#i couldn't refuse. 😋

[taintedsoul-if]

idk if you posted those prompts for people to ask or not lol buuuut if you did.....c-can i get "You are too beautiful for me. *starts crying for Cadmus (like said by mc to him) if thats ok owo

Cadmus × MC

One stupid argument, and the weight of regret settled upon you. The words you spoke, the emotions you unleashed, lingered like a haunting melody. You knew, that this outburst was a cry of old wounds, a fear of being left behind. In the past, love had been a scarce haven, and now, to be embraced without condition, without needing to hide or pretend, stirred a discomfort within.

Your thumb twirled in restless rhythm as you gazed back at the study, the crime scene of your recent emotional storm. Ten minutes had passed since you fled, yet the memory of Cadmus's patient eyes still haunted you. His calm demeanor had only amplified your own sense of turmoil, making you feel like a wild, untamed creature, ranting without reason.

The more you argued, the more you felt like a ship lost at sea, helpless and adrift. And now, as you stood there, unsure of what had sparked your ire, a single thought echoed through your mind.

Why do you love me so? How could someone as flawed as I be worthy of your unwavering devotion? Just then, strong arms enveloped you, and your body surrendered to their warmth, melting into the embrace like a flower yielding to the sun.

Your heart ached to hide in the sanctuary of his chest, to escape the turmoil that had taken hold. But the words you'd spoken couldn't be unsaid, and the weight of your own doubts and fears had already condemned this love to ruin. You were a tangled web of emotions, a mess of contradictions, and it seemed the only way to untangle the knot was to sever the threads that bound you together.

Yet, as you opened your mouth to repeat the words that would drive him away, "Say one more thing about breaking up, I dare you," Cadmus's whispered challenge caressed your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. The gentle menace in his voice was a spark that reignited the flame of your desire.

"Without you, my existence is a hollow shell, a mere whisper of a life unlived," Cadmus's said, his words a gentle caress to your soul. He turned you to face him, and took your hand, pressing it against his chest. "Can you feel our bond?" he murmured, his voice soft and husky. "A connection forged in the depths of our souls, a union that has spanned lifetimes, not just mere years?" The warmth of his touch seeped into yours.

As his words pierced the veil of your soul, you finally found the courage to meet his gaze. Cadmus's vermilion eyes, like two burning embers, blazed with a depth of longing, remorse, and love that left you breathless. The raw emotions that danced in their depths were a siren's call, drawing you in with an otherworldly allure.

Your hands trembled as you reached out to cradle his face, as if tracing the contours of a divine sculpture. "You are too beautiful for me," you whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession, a truth you'd long kept hidden. The beauty that shone from within him, a radiance that illuminated every dark corner of your heart, had captivated you, body and soul.

[ozzgin]

im not sure if hybrids are considered monsters (personally i dont. they're too cute), but any thoughts on hybrid cows and bulls? i just live the idea of either being a hucow and being cuddled and taken care of (soft sex?) by fellow hucows after being used and knocked by the bulls through the breeding program 😋 or being the farmer the is running the program and playing match maker and assigning a bull or two to my lovely hucows.

Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Moving into a cozy cottage to get away from the city and discovering that your neighbors are a group of hybrid bulls and cows living together. So, you do what every good neighbor does and introduce yourself.

They quickly become very protective and caring of you, offering to help with errands and keeping you company. Despite your protests, they insist it's only natural. You're now part of their community. Of course the cow hybrids will prepare you meals, and tuck you in, and massage your back after a long workday. Why, it's undoubtedly a bull's duty to look after you and keep threats away.

You know, perhaps it's better for everyone if you just move in with them. They can't help but wonder whether you get lonely whenever you fall asleep by yourself. Moreover, you probably have certain needs that could use assistance; truth be told, they recently heard your whines one evening and had to hold back from breaking your door in that instant.

You're not one to refuse, are you? You couldn't be in better hands. The bulls are in desperate need of a partner, and if their rough handling wears you out, you can always find shelter in the soft embrace of the cow hybrids. They'll make sure you feel better in no time. Maybe even go for another round.

[More Monsters] | [More Doodles]

[luveline]

hot bombshell bau!reader flirting and winking at spencer every chance she gets and poor spencer just gets hot and bothered very flustered and blushing😋😋

i love you jade i read ur blog like it's the daily newspaper<33

I love you anon, thank you for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"So," says a voice, low and syrupy as warmth spreads up Spencer's side, "how's my favourite agent?" 

Your perfume a subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla alike, sweetness that lingers —and Spencer knows, having thought of you every time he walks past the sugar ring donut stand by the Staples Mill Station for weeks— you put a hand on his shoulder and lean in for a one-armed hug. His skin erupts with goosebumps. 

"Y/N," he says, sounding much too much like a wimp for his own liking. He clears his throat. "When did you get back?" 

He's afraid to look at you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart skips a beat at the state of you, which is to say you look stunning in your dark clothes, a tight cut top that borders unprofessional and a pair of thigh hugging pants that pass the border completely. (He's kidding. Mostly. You're dressed fine. He's a loser, is all.) 

"This morning. They couldn't keep me from you if they tried, handsome. You look good." You disengage from his side. Spencer's relieved and regretful at once. "I love the haircut, they take a little more than you were expecting?" 

"Is it too short?" he asks unsurely. 

"It's perfect."

Spencer's taller than you but he never feels it until you're looking up at him, pretty eyes and quirked lips, permanent amusement in your gaze. "I missed you," you say.

"Y/N," Hotch says as he descends the steps to the bullpen. "We talked about this." 

"Pen and Morgan do it every day." Your eyebrows pinch together. 

Hotch doesn't say anything else, an empty coffee mug in hand as he passes. You don't baulk at his disapproving look, the opposite, sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk to kick your kitten heels gently, a slow back and forth that has Spencer's eyeline pulling down your legs. He shakes it off, but not before you've noticed. 

"You don't mind, do you, babe?" you ask. "My flirting?" 

It'll probably kill him sooner rather than later. "No. Don't mind." 

"'Cus I can stop, I promise. But you're the kind of boy that should be flirted with, you know? And the kind of smart that makes you crazy attractive, which is unfair. It's not like you needed help in that particular department." You lean back as you talk, scrounging around Morgan's things.

"Second shelf," Spencer says. 

You stop your searching to grin at him. Pleased, you reach down to the second drawer of Morgan's desk and find what you'd been looking for, a coveted, half-eaten pack of cherry twizzlers. 

"But we're not like Pen and Morgan," you say, bringing a twizzler to your mouth. 

"We're not?" Spencer asks, confused. He may not summon the necessary charisma to flirt back, but he likes what you have. 

"Nope." You take another bite, chew, leaving Spencer in anticipation. Finally, you swallow, lips curving into an even stickier smile. "'Cus Pen and Morgan are never gonna happen. They're better as friends…" 

You slip down off of Morgan's desk, leaving his twizzlers behind. Spencer has enough sense about him to anticipate your approach. He's proud of himself for the composure he maintains as your footsteps slow. He even takes a step back to follow you, to your abject delight. 

"But we're not just friends, are we?" you ask softly. You lift your chin. He can smell the cherry on you. 

"Y/N, enough," Hotch says from somewhere behind. You refuse to look away, and while Spencer fears his chief's tone, he manages to hold your gaze. "HR will mandate another presentation." 

"It's alright, Hotch," Spencer says. His cheeks are flushed and his palms are clammy, but his voice holds up. "I don't mind." 

"I'm sure you don't." 

"This could all be avoided if we took this somewhere a little more private," you murmur. 

"Enough. I won't tell you again, Y/N. Shouldn't you be helping Penelope with her ViCAP recalibration?" Hotch asks pointedly. 

Spencer takes it for what it is; an effort to separate you from each other before it goes too far. You know it too, rolling your eyes at Spencer like you've a shared secret —Can you believe this guy?— clasping his arm loosely in farewell.

"See you later, Spence." You call him handsome, babe, bub, even sweetheart, but Spence is the worst of all of them because of how you say it, your voice entrenched in pure honey. His heart pangs as you go.  

Hotch lingers by Spencer's side, coffee freshly filled and steaming in rings. "You know, you're getting better," he says sympathetically. 

Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose roughly. "Thanks." 

[r0-boat]

OmG thanks so much for all the delicious stuff you wrote ❤️❤️❤️ Wonder if you can write sth about somnophilia, like one night the WHB kings are horny and their s.o is deep in sleep 👀

Again thank you for the smut, I re-read it multiple times already 😋

Sure! Thank you so much for liking my writing! I really like writing for these demons.

Whb Kings Somnophila

Cw: dubcon (s/o is asleep and does not say yes or no to advances.)

the kings are horny, but s/o is sleeping deeply.

Nsfw

Satan

His cock is throbbing in his pants; He wants you so bad but he can't bring himself to wake you up. You look so peaceful, so cute. He's utterly entrenched by your deep slumber your chest going up and down peacefully. So peaceful. His hand drifts toward his cock pulsating against the fabric of his jeans. He doesn't take them off rather slip his hand past the fabric and palm his legs. He shutters at how wrong this feels, but he doesn't care.

He gets in bed with you. His pants are long gone. He brings you against his chest. You're cute flesh thighs pressing against his length. It's not your hole, but it will do for now. Satan knows he if were to wake you, his subordinates would skin him alive, and anyone would kill him to be in his position. Your thighs feel amazing pressed against his cock heal. Remember that the next time when annoying ass Levi or Mammon start bragging about you.

