planted on his thighs, muscles tense as he stares straight ahead. You’re touching him like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t mean anything. But to him?

It means everything.

Your fingers graze his wrist, and he exhales through his nose, shifting slightly in his seat, trying to put some distance between you. But you just follow, draping an arm over his bicep, your cheek now resting against his shoulder.

“You smell so nice,” you sigh, voice hazy, drunk and sweet.

Matt swears under his breath.

Your brother doesn’t notice. He’s too busy scrolling through his phone, occasionally grumbling about some play he should’ve gotten more credit for.

But Matt? He’s suffering.

Because you’re all soft touches and sleepy sighs, completely unaware of the fact that every innocent little move you make is driving him insane.

You shift again, snuggling impossibly closer. “You’re so comfy, Matty.”

Matt groans so quietly only you hear it. “Jesus.”

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.” His voice is tight.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder again, your fingers still tracing those mindless little patterns on his arm. “You’re so nice to me.”

Matt closes his eyes briefly, inhaling sharply through his nose.

If only you knew.

When you get home, the house is quiet, the air thick with the lingering chill of the winter night. Your dad mutters something about heading to bed, your brother and Matt trudging up the stairs after him.

You follow, still tipsy, still warm from the champagne, your limbs loose and slow as you move.

Matt is staying over, just like he always does after big game nights or events. He and your brother disappear into his room while you shuffle to yours, sighing as you peel off your dress, trading it for an oversized t-shirt- one that falls mid-thigh, barely covering your underwear. You tug on a pair of thigh-high socks, cozying up against the cold air before slipping on your blue light glasses, needing something to steady your still-spinning vision.

You head to the bathroom, flipping on the light, humming softly as you brush your teeth.

The door creaks open, and Matt steps in, rubbing his face tiredly before freezing in place when he sees you.

His eyes sweep over you, taking in your messy hair, the oversized tee hanging off your frame, the way your socks cling to your thighs. His jaw ticks, but he says nothing, just clears his throat before stepping toward the sink.

“Didn’t know you were in here,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion- or maybe something else.

You shrug, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. “S’okay. I don’t mind.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. “You should be in bed, angel.”

You lean against the counter, tilting your head. “Matt?”

He grabs a towel, drying his hands before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah?”

You blink at him, expression slightly dazed. “Why were all those guys acting weird tonight?”

He stiffens slightly. “Weird how?”

You frown, thinking. “Like… they kept talking to me. Saying things that didn’t make sense.” You pause, then look up at him, brows furrowed. “What did they want?”

Matt exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “They were flirting with you, sweetheart. They thought you were pretty.”

Your nose scrunches. “Oh.” You tilt your head. “But you flirt with me too, right?”

His fingers flex against the counter. “Not like they do.”

You narrow your eyes. “You think I’m pretty too, right?”

Matt lets out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the sink. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I do.”

You blink, processing. “Then why does it matter?”

Matt turns, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing over his broad chest. His gaze is steady, dark in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

“Because they don’t just think you’re pretty,” he says carefully. “They want to sleep with you.”

You stare, heart skipping. “Oh.”

Matt watches your expression shift, your lips part slightly as realization starts to settle.

“They-” You swallow. “They wanted to… have sex with me?”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah, angel. That’s what they wanted.”

Your cheeks burn instantly, your fingers gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “Oh.”

Matt studies you, the way your breath hitches slightly, the way your eyes flicker down before snapping back up.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks, voice gentler now.

You shake your head quickly. “No, I- I just thought they were being nice.”

Matt exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart.”

Your fingers fidget with the fabric of your shirt, your face still warm. “I didn’t- ” You hesitate. “I don’t really… talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I know.” His voice is soft, understanding.

You shift on your feet, gnawing at your lower lip. “I mean… I know what it is. But I don’t-” You trail off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t get it.”

Matt tilts his head slightly, his gaze heavy but patient. “What don’t you get?”

You chew on your lip again, hesitating before blurting, “Why do they want to?”

Matt blinks. “What?”

You huff, flustered now. “Like… why do guys want to do that so much? I don’t get it.”

Matt runs a hand down his face, clearly trying to stay composed. “Because it feels good.”

You inhale sharply, your face burning hotter. “Oh.”

Your heart stammers in your chest, something thick and unfamiliar sitting heavy in the space between you.

You grip the counter. “Have you…” You hesitate, then force the words out. “Have you done it?”

Matt’s lips twitch slightly, amused despite himself. “Yeah, sweetheart. I have.”

Your stomach flips, something strange curling in your gut. “Oh.”

He smirks. “That bother you?”

Your face flames. “N-no! I just-” You fumble, shaking your head quickly. “I just… I didn’t know.”

For a second, neither of you move. The space between you is thick with something you don’t quite understand, something unspoken but heavy. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable, and it makes you fidget.

Your fingers play with the hem of your oversized t-shirt, twisting the fabric nervously. You don’t even realize that it hikes up slightly, exposing more of your bare thighs, the soft curve of them accentuated by your thigh-high socks. But Matt notices.

His eyes flicker down for the briefest second before snapping back up.

You hesitate, then softly say, “Matt?”

His jaw tenses. “Yeah?”

Your eyes stay fixed on the way your fingers pull at the fabric of your shirt. “Does it… really feel good?”

Matt’s breath is slow, measured. “Yeah, angel,” he murmurs. “It does.”

You shift on your feet, heat creeping up your neck. “Like… how?”

His lips part slightly, and for the first time tonight, he looks caught off guard. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose like he’s trying to gather himself.

“It’s- ” He stops, searching for the right words. “It’s different for everyone, but it’s… intense.”

You swallow, your fingers still gripping your shirt. “Intense how?”

His eyes darken slightly, his voice dropping a little lower. “It’s a kind of pressure. A build-up. And then… release.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body suddenly feeling too warm. “Oh.”

Matt watches you carefully, taking in the way your breath has gone a little shallower, the way your fingers fidget with your shirt again, lifting the fabric another inch before you even realize it. His eyes flicker down, then back up, something sharp flashing in them for a second before he schools his expression.

“Angel,” he says slowly. “You ever… thought about it before?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Thought about what?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “Sex.”

Your breath catches, your entire body heating at the way the word rolls off his tongue so casually, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t make your knees feel weak.

“I- ” You shift on your feet. “I mean, I know about it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Matt murmurs.

You feel like your face is on fire. “I don’t- ” You bite your lip, exhaling shakily. “I don’t think so.”

Matt hums, tilting his head. “You don’t think so?”

You frown slightly, trying to collect your thoughts, but your mind is a mess, spinning, hazy from champagne and the weight of this conversation. “I just don’t really-” You shift again, your thighs pressing together instinctively. “I don’t get it.”

Matt watches the movement, his throat bobbing slightly before he lifts his gaze back to yours. “What don’t you get, angel?”

You hesitate, feeling impossibly small under his gaze. “Why people want it so much,” you admit, voice softer now, almost unsure.

Matt exhales slowly. “Because it feels good, sweetheart. It’s the closest you can get to someone. And when it’s with the right person…” He trails off for a second, then looks at you intently. “It’s really good.”

You shiver, despite the heat curling in your stomach. “What does it feel like?”

Matt’s fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to do something with them but won’t let himself.

“You really wanna know?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher.

You nod, swallowing hard.

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It starts slow,” he murmurs. “Your body gets all warm, all needy.” His eyes flicker down to the way you’re fidgeting with your shirt, how your thighs shift slightly where you stand. “You feel it everywhere. The pressure, the tension. And then when you finally get what you need-” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s like relief. Like every nerve in your body is completely relaxed all at once.”

You stare at him, heart hammering, your fingers tightening on your shirt as you shift again, a deep, unfamiliar heat curling in your stomach.

Matt notices. Of course he notices.

He tilts his head slightly. “You ever been kissed before, angel?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

His lips twitch slightly, but his expression remains unreadable. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks burn. “I- I mean, yeah.”

His gaze sharpens. “Yeah?”

You swallow hard. “Once.”

Matt hums, like he’s not entirely convinced. “And did you feel anything?”

Your stomach twists. “I… I don’t know.”

His jaw clenches slightly. “If you don’t know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, rougher, “then the answer is no.”

You press your thighs together again, your whole body suddenly feeling strange, tingly, like your skin is too tight. “Oh.”

Matt’s gaze doesn’t waver, dark and knowing, like he’s seeing right through you.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Your breath catches. “W-what?”

He exhales through his nose, his voice dropping lower, slower. “The first part.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes dragging over you. “Warm and needy.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “I- I don’t- ” You shake your head quickly, even as your skin burns, your thighs press together again, your grip on your shirt tightening.

Matt takes a slow step toward you, his presence impossibly big in the small bathroom. “You are feeling it,” he murmurs, eyes locked onto yours. “Aren’t you, angel?”

Your mouth opens, then closes, your face scorching hot. “How can you tell?” you whisper.

He smirks, slow and lazy, but his voice is still rough, still tight. “You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Your breath stutters as realization hits you.

Your thighs- pressed together.

Your fingers- clutching at your shirt, pulling it tighter, twisting the fabric.

Your breathing- short, shallow.

You feel like your body isn’t your own, like every nerve is suddenly hyperaware of the space between you and Matt, the way he’s looking at you, the way you can feel the heat radiating off of him even though he’s still an arm’s length away.

He takes another step closer.

Your stomach flips, your heartbeat a frantic staccato against your ribs.

His voice is lower now, softer, but it makes your entire body tingle. “Where are you feeling it?”

Your throat dries. “What?”

His gaze flickers down, then back up. “Where do you feel it the most, angel?”

You swear the air in the room disappears. Your skin prickles with heat, embarrassment flooding you so fast that you physically shrink back.

“I- I…” Your voice barely works, breathy and unsure.

Matt hums, his eyes flickering over you again, watching the way your fingers still grip your shirt, how your weight shifts between your legs.

You do feel it. Everywhere.

Your cheeks burn hotter, your head spinning. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to say.

Matt watches you, his expression unreadable, his body still tense. His eyes flicker over your flushed skin, the way you’re gripping the hem of your oversized t-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He exhales slowly, shaking his head slightly before tilting it, his voice dropping back to something softer, more careful.

“Tell me about that kiss you had.”

You blink up at him, still flustered, your brain barely catching up. “What?”

“The one you said you had. The only one.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I- uh. What about it?”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. “How did he touch you?”

Your stomach flips. “Touch me?”

He nods once. “Yeah. His hands. Where were they?”

You frown slightly, thinking back, but there’s nothing to think about. “He… didn’t.”

Matt’s brows lift slightly. “Didn’t?”

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I mean… he just kissed me. That’s it.”

Matt’s jaw ticks, his fingers flexing against the edge of the counter. “How long?”

You swallow. “Like… a second? Maybe two?”

Matt exhales sharply, shaking his head. “And what did it feel like?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Nothing.”

Matt’s lips press into a thin line. “Nothing?”

You shrug. “I mean… it was just… a kiss.”

Matt takes another slow step toward you, his voice quieter now, rougher. “That’s not what it’s supposed to feel like, angel.”

Your breath catches, your fingers twitching against the hem of your shirt. You look up at him now, the air between you impossibly thick.

“…Then what is it supposed to feel like?”

Matt scans your body, his gaze dragging from the top of your head down the length of your frame- your messy hair, your parted lips, your bare thighs still pressed together slightly. He glances toward the open bathroom door, his jaw tightening before he reaches out, gripping the handle and slowly pushing it shut.

The click of the latch echoes in the silence.

When he turns back to you, his expression is darker now, his voice impossibly low.

“That warm and needy feeling?” His eyes lock onto yours, steady and intense. “It should feel like it’s on fire.”

Your stomach flips violently. “What do you mean?”

Matt steps closer, towering over you, his scent wrapping around you like something heavy and intoxicating. He leans down, just enough for his breath to brush against your lips.

“Like this.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow and intentional. His lips press against yours softly at first, like he’s giving you a chance to process, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t.

You can’t.

The second your breath hitches, he deepens it, his hand lifting just slightly like he wants to touch you but stops himself. His lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, and warmth spreads through your entire body. It’s thick and pulsing and burning.

Your fingers tremble as they clutch your t-shirt, your body melting before you even realize it. This is different. This is new.

This is what he meant.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, dazed, your lips tingling from the weight of his touch. Your wide eyes meet his, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“…Oh.”

Matt’s jaw is tight, his breathing slow, controlled. His hand twitches at his side like he’s restraining himself, his eyes searching yours.

“Now tell me, angel,” his voice is rough, nearly a whisper.

“Did that feel like nothing?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head slowly. “…No.”

Matt’s lips twitch, his gaze darkening slightly. “Where did you feel it?”

You shift on your feet, feeling impossibly small under his stare. “I- I don’t know.”

Matt hums, stepping closer. “No?” His hands lift, slow, careful, fingertips ghosting over your cheeks as he cups your face gently. His thumbs brush against your skin, warm and grounding. “Did you feel it here?”

You inhale sharply, lips parting slightly, but shake your head. “Not… really.”

His hands move down, skimming over your shoulders, gripping them lightly. “Here?”

You shake your head again, heart pounding.

His hands trail lower, skimming down your arms, barely touching you. You shiver, exhaling shakily, but still, you shake your head.

Matt watches you, his movements slow, deliberate, as his palms skim over your waist, his thumbs pressing lightly into the soft curve of your stomach.

Your breath stutters.

His hands move lower.

Your fingers twitch against the hem of your oversized t-shirt as he settles them just above your hips, his touch firm, grounding. “What about here?”

You swallow, feeling lightheaded, but shake your head again.

And then his hands drift lower, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your lower stomach, right above where that deep, pulsing warmth sits heavy between your thighs.

Your body stiffens. Your breath catches.

Matt’s lips part slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, watching, waiting.

You nod, the smallest movement, barely even noticeable.

But he notices.

“Yeah?” His voice is softer now, rougher. “What’s it feel like, angel?”

Your thighs squeeze together instinctively, your skin burning under his touch. “I don’t know,” you stammer, breathless.

Matt hums, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. “You sure?”

You nod quickly, but your body betrays you, shifting slightly into his touch.

Matt’s lips twitch again, something knowing behind his dark gaze as his hands slide down, fingertips trailing over the tops of your thighs before dragging back up, slow, teasing.

You shudder.

“Does it feel like a pulse?” he murmurs. “Like a throb?” His fingers trace the sensitive skin just above your knee, then glide up, his palms warm as they press lightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Almost a little wet?”

Your entire body jerks slightly, heat flooding your face, your stomach twisting violently in the most delicious way.

“Matt,” you whisper, mortified, shaking your head quickly.

His hands squeeze your thighs gently. “Hmm?”

You shake your head harder, but your body is betraying you again, shifting into his touch, your knees wobbling slightly as warmth pools deep in your core.

Matt watches you, eyes dark and knowing. Then, after a beat, he pulls his hands away, stepping back slightly.

Your body feels cold without his touch.

His gaze lingers on you, studying every little movement, every breath, every tremble. Then he asks, “Do you like that feeling?”

You hesitate, lips parting, but finally, finally, you nod.

Matt exhales slowly, his jaw tight, his hands flexing at his sides before his lips twitch into something almost smug. “It can feel even better.”

Your breath catches. “It… gets better?”

Matt chuckles, low and deep, shaking his head slightly. “So innocent,” he murmurs.

You frown slightly, embarrassed, shifting on your feet again.

But then his hand lifts again, fingertips brushing against your cheek before sliding into your hair, tilting your chin up slightly.

His gaze flickers over you, slow, measured.

And then he whispers, “Wanna see?”

Your breath stutters. Your pulse pounds. Your stomach twists in the most confusing, exhilarating way.

And then before you can even think- you nod.

Matt doesn’t hesitate.

His lips crash against yours, hotter this time, hungrier. His hands cup your face, tilting you exactly where he wants you as his mouth moves against yours, coaxing you into something deeper, something that makes that pulsing heat between your thighs turn into something more. It turns into something desperate, something dangerous.

Your fingers lift, gripping onto his shirt, needing something to hold onto as your legs feel weak beneath you.

He deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer, his hands firm as they slide from your face down to your waist, gripping you like he doesn’t want to let go. His lips are hot, insistent, moving against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your entire body buzzing with arousal.

His hands tighten around your waist, and before you can even register what’s happening, he lifts you effortlessly, gripping the backs of your thighs and setting you onto the cool bathroom counter. The contrast between the cold surface and his warm touch makes you shiver, your legs instinctively parting just enough for him to step between them.

And then- asound escapes your throat.

It’s soft, barely there. Nothing but a breathy little whimper as he tugs you closer, his hands gripping your thighs.

But it’s enough.

Your entire body locks up as realization sinks in, heat rushing to your face as you abruptly pull away, eyes wide with embarrassment. “I- I didn’t mean to-”

Matt’s breathing is heavy, his lips swollen from kissing you, but his eyes- his eyes are dark, focused, hungry.

He tilts his head, his hands still holding you firmly in place. “It’s normal, angel,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly low, deep enough to send shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, still mortified. “But-”

He shakes his head, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your thigh. “It just means you like it,” he explains, his voice warm, coaxing. “Means it feels good.”

You shift, heat curling in your stomach again. “Still-”

“And it makes me feel good too.”

Your breath catches.

Matt’s eyes flicker over your face, his expression unreadable for a moment before he adds, “Makes me feel warm and needy, just like you.”

Your stomach flips, your fingers tightening against the edge of the counter.

Your voice is quieter now, unsure. “Then… why don’t you make any sounds?”

Matt stills, his lips twitching slightly, but it’s not amusement- it’s something else. His fingers flex against your thighs before dragging slowly up, fingertips pressing lightly into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, tracing just under the hem.

He leans in, so close that his lips ghost against yours when he speaks.

“You want me to?”

Your pulse stutters.

You should probably say no.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod.

Matt exhales through his nose, his smirk finally breaking through. “Yeah?”

You nod again, slower this time.

His hands slide up, gripping your waist, and then he kisses you again.

But this time, it’s different.

It’s slower and deeper. His tongue tracing against yours in a way that makes your head spin, your body arching slightly toward him before you even realize you’re doing it. His hands slide over your thighs, gripping them, pulling you forward until your legs wrap loosely around his waist.

A low sound rumbles from the back of his throat.

It’s quiet, but it’s there, vibrating against your lips, making your stomach flip and your entire body heat.

You gasp softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as the sound sends something dangerous pulsing between your thighs.

Matt must notice, because he groans again, this time a little louder, his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin like he’s holding himself back.

The tension is unbearable now, your skin hot, your breaths short, every little movement making your head spin.

His hands gripped you tight, pulling you flush against him. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns against your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Your entire body is warm, buzzing, that unfamiliar but intoxicating feeling creeping higher and higher until a soft, breathy moan slips past your lips.

Matt freezes for a fraction of a second, his entire body tensing like a live wire, his hands gripping you tighter. And then he groans, deep and low, like the sound did something to him, like he needed to hear it.

His hands move before he can stop himself, sliding up your sides, fingertips teasing beneath the hem of your oversized t-shirt, skimming your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up, his palms warm and making you skin tingle in ways you’ve never imagined were possible.

A sudden, sharp knock on the door.

You barely stifle a yelp, but Matt is quicker.

His palm immediately covers your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he tenses, his head snapping toward the door. His light eyes flicker back to yours, and he puts a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay quiet.

Your heart is pounding.

“Yo, Matt,” your brother’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “You seen my sister? She left her laundry downstairs, and it’s hogging the dryer.”

Matt exhales slowly, his hand still over your mouth as he tilts his head toward the door, his voice calm, casual, like he hasn’t just had his hands all over you.

“Nah, dude. No idea where she is.”

The doorknob rattles.

You flinch.

Matt’s grip tightens on you instinctively, his hand pressing a little firmer against your mouth, his other hand flexing against your waist.

Your brother sighs. “Bro, unlock the door. I gotta brush my teeth.”

Matt’s jaw clenches, his eyes locking onto yours, something sharp flashing behind them before he whispers, so low you can barely hear it-

“Fuck.”

For a split second, you don’t know what he’s going to do.

Then, without hesitation, he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, and moves.

You barely have time to process before he’s setting you down into the bathtub, your back pressing against the cool surface. He leans in close, eyes serious, his hand brushing over your cheek for just a second.

“Stay quiet,” he whispers.

You nod quickly, heart hammering.

Matt exhales sharply, stepping back, adjusting himself. You blink, watching as he tugs his waistband up, shifting awkwardly, like he’s hiding something.

Your brows furrow slightly. “What are you-”

Matt immediately puts a finger to his lips again, shaking his head. “Shh.”

You shut your mouth, still confused, still burning from everything that just happened.

Before you can think too hard about it, Matt pulls the shower curtain closed, hiding you from view just as he unlocks the door and swings it open.

Your brother steps in, rubbing his face tiredly. “Dude, what took you so long?”

Matt shrugs, leaning casually against the sink, like he hasn’t just shoved you into the bathtub to keep you hidden. “Was taking a piss.”

Your brother makes a face. “Long ass piss bro.”

Matt just smirks, crossing his arms, his body perfectly positioned to block any possible view of the tub. “Long ass piss for a long ass dick, what can I say.”

Your brother rolls his eyes, grabbing his toothbrush. “Whatever.”

You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t notice anything, praying he doesn’t hear the way your breathing is still uneven, the way your body is still buzzing from Matt’s touch.