Mammon

He wants to you to lay on top of him; ever since the first meeting were, you slept so peacefully on his chest; he is so desperate for that to happen again. You were so cute, small, and helpless, And he liked it when you used him as a bed. Mammon takes it upon himself to put himself in between the mattress and your body. Where he belongs, underneath you. You stured a little bit in his arms, but once you rested on his chest, he snuggled right into him. Perhaps he liked this a little too much; He smiled from his eyes cock starting to bulge in his pants. Shameless mammon sliding off his pants as he strokes his throbbing length, His other fingers playing with you till you're wet enough for him to slide inside. With your warmth around him and you sleeping peacefully, he was at peace. His dick throbbing inside you has he puts his hand in your hair petting you gently.

Leviathan

After your first unpeaceful day in Hades after being kidnapped You must have felt exhausted. You absolutely refused to sleep in Levi. Ungrateful human! He offered the most secure and comfy place in the castle and you refuse to sleep on the couch?!

Curled up on the couch, You tried to retain warmth. Levi sighs. He didn't want to leave you here; he picked you up into his arms, moving you to a guest room instead. He was glad he saw you before anyone else could. His heart fluttered, knowing he was the only one to see you so sleepy and cute. You are so bratty and mean before, And now look at you. His eyes soften does he brushes your hair out of your face but this fingers tucking it behind your ear. He felt heat going to his cock. Fuck... You look so irresistible. Jealousy begins to bubble, other demons had to see you like this. Jealousy mixes with lust has Levi slips his cock out of his pants He can't help it He wants you so bad and he keeps thinking about the way your hands went around his neck. What have you done to him??

Beelzebub

He spreads your sleepy legs apart. He had been so hungry all day thinking about you for a quick meal but now that I found you sleeping so cute and peacefully. He couldn't help but dive his face in between your legs. Doing consciously grind your hips into his face, He eagerly laps at you deeper.. when you finally begin to wake up you clench around his tongue. Your thighs pressed against your head as your eyes fluttered open to meet wild pools of gold. Beel moans against you. As much as he likes your thighs squeezing his head, he pushes you open so he can have his fingers work you. He wants more when he notices you sleepily staring at him. He smirks. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Lucifer

He is pleased to know that you are safe enough with him to fall asleep in his own bed. Though he is a little guilty that You had to wait until you fell asleep in his sheets. He can't help but feel a sense of pride having Solomon's progeny, curious little child of man, in bed, knowing they are so sought after. Another part of him is curious. He had never seen a human sleep so closely. He hopes you don't mind as he lays beside you. As soon as he got beneath the sheets with you, he was getting to move, pressing your ass right up against his crotch instinctively; he wrapped his arms around you, and your back pressed against his chest. Apparently, this is a human sleeping ritual called 'spooning.' The act is innocent but feels inherently sexual since you can feel the curve of your ass pressed against his bulging cock. His breath shakes with his head buried into your hair, inhaling your scent. You can't help but fuck his hips, but not enough to wake you. He wants this moment to last for a little longer.

[pupyuj]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE extremely dom! yujin who gets off on degrading bratty sub! reader (bonus if the do the cuddle cuddle at the end) (g!p is appreciated 💞💞, it's alright if u don't vibe it though)

p.s. - sana maganda po yung araw nyo ‼️‼️ muchmuchmuch love from your ph followers ate ena 💞

long time no drabble but i am here with a mission to get back into the swing of things and not let laziness take over me! 😤‼️ anyways SALAMATTT i hope you have an amazing day too anon (pakisabi na lang sa friends ko from back home na miss na miss ko na sila HAHAHA char) 🥺💕

your troubled loser of a girlfriend with a messy job, dysfunctional family, and deep, dark interpersonal issues that she spends absolutely no time fixing and instead, treats you like trash in the bedroom bcs that’s the only way she can have control of things! 🫢 when she comes home and she doesn't call out to you sweetly... you know something is amiss! especially when you poke your head out of the kitchen and see that state she's in—necktie loose, her blazer hastily thrown to the couch, her shirt a bit wrinkled with two buttons unbound... signs that she has not been very calm on the drive home 😭😭

doesn't share a word with you and just kisses you, but it wasn't the type of kiss that got you feeling butterflies in your stomach! it was the kind that had yujin ripping your apron off of you and dragging you up the stairs really harshly! but ofc only such treatment would be tolerated by an equally psychotic lover... so obviously you loved it whenever yujin got like this 🤭👀 feeling her cock stiffen up as she allows you you explore her body with your hands while you're underneath her... taking her tie off slowly, unbuttoning her shirt and pulling it off, squeezing her breasts.. ah, if looks could kill, that glare yujin was giving would have put you six feet under long ago! 🥴

yujinnie gets a kick out of the sounds of the sluttiest moans that you make while she's ramming her cock against your walls 😍 she remembered a time where you couldn't even take all of her in without tapping out.. now you were just gladly letting her abuse your pussy like this... though yujin can see that it still hurts you in some way, but she's always too petty and annoyed to stop 🤤 putting her underneath your thighs and pushing your hips upward so her cock can reach the deepest depths of you.. yujin herself releasing heavenly sounds from her mouth that you forget just how fucking cruel she could get with her words.. until ofc she gets the composure to speak while she's fucking you 😈

"hmmn.. ha.. good little pet... this is the only w-way to shut you up, huh..? should've known..."

"can't be annoying now, huh? y-you'd love to, right...? but you love my dick too much to act out now..."

"you're just a s-stupid whore, aren't you..? f-fuck!"

well ofc this was the perfect time to embarrass yujin bcs you're just as petty! attempting to move away from her so she would have to chase after you... clawing at her arms to get her to release you from her iron grip.. you were both scared and horribly turned on by the way yujin got increasingly angry until she just snapped, just as you intended 😋 she's grabbing your face, forcing your mouth open and spitting down your throat... making you swallow and grinning widely when you do.. "fucking slut.. you'd let me do anything to you, huh?" it was a rhetorical question, but you nodded anyway... eagerly too! the only thing it did was inflate yujin's ego... as well as intensify her thrusts 🤤

yeah the sex ends with both of you cussing at each other while she dumps her seed inside your womb but your favorite part is the one where yujinnie turns into the usual ahn yujin that you knew: sweet and very very wholesome 🥺 she's leaving gentle kisses all over the painful bite marks she left, she's keeping you hydrated, even cleans up the mess both of you made and absolutely refuses to let you move a muscle 😭 afterwards, the two of you would be tangled up embracing each other and you comfort her about the hard day she had... overall just very sweet after such intense sex 🤭💞

[boyfiejay]

Forever with you

PAIRING : Idol! Park Jongseong x gn Reader

GENRE : hurt, comfort, fluff

Warning : jay almost collapses, they are overworked, he cries, short appearance of Jungwon

Word Count : 1.1k

Author's Note : this has been on my mind for so long, i just had to write idol jay. Also he is just very lovesick and loverboy coded here, its just me projecting what i want my man to be like 😋

Jongseong loved being Enhypen's Jay but he loved being your Jongie just as much.

Enhypen have been travelling around the world, holding concerts in countries they haven't visited and meeting fans that supported them since i-land. And although he loved meeting his fans and the thrill of it all, he missed you.

He missed you so much, he felt like he was going insane. It was overwhelming for him to experience such a strong desire to meet someone.

He had been homesick before, he had wanted to meet his mom out of the blue many times but it was something that could be easily forgotten if he drowned himself in work. But he never thought that being away from you would hurt so much.

Even when you two were in the same city, you wouldn't get to meet everyday. But there was a sense of security knowing he could visit you anytime he wanted. But now that he was thousands of miles away, it made him feel lonely.

At first the concerts had been a piece of cake, the excitement overpowering the exhaustion. But as months passed and the exhaustion started becoming more unbearable, all of them were constantly on edge, getting irritated easily and snapping at each other.

Today he felt particularly needy, he wasn't the over clingy type but today he wanted nothing more than being wrapped in your arms. Your soft fingers grazing his cheeks and looking at him in a way that made him feel giddy inside.

He wanted you.

Jay felt beyond exhausted, the worst he's felt in the recent weeks. He was trying his best to not snap at anyone, but today he was too tired to care about how rudely he talked to Jake. Or how he glared at Sunghoon for simply coughing too loud.

Moreover everyone was walking on eggshells around him, he didn't miss the way Sunoo scrambled to turn off his phone when Jay glanced at him. Everyone looked like they were hiding something.

He didn't put much thought to it, and although worn out, tried to give his best on stage.

Jay felt dizzy. He almost collapsed a little before their last song and was strictly ordered by Heeseung to rest for a bit. His manager was refusing to give his phone, concerned that Jay might see something he shouldn't on the internet.

But Jay didn't care about what people thought at the moment, all he wanted to do was talk to you, hear your voice as you would worriedly ask him if he was fine.

Soon after the concert ended, they went straight to their hotels. They were supposed to have dinner with everyone, but Jay looked extremely pale, so the idea was scratched.

And now he was sitting in his hotel room – which he got all for himself – freshened up and staring at his phone, wondering why you haven't replied to his text from earlier.

Much to his disappointment, there was a knock on the door. Before he could even grumble about who it was, the door was pushed wide open by Jungwon.

Any other time, Jay would've been thankful that it was Jungwon and not the others. He was just easier to talk to, and he really didn't want to bicker with the other currently. But right now, Jungwon had the evilest grin on his face, maybe not evil but the point stands.

"What is it?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. At his question, Jungwon's grin widened, "Nothing, can't I just come visit you?" he said, voice dripping with fake innocence.

Jay gave him a look, they both knew that Jungwon was up to something so why was he beating around the bush?

"Okay fine, since you've been working so hard, i wanted to give you a gift." he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

He pulled someone from the hallway, making them stand beside him.

Jay couldn't believe his eyes, were you really in front of him? Your lips stretched to give him the widest smile, the prettiest one he's ever seen, as he claims.

Before he could realise, he was walking towards you, his body working without command. As soon as he was close enough, he was pulling in a hug. Your arms circling his shoulders as he pushed his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent that he's missed so much. He didn't even realise when Jungwon had walked out the door, shutting it after him.

It was suddenly dawning on him, you were really here. You travelled such a long distance just so you could meet him, did you miss him just as much? Jay knew the answer to that.

His eyes started to water as he hugged you tighter, oh but you have no idea of how much he's missed you. Your hands caressing the back of his head, letting his tears wet your shirt.

You pulled out of the hug, still pressed against him. There was that look again, you looked at him with so much love, like he painted the night sky and put stars in it. Your eyes slightly wet with tears as you took in his form.

He lost so much weight, eye bags under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot due to the tears, but you had a suspicion that they were already a bit red.

But he still looked handsome as ever, even with tears running down his cheeks.

You thumbs wiped away the tears, he nuzzled his cheek in the palm of your hand, his bigger ones coming up to grasp at yours. He was scared that this was just a dream and he was going to wake up to an empty room.

Almost like you read his mind, "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, alright?" you whispered "I missed you so much."

"You have no idea how much I missed you." he said, voice still trembling as his other hand on your waist pulled you even closer.

In the quiet of the room, the two lovers embraced each other. In that moment Jay realised that you were the one for him, the one he was willing to spend his life with. He wanted to wake up to see your beautiful face, cook for you, take you on fancy dates and all the cringey couples stuff.

It hurt him that he couldn't be with you, that he had to travel around the world and stay away from you for so long. He felt like the shittest boyfriend, but the way you mumbled 'I love you' against his lips, made him realise that you would stay by his side forever.

[ashwhowrites]

Could i request maybe a thing were theyre taking care of eddie after the upside down, hes sleeping on a pull out at bestfriend readers house, waynes at work, and theyre both in separate rooms, the reader is touching themselves and the walls are alot thinner than she realised, he can hear every whimper and eep she tries to cover and all the wet sounds

Eddie hasnt been able to touch himself for a long time because hes been too busy with recovery and appointments, he didnt realise how pent up he was until he could hear his best friend and never thought about her like that until now and he has no idea why he never realised how hot she was

Maybe one day he catches glimpses of her walking to the bathroom naked (she thought everyone was asleep) and next time he realizes he can see her through a crack in the door while shes at it, maybe through a mirror so he gets a full new or he can only see a part of her through the door, torturing himself

Idk how youd get to this point but she maybe helps him masterbate because she feels sorry for him, maybe thinks because of all the stress and meds, hes finding it hard to finish and hes frustrated that he cant go out and meet anyone.

Someone that isnt her and it makes her jealous and sad

But something snaps between them and they fuck

hes like a wild animal when he finally gets his hands on her, she was scared he was gonna hurt himself

Probably gets hard again seeing the swollen mess hes made of her cunt 😋

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting <3 I hope I gave all the smut justice

⚠️smut

BFF...best friends fuck

After the torture Eddie went through in the upside down, he struggled to be alone. He had night terrors, he had flashbacks any time he touched his cuts. And Y/N couldn't stand to see her best friend that way. She forced him to stay with her, she lived alone and could easily care for him when he needed it, Wayne was too busy with work. She was there for anything he called for. She helped with the night terrors and sometimes slept beside him. But he mostly kept to himself, which she understood. He went through something traumatic and needed time to process everything.

But she was a girl, who had a hot best friend that she's seen shirtless over and over. She ignored the way her cunt ached when she'd treated the cuts on his chest and stomach. He was vulnerable and it was wrong to be turned on when he was in that state. But his skin felt amazing underneath her fingers and her brain couldn't forget it.

The same fingers she ghosted over his chest with, were working inside her cunt. Two fingers pumping in her as she imagined Eddie's skillful fingers. Her brain always went dead when he played the guitar, dripping as he held the pick in his mouth.

Eddie struggled to sleep, every movement sent a hissing pain throughout his whole body. Most nights he didn't sleep, just stared at the dark ceiling. But he kept hearing these small whimpers. He couldn't move anywhere without help, so he tried to slide up on the bed. His ear was against the wall, and to his luck, he could hear. The sound was coming from Y/N's room. Eddie worried she might have been hurt, knuckles on the wall about to knock before he heard something else. She was moaning and sounded breathless.

"Fuck...yes." Eddie felt his cock growing hard. She was touching herself, and he didn't need to guess from the moans. He could hear how wet she was through the walls. He tried to keep his breathing stable, but he could hear she was getting closer. Her moans were becoming whimpers only, a blabbering mess as she came all over her fingers. He quickly went back into his sleeping position when he heard her door open, his own cracked, she refused to let him keep it closed. Through the small crack, he could see her sneaking into the bathroom. Eddie bit his tongue as he saw her in a shirt and panties. He only heard the sink runningbefore she headed back off to bed. Her door is now open.

Eddie wanted to smack himself for the sinful thoughts running through his head. It was Y/N, his best friend since childhood and now he's imagining how tight her cunt was.

He never looked or thought about her that way.

~~~

But now, it's all he could think about. He felt like he was in actual hell when she came in the next morning. Now wearing pants she sat on his bed. She treated his wounds with the same fingers that were soaked inside of herself. He felt himself staring at her fingers. Wondering which ones she used to fuck herself, If next time he could lick her fingers clean instead of the sink.

He tried to forget about each day, but it wasn't working. He found himself listening close to hear her at night. Even though it was torture, he found himself addicted to her sounds and wanted to hear them over and over.

Some nights his wishes were answered, a slight buzz sounding through the walls and her moans reaching his ears. He tried to move his hand down to his cock, but all his bones ached at the movement. He clenched his teeth as he fisted the sheets. He found himself imagining her again, wondering which position she was fucking herself in and where exactly the vibrator was touching. He wondered how she liked it, rough or soft. Did she like to be dominated? He tried to remember her past boyfriends, but found a new sense of jealousy he'd never felt before. He knew she had sex, she talked about it before. And it never bothered him. But now, he felt like he could strange every man that touched her and fucked her cunt.

He also wondered what or who she thought about.

~~~

Even though he was healing more and more every day, he was tortured by her. She was walking around in a towel, assuming he was off to bed. But his eyes locked on the mirror that showed through the crack of her door. She stood there as she slipped off the towel. Eddie felt a growl in his throat, he almost was pissed at himself for never seeing how hot she was in the first place. All his ex-girlfriends thought they had a thing for each other, and he laughed at it. But now he realized he was missing out the whole time. Eddie tried to look away but then her hands traveled up her tits, her fingers yanking on her nipples as one hand reached between her thighs.

Eddie felt his cock twitching, this time he didn't care how bad it hurt. He was so riled up and tired of the sexual frustration. He breathed through his nose as he reached for his cock. Biting back the pain as he wrapped his hand around himself. Pumping himself slowly as he watched her touch her body. Her thighs shook and she held on to the mirror, disappearing a little from his eyesight. He leaned over, itching his way closer to see. Then he felt his body falling.

"FUCK!" he screamed, his body slamming into the floor. He shoved his cock back in his boxers, her footsteps racing to him. She came in with the towel, worry on her face as she flipped on his light.

"EDDIE! OH MY GOD!" she kneeled beside him, checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding anywhere.

"I'm fine." He huffed even more, frustration building. She was touching his body again, she didn't have time to wipe her fingers clean and her smell was lingering in his nose. He could see the light reflecting off her wetness. He couldn't even get a fucking orgasm.

"You fell! Let me help you up ." Her arms went under his armpits but he shoved her off.

"I said I'm fucking fine." He spat, he was breathing hard. His breath smacked her face as she looked at him. His eyes were dark, and he looked pissed.

"I know you don't like help, but you need it." She spat back, rolling her eyes at his attitude. She tried again to lift him but he shoved her off again.

"LET ME FUCKING HELP!"

"I DON'T NEED FUCKING HELP!"

"YES YOU DO!"

"FINE, WANT TO HELP?" He screamed, his brain wasn't thinking anymore. He was pissed at her. Walking around in her towels, teasing him with her moans, and constantly fucking herself. He was suffering and he was frustrated.

"UM DUH!" she screamed back

"GO GET ME A PRETTY GIRL TO MILK MY DICK, YEAH?" he screamed, using all his strength to stand up. He breathed hard through his nose as he held himself up with the dresser. His chest heaving as he stared her down. He didn't even register fully what he said. But he kept talking. "What? You said you wanted to help. And right now, I need to have a fucking orgasm. So run along, find me a girl, and have her ride me, give me a fucking handjob, or suck me off. I don't care and I don't care who."

She was lost for words. She's never seen Eddie so riled up. He had a crazy look in his eyes, the sweat glistened off his chest, and he was clenching his whole body. His veins popped everywhere and his stomach was tight. That's when she finally looked down. His cock hard through his boxers. She couldn't ignore how wet the whole screaming match made her. And all the jealousy that rang through her bones like a bell. Like she'd send a girl his way to listen to her please him. Let a slut into her house so he could have a good fuck. She took a deep breath, trying to think rationally, and not off of her jealousy.