Matt’s hand twitches against the sink, his knuckles flexing. His jaw is tight, his body still tense. Like he’s just barely keeping himself under control.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the sound of running water and your brother brushing his teeth fills the room. You stay completely still in the tub, pressing your lips together to keep yourself from making a sound, even though your heart is still racing from what had just happened.

Finally, your brother spits into the sink, wipes his mouth, and mutters, “Alright, I’m going to my room.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m just gonna wash my face, I’ll meet you there.”

Your brother hums in response, the bathroom door creaking as he steps out. The moment you hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, Matt quickly shuts the door, locking it again before exhaling heavily. His shoulders relax slightly as he pulls back the shower curtain, his gaze landing on you, still curled up in the bathtub.

“Alright he’s gone.” he murmurs, stepping forward and reaching for you.

You let out a breath, still a little dazed as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. He sets you back down, steadying you on your feet before his hands settle on your waist.

You look up at him, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Relax, angel. He had no clue.”

You exhale shakily, running your hands through your hair. The room is still heavy with everything that had happened, and while part of you is still flustered and embarrassed, the other part- the part that’s still warm, still needy- doesn’t want the moment to be over.

Matt watches you carefully, and for a second, you think he’s going to lean in again, that he’s going to pick up where you left off. But then, he sighs, smoothing his hands over your sides.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “We can’t go further right now. Your brother’s waiting for me, and he’s still looking for you.”

You sigh, deflating a little. You know he’s right, but still, the heat swirling in your stomach doesn’t quite go away. “Okay,” you mumble, chewing on your lip.

There’s a brief pause before something else pops into your head, something you don’t quite understand. “Matt?”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. “What were you… doing? With your… you know…?”

Matt blinks, then raises an eyebrow. “My cock?” he asks bluntly.

Your entire face burns. “Matt!”

He smirks at your reaction, but instead of answering immediately, he reaches down, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants. You watch confused until he untucks himself, and suddenly, the thick outline of him is tenting out his grey sweatpants prominently.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You stare.

It’s��� big.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, a deep, unfamiliar curiosity curling in your stomach. Without even thinking, your hand twitches forward slightly before you stop yourself at the last second, pulling your hand back quickly.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, embarrassed.

But Matt shakes his head immediately, stepping closer. “No, sweetheart. Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, coaxing. “Please do.”

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“It’ll make me feel good,” he adds, his eyes locked onto yours.

You swallow hard, hesitating just a moment longer before you slowly reach forward again, your fingers lightly wrapping around him through the fabric.

Matt exhales sharply, his head tilting back slightly. “Fuuuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Your fingers tighten slightly, gripping him a little more firmly.

His hands flex at his sides before one of them lifts to grip the counter. “This,” he breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, “this is another way of knowing that I like it.”

You stare at him, your breath short and quick. “I did this to you?” you whisper.

Matt groans quietly, nodding. “Yeah, angel.”

You blink, still gripping him through his sweatpants, still feeling the heat of him against your palm. You squeeze slightly, watching as his jaw tenses, his breath stuttering.

Your voice is quieter now. “Is it like… how i feel…wet?”

Matt exhales, his fingers twitching against the counter. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just like that. When you get wet, my dick gets hard.”

Your cheeks burn. “Why does it do that?”

Matt leans in then, his breath warm against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s your body getting ready for me to be inside you.”

Your entire body locks up, heat flooding your core so intensely that your thighs press together on instinct. Your fingers twitch around him, squeezing his clothed length a little harder.

Matt groans, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice strained, “I’m gonna cum if you do that. You’re making me crazy.”

You freeze. “Wait- what?”

Matt lifts his head, exhaling heavily before he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll explain to you another time,” he murmurs. “But for now? Get to bed.”

You nod slowly, still reeling, still confused, still burning. “When will you show me?”

Matt smirks as he watches you hesitate, his voice softer now as he nudges you toward the door.

“Whenever you earn it.”

PT.2 HERE💙

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt (if u wanna be on the taglist, just comment)

[spiderb00bs]

- CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

Lottienat x reader

"your girlfriends don't like to see you sad."

Genre - Fluff Warnings - none

(request)

Now Playing - Cinnamon Girl, by Lana Del Rey

"But if you hold me without hurting me, You'll be the first who ever did"

Exhaustion hit you hard, every step you took closer to the door of your house was like torture. Your boss was on your ass to introduce the company to the new employee, while still demanding that you deliver all the important reports and information within an extremely short timeframe. And today, everything seemed to be worse than any day of the week, all you wanted was to get home and snuggle up in the arms of your two girlfriends.

As soon as you opened the door, you saw the blonde-haired woman lying on the sofa, watching some movie you weren't paying attention to. As soon as Nat heard the door move, she jumped up from the sofa, rushing to greet you with a tight hug.

“ Hi baby. I missed you, loser.” The blonde said, kissing your lips and smiling at you to see what reaction she could get from you with the teasing nickname.

Natalie's smile went away when she saw the tired look on your face. The blonde knew you well enough to know that you probably had some unforeseen circumstances at work.

“Hey, are you okay?” Running a hand through your hair, the blonde dragged you over to the sofa, just in time for a wet-haired Lottie to come down the stairs wearing pajamas and approach the two of you.

“Hi my loves, I heard the door and came running.”

Smiling slightly at her, you let the tall woman sit on your lap. Her hands were firmly entwined around your neck as she placed kisses on your cheek.

“What's wrong with you?” Lottie asked, glancing briefly at Nat for some clue, only to receive an uncertain nod.

“I just had a shitty day at work…” You said, placing a hand on Lottie's back, while your other hand caressed Nat's thigh, who was sitting on your left side.

“I swear I could kill your boss if I ever see him walking down the street.” Nat said, kissing your neck.

Laughing slightly, you leaned your head back on the sofa, thinking about how just the fact that your girlfriends were near you made you feel better.

“I have an idea!” Lottie said, looking at Nat, almost as if they were communicating telepathically while you stood there, just admiring them.

“Come on baby.” Nat was the first to get up from her spot on the sofa, followed by Lottie, taking your hand and pulling you along.

“Where are we going?” You asked, feeling Lottie take your other hand and lead you into the kitchen.

Soon the tiredness and sadness turned into laughter and jokes. You loved chocolate chip cookies, and your girlfriends always tried to cheer you up with them when you were having a bad day.

“Hey, nerd!” Nat called out, only for your face to be covered in flour the moment you turned in her direction.

Lottie's mouth dropped open in surprise, as you coughed up flour while trying to hold in your laughter. “Oh, you're fucked, Scatorccio!”

Grabbing a handful of flour, you quickly threw it in the blonde's direction, only for her to duck in time, causing all the flour to hit your brown-haired girlfriend's face.

While you stood with your mouth open in surprise, Natalie stood a little away from the two of you, laughing at the loving atmosphere she had created. You and Lottie, noticing that the blonde wasn't the least bit dirty, exchanged a knowing look, each taking a handful of flour, making Nat take a few steps back while still laughing.

“No! That's unfair, it's two against one!” The blonde said, laughing as she walked away from you and Lottie.

“Do you think it's unfair, baby?” Lottie asked sarcastically, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I don't think so.” Smiling, you replied, starting to chase after your blonde girlfriend.

After all the mess you'd made, here you were, on the sofa, snuggled together while you ate cookies after a well-deserved bath. Back to the Future was on TV while your girlfriends watched it cuddled up to you, Lottie on your right, Nat on your left.

Hearing the sigh you let out, Nat looked at you. Her blue eyes gazed deeply into the relaxed features of your face, very different from how you had arrived. “Are you better?”

Looking at the blonde, you nodded, before switching your gaze between her and Lottie. “You always manage to make me feel good. I love you.”

“We love you too, baby.” Lottie said, pulling your chin and kissing you on the lips.

“We love you more than you can imagine, nerd.” Nat said, repeating Lottie's movements, and letting her lips brush yours.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

[psformybss]

Dialed In

series masterlist

based on part 2 of this ask (except tumblr hates me and wouldn’t let me answer it like normal so it’s just a screenshot lol)

warnings: soft!drew, prank call, cast chaos, elle phone it in,

an: i loved this idea so much, i creating interviews lol but seriously tho i’ve been watching elle phone it in interviews lately and the obx cast should do one like it would be so chaotic.

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

There was a dangerous sort of silence hovering over the Outer Banks cast table, the kind that only meant one thing: someone was about to do something ridiculous. Again.

“Alright,” Madison announced, plucking the next prompt card like she was holding court, “this one says: Call someone you love and tell them you’re thinking about them. No context allowed.”

A symphony of ooooohs followed.

Chase immediately leaned over the table. “Starkey. You already know what to do.”

“Yeah,” Carlacia grinned. “No escape. Call your wife.”

Drew raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “What if I was thinking about my dog?”

Austin waved him off. “No one’s buying that. Call Y/N.”

Madelyn smirked. “You know she’s going to freak out if you go full dramatic with it. That’s what makes it perfect.”

JD handed him the phone like it was a live grenade. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s see the sparks.”

Drew exhaled, exaggerated and dramatic, and took the phone. “Y’all are gonna get me roasted.”

“Worth it,” Madison said, already leaning in.

He scrolled to Wifey in his contacts, heart emoji and all, and tapped her name. The camera zoomed in as the ringing started.

Once.

Twice.

Click.

“Hey babe,” her voice came through, a little out of breath, like she’d just run down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

The cast immediately leaned forward like a pack of vultures with popcorn.

“Yeah,” Drew said, soft, serious. “Just… thinking about you. Wanted to say I love you.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Wait—what? Are you okay?”

“I love you,” he repeated, voice almost too tender. “That’s it.”

Now she was suspicious. “Okay, who died?”

Madelyn slapped the table. JD covered his mouth, trying not to cackle.

“No one,” Drew said calmly. “Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. That’s all.”

A beat.

“…Are you drunk?”

Drew blinked. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Exactly. So you’re either drunk, lying, or being held hostage. Say ‘banana’ if you need help.”

Chase was wheezing. Carlacia had to duck behind JD to hide her laugh.

“Nope,” Drew said, still a stone wall of calm. “I’m totally fine. Just feeling grateful for my wife.”

Another beat. Then—

“Okay,” she said slowly, “I’m calling your sister. Something is up.”

“Alright, alright,” Drew finally broke, laughing as he glanced around the table. “I have to tell you something.”

“Knew it!” she shot back. “What is going on?”

“I’m filming that ‘Phone It In’ interview with ELLE right now,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re on speaker. Everyone’s listening. Say hi.”

There was silence. Then—

“You’re DEAD.”

The table exploded. Full chaos. Madison was crying laughing. Austin fell back in his chair. JD banged the table like a game show buzzer.

“I knew it,” she said again, voice somehow half-scandalized and half-giggling. “You had that soft serial killer tone you do when you’re trying to be romantic on camera.”