"Gonna help me or not?" He barked, irritated at her silence and stillness.

"I'm not bringing a girl here to fuck you." She said, standing her ground at his idiotic idea. No way would she put herself through that pain just to please him.

"Fuck you!" He growled

"Fuck me? Excuse me, I have done everything to help you! You are such a selfish asshole" She argued

"You threw a bitch fit because I wouldn't let you help. And now, you won't even help me. And why?"

"I'm not bringing a slut into my house. Get off yourself. End of discussion." She said, moving to walk out of his room.

"Not easy for me like it is for you." He laughed, slowly moving his body to the bed.

She froze at his door, turning around to face him as he struggled to crawl into the bed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked

"Means I can hear you through these thin walls princess. I hear every whimper, moan, and orgasm. You have such a nice wet cunt, I can almost hear the wetness every time." He was making fun of her. The smirk on his face told him he was winning. She was embarrassed, she never knew how thin the walls were. Her best friend heard her getting off multiple times.

"Nothing to say now? I don't think I've heard you so quiet before." He laughed again, finally getting comfortable on the bed.

"Fuck you!" She huffed, he had no right to make fun of her, especially as a guest in her home.

"Why don't you? I bet you already think about it. Hm? Do you think about me when you touch that pretty cunt?" He pressed harder, she didn't want to crack and she didn't want him to know. But the caught look on her face gave her up.

"Oh, baby. Don't be embarrassed. It's okay, I'm not mad." He teased.

"Shut up, Munson." She warned she was getting irritated at his constant teasing.

But he kept going and going. His voice turned into a buzz that rang through her ears. He kept teasing her and she could feel the blood rushing to her ears.

"I SAID SHUT UP!" she screamed, marching to him, her hand wrapping around his neck.

Eddie was caught off guard by her reaction but felt himself moaning under her grip. She was puffing in his face and her eyes looked ready for a kill.

"Make me." He choked, a smirk on his face as she tightened her grip.

He took a deep breath when she let him go, her hands moving down to his boxers. He moaned as she yanked them off, his cock free to the air as he hissed.

She felt herself clenching at the sight of him. He was bigger than she thought, but he was gorgeous. His tip was leaking and the veins were pulsing. She settled on the bed and took him in her mouth. Slowly taking him further down her throat as she sucked him off.

Eddie felt every bone in his body melt. He deflated as he filled her mouth. He reached forward and held her hair. He made a ponytail in his grip as he bucked his hips against her. He wanted to keep his eyes on her, watch as she cried and took him all. But it felt so good. Her mouth was warm, and she swirled her tongue in a way that made Eddie's head spin. He's gotten head before, but nothing felt as good as this. He never imagined his best friend gagging on his cock, but it was a sight to see.

He knew he wouldn't last long with all the frustration, but he tried to hold off as long as he could. She popped off with a smile, a line of spit connecting from her lip to his tip.

"You can cum, I know you need to." Then went right back to taking him fully down her throat. He clenched as she gagged around him, he grew closer as he fucked up into her. For once his adrenaline took over the pain in his body, he couldn't feel a single thing as he came in her mouth.

He fell against the pillows, sucked free of any energy. He panted as she cleaned him up, and wiped off her mouth. His eyes fighting to sleep as his body finally relaxed.

"I'll see you in the morning." She said softly, pecking his forehead as she covered his body.

He wanted to say something but he was a blink away from falling asleep.

~~~

Eddie woke up the next morning feeling the most refreshed he'd ever been. His brain playing back the memories of the night before had his cock growing again.

But now he didn't know where their relationship stood or if it was a heat at the moment.

She came in like nothing changed, treating his wounds like the normal routine. He knew he was a dick to her and he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry for being an ass yesterday, and invading your privacy like that." He apologized, he watched as she awkwardly shifted and smiled.

"Thank you for the apology. I am very embarrassed and sorry too."

"Don't be. It's normal." He said it was a dumb move to mock her for something so natural. And something he knew he enjoyed.

"I'm sorry for the big fight too. I shouldn't have pushed you so much." She said, standing up as she finished treating him.

"I shouldn't have screamed at you and put all of that on you. I was sexually frustrated and took it out on you."

"I can understand that. It happens to all of us."

~~~

A few days passed and neither talked about what happened after the fight. Eddie couldn't stop feeling her mouth wrapped around him. And how good it felt to cum down her throat.

His body was healing and he could move a lot better. He didn't ache and he could finally go out again. But Y/N refused to let him be on his own.

That's how she found herself drinking with him at a bar. She kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't going overboard. But she couldn't help but glare at every girl who had their eyes glued to him. She didn't even notice the eyes on her, Eddie's, and another guy down at the bar.

Eddie felt himself wanting to devour her, she wore a tight dress and he's been hard since she walked out in it. His eyes were on her mouth, remembering how she sucked the orgasm out of him.

"Want another?" She asked, knocking him out of his thoughts. She grabbed his glass and walked to the bar. His eyes followed her, his hand adding pressure to his hard cock as she leaned over to yell.

He clenched his jaw as he watched a guy walk up to her. He hated how she smiled and laughed. Before he could get up, a girl landed on his arm.

Y/N thanked the bartender as she walked back to her seat. Her eyes glared as a girl was whispering in Eddie's ear. She slammed the drinks down, making her presence known. The girl looked her way and then went back to Eddie's ear.

Y/N couldn't tell if he was enjoying it or not. But he wasn't stopping it. Y/N felt like she was masking her jealousy well but the smirk on Eddie's face told her otherwise.

Y/N rolled her eyes and excused herself to the bathroom, unaware Eddie was hot on her heels. But when she was slammed against the door as she closed it, she was aware.

"Eddie what?" She panicked

"It looked like you were going to kill her, back there." Eddie joked, chuckling.

"Eddie, please not right now." She sighed, she couldn't handle any more of his mocking about her feelings.

Eddie dropped his teasing act when he saw the tired look on her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his hands still holding her hands against the door.

"Not in the mood to hear you make fun of me." She said, her eyes dropping to the tiny space between them. His body was practically against hers.

"Sorry, you're right. I just thought it was cute how jealous you are. Like she has anything on you." He whispered, his finger pulling down on her bottom lip.

"Doesn't she?" Y/N asked

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked, cupping her chin as he looked into her eyes

"I mean I get you off because you couldn't do it yourself. And now we are out at bars, and you are flirting away with a girl. Perfectly healed to take her into the bathroom and fuck." Y/N explained

"You mean what I'm doing right now with you?" He asked, his knee pushing between her legs. She shuttered at the action and lost her breath.

"....you want to fuck me?" She swallowed

"Want to return the favor for the best orgasm of my life." He smirked, one hand still holding hers against the door and the other slipping down her body and moving in between her thighs. His fingers found her soaked panties, pushing them aside as he slipped his fingers inside of her.

"Fuck." She moaned

"That's right. Let me hear you." He growled, adding a third finger, fucking her harder. His mouth attached to her neck, sucking harshly on her fresh skin.

She whimpered against him. Rocking her hips into his fingers. She imagined this so many times and couldn't believe it was happening.

"pretty sounds from such a pretty girl." He praised, kissing the mark he left on her. He yanked his fingers out of her, sucking them clean. "Delicious." He moaned. She tasted better than he could have imagined.

"I'm gonna fuck your pretty cunt until you can't walk." He growled, releasing her hands as he took his cock out of his jeans. He flipped up her dress and ordered her to jump.

She wrapped her legs around him and locked her arms around his neck. She gasped as his cock filled her, stretching her open as he fucked into her.

It was rough and hot. Open mouths smashing against each other, breathing into each other. Her hands moved to his hair, yanking and pulling. His animal-like growls made her head spin. Or maybe the way her head was smacking against the door because of how hard he was fucking her is what made her head spin.

"Slow down...need to be careful." She tried to say, but it barely made it out. Just pants of words.

"I'll be fine." He wanted her, and he wanted to make her feel him for weeks.

His hands held her up, gripping her skin. His fingernails clinged inside of her skin. His cock bruised her. He carried her over to the sink, setting her down as he moved his hand between their bodies. His finger instantly found her clit, circling it as fast as he could. He loved the way her head fell back against the mirror.

"Look at you. Letting your best friend fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom. Pretty cunt is just as tight as I thought. Gripping me so good. Such a good girl for me." He praised, and she gasped over and over. Trying to form words but nothing.

"Please, let me cum." She finally got out, her fingers digging into his ass as he fucked into her.

"Sweet talker," he chuckled, holding her chin as he smirked down at her, "begging to cum? How can I say no to that? Cum for me."

Eddie watched as she soaked his cock, keeping himself deep inside of her as she came. She touched him everywhere. Her hands worked around his chest, his hips, his hair, and his stomach. Her hands pushed up his shirt to run her hands over his scars.

He felt his orgasm getting close, thrusting inside of her as he smashed his lips on hers. The second she kissed him back, he came inside of her.

Kissing her was a feeling he couldn't forget. How soft her lips were and how sweet she tasted. She kissed as softly as her hands worked on his skin.

He pulled away when he felt the need to breathe. A dazed look in her eyes as she looked back at him. He softly slid out of her, tucking himself back in his jeans.

"Let's go home, baby" he set her on her feet and pulled down her dress.

A big smirk on his face as she stumbled out of the bathroom.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 3

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL and Quarrels

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Otherwise known as the One in New York. What do you guys think about R and Jenna's dynamic so far? 👀 (taking a break for a few days/maybe a week after I post this, I think I've kept you all fed for a bit while I'm gone lol, in the meantime, send asks I'll try to answer all of them!😋)

Word Count: 6.4k+

“You get on that plane and I’ll drop you as a client.” Jake’s voice rings out from your work phone. 

“What the fuck, Jake, are you serious?!” You seethe, practically red in the face. 

You have been on the phone with Jake for the last hour – Liv refuses to pick up your calls after you blew up the group chat, rehashing your argument with Jenna. Desperately pleading to fly back home because you couldn’t stand being in the same city as the actress, at the moment. 

You couldn't even think about her words without it making your blood boil.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. Do you know what time it is here?”

Glancing at the clock it read 3:46 A.M. EST, you roll your eyes. “It’s just past midnight in L.A. You won’t die if you don’t get eight hours of sleep.”

“Be quiet. I don’t wanna hear another word from you.” He nearly shouts and you imagine that one vein popping through his forehead. You liked to stare at it when Jake goes off on his shouting tangents at you. 

He never notices that you're not paying attention.

“Maybe we should get Liv on the phone or maybe Sarah?” Link glances at you worriedly.

He hates seeing you so riled up, so he often played the middle-man with your quarrels against Jake and Liv.

“Liv says she doesn’t wanna hear it. Sarah says forget it and I’m saying, I’m not fucking around this time Y/N, this is your last chance. I’m over your shit.” He hangs up the phone, leaving the line dead.

You jump face-first into the stiff bed, groaning loudly.

“Looks like you’re outta luck.” He pats you back, leaving you to sulk alone as he shuts the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

There was no way you ended up in this situation. 

You guess, it was fair to acknowledge your recent streak of bad behaviour. First, it was tame — ignoring your phone, running away to party, getting mixed in the wrong crowds – eventually, Link had to start dragging you out of bed by the legs (sometimes kicking and screaming) just to make it in time for a gig.

You’re not sure when all of this started. All you knew is that you were so tired. You just wanted one second to breathe; to feel like that young child again, with hopes and dreams. But no, someone was always hovering over your shoulder ready to drag you away to another event you could care less about. 

You close your eyes, allowing the jetlag and exhaustion to set in as your body moulds into the mattress.

– 

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Jenna’s hotel room. The large double door looks menacing and faintly, you can already hear a bustle on the other side. You really didn’t want to knock but you know what was on the line so you swallow your pride and raise a fist to knock. 

But before you can knock, the door is opening revealing a girl, with dirty blonde hair bearing a semblance to a certain actress. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” You greet warmly.

“I’m Aliyah. Jenna’s younger sister.” She holds her free hand out.

You shake her hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m–”

“I know who you are.” She smiled then laughed, “Everyone knows who you are.”

You chuckled, shyly nodding. “I guess.”

“Are you two done?” Jenna suddenly appears, yanking the door wider so you can see her. Her makeup complements her well; the green bustier two-piece looked expertly crafted just for her; and the way her hair fell in soft waves framed her face nicely. 

“Hi…” You say a little vacant-sounding.

You don’t say anything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see her sister’s raised brow but you think you’re imagining it because you can’t keep your gaze off of Jenna. The actress raises her brow at you, impatient.

“What did you need?” She asks.

“Uh—I wanted to talk, about last night."

Jenna watches you momentarily before rolling her eyes; pulling you inside with a rough yank. “Get inside before someone sees you — Aliyah close the door.”

You stumble, still a little dazed but the smaller girl’s nails are gripping your arm painfully making you snap out of it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whisper, not inattentive to the multiple people scattered around the large room.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” She ignored your complaints and pulled you past the foyer into the living room – her entire team had taken refuge in the room to get the star ready for a day of press interviews.

Various echoes of your name and greetings are sent back to you but you certainly don’t miss the awkward tension in the room started by your sudden presence. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can just go.” You point behind you.

“Nonsense.” An older woman that looked kinda like the actress waves off. “It’s great to have you here, Miss L/N. Jenna was just talking about you.”

“Oh please, just Y/N is fine.” Shaking your head bashfully, briefly wondering what she could be telling her family and team about what kind of person you are.

“I’m Jenna’s mom. That’s her dad, her other sister Mia, and her brother Markus.” She points and you try to keep up with the names of the people she’s throwing at you; Jenna’s family and team included.

“It’s so great to meet you all. It’s not hard to see that Jenna is so loved.” You say sincerely.

“We try our best.” Her dad says looking appreciative of your words. You smile at everyone and it seems to ease a bit of the tension in the room.

You didn’t see Jenna rolling her eyes again (her favourite to do around you) disregarding the encounter; she hides the surprise she feels from your genuine compliment.

Last night's argument with you, still burning in her brain.

“What did you want to say?" She says a little bluntly.

Watching as everyone turns to go back to what they were doing, you look down at Jenna. “Um… I wanted to apologize for last night. And call a truce, maybe over dinner?

She looks surprised not expecting you to be the first one to give in. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I appreciate it.” Jenna cuts in, “I’m sorry too… a truce sounds good. Sarah got mad at me too, for what it's worth. She even said I was whining.”

Jenna jokes, dropping her walls a bit.

You rub a hand on the back of your neck, chuckling, “Good to know.”

“I can’t do dinner though.” She shuts her eyes as if remembering something. 

“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Or maybe… you can be my date to the Scream cast dinner?” She offers, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you sure?” You chew your lip. Ignoring the word date.

“Yeah! Totally, you can meet everyone, it’ll be great. Not to throw anyone under the bus but they’ve been trying to meet you.” She says sheepishly.

You laugh, dropping your walls just a tad. “Sure I’ll be there.”

She smiles warmly, satisfied with your answer. “Yeah, it’ll be great. I guarantee there’ll be paparazzi, so it’ll be good for publicity. They’ve been hounding me since I landed, my dad nearly pushed a guy in the airport. I couldn’t even walk to the door by myself at the SNL dinner cast party.”

You lose a bit of the smile but Jenna doesn’t see, laughing at her memory of the paparazzi. You blink around, making sure no one saw you, it might give them the wrong idea. “Uh, yeah sure. I’m good with whatever.”

“Okay, cool.” She shoots a thumb up, walking away from you. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhmm.” You smile, waving goodbye to everyone and booting it out the door. 

Unsure where the tension in your chest is coming from you swiftly walk to the elevator; aggressively tapping the button as if the elevator would come faster that way. And practically throwing yourself in the metal box as soon as it opens.

You miss the entire pandemonium that implodes in the room when you leave.

“Holy shit?” Mia exclaims.

“Language.” Her mom chastises. 

“No, holy shit, indeed. Jenna oh my god what did you do to that poor girl?” Aliyah walks past Jenna to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“What are you talking about?” She looks at her sisters confused.

Mia’s rolling her eyes, standing up from the couch. “Did you not see the way she was looking at you?”

“No? How was she looking at me?” She turns to her mom who had a hint of a smile on her lips as if she knew something. Jenna was starting to feel left out. 

“She likes you, Jen.” Her brother speaks up, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

“What? You guys are crazy. We barely know each other.” Jenna starts shaking her head furiously, turning to Enrique, her stylist and close friend. “Enrique, tell them they’re being crazy.”

But he shrugs, sharing that same Cheshire grin her mom had. “God, not you too.” She clamps her eyes shut with her hands.

“Hey! Watch the eyes!” Her makeup artist warns. 

“Dad?” She drops her hands, pleading at the silent man, who, she knows is listening. Why do Dads do that thing where they let everyone argue, only stepping in when the Mom asks for backup. 

He remains in character – staying silent.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. She was literally here for five seconds. How could you possibly think she likes me from that.” Jenna turns to everyone else.

“I don’t know, Jen. The eyes never lie.” Mia says, privy to the way your smile fell when Jenna mentioned being spotted for publicity tonight. 

“I’m– I’m late for interviews, I need to go,” Jenna mutters, grabbing her purse and walking to the door. 

–

“This is gonna blow up.” Your producer says from beside you. 

“I don’t know. I still think it’s missing something.” You sigh, sliding the headphones off as you slump onto the plush leather seats. 

You sneaked off to the studio not too far from the hotel in lower Manhattan. See you would have told Link or anyone really, but you were trying to be discreet. And Link is one ‘ol snitch and the personal fun police. 

It seems after your fight with Jenna, Jake and Liv put you under strict instructions not to leave the hotel unless accompanied by someone from your team. 

You’re not a fucking child. You don’t need a babysitter. So here you are, with your producer in the studio trying to record this damn song you’ve been stuck on for three months.

“Maybe it’s time to scrap the song then.” He offers. “It’s never gonna be done before Coachella.”

Immediately you are shaking your head. No, this song is special, you can feel it. If only you can get your head out of your own ass long enough to find the damn words. 

“No, just– just put it on hold. Let’s work on something else.”

He sighs, clicking the screen to pull up another file. “Your call.”

The buzzing of your phone against the wooden table echoes into the silence that grew as you waited. “Ah fuck.”

Reaching over, you grab the phone and are bombarded by a flurry of texts and missed calls. 

Some from Jenna, some from your bodyguard and driver, most from Link.

Jenna’s is the first one you click.

The phone rings three times before it gets picked up. Muffled, loud voices are all you hear at first before she eventually speaks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, I am so–”

“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late. We’re all waiting for you.” Her tone is sharp and snipped. 

You had fucked up.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there– there was…. uh.” You stand, gathering your jacket and silently bidding your producer goodbye as he looks on confused. “There was a lot of traffic. I am so sorry, I’m trying to make it as fast as I can.”