“She handled that so well,” Carlacia beamed into the mic. “Wife of the year.”

Drew was still laughing, phone to his ear. “I’m sorry, babe. I had to. They made me.”

“No you didn’t,” she said, but she was laughing now too. “I literally thought you were dying or you’d joined a cult.”

Madelyn leaned into the mic. “Y/N, we love you. Thanks for not hanging up.”

“She’s a champ,” Chase agreed. “10/10 prank victim. Elite wife energy.”

“Okay,” she said, dryly. “But when it’s my turn to prank you, I’m going big.”

Drew raised a brow. “Define ‘big.’”

“I’m not telling you. That’s part of the fear.”

He grinned. “Fair.”

“Love you,” she added.

“Love you more,” he said, hanging up before she could threaten him again.

The table roared.

“Bro,” JD said, pointing at him, “you just gave her a trust issue in HD.”

“She’ll forgive me,” Drew said, sliding the phone across the table like nothing happened. “Eventually.”

Madison shook her head. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

And somewhere, across town, Y/N stood in the middle of the living room, phone still in her hand, jaw slightly dropped.

He called her—on camera—for ELLE Magazine. Without a single warning. No heads-up, no “hey, by the way, you might be on speaker with half the Outer Banks cast and the internet watching.”

She stared at the screen like it had betrayed her.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, scrolling Instagram just in time to see a behind-the-scenes clip already going up on Madison’s story. “He really did it. He really did that.”

And the worst part?

He sounded so damn sincere. Like he hadn’t just ambushed her for content. Like he meant it.

She dropped onto the couch with a sigh, still shaking her head.

“Next time,” she mumbled to herself, “he better text first.”

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[seros-girl]

Hai bestieeeee! I've thought about this for a fic that I'm sure ONLY YOU can create (bc you write the best fics in my opinion). Basically, it's prom at UA (or wtvr, a school dance of some sort), Katsuki and y/n are dating, slow dance to Golden Hour by JVKE, corny stuff said about how much they love each other and shit (the whole couples shebang). At some point, Kats sees y/n dancing with some friends, having the time of their lives under the LED lights, looking BEAUTIFUL. After the dance, when they go back to the dorms, y/n decides to sleep over in Katsuki's room...iykyk (I'M ASKING YOU TO HAVE SOME SLOW-FUCK SMUT IN IT IF YOU COULDN'T TELL)(Only if you're good w it tho <3) -love the soups😁

oh how i love this idea, i’ve enjoyed writing it!! i hope you love it!!

“there all done” momo said as she helped tie the back of your prom dress. the most beautiful shade of orange, made out of silk material.

mitsuki made it specifically for you, tailored to your needs. “bakugo is going to die” jiro said, hand on her chest as she admired you.

you slipped on the black heels that hagakure eagerly handed to you. “bakugo deceased!” mina says excitedly as she spins you around.

you and the girls of class A have the tightest bond considering there is only 6 of you. you walk out of momo’s dorm, hand in hand with mina.

you all giggled as you walked down the flights of stairs to reach the common room. your giggles died down as you reached the last step, eyes immediately landing on bakugo.

his mouth parts slightly as he sees you for the first time that day. mina whisked you away from him for the whole day to make this moment all the more special.

kirishima notices bakugo’s stiffness and smirks at denki and sero. he claps bakugo on the shoulders and leans in. “you should start walking to her you know” he says, tone low only bakugo can hear.

“i know that shitty hair” bakugo replies, calmly almost as if he’s out of it, cause he’s still staring directly at you in awe.

you slowly walk towards him with the biggest smile on your face, he meets you in the middle and smiles down at you.

“hi” he breathes out, nervously. “hi” you breathe out too, taking in how he looks for the evening. “you clean up nice” you smiled up at him as he leans in closer to you.

“you look beautiful” he whispers to you as he places a loving kiss on your forehead. “pictures!” mina yells as its heard throughout the common room.

you intertwine your fingers with bakugo’s as you led him out of the common room and in front of the dormitory complex.

“the girls first” mina shoves her phone into kirishima’s hands as he fiddles with it. you pose with the girls, smiles and all as kirishima and the other boys snap pictures for you guys.

“bakugo and y/n come on” mina ushere you and bakugo to pose next to each other. “hand on her waist man” kirishima says giving bakugo pointers.

you giggled as bakugo scowls but places his hand on your lower waist. talk about hand placement. you smiled widely as one of your hands rested on katsuki’s chest, your body turned towards him.

as mina snapped the pictures, bakugo’s hand would move lower and lower. “nice hand placement bakuhoe” mina winked at the both of you as bakugo finally starts to drag you away.

katsuki leads you towards the gym where the staff spent the day decorating just for you third years. loud music can be heard as you walk in, your heart thumping to the sound of the bass.

you claim a table as bakugo says he’d be back with drinks for the both of you. “this is so exciting!” mina says as she sits next to you.

her red dress compliments her pink skin tone. “wait shoot mic is taking our prom pictures?! lets go!” denki says dragging poor jiro along.

you giggled as jiro looks back and mouths a ‘help me’ with the biggest smile on her face. “here” you hear bakugo say as a drink lands in front of you. he takes the seat next to you and pulls his chair closer to you.

“ugh i cant handle you two im out” mina says winking at you and getting up to find kirishima. bakugo’s hand lands on your knee.

“you look absolutely stunning” he says eyes trained on your face. you blush and look down, avoiding his gaze. “no we dont do that” he says gently lifting your face back up to meet his eyes.

“well you look really handsome kats” you compliment him back. even after 2 years, you still get those butterflies around katsuki.

“ponytail did wonders on your face” he says and moves your hair behind your shoulder, his hand coming up to your face to gently caress it.

“she only enhanced your features and i find that absolutely beautiful” he says and you smile at him, leaning in to his touch.

“were stealing her” ochako says as she grabs your arm gently. you get up and giggle at katsuki. “i’ll be back” you said to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“pictures now!” mina says marching towards your guys’ english teacher. “mina slow down!” hagakure giggles out, her green hair bouncing around.

“whats up present mic” mina greets him with a handshake. “yo yo yo whats up!” he says and smiles at all of you.

“the girls of class A alright huddle up!” he says and you all huddle around together. you were in the front with jiro, hagakure, and tsu.

“say plus ultra!” present mic says as you all smiled yelling out a ‘plus ultra!’. “aizawa will give these photos to you in class on monday. go on enjoy your prom” he says to you guys and you thank him.

mina stops walking as you all turned to look at her. she looked sad. “whats wrong mina?” jiro asked placing a hand on her shoulder.

mina shook her head as she fought off tears, “i just wish miss midnight was here to see all of this” she says.

“i dont mean to kill the mood its just,” she pauses as she sighs out, “i really wish she was here”

momo pulls her into a hug as you all followed. “okay we can cry after come on” mina laughs softly as you all dispersed from the hug.

“thank you” she says gratefully as you all smiled at her. “okay she’s mine now!” ojiro says grabbing hagakure and walking off with her.

tokoyami comes out of nowhere and grabs tsu. “m’lady” denki says grabbing jiro’s hand. she rolls her eyes playfully as denki drags her away.

you giggle as bakugo comes up and grabs you by the waist. “come on” he says and whisks you away to the dance floor.

you dance your heart out with bakugo for an hour. “oof my feet are killing me” you said as you sat down. sero was sitting on his own at the table.

“hey whatcha doing sitting down?” you asked him as you kicked off your heels and rubbed at your toes to soothe the ache.

“got no date” he shrugs looking at his friends. kirishima and denki dragged bakugo to some dance as mina and jiro danced off together to the side.

“you dont have to have a date to have fun” you said reassuring sero. “i know you wanted to be here with toru huh?” you asked him and he turns his head to you.

“she makes more sense with ojiro” he shrugs. you looked around the gym, your eyes land on a girl from class B. “look at yui” you said nodding your head in her direction.

“looks like she needs someone” you smirked at sero as he looks at her. “you think she’ll want to dance with me?” he asks you and you nod.

“oh hell yea” you said. golden hour by JVKE starts playing and you slip your heels on again. “just in time for the slow dance go on” you ushered him and het gets up immediately booking it to her.

bakugo comes over and takes both of your hands, pulling you up. he leads you to the dance floor and his hands find home on your waist.

yours immediately wrapping around his neck as he softly sways the both of you. “how has your night been?” he asks you as he holds eye contact.

oh how you’ll never get tired of bakugo’s crimson eyes. “been amazing having you by my side” you said sincerely as you smile.

he presses a loving kiss to your forehead, “you know i love you right?” he tells you and you nod, leaning in closer to him. “mhm and you know i love you right?” you tell him and he nods.

you lean up and press a light kiss to his jaw. “youre so handsome, i cant believe youre mine” you said as you cupped his face in one of your hands, him immediately melting at your touch.

“and youre the most precious girl ever” he says leaning down and capturing your lips with his. you kiss back immediately, your hands moving towards his hair.

he pulls away to kiss down your cheek, your jaw, your neck as you giggle. “i love you” he breathes against your skin. “and i love you” you said.

the songs comes to an end as present mic switches up the beat. you and bakugo pull away, trapped in each others arms, you smile at him.

“were stealing her again” momo says to bakugo as he groans but ultimately lets them take you away. “sorry bakuhoe” mina giggles as kirishima laughs.

“BAKUHOE” kirishima, denki, and sero laugh. the lighting in the gym has switched up to match the vibe. LED lights change from red to purple to blue to green to yellow and repeat.

you hold onto mina’s hands as you jump in place together, screaming out lyrics together. bakugo watches from afar as he sips on his drink, todoroki and izuku engrossed in conversation as their dates dance with each other.

momo and ochako giggle together and twirl each other around. “look at our girls” kirishima says standing next to bakugo.

bakugo doesnt respond as he watches the smile on your face never fade. jiro pulls her phone out as she holds it as high up as she can. “cheese!” the girls screamed out and laughed. it can be heard throughout the gym.

“wheres sero?” denki asks and bakugo nods his head in the direction of sero and yui. “sero’s got game” kirishima and denki fist bump each other.

the night comes to an end as the gym slowly dies down. your feet are killing you, but you still have the walk to the dorms.

“want me to carry you?” bakugo asks you as you grab your purse. “no baby its fine” you said waving it off but he still scoops you up anyway.

“why cant i get princess treatment” mina whines out as she trails behind everyone, her feet killing her. “oh my mina!” kirishima exclaims running back to pick her up.

you rest your head against bakugo’s chest. “can i stay in yours tonight?” you ask him softly. he looks down at you and kisses your forehead, “mhm”.

“goodnight guys” you said to kirishima and mina as he carries her into his room. bakugo gently puts you down on his bed as he kneels down to remove your heels for you.

once off you sigh in relief. he gently moves your toes around to soothe them and you giggle. “what?” he asks with a smile. “nothing” you said looking down at him.

he stands, removing his tie in one go. you sitting there, engulfed in his blazer, is doing something to him. he throws his tie somewhere in his room and hovers over you.

his lips make contact with yours in a slow, desperate kiss. his hands grip your waist as yours tug at his hair. your nervous.

you and katsuki have never done it before and you have a great feeling, tonight is the night. prom night duh of course.

katsuki’s hands roam your sides, trying to memorize every inch of you. you hum into the kiss as you move your fingers down to the buttons on his shirt.

you slowly start unbuttoning them as he pulls away to look at you. “are you sure?” he asks out of breath. his cheeks are slightly red and his lips look swollen and pink.

“mhm” you say nodding your head with sureness. “now kiss me” you say unbuttoning the rest and pushing the shirt off.

your hands move across his chest, feeling every muscle he has. “gosh youre so handsome” you whisper out as he grabs your thighs and gently pulls you closer.

“‘m not sure if i want it with your dress on or off” he sighs out as he moves down to press kisses to your neck. “youre pretty both ways” he breathes against your skin.

his hands move towards your back as you arch yourself against him to give him access to untie the dress. he works his fingers to untie it all while kissing your neck, sucking & biting gently.

your soft moans fill the room, as quietly as possible. katsuki groans against your skin as he manages to untie your dress and the straps start falling down your shoulders.

he pulls your dress off for you gently, trying not to ruin it. “oh my” he says as he sees you for the very first time, ever. youre laying there, a matching orange lingerie set on your body.

“youre trying to kill me” he says as he hovers over you and kisses you. your hands move towards his belt, undoing it.

you undo the button on his dress pants and you slowly remove them, your lips never leaving his. he helps kick them off and grabs your waist bringing you closer to him.

his fingers toy with your lace panties as he sighs out. “these are pretty but” he says as he removes them for you. “i’ve never done this” he admits and you only smile at him.

“remember i havent either” you said reassuring him. “help me?” he asks as his fingers ghost over your pussy. “what makes you so sure i’ve touched myself before?” you smirk up at him as you lean up on your elbows.

he cocks his head to the side, “mina cant keep her mouth shut and you know it” he says smirking. you grab his wrist gently as you move his hand where you desperately need him most.

you wince as his fingers make contact with your throbbing cunt. “like this?” he asks as he gathers your wetness and spreads it around, hitting your clit.

“mhm” you manage out as you lean up to capture his lips with yours. bakugo gets the hang of it immediately, dipping his middle finger into your entrance as you moan into his mouth.

he gently curls his finger up and you arch into him. his thumb finds home on your clit as he adds another finger, stretching you out for him.

“kats- oh” you moan into his mouth as he pants softly. he stops all movement as his fingers slide out from you. “hey what are you-?” you ask him as he picks you up and places you gently down by the headboard of his bed.

he reaches into his bedside drawer, pulling out a box of unopened condoms. “kirishima gifted me these” he says as he fiddles with the plastic around the box.

you watch him struggle to open it and you giggle at his attempts. “want me to open it?” you ask extending your arm for the box. he reluctantly gives it to you and takes a seat next to you, hand rested on your inner thigh.

you opened it fast as you pulled one out handing it to him. “do the honors baby” you winked at him as he tears the foil and pulls out the condom.

he rolls it on as he positions himself on top of you, one of his hands holding your leg up against his side, the other on your waist to keep you steady.

“are you ready?” he asks you and you nod. “are you?” you ask him as he nods his head yes. he aligns himself against your entrance and slowly pushes himself in.

your arms fly around katsuki’s neck as your nails scratch his back. you dont make a sound as he pushes himself in even more. its not painful, only a slight discomfort.

he sighs as he’s inside completely and so do you. he stops to let a moment linger, making sure you are completely comfortable.

“you can move kats” you whisper in his ear as he gently starts rocking his hips back and forth. soft moans and groans is all you hear in katsuki’s room.

“oh god” he sighs out burying his head in your neck, kissing and gently sucking. “you feel so good” he says and you clench around him, him wincing from the pleasure.

“im close” you told him as he lifts his head to look at you. “i love you” he breathes out, hand coming up to caress your face.

“i love you more” you managed out as he brings you closer to him, your lips connecting. he kisses you gently as he keeps the steady pace going. “im coming” you said into his mouth. “im not far behind” he grunts as you both come at the same time.

katsuki gently thrusts into you a couple of times to ride out both of your orgasms. he collapses on top of you as you hold him against you.

“you and me forever?” he asks you and you nod your head immediately. “its you and me forever kats” you said as you lift his head up to gently press a kiss to his lips.

he softly pulls out, careful not to hurt you. he ties the condom off and disposes it into his nearby trashcan. “you wanna take a shower?” he asks you as he holds you in his arms.

“mhm it would be nice” you answer as he slowly gets up to start the warm shower for you both. he picks clothes out for the both of you as you sit up, his black sheets covering your naked form, you watch katsuki move around his room.

he helps you up as he leads you to the bathroom, peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses. the warm water hits your back and you sigh out in relief.

“i love you” katsuki says as he wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. you lean back into him with a content smile on your face. “i love you more” you said as you both swayed silently under the warm water.

you lean your head against katsuki’s chest and you listen to his heartbeat. after losing him once, you always make sure to listen to his heart beat anytime you can, just to make sure he’s really here.

“im here” he reassures you and you sigh out contentedly. “i know” you reply turning around to capture his lips with yours.

oh how you love your katsuki bakugo.

[barcapix]

can u do fluff for Joao Felix 😘ily

✮ Heels & Drive - João Felix

joao felix x fem!reader

sy: joao helps carry you out of a party, after you complain about how you’re uncomfortable.

a/n: finally fkcn rewrote this bcus how it got a decent handful of interactions i’ll never know, but ITS FINALLY been revamped

warnings: none

after an exhausting and montone night from celebrating your boyfriend’s footballing chelsea premiership event, you take a seat on the stairs outside of the building and rest your aching body against the metallic railing.

you let out a much needed sigh, loosening the straps of your heel so it was a little less harsh on your skin.

the whole evening you had been walking in these heels—the heels you insisted were practical for everything and how you claimed you’d wear them all the time.

i mean, sure, they were absolutely gorgeous and worth every single penny with such appearance but whether it was worth the pain is up for debate.

pain is beauty. they were creating red indents all over your ankles, making them itchy and sore as you groaned in pain for the second time.

heavy footsteps behind you brought you back to reality—swiftly buckling the straps around your ankles again.

“hey,” a voice came in behind. you looked up in relief to see your boyfriend standing over you.

“oh it’s only you,” you exhaled, smiling.

“what are you doing on the steps babe?” joão laughed, bringing himself down to sit next to you.

“i think i’m done for tonight,” you groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the concrete. “these heels are killing me.”

“even though you told me you were going to wear them all the time?” he chuckled at you, softly undoing the band of your shoes.

you chew on your lip. “pretend i didn’t say that.”

he nodded in agreement, reaching down to loosen your heels from your feet and swinging them around his left shoulder.

“do you need help getting out of here?”

you knotted your eyebrows together, conflicted. “wait what? joão we can’t just leave!”

“who cares?” he shrugged, now crouching infront of you. “i’ll just tell them it was an emergency.”

“an emergency?” you inquired, crossing your arms.

quick wittingly, he replied. “yeah. my girlfriend got too tired to walk around any longer and begged me to leave.”

“oh cale-se,” the laugh bubbling in your throat erupting as you playfully swat his upper arm.

“now stop yapping and c’mere.” joão promptly hoisted you up into his arms, with one arm under your legs and the other around your back.

he straightened up effortlessly, with your arms holding onto his neck and began trodding down the steps to get down to your car.

the slight chill breeze from the london wind hit you impulsively as joão practically ran down the steps; he secured his grip on you, smoothing down the creases of your dress as the wind attempted to blow it up.

the journey to his car was silent, only the howling wind and his pulsating heartbeat audible.

“you know this is nice,” you eventually murmur.

leaning your head onto his toned chest, you sighed with contentment, whilst he nudged the top of your head with his lips gently.

“just don’t get too used to it,” he teased, glancing back at you with a wicked smirk. like what a charmer.

a few minutes later, after the hefty walk, you both reached the car. your boyfriend mellowly set you down on the pavement whilst keeping you close.

joão swept a tousled strand of hair from your face. “all good?”

“better now,” you nodded, tiptoeing up to soothingly kiss his lips.

he kissed you back gratefully, smiling against your own mouth. then, he filmed with his car keys in attempt to open the passenger door, for you—you slid in, grateful for the brief rest. he buckled the seatbelt around your body, humming satisfactorily.

sometime after, the portuguese closed the door from your side, making his way into the drivers seat.

you rested your head onto the headboard, wincing at the pain your heels were still inflicting on you.

“does it still hurt baby?” your boyfriend questioned, bringing your legs across his lap.

a shiver ran through your body as he drew soft shapes into the marked skin, as you hummed in a way that described: a little.

the keys were locked into the keyhole, as he kept one hand on the top of the steering wheel—his other caressing the lines left on your ankles.

joão’s voice was calm, soothing, that reassured you in every way imaginable. “you’re beautiful either way, you don’t need to suffer for it.”

[giftober]

Dear gifmakers, you're all oficially welcome to this Giftober 4th edition!! 👋🪄

The wait is over! Well, at least for me haha idk about you guys, but I was really looking forward to meet you all again!

As always the goal of these October 31 prompts is specially inspire, encourage and support the work of gifmakers 💗. (Work that deserves an appreciation that so often lacks these days.)

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:

Reblog this post. (Optional but encouraged.) Create a gifset inspired by the daily prompts. Tag your posts with #giftober2024. Caption your gifsets with: @giftober 2024 | Day #: "prompt description". (Recommended.)

IMPORTANT:

Make your own gifs. (I won´t reblog reposted gifs or gifs taken from the Tumblr search.) No explicit content. All fandoms are welcome! As long as you all respect each other! ☝

NEW: I created a FAQ page (and this post to acces from the app), to help you with your doubts. I also updated the blog desktop view, hoping it will be easier for you to navigate. 😊

OUR DATE IS ON OCTOBER 1ST! Hope to see you all then and your creations! 💗

Ele :))

(The prompt written list and tagged blogs under the cut.)

REMEMBER: These prompts are to inspire your creativeness, they are completely up to your own interpretation.