She sighs through the phone, “It’s…fine. Just get here as soon as you can, please.”

A little white lie never killed anybody.

You make it to the restaurant in record time. Pushing through the paparazzi camping outside the restaurant doors. Do they have no shame? Clearly not as they shout Jenna’s name at you; asking if you were there to see her, trying to get their piece of the scoop. Thankfully, the security guard had seen you and personally ushered you to the cast‘s table. Someone must have informed them that you were coming.

You’re still blinking away the spots in your vision from the camera flashes when you feel an arm pulling you down to sit. 

“What took you so long?”Jenna asked assertively, scanning you.

“I told you. Traffic.” You plaster a smile at all the eyes on you, subtly shrugging Jenna’s arm off yours with a little bit of attitude.

You don’t miss her clenched jaw. Plastering a smile in front of her costars who were trying their best not to gawk at you. "Well, where were you then? No one could get a hold of you, we were worried."

You tried your hardest to school your genuine surprise at her worry. "Sorry. I was working. My phone was off."

“Hi! I’m Melissa, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.” A brunette extends her hand from across the long table – interrupting Jenna before she can say anything else.

You make the usual greetings, introducing yourself to Jenna’s costars and colleagues. You felt a bit like a trophy wife if you were being honest. Like eye candy on her arm, serving only to make her look good. Upon that realization, you feel a little flushed. You’re not sure why, that is the whole point of this whole thing. 

Her castmates have been sending you two knowing eyes over dinner — giving Jenna inconspicuous smirks and smug grins as if you couldn’t see. You keep your head down after the pleasantries are over and the main courses are brought out. 

Grateful, you don’t have to talk about your upcoming projects any longer.

“What’s wrong?” You nudge her elbow, noticing how she was pushing away some pieces of food on her plate. 

“I don’t like apples.” She mutters. 

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips but you don’t tease. “Just push them off to the side and I’ll eat it.”

She looks at you. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” You shrug taking a sip of your wine. 

“That doesn’t gross you out or anything? I know some people are weird about that sort of thing.” Jenna explains. 

“Dude, I’ll eat your apples, chill.” You laugh.

“Okay, thanks…” She mumbles, still looking at you but you turn, talking to Mason and his girlfriend.

Jenna feels a nudge on her side. “What?” 

“You two are cute.” Jasmin smirks. “And Y/N L/N? Not a bad catch at all.”

“Stop.” Jenna blushes. Unsure if she feels uncomfortable that some of her close and respected friends believe this lie so easily.

–

“Hey, give them some space!” The security guard shouts as the paparazzi come rushing toward the door as soon as the cast steps out. 

You were standing in the lobby waiting for Jenna. “Shit…” You hear her mutter, watching as she searches for something in her bag. 

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I forgot my sunglasses in my room. The flashes hurt my eyes.” She frowns. Wordlessly, you fish the pair you stashed in your jacket. 

“Here, wear mine.” You hold the glasses out, watching as she just stares at it. Rolling your eyes, you push it toward her. “Dude, just take it.”

“Thanks…” She mumbles, sliding them up her hair. 

You walk ahead of her, holding the door open as everyone trickles out. You’re regretting giving Jenna your only sunglasses cause the flashes are bright and it’s making your eyes water.

“Go ahead,” You usher, only leaving once everyone’s gone ahead of you. You trail behind ignoring the various men with large cameras chasing you as you walk down the sidewalk. 

“Y/N over here, please! Just one photo.”

“Y/N, just one photo of you and Jenna, please!” 

“What do you have to say about Vegas?”

You ignore them keeping your head down trying not to fall behind. 

“Where’s Y/N?” You hear over the sea of nameless faces. 

“Right here.” You say, sliding in beside her.

You miss the subtle sigh of relief she lets out.

“You can’t just walk behind everyone like that.” She grits, frustratedly.

"I tried to keep up." You mumbled like a scolded husband.

The shouting increases when you stand beside one another; practically rendering you blind with all the flashes. “Dammit.” 

You place an hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Put on the sunglasses and walk.”

“Y/N, please over here. Jenna!” The shouting is constant and blurs altogether all at the same time. 

“Ow.” You feel Jenna tumble when someone bumps her side causing her to bump harshly against you. Firmly, you grab her arm to preventing her from falling and pushed back against the crowd to check on her.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as she fixes the lopsided glasses. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hey. Watch it–” You grit at the closest person holding a camera. “It wasn’t me.”

The man insists, still shamelessly snapping flashes directly into your face and you begin to grow angry, slapping the camera out of his hands. “I said fucking watch it, asshole.”

You glare for a brief moment as the shouting gets impossibly louder. Knowing if you didn’t pull Jenna out of this, chaos would ensue. You link hands and drag her through the crowd, briskly walking to her castmates who shared looks of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask, still walking but now barricaded by security and her friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” She squeezes your hand but then sighs, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You scoff, “Are you serious? That guy pushed you.” 

“It was an accident and you kinda overreacted.” She whispers lowly. 

You clench your jaw, dropping her hand — Not wanting to blow up in front of her colleagues, you walk swiftly ahead.

You don’t talk even when you are both side-by-side being driven back to the hotel. Her driver has the partition up halfway but you see the nosy glances he keeps making at the rearview mirror as you and Jenna sit in silence; acutely aware to the growing tension between you and the actress.

You refuse to speak, just looking out the window as other cars pass by on the street. 

“Are you done ignoring me now?” She speaks up but you still don’t want to talk. “Seriously?”

“Y/N all he did was push me. A little shove, that’s all. I’m okay. What’s not okay is the phone call you know we’re going to get from Liv and Sarah about that guy’s camera.”

“He deserved it.” You mumble through the palm holding your head up. 

“I’m not saying he didn’t but you can’t just be aggressive to paparazzi like that. It’s exactly what they want.” She reasons, turning to you. Hoping you’ll finally look at her. 

“I know…”

“Look at me, please?” She places a hand on your arm.

You turn, keeping your face impassive.

She sends you a shy smile then laughed. “I mean it though, thank you for having my back. My Dad is gonna think this whole thing is hilarious.”

“Why?” You can’t help but join in.

“He’s a cop, so he’s a little protective. He’s been waiting to shove away a pap for the longest time. He’s gonna be so mad you beat him to it.” 

You laugh imagining her father’s reaction. 

–

“You haven’t seen Scream? Not even the original?” Jenna turns bewildered like it was the most blasphemous thing she’s ever heard. You were in her hotel suite, watching movies. For some reason, Jenna invited you over to her room after being dropped off at the hotel. “How? You’re an actress.”

You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no so you accepted.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeez. Way to sound like a film snob. I didn’t know there was a checklist of movies to watch before becoming an actor.” You snort reaching for more popcorn from the bowl beside you. 

“Shut up.” She hits you with the remote. “How have you not seen any of the Scream movies? You’re literally going to my premiere tomorrow.”

You hold up your hands in surrender, throwing a couple of kernels in your mouth. “Sorry, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

She rolls her eyes, snatching some popcorn from your hand, ignoring your protests. “Oh sorry, I forgot we have an action star in our midst.”

It was your turn to hit her arm, “Shut it. I just mean… I haven’t found the time to sit and watch them. They’re not exactly short films.”

“You’re in the MCU and Dune. Don’t talk to me about long movies.”

“Touché…” You can’t beat her there. They are ridiculously long movies. Probably why you’ve only ever seen them during premiere night and never again. “Well, put one on then. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

She grins scrambling for the remote. “You’re on.”

You wait for her to pull up the Scream catalogue, chuckling at her visible excitement.

“Hey, why did you become an actress? and singer while we’re at it, Miss Grammy winner.” She nudges your shoulder.

You snort, shoving her lazily. “Shut up… Do you want the press interview answer or the real one?”

She raises a brow, immediately deciding. “The real one.”

You nod, feeling like she would say that.

“My mom... She was a rising star in the 80s but something happened and she never got to live out her dreams. When she had me she put me through all of the arts. I bumped and failed with most of them but acting and singing kinda stuck… I guess she saw those were the only two things I could stand so she pushed and pushed, it led to Jake discovering me and here we are.”

Jenna stays silent processing your story, she doesn’t miss the slight solemness your tone had taken. "Why do I feel like there's more to it than that?"

You chuckle, licking your lips. "Caught me... it's why I don't talk to my parents anymore."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. As soon as I turned eighteen I cut ties with them. She got too controlling, wanting money, wanting autonomy over my career so I took Link with me and moved to L.A. and did it on my own. I think... at some point acting became a spite thing with me because of her.

“Spite?” Jenna asks?

“Yeah… it was all I’ve ever known for a long time until I started making music. Probably the only time I’ve ever felt sure about a decision.”

"Oh..." Jenna finds herself saying again.

"Uh–sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. We can just forget about it." You curl into yourself, tugging the blanket to your lap.

Jenna blinks, feeling dumb that she's made you think her silence is a bad thing.

"No..." She grabs your wrist. "Thank you for sharing with me."

You look into her eyes, feeling a bit small at her kind eyes. You know it's not out of pity but you couldn't help but want to close up again.

Pulling your hand away from her grip, you cough. "Of course, we're friends now."

"Oh, are we?" Jenna ignores the drop in her chest when you pulled away like that. “Okay, what’s the press answer then?”

“That I watched the movie Cabaret when I was younger and wanted to be like Liza Minelli.” You admit.

Jenna scoffs, “That’s literally my answer.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah except, it’s Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire.”

You chuckle, “doesn’t Denzel die in that one?”