PROMPT LIST:

Broken

In Bed

Gold

Slow motion

Angelic

Brands

Helping

Home

Numbers

Cheering/Clapping

Orange

Hidden

Olympics/Sports

Stairs

References

Lights

Phone call/Text

Gift

Purple

Crowded

Minimalistic

Reactions

Fourth Wall

Summer Time

Devilish

One Gif

Blue

Mess

Doors

Relaxing

Free Choice

(Thanks @4marvels-universe for you invaluable help and patience! 💗)

Now, everyone in the following mentions and tags below are cordially invited to participate and/or to share this post so this can reach more fandoms. Every reblog will be greatly appreciated, thank you! 💗)

@sersi @madeline-kahn @djarin @anthonybrxdgerton @avasillva

@simonghostrileys @linusbenjamin @tomshiddles @cal-kestis @cressida-cowper

@ewans-mitchell @nikossasaki @userpeggycarter @cobiesmlders @enidsinclair

@crowley-anthony @shawnee-smith @magnusedom @anastasia-my-darlings @troublefindsme

@arabellas @hakurasakura @elena-gilbert @rhaenyratargaryns @bigfrozensix

@daisyssousa @bcth-uk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @cutterpillow92 @a-victorian-girl

@scottxlogan @everythingsouthasian @mel-loves-all @seth-lael @ijustthinkevilunoisneat

@thelostsmiles @eddiediaaz @antoniosvivaldi @walnutmistjamie @t-u-i-t-c

@crystal-bytes @lucy-sky @queen-daya @bo-katan @heatherfield

@walterkov @pensbridgerton @uyallstars @hidengifs @manny-jacinto

[almondamaretto]

omg hihi i love how u write sooo i wanted to ask if u could write where the reader tries getting matt jealous by flirting w chris (?? optional it could be anyone else) and he eventually gets jealous and that turns into a smut 😛😛 if that even makes sense 😭 PLSPLS thank you

Attention

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: y/n gets matt’s attention by flirting with chris

Warnings: weed, smut.

IM BACK (maybe) SO EXPECT MORE SHIT (hopefully) I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I WILL BE MORE ACTIVE I PROMISE (i don’t)

like halfway proof read

✄┈┈┈┈

Wind blew through her hair as she sped down the highway, one hand loosely holding the colorful steering wheel, the other holding a joint up to her pink, glossy lips. 

The glowing warmth of the orange sun hid behind the tall trees, golden rays painting her face as she sped down the street. 

Sza's "Julia" was blasting through her speakers as she pulled up to the triplet's house, music cutting off abruptly as she cut the ignition and exited the black jeep. 

She sucked in a final hit of her joint, snuffing out the half-smoked spliff against her car and tucking it behind her ear. 

With a final tug on her black miniskirt and one last readjustment of the straps of her thong, she strutted her way up to their front door, not bothering to knock. 

climbing up the stairs, the sight of Chris sitting on the couch, legs spread wide welcomed her. Matt was sitting a few feet to his right, scrolling on his phone. Everyone else was scattered around their living room, holding separate conversations as music played lowly in the background. 

"Ayy, y/n! c'mere" a very blasted Chris exclaimed, patting the plush material of the cream couch next to him. 

Matt's head shot up at the mention of her name, eyes fixating on her scantily dressed figure as she sat right next to Chris, leaving barely any space between the two of them. His brow quirked. 

"Hey Matt!" she said, looking at him up and down. His jeans sat low on his hips, his muscle tee riding up just enough to show off the band of his Calvin Klein boxers. 

He held up a peace sign, a silver ring wrapped around his pointer and pinky finger--he shot her a flirty smirk. 

She blinked at him slowly, expecting more of a greeting. 

Rolling her eyes, she brought her knees up on the couch, resting them against Chris and looking into his eyes. 

He started to ramble, sativa taking control of his senses. 

"Y'know we were all waiting for you to get here. Matt especially. He kept asking if his outfit was good enough--and his hair, he messed with his hair way too fucking much." 

Chris grabbed a small strand of her silky hair, toying with it absentmindedly as he spoke with a raspy voice, close enough for his warm breath to raise the hairs on her neck. 

"Yeah? Well he doesn't seem to be interested now." She giggled, brushing a lock of his hair out of his face. 

"Well, that's ‘cause he wants to seem all tough. Don't tell him I told you but he's just a big pussy." He said in a hushed tone, pulling a smile from her lips. 

Y/n couldn't deny Chris' charming and dorky personality--if she were anyone else, she was sure she would be chasing after him rather than sitting on his couch leading him on. 

Matt, however, could have her chasing for miles. Everything he did seemed so intentional and suave; he was always calm and collected--he felt like a refreshing soda after a day at the beach. 

Suddenly, Chris focused on the joint sitting behind her ear. 

He stopped tugging on her hair to slither his hand behind her neck, fingers brushing her skin and creating goosebumps. He grabbed the rolled paper between two fingers, looking at it with heavy eyes and a smile. 

"Thank you, weed gods" He cheered, searching for a lighter. 

Y/n reached into her bra, pulling out a bedazzled lighter. Chris placed the lipstick-stained paper in between his lips, gazing up at y/n with hot cheeks as she brought the lighter up to the end, igniting the paper. 

Matt watched the events unfold with a clenched jaw, losing the faint grasp on his buzz. 

Y/n breathed in a large puff, closing her eyes, and letting the burning in her throat subside. she turned and crawled over to matt, removing the joint from her flavored lips and handing it to matt. 

He took two deep hits, letting the intoxicating substance flow through his anticipating lungs and into his bloodstream. She sat on her knees and watched him intently as he visibly relaxed. 

Reaching up to grab the paper again, he grasped her wrist with a firm, yet gentle grip. They sat like that for a few beats before he stood up, dragging her with him. A large hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her to his side. 

He quickly passed the drug to Chris, who tried to conceal a knowing smirk, before pulling the teasing girl into his dimly lit room, shutting the door with their combined weight pressed against it. 

"Have fun!" Chris faintly yelled. 

The sunset lamp y/n bought for Matt projected an array of warm colors along the pair, the orange light kissing y/n's face, and ethereal and angelic aura surrounding her. 

The denim in matt's jeans became more restricting, he found himself itching to free himself from the confines of the blue material. 

She held eye contact with him, pouty lips parted slightly. 

No words were exchanged, but there was an understanding. Of their shared desire; their shared need. 

His slender fingers gripped the plush skin of her hip, tracing the black elastic band of her thong. His other hand traced up her side, barely caressing the skin and sending a tingling sensation to her spine. His hand caressed the side of her neck. 

Her fingers hooked into the two front loops of his light-wash jeans, searching for somewhere to place her earnest touch. 

“P Power” by Gunna echoed throughout the house, a nice touch from Chris, the designated aux. 

Both were breathing deeply, as if they had just finished a light jog. 

It happened in an instant--she squeezed her tan thighs together, his pinky finger dipped underneath the seam of her miniskirt, and their lips clashed together with feverish haste. 

They each fought for dominance like the push and pull of the ocean. Y/n wrapped her arms around Matt's craned neck as Matt pushed the two further into the door. 

Bringing his hand to the front of her neck, he squeezed the sides of her soft skin lightly--she gasped, tugging on the baby hair at the nape of matt's neck. 

He took control of the kiss with a low groan, applying more pressure to her neck, grinning into her lips as her head fell back. He took this opportunity to start working down her jawline and neck, biting small, aggravated marks into her silky skin. 

Their chests heaved, her hardened nipples poking through the sheer fabric of her shirt and against the rough material of his worn cotton shirt. 

"Oh, fuck." She said breathlessly as his teeth found the sensitive part of her neck, working a dark mark into the flesh. 

Once he was happy with his work, he pulled away from her touch completely, nearly pulling a needy whine from her throat. 

"Fuck, you're hot." He gaped, trailing his eyes up and down her flustered figure. Her hair was messy; eyes droopy, staring at him with need. A thin layer of sweat caused her skin to glow under the sultry lighting, her thighs pressed together and hands resting at her sides. 

A wave of confidence surged through her veins, a product of the drugs in her system. She pushed herself off the door, "you have such a way with words, Matthew," she breathed out, pressing her lips to his once again. 

He sat back on his bed, tilting his head up to meet hers as she climbed onto his lap, shaky legs straddling him.  

Her hands ran back and forth through his fluffy brown hair, pulling sporadically to rouse a reaction from him. 

His hands explored her thighs and hips, each time threatening to push her skirt farther up her skin. He gripped her hips once more, lifting her slightly to lay her down on the bed, lips never disconnecting. 

Wandering hands traced underneath the thin fabric of her blouse, caressing her chest and pinching her hardened nipples, kissing them through the sheer material. 

He continued his assault down her stomach, leaving a trail of wet, needy kisses. The tips of his fingers dipped under the top of her skirt, pulling them down slowly as he left closed-mouth kisses to her hips. 

Y/n’s thin excuse for a skirt was discarded somewhere on Matt's bedroom floor, along with his shirt. 

He hovered above her lower torso, ringed fingers toying with the thin black bands. Her manicured fingers shoved his forehead gently. "Don't be a tease, Matthew." 

He planted slow, teasing kisses to the fabric of her underwear, speaking with a smooth, deep voice in between each. 

"Such a hypocrite. How would you feel if I got with one of those girls out there, huh?" He finished his sentence by pressing one final kiss to her clothed clit, watching her shudder with a grin. 

"That's hardly what happened," she breathed out, sending a pointed look to him. "You know would never get with Chris. Just wanted your attention." 

He continued to kiss down her thighs whilst gently removing her soaked-through thong. 

"Hmm. And is all this for me?" He kissed her inner thigh, centimeters away from where she needed him the most. 

"Yes, god yes. Please Matt." 

"So sweet." He finally said and wrapped his arms around her stomach, pulling her legs over his shoulders. 

His mouth attached to her bundle of nerves, tracing small shapes with his tongue. His movements dragged a long whine from her lips, manicured nails reaching to grip his hair. 

He traced his tongue up and down her core, orchestrating her audacious sounds, needing more. 

He brought his middle and ring finger up, gathering her arousal and pushing his slender fingers into her warmth. The metal of his rings pressed against her skin sending chills over her skin. 

Her noises grew in frequency and amplitude, his other hand shooting up to her mouth to muffle the loudness while he repeatedly stroked her spongey walls. 

Matt could tell she was getting close, harshly sucking her clit while continuing to trace patterns with his tongue, fingers never losing their furious pace. 

Her moans grew louder and louder despite Matt's efforts to muffle them—though he didn’t really mind, anyone who was paying attention when they left already knew what was going on. 

He continued his ministrations even as her thighs threatened to close around his head and as her hips lifted off his silk cotton sheets with overstimulation. 

When the stimulation became too much, she pulled him away from her sensitive cunt. He was as equally out of breath as her, his eyes had become droopy like hers, and his boner pressed harshly against the denim of his jeans. 

He earnestly pressed his lips against hers again, kissing her harshly and sloppily, his hands quickly working on removing their remaining clothing. 

He quickly leaned over to his dresser and searched for a condom, y/n lifting herself to rest on her elbows, peppering his chest and neck with quick kisses. 

“You have all my attention now, doll.” He muttered quietly, almost to himself. 