“Yeah and what about it?” She raised a brow.

"But see, don’t fight it we’re meant to be friends... we even share the same answer."

"Shut up, dummy. Every actor has some sort of answer like that.”

Eventually, the two of you start a marathon of the Scream franchise. Which in hindsight, is kind of a bad idea seeing as it was way past midnight and the other actress still has a long week ahead of her. It seems like the events of the day catch up to her cause you feel a head slipping on your shoulder; distracting your focus halfway through Scream 3.

Jenna had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder. You fight the urge to tense up not wanting to wake her up. She looked like she needed the rest and you relate more than anyone to her exhaustion. 

“Jenna…” You lightly tap, “You fell asleep, you need to go to bed.”

She grumbles, whining in her slumber. You feels your cheeks warm when she unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist.

Fuck.

Really?

God, I am not your strongest soldier. 

“Jen, seriously. Wake up.” You shake her arm.

“What?” She complains, her words muffled by your collarbone.

“You need to go to bed.”

The feeling of her soft lashes brushing against the material of your shirt as she blinks sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh…”

Jenna mumbles mortified. Quickly pushing herself off of you, unable to look you in the eyes. “Sorry.”

You don't mention how she might have punched your stomach and that you were desperately trying not to cough.

“S’okay…” You shake your head softly. You couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell over her eyes messily. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks once she regains her senses, waking up from her short slumber.

Something tells Jenna she won’t be sleeping with how fast her heart is pounding; uncertain as to where her sudden anxiety is coming from. 

“Yeah… I’ll be waiting for you inside.” You stand gathering your belongings.

“Wait, you’re not walking the carpet with me?” Jenna pulled a face.

You raise a brow, “No? At least, I wasn't told I had to. They just said I had to show up.”

“Oh… okay.” She nods then sighed, long and profound.

You continue to raise a brow but don’t say anything. Not wanting to push her. You remember the last time you guys fought and are immediately turned off. No thanks, not trying to open that can of worms.

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She leans against the door.

Her premiere is a success. After borderline shoving you inside a tinted Cadillac, Link brushes your vintage Prada gown down; making sure you are in tip-top movie-star shape. You don’t walk the carpet, instead heading straight inside – making headlines. 

Your every damn move is a headline these days.

Silently thanking whatever God was out there that you didn’t because the way your jaw dropped when you see Jenna was downright embarrassing. Your reaction would surely have been a running piece if cameras were around.

Your managers would love it though.

Link had to forcefully elbow your side as Jenna walks up to greet you. 

“Wow…” You manage to say. “You look stunning Jenna.”

Jenna was glad for the dim lights in the theatre, “Thanks.” She blushes, casting her eyes down.

“You look great too.” She scans you up and down, suddenly feeling warm under her gape. 

Maybe it was the way her makeup is done or the deconstructed tuxedo for a dress that she had on tonight but she looked more mature, intimidating? Like she could throw you around a little and you’d just gladly ask her to do it again.

Wait, what?

“Thanks… Link and I should head to our seats but I just wanted to congratulate you. This is seriously amazing.” You express sincerely.

Jenna flushes more, waving you off with a huff and a lazy hand. “Please.”

“Seriously!”

Link coughs loudly, interrupting the bubble you and Jenna found yourselves in. “Okay, someone’s a little impatient. We better go.”

A hand reaches out, grabbing you. “Do you wanna, maybe, I don’t know. Sit beside me?”

You turn, surprised. “Oh? What about Enrique?” You glance at her stylist standing just behind her pretending like he wasn’t listening; fiddling on his phone. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind switching to sit with Link, right Enrique?” She turns, asking her friend.

He grins widely, “Nope. All good with me!”

“Perfect!” She smiles at you, still grabbing your arm. 

“We’ll be down there!” Jenna calls out to Link and Enrique linking your fingers out of nowhere as you walk to beside her costars.

You still don’t say anything when Jenna wraps herself around you when you make it to your seats, waving as people cheer with a large smile before pulling you to sit down. 

Only then did she pull herself away, “sorry about that.”

“All good.” You mumble after realizing what happened; turning to face the large screen.

Perfect photo op.

“Hey is that sharpie on your dress?”

“Yes.” She sighs.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch but you can’t stop the growing unpleasantness in your chest. You decide to brush it off and save face for Jenna’s night. Your sulking and feelings can wait in the privacy of your own four walls and definitely not at a high-profile movie premiere.

By the time you found yourself at the NBC building in a random dressing room at the SNL studio, waiting for Jenna’s monologue you forget all about it. You lay lazily on a stiff and most likely old couch, scrolling through your phone. 

A knock on the door has you pulling off your headphones. “Come in.”

“Hey Y/N.” A head peaks in making you sit up briskly. “Aliyah, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh– Jenna’s asking for you.” She sends a sheepish smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Oh,” Your head perks up. “Is she okay?” You question, following the smaller girl past hallways that all looked the same; trying not to bump into the various stagehands buzzing around. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kinda freaking out, though and… we can’t get her to calm down.” You both stop at a closed door. 

“Oh… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh… okay she didn’t exactly say you but I saw your episode and you were hilarious and who better to talk her down than someone who’s done it before.” She flashes a large grin before opening the door and shoving you inside.

The room is empty save for Jenna dressed in a short-legged suit. You force yourself to blink, reminding yourself that you are on a time crunch.

“Jenna.”

She snaps her head at your voice, and a noticeable tremble in her fingers is the first thing you see. “What–what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in your seat by now.”

“Your sister asked me to come.” You admit, walking forward.

“I’m fine. Go to your seat, I’ll see you after the show.” She turns her back to you, looking over sheets of paper with multi-coloured inked notes scribbled on every open space.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jenna.” You walk closer, slowly bringing the hand tightly clutching her notes down. The bones in her fingers relax as she drops the paper. She doesn’t say anything when you don’t disconnect your hands. 

You find yourself standing much closer to her.

“Take a deep breath.” You repeat.

Jenna closes her eyes, inhaling a long, deep and audible breath in then out. She clutches your fingers as she does so, unconsciously leaning back against you to ground her bubbling anxiety. 

She stays in your hold with her back against your chest: a death grip on your fingers. Your swipe a thumb over the skin of her hand. “It’ll be okay…”

“Thanks…” Jenna looks into your eyes, taking one last deep breath.

Briefly, you hold her gaze feeling tepid under the intense look in her eyes. You can’t tell what they're saying but for some reason, the way her dark pupils seemed softer under the fluorescent lights had you under a spell.

And for a fleeting second, you thought she was leaning in closer to you — eyes flickering to your lips.

“Don’t mention it.” You drop her hand immediately, taking wide steps back.

Not liking the way her eyes flickered down.

You don’t like what that could possibly mean.

Jenna’s turning rapidly, pretending not to notice as you take sizable steps away from her. “What did my sister say?”

You laugh, shoving your hands in your jacket. “That she liked my SNL episode and thought someone who’s done it before can talk you down.”

“Talk me down?” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” You shrug.

“Your episode was okay.” Jenna turns away to face a mirror, brushing away her bangs.

You take the bait, glad she wasn’t trembling anymore. “Okay? I got the whole cast to break, it’s considered a classic. It was nominated for an Emmy that year.”

“It didn’t win though.”

You scoff playfully, “I’m leaving. You clearly don’t need my help anymore.”

She laughs obnoxiously as you stomp out of her dressing room. “Wait.”

You stop just before you open the door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you… for talking me down.” She tucks a hair backs, a little shy.

The small smile creeping on your face is hard to subdue. “Don’t mention it. Now, go. You’re gonna kill it.” You wink, exiting the dressing room.

“She’s all good.” You tell her team.

“That’s it? She hasn’t calmed down all day, it takes you – what, five minutes?” Enrique crosses his arms. Jenna’s mom smirks, patting his back then walked past him and into the room as the rest of her family slowly trickled in; her sisters staring at you intensely.

“Uh sorry?” You blush furiously, walking off in the other direction to find your seat.

Jenna kills it, but that was never a surprise. You can tell she’s nervous throughout her monologue but after Fred Armisen does his bit – from beside you, which had been a pleasant surprise. She begins to grow confident, feeling pleased with your embarrassment when the camera pans to you and Fred.

You’d get her back for that. Making a mental note to cook up a special revenge plan, just for her.

Eventually, she falls into the role naturally. Nailing her punchlines perfectly, working the crowd like an expert, and exquisitely performing her skits. It’s a shock to you when you overhear someone behind you say she’s never done live stage work before.

She's so natural at it.

It's a privilege to watch her perform.

You nearly die when she changes into a red suit as she introduces the musical guest of the night.

Actually, you begin to slide off your seat when she comes out in a pinstripe suit — a reference to the Addams family you overheard in passing.

When credits roll and the ‘LIVE’ sign turns off. You remain in your seat. Unsure if you are just admiring her or if it’s ‘cause your legs no longer functioned. You can’t fight that admiration as it grows when you see how supportive her family is as they cheer her on and celebrate this win as one unit. 

You smile, wishing you can relate. At least some people had that in their lives.

A part of you thinks it makes the whole world’s difference, having a support system like that. But you would never know.

Silently, you slip out the stage doors and back to the random dressing room you’ve decided to take refuge in. 

You narrowly miss Jenna trying to find you through the masses; her smile dropping a bit when she realizes you’re gone.

– 

You don’t get a chance to personally congratulate Jenna because Link was bursting into the dressing room — after complaining about trying to find you for ten minutes. Rambling on how you’re needed back in Los Angeles and there was no time to say goodbye.