He slowed down, rubbing his length up and down your cunt, gathering your wetness, watching as you practically drooled at the sight of him. 

“Is this what you want?” He used his other hand to caress your jaw sweetly. 

“More than anything, please Matt.” 

He slowly pressed his length into her, letting her fully adjust to her size before beginning to thrust, slow and gentle movements quickly becoming deep and harsh. 

His enthusiasm elicited loud moans from deep within her chest, hands looking for anywhere to anchor into, landing on his freckled back, leaving raised, stinging marks all over. 

In an instant she was flipped over, and her flushed face was pressed into a plush pillow. Matt continued to drill into her, quiet groans and curses falling from his lips every few seconds. 

“So fuckin’ loud. Want everyone to know what we’re doin’ in here? Huh? You want Chris to hear how good I’m fucking you?”  

She thought was strange thinking about Chris when his brother was fucking into her like this, but the thought didn’t maintain one Matt reached around to rub her clit, mind going completely blank other than thoughts of Matt. 

Once the familiar knot started to coil in her lower stomach, she reached back to grab Matt’s wrists for more stability, her legs starting to shake as her orgasm washed over her, tears beginning to soak his silk pillowcase. 

Strong hands gripped her hips harder as she clenched around him repeatedly, causing Matt to throw his head back in pleasure and let out a sharp breath. 

“Ah, shit. Fuck!” 

He fucked them both through their climaxes, slowing his staggering thrusts and finally pulling out of her pillowy walls. He threw his condom into his trash next to his bed, before leaning over and pressing sweet kisses to y/n’s back. 

“You did so good, sweetheart. So good for me.” he praised, running his hands up and down her sides and back. 

Once she regained her strength, she flipped herself over, heaving chest lifting up and down. Her shaky hands grabbed Matt’s arm and she pulled him down next to her, snuggling into his side. 

“I think you might’ve got a little jealous in there...” 

“Yeah, ya think?” 

[lazysoulwriter]

A Quiet Symphony - Paul Mescal.

requested! hope u like it. changed a little bit.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains of their cozy Dublin home, casting a golden glow over the wooden floors. Paul was already in the kitchen, the soft hum of the espresso machine blending with the faint melody of a song he couldn’t get out of his head. He hummed along as he prepared breakfast, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring these rare moments of tranquility.

“Daddy, can I help?” A tiny voice interrupted his reverie. He turned to see their five-year-old daughter, Maeve, standing in the doorway, her hair a wild mess from sleep, clutching her favorite stuffed fox.

Paul crouched down, a grin spreading across his face. “Of course, my little chef. What should we make today? Pancakes?”

Maeve’s eyes lit up as she nodded vigorously. Moments later, the two were standing side by side, Paul guiding her small hands as they mixed the batter. Flour dusted her pajamas, and her giggles filled the air when he tapped her nose with a bit of it.

Upstairs, his wife stirred awake. The sound of laughter and the aroma of coffee lured her from the warm cocoon of their bed. She smiled, wrapping a robe around herself and padding down the stairs. She paused at the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch the scene unfold.

Paul’s back was to her, but she could see the love in his every move. Maeve, perched on a stool, was now attempting to pour the batter onto the skillet. Her concentration was intense, her tongue sticking out slightly—a habit she’d picked up from her father.

“Morning, my love,” she greeted softly, her voice carrying the warmth of the home they’d built together.

Paul turned, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “Good morning, gorgeous.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand briefly brushing against her bump. Their second child was due in just a few months, and the anticipation was a constant undercurrent in their days.

Breakfast was a lively affair. Maeve insisted on serving everyone, beaming with pride at her slightly misshapen pancakes. Paul’s wife teased him about his overly dramatic praise, but her heart swelled at the way he made their daughter feel like the center of the universe.

Afterward, they moved to the living room. Paul stretched out on the couch, Maeve nestled against his side, and his wife curled up in the armchair with a book. The room was filled with a quiet contentment, the kind that only came from being with the ones you love most.

Later, as the afternoon sun began to dip, Paul sat at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys. Maeve played on the carpet nearby, her laughter punctuating the music. His wife joined him, resting a hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to press a kiss to his temple.

“You’re my favorite song, you know that?” he murmured, looking up at her with a smile that reached his eyes.

She chuckled softly, her hand moving to rest over his. “And you’re mine.”

Life wasn’t always this idyllic. There were long days, hectic schedules, and the challenges that came with being in the public eye. But in these moments, surrounded by love and laughter, it was easy to forget all of that. Together, they had created a sanctuary—a life that felt like a quiet symphony, beautiful in its simplicity.

[amphibiahawks321]

BoonchuyCraft<3 joined the game

[Anne enters Marcy's Minecraft world, Marcy excitedly ran over to her built castle as Anne follows her–gathering her items from the storage room before giving Anne a tour]

Anne : Dang girl, you were not kidding when you said you were a builder...

Marcy : Haha, Of course! You think killing mobs wouldn't look more satisfying when you know you'll come home to a place like THIS!

Anne : Ha! Point taken–....Uhhh, Mar Mar?

[Marcy clicks out of the chest slot, walking up to Anne....

Marcy : Hm? Yeah what's–....

[Anne and Marcy staring at the Minecraft two bed build... A sign on top of the beds labelled "Marcy+Y/N"]

Anne : ....

Marcy : ....

[Marcy's eyes widen, she glances over to the bed and immediately tries to act casual]

Anne : Woah ho ho! What's going on here?

[Marcy starts laughing nervously, adjusting her headphone as she slowly starts blushing]

Marcy blushing : Oh! T-That? U-Uhh, practical purposes! We play together a lot, so we just think it would be easier if–

Anne : if you two not only place your beds together but you also make a build design for the beds?~

Marcy blushing : Pftt–Duh! I O-Obviously made the build for the beds cause i-it looks nice! N-Not to mention putting the beds together made it faster to click on the beds! Very efficient!

[Anne smirking behind the screen]

Anne : So You’re telling me, the Marcy Wu, created a world with Y/N, and now there are beds labeled with your names right next to each other?—

(Y/N's Minecraft username) joined the game

[Y/N spawns right in the middle of both of them]

M!Reader : Hey, Marcy! Sorry for logging off too long, I just wanted to get a soda but then–.....

[Y/N turns his Minecraft avatar towards Anne, a bit shocked by the sudden guest]

Anne : Hey dude!

M!Reader : Hey Anne! What's up! Didn't expect to see you here, Chuckles... I'm guessing you're here for a Marcy tour–....

[Y/N sees Anne and Marcy near the double bed build design Marcy made]

M!Reader : .....

M!Reader blushing : Uhhh... W-Wow! I see that you already see our very efficient bed system! Marcy did you already explained to Anne about how it's easier when the beds are closer to each other!

Marcy blushing : W-Why yes! The faster to click, means the faster the night time turns to day time instantly! Just friends, nothing more—Coughs... Hey Y/N, can you help me with the project I'm working on!

[Marcy immediately walks down the stairs]

M!Reader blushing : Oh you mean you're ghast tears farm! Why of course! Anne you may roam around this world–take some items from the chest if you want! I gotta go help Marcy!

[Anne watches as the two flustered messes scramble away, leaving her alone in the castle]

Anne : Just friends, huh? Alright, let’s see what other efficient things you two have set up

[She opens a chest, sees a bunch of enchanted books, a ton of potions, but then... her eyes land on a book and quill titled "Marcy's Notes, world with Y/N :3"]

Anne : .....Ohhhh, jackpot

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[clovermoters]

hii clove i love your account 💞💞. i’m in a such a lando phase at the moment and i was wondering if you could write something with lando and roommate!reader. maybe where readers had feelings for lan for a while but thinks he’s too focused on other girls to think he feels the same way (he’s not. he’s whipped). one night he’s feeling clingy so he goes into her room and asks to sleep in her bed. some cuddling ensues and eventually leads to a hesitant confession of feelings and maybe some smut at the end (if that’s something you’re comfortable with). sorry if this is too specific 😭 thank you!!

-🌌

salt lamps & some love - ln4 x roommate!reader

summary - lando was tired of hiding his feelings from you..one night, he let his feelings boil over.

warnings - kisses, fluff & some horrendous writing

wc - 1.8k

authors note - the ending is so rushed and i apologize for taking YEARS to get to this but here she is!! hope u lot enjoy, as always likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!! lots of love, clove!

“I'm home!” 

You waltz into your apartment, toeing your shoes off at the door. You hear the small clammer of pots and pans coming from the kitchen and you can only assume that your roommate Lando is attempting to burn your building down. 

You swiftly make your way to the kitchen, finding Lando with his headphones on, completely oblivious to your entrance. He was shirtless, clad in nothing other than grey sweatpants and socks. His hair was slightly damp, his curls look refreshed from what you can only assume was a shower. 

You admire him for a moment, watching him navigate his way through the kitchen. The evening sun shining through the windows casting a golden hue that hit his bronze skin perfectly. You couldn't help but blush at the domesticity of it all. 

You had known Lando for years, meeting in the height of covid while you started a media internship at mclaren, you met in the parking lot when he almost ran you over accidentally, the boy awkwardly laughing his way through an apology. 

You became friends after that, stealing lunches together when you were both working long days in woking, chatting at the stairs before Zak would come to find lando for an urgently important meeting that lando needed to attend, the brunette would playfully roll his eyes at the man, causing you to giggle before you say your goodbyes. 

That led you to today, you now share an apartment with this boy you called your best friend. 

How you felt about him was a loaded question 

You weren't sure when your feelings for lando developed, they showed up one day out of the blue. You tried to ignore the electricity that sparked when your hands would brush while making coffee, or the way your knees would weaken when he came in from a morning run, his hair stuck to his forehead and his toned body glistening with sweat in the morning sun. 

“Jesus!” Lando shrieked, shattering your thought process before he let out a huff, sending a hand through his curls “ I didn't know you were here.” he giggled before giving you a gentle hug that felt like home 

Your thoughts still lingering behind your eyes, you wrap your arms around his middle. Squeezing lightly before mumbling “yeah, just got here” into his shoulder. 

“Well good thing because i don't think i could have cooked this all by myself” he pulls away, turning back to the countertop that was surrounded by a number of ingredients. You notice he was attempting to make your signature fettuccine alfredo, the one you always made for him after a tough race weekend. 

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he sees you realize what he was doing, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. 

“I uh-I was just missing your alfredo.” he says quietly, looking to the floor as you watch him. You smile softly before bringing your hand up to punch him lightly in the arm. 

“You dummy! I would've made it if you had just asked.” you tease. Moving to stand beside him as you begin your routine of creating this dish. Lando stood quietly, watching you effortlessly chop vegetables, mixing them into your mothers homemade sauce. 

Lando loved observing you while you cooked, while you helped him with his simulator, even while you were working at keeping his reputation in good standing. Learning the small details in your mannerisms was his favourite pastime. Ever since that morning in the mclaren parking lot he had been studying everything you. 

And had that been any other parking lot, your relationship could’ve been much different. Maybe you’d have a ring on your finger by this point. Hell, maybe even there'd be a little baby sitting in a highchair across the kitchen island from you two babbling while their parents giggled at their fathers inability to cook. 

But it had to have been mclaren. 

The day he met you, he hoped– prayed even, that you were just visiting the MTC for the day. That afterwards he’d get to um- and uh- his way into getting your number so he could take you on a date. 

When the head media director at mclaren came up to you while you were chatting with him, offering his hand with a we are so happy to welcome you to the team, lando felt his heart sink to the floor. 

He knew that if he were to pursue you, your chances at promotions would be slim to none.

So for years he pushed his feelings for you down, shoving the ache in his heart into the pit of his stomach. Out of sight while he continued to be your friend, supporting you climbing to your job as social media director. 

He threw himself at any girl he could, fucking a random girl in a random city to keep his mind off of you. It never worked, you'd always be the girl he saw underneath him as he finished, as he snuck out in the midst of the night, he’d always think of you. 

– 

You were quietly reading in your room, the salt lamp on your bedside casted a sunset glow throughout the room. 

The clock read 11:44pm as the door to your room creaked open, revealing an exhausted looking Lando, changed from his sweatpants to his black and orange flannel pajama pants. He looked hesitant to speak, like something would come crashing down if he spoke. 

“I can't sleep, can I come hang out here?” he asked softly, he shuffled further into the room, almost as if he knew you pulled your comforter back, offering him a small nod. A warm smile drawn on your face as he made his way into your bed, placing his head of curls on the white fluffy pillow conveniently close to your lap. 

This wasn't the first time he’d found his way into your bed, and it certainly wasn't the last. But something about tonight felt heavier, like the weight of something unspoken lingered in the bedsheets. 

Lando lied face down, his arms hugging the pillow beneath him as you continued to read in his presence, his leg lightly brushing yours under the sheet, causing shivers to run down your whole body.  

 he let out a huff of air, which made you finally put your book down and turn to him, bringing a hand to softly run through his curls, he let out a low groan as your fingers made contact with his scalp. 

“What's up? you seem clingy” you ask, pulling back the blanket of tension that’s been thrown over you two since you’ve met it feels. 

the boy lifts his head to rest on his hand, his gaze falling over your face for a moment, tracing every freckle before he spoke up. 

“ ‘m just thinkin’” he says softly, almost like a whisper. 

“elaborate” 

your eyes never leave him as you watch the gears in his brain turn, he was always so calm and calculated on a track. but when it came to you, it was like someone scrambled his brain, working overtime to click into place.

“i can’t pretend anymore” he says, voice hoarse and quiet as you feel your brain kick into overdrive, your book forgotten having fallen to the floor.

You eyes lock onto his, ocean eyes pouring into yours while your brain struggles to keep up with what landos just said. 

“W-what?” you choke out, the two of you sitting up slightly. The bedsheets pooling around your waists.

“I can't do it anymore” he says, desperate, like the words are tumbling out of his mouth at a rate he can no longer control. “I love you, I’ve loved you since I met you and I’m sick of pretending.-” he pauses, catching his breath. “-I can't breathe without you.” 

You were silent for a moment, leading Lando to panic. The boy's eyes bulged out their sockets as his brain seemed to have caught up to his mouth.  

“Oh god-” he breathes “I don't know why I just said that- it just came flying out of my face” you couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as he continued to ramble, somehow sprinkling more "I love yous " without even realizing. 

Deciding you’ve had enough listening to him send himself into a spiral, you grabbed the collar of his shirt. Pulling the brunette into an earth shattering kiss.

The world stopped, your lips moving in sync as Lando brought a hand to cup your cheek. He kissed you like he was drowning and you were his first breath of fresh air. Pouring years of unspoken feelings into a mess of tongues clashing against one another. 

Your hands went to his curls, tugging them softly at the base of his neck. Lando groaned into your mouth at the feeling. 

Once you pulled away for air, Lando couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. Breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. His hands are holding you close by your waist. 

“That was…” “Yeah..”

You smiled at him, giggling as he pecked kisses all over your face. He kissed your nose, your cheek, the little space between your eyebrows– as if he was communicating through his kisses, sending wavelengths to your brain that say we will be okay.

“I want this, i don't care what anyone at work has to say about it” he says, taking your hands into his. “We can talk to Andrea, Zak, even- fuckin’ Chloe from the coffee cart-” your laugh filters through the air causing him to join into your fit of giggles, the sound was like a melody lando could listen to forever.  

Once you both calm down, he continues “-the point is, I love you and nobody's opinion can or will change the way i feel for you, and I'm willing to fight for this” 

he holds your hands close to his heart, warmth radiating off them as you don't even hesitate to answer. 

“I love you too, I want to fight for us.” you assure him, watching his smile somehow grow wider than it already was.  

He lunges for you, his curls tickling your neck as he shoves his face into the divot between your shoulder and your neck. Mumbling incoherent affirmations before placing kisses across your jawline. 

You stayed like that for a while, stealing kisses under the soft glow of the night. Cuddled up to one another like your souls had officially been tied together, the two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and ruffled blankets.

The two of you spent that night in each other's arms discussing the future, what it meant when the world found out what you had been to blind to see for years. 

You knew whatever happened, you and Lando would be okay. Because you had each other.   

[akaashislover1]

Part 2 of how I think jjk guys would join you in the shower/bath

Before I start this one I wanna say credits to these artists that have all of the patience in the world to create such beautiful art🩵🩵(ik the geto one is og but still lol).

✨Part 2 of how I think the jjk men would join u in the shower✨

Toji Fushiguro

You had just stepped into the shower.

Toji was downstairs, probably fixing up a fresh pot of coffee to go with your delightful morning.

A few seconds after you had started the water, you heard heavy, fast stomps hurrying up the stairs.

The door to the bathroom slammed open and you could hear tojis heavy breathing.

“WHAT THE HELL WOMAN?! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOWER WITHOUT ME!”

You peeked around the shower curtain with a meek expression as you saw Toji practically ripping off his clothes.

A lump got stuck in your throat when he was suddenly standing in front of you. Towering over you.

He gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him.

“Now, do I have to fuck that information into that pretty little head of yours?”

Satoru Gojo

“Do you not love me anymore, Y/N?”

You snorted as your big white haired baby sprawled his body over your bare legs.

You were lying on your guys shared bed, scrolling through your phone, fresh out the shower.

Gojo could feel the heat from the warm water radiating off of your legs.

A pitiful tear rolled down Gojo’s face as he squeezed his arms around your legs.

“Gojo- it was one shower. If it means anything, I couldn’t bare to be without you for 10 minutes either.” Your teasingly sarcastic voice soothed Gojo a little bit.

Emphasis on a little bit.

A pout made its way to your sulking boyfriend, to which you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Suguru Geto

“Geto? Where are you?”

You wondered around the main floor of your house with furrowed brows.

Your boyfriend was suddenly no where to be found.

“Suguru? Babe? Where’d you go?” You exclaimed as you made your way to your master bathroom.

You shrugged, giving up.

Any other time you would’ve flipped the house upside down to find your playful boyfriend.

Not today though. Today, you had to hurry up and get ready for a meeting.”

You began to undress in the bathroom, placing your dirty clothes in the hamper next to the shower.

Suddenly you heard the pitter patter of the shower starting.

Confused, you turned quickly towards the shower.

Before you could get any closer, the shower curtain blasted open.

“OH MY GOD!”

Naked and in the shower, Geto laughed hysterically as his body was getting covered with water.

“Don’t do that! You jerk. I was looking everywhere for you.”

Geto was doubling over with laughter as your face was getting red with embarrassment.”

As soon as he noticed, he calmed down and held out a hand for you to grab.

“Okay, okay. Come on, I’m sorry sweetheart. Come here. Just for that I’ll clean you up.”

Kento Nanami

You two were already in the tub, soaking in the hot sudsy water.

Sitting across from Nanami, you watched as your husband rested his head on the edge of the porcelain tub.

He had just got back from days of work.

As soon as he saw you relaxing in the tub alone, he made the subconscious choice of joining you.

The two of you were talking about pretty much anything when you notice him starting to doze off.

A loving smile leaped onto your face.

“Ken? Hey? Do you want me to rub your shoulders? Come.” You used both of your hands to grab one of his as he stirred fully awake.

He hummed calmly as he relaxed in his new spot against your chest.

The swoosh from the moving bath water calmed down as you began to rub your husband’s very tense and hard shoulders.

A slight groan escaped him, “Thank you, my love. This is just what I needed.”

Your heart fluttered at his nickname for you. The deep pang of his tired voice sent you into oblivion.

You smiled as you vowed from this day forward you and your hardworking husband would take nice warm baths together every night.

Omg I don’t know!!! I think I’m liking this one better than the first part🥰🤭🤭 if I’m missing anyone or if someone wants to see anyone else with these imagines, let me know then maybe I’ll make a part three but other than these 2 parts I’m gonna be focusing on another short story maybe or more short imagines.

Thank you so much for the likes on my past posts it means a lot!!🥰🥰

[sikecure]

Movie Night At Home - Paige Bueckers

paige bueckers x fem!reader

genre: fluff

authors note: this is short but I hope u like it :)

obs: english isn't my first language.

"Love?" Y/n hears her girlfriend calling from the living room. You head down the stairs and find her sprawled on the couch. "Hey princess, can we just relax at home today?" Paige asks, opening her arms for you to embrace.

Y/n smiles and snuggles up with her girlfriend. "Of course, baby, we can have a movie night."

Paige agrees with the idea, and you both start arranging the couch with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, creating the perfect atmosphere for a cozy evening.

"I'll prepare some snacks, babe, be right back." Paige says and plants a kiss on your lips.

Y/n watches as her girlfriend prepares a variety of snacks including homemade popcorn, some freshly baked cookies, and plenty of candies. Y/n takes the opportunity to prepare some refreshing drinks.

"I'm excited." Y/n comments as the two girls settle on the couch, looking forward to the movie night ahead.

Paige grabs the remote and starts browsing through various movie options. "Can we watch a horror movie?" Paige asks, and Y/n looks at her.

"No, baby, you know i'm scared. Let's watch a romance instead." Y/n suggests.

"Okay, but can we watch a comedy afterwards?" Paige says, and you agree with a smile. "Come here darling." The blonde girl calls you and wraps her arm around Y/n, pulling you closer as you both hug under the blanket.

With the lights dimmed and the movie starting, you snuggle up next to Paige, feeling the comforting warmth of your girlfriend. You share laughs, sighs, and comments about the movie, creating precious memories together.

my requests are open sooo hit me up!

thank you for reading all the way through. 🤍