When you catch the other actress it’s by pure stroke of luck. You're going through checkout at the hotel, waiting for Link to do all the work as you wait behind him. 

You feel slightly guilty that you're just leaving without warning.

You should send Jenna a text, right? But would she even care if you left so suddenly? She did want you out of the city just a few days ago.

But then, you two literally just, might’ve, maybe, almost kissed/shared a moment in her dressing room, so who knows what you should do at this point.

You feel a migraine forming at the base of your skull, the longer you thought about the other actress.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks your self-deprecating thoughts. You turn to see Jenna with her team and family trailing beside her.

Jenna’s smile falls when she sees your bags. Her family walks ahead but you certainly don’t miss their curious eyes as she stops in front of you.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes keep flickering between you and your bags.

Link avoids her sharp, accusing eyes.

“Back to L.A. sorry I was just about to send you a text, actually.” You confessed, a little ashamed. 

It felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing… like when you lie to your long-time partner about the real reason why you want some time apart.

“A text?” She raises an unamused brow not liking your answer.

“Yeah, Jake wants me back in L.A. Uh– sorry, was I supposed to tell you?” You ask, a bit confused.

“Tell me?” She scoffs, face dropping. “Yeah, you’re supposed to tell me. I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate with my family and the SNL cast tonight. But you weren’t even in the audience anymore by the time I finished.”

“Sorry… I thought you’d want to celebrate with your family.” You shrug lamely, torn between feeling guilty and confused at her reaction to the news of your sudden departure.

She made it feel like you were trying to escape.

“Well, I thought–” 

She cuts herself off with a huff then looked back as her family waits for her by the elevator.

“Thought what?”

As if remembering she was still out in a very public setting, after hosting one of the most recognizable programs in America; Jenna blinks out of it. Shoving her feelings down.

“Nothing. Have a safe flight back to L.A. I’ll see you in a few days… or weeks” She mumbles with an edginess to her words, walking away before you can say anything else.

“Tough break, buddy.” Link pats a comforting hand on your shoulder as you were rendered speechless. Unsure if you should chase her down and apologize.

Damn can she walk fast in those heels.

But, why would you be apologizing for having to do your job?

But the way her brow creased like she was actually upset caused an unpleasant drop in your chest. Not enjoying how she was upset and that it seemed like it was all your fault. You? Nah. Maybe she’s still dealing with other stuff and is just taking it out on you. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“What. Just. Happened.” You turn, aggressively snatching your card from the hotel worker who definitely enjoyed the show.

“Are you blind?” He scoffs then walks away from you.

“What do you mean? Link… what do you mean?” 

-

taglist is closed (if your @ can't be tagged it will be removed, DM me to fix it.)

:)

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmoree @orang3-ish @jennasslut @friedryes @canyonyodeler @nahnahnahwhatt @be-missed @jjuncidio @fearstreetsoloyouandurmom @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @bandaidss @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @natblidaclexa @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @slu7her @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @cyberexpertalienspy-blog @jennaortegasfootrest @zaza11sblog @omega-horus @heroofdeath11 @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @sorexhera @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon1 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @namesduntmatter @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx

[wannabehockeygf]

cut my hair - matthew tkachuk

part of the think later fic series

"Just wanna cut my hair Lose myself Make you sweat Go out and get messed up Find myself in your bed"

***

request: “heyyyyy me again. Would you be able to do another Matthew Tkachuk for cut my hair? a lil angsty and smuty with a happy ending. Thank you!”

summary: after being dumped, you make it your mission to have him regret everything. word count: 9.2k pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader warnings: 18+ NSFW! Unprotected sex, talk about sex in the past, a lot of slightly kinky shit (biting and stuff like that, not too crazy), creampie, alcohol, sex in public (but sort of hidden?) degradation & degrading talk, toxic relationship. notes: - i actually started this a few days ago & then i got a request for something similar so i tweaked it. girl u read my mind.

-^ my loyal requester. please don’t worry about sending too much in, trust me I love you for it, but don’t expect things too quickly ❤️ - ^^ this is barely edited or proof read. i tried but there's gonna be repetitive shit & i'll probably end up tweaking it but here it is yayyy - haven't written smut in a while 😋 - guys as much as i love chucky & quinn i really would like to write about people from the team i support the most...(the leafs if you somehow couldn't tell?) so i'm gonna be focusing on them for a bit & if you would like to request one (or clayton keller, he's my exception) please do! - ^ that being said, i will start working on qhxga pt.3 soon. - in light of everything going on, i would like to clarify matthew has not drinken anything in this despite him being in a bar & this being fiction. PLEASE don't drink and drive. ***

You’re mad.

You’re mad about a lot of things. Which is weird, because usually, you’re not mad, you just bask in your misery all day.

You’re too touchy-feely for your own good. The sad girl act is getting old, and you know it.

At least, that’s what he told you.

“You’re so fucking dramatic! Like, holy shit, can you just let go for once and have fun? Because that’s it. That’s all we’re doing, we’re having fun. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings, I’m not the guy you’ll marry!”

The lump in your throat seems to grow by the second as you try to speak. “So what, you’re saying we should break up?”

Matthew scoffs over the line, and you can basically imagine him pacing his apartment, tugging at the curly strands of his hair as if it could make him think more clearly. “We were never dating! But if you really want to see it that way, then, fuck yes, let’s break up.”

The phone call ends with a click, but the sound echoes in your head like a slammed door. Matthew’s words hang in the air, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at your phone screen as if expecting an apology to pop up. But it doesn’t. Because he never does that.

You feel the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not this time. His voice still rings in your ears, mocking you. You’re so dramatic. Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You chew your lip, pacing your small apartment. Your reflection catches your eye in the hallway mirror—your long hair falling in waves past your shoulders, the way Matthew always said he liked it. Suddenly, the sight of it makes your stomach twist with resentment.

He doesn’t care about you. He never did.

The anger rushes through your veins, fueling you, pushing you towards the scissors in your bathroom drawer. You grip them tightly, the cool metal biting into your palm as you lift them to your hair. He liked it long, huh? A bitter laugh escapes your throat. Without giving yourself time to overthink, you hack off the first chunk, watching it fall into the sink. It feels… freeing. With every cut, it’s like you’re snipping away the pieces of yourself that he’s picked apart. The version of you that wanted him to love her. Gone. The version that begged for scraps of his attention. Gone.

When you’re done, you barely recognize yourself. The hair that once framed your face is gone, leaving behind a sharp, choppy cut that makes you look fiercer, harder. It feels good.

The little black dress hangs in the back of your closet, practically taunting you. You haven’t worn it in months—Matthew hated it. Said it was too much, too revealing, that it would draw attention. But tonight, that’s exactly what you want. You pull it on, the soft fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. You glance in the mirror once more, a smirk curling your lips. Let him see what he’s missing.

“Let’s see who’s too dramatic now,” you mutter, grabbing your purse. The night is still young, and you know exactly where he’ll be. The bar on 5th Street, right near your apartment—his favorite, your least favorite. It always smells like spilled beer and desperation. Fitting, considering that’s where you met him.

Your heels click against the pavement with each determined step outside. You’re buzzing with anticipation, nerves, and spite. It’s like electricity under your skin, the kind that makes your hands shake but your heart pound in excitement. There’s something so satisfying about this, about showing up like this, looking like you don’t give a damn when, really, you give so many. Too many.

You try not to think about what he’ll say when he sees you. You can already imagine his eyebrows shooting up, that condescending smirk tugging at his lips. “What the hell did you do to your hair?” he’d say, because that’s Matthew—always focusing on the superficial, on the surface, never diving deeper. But tonight, you don’t want him to dive. You want him to drown.

The bar looms ahead, its neon sign flickering like some kind of cheap welcome–you know he’ll be here. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open, the familiar smell of alcohol and sweat hitting you like a wave. Your eyes scan the room, searching, until you find him. He’s leaning against the bar, laughing with some girl, unopened Corona in hand. He doesn’t see you at first, but you see him.

Your stomach twists in knots, anger and nerves swirling together. For a brief moment, you wonder if this was a mistake. If you’re being too... well, dramatic. But then his voice from earlier echoes in your head: “I don’t give a fuck about your feelings.”

Your spine straightens, resolve hardening like steel.

You walk toward him, every step feeling like an eternity. He turns, and there it is—his eyes widen, confusion flashing across his face before that stupid smirk settles in. He looks you up and down, taking in the dress, the hair, the new you. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—a twisted satisfaction at the way his mouth hangs open slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say. You arch a brow, waiting for the inevitable comment. He doesn't disappoint.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?”

There it is. Just like you predicted, and somehow, it still stings. Of course, he’d focus on that first. Not the fact that you showed up here looking like a goddamn queen in the dress he hates, not the fact that you’ve changed in a way he can’t even begin to comprehend—no, it’s always the surface with him.

You cross your arms, throwing every ounce of defiance into your stance. “I cut it,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for noticing.”

Matthew’s eyes narrow, his smirk faltering just for a second before he recovers. “Yeah, I noticed. What, you having a meltdown or something?”

There’s the laugh. The one that makes you feel small, like you’re just a joke to him. Your blood boils at the sound, but you force yourself to keep your expression steady, hiding the tremor in your voice as you reply. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending to be the version of me that you liked. Ever think of that?”

He blinks, thrown off by the venom in your words. For a second, you wonder if he’ll apologize, if he’ll say something that softens the sharp edges of this moment. But no. Matthew is Matthew, and his pride won’t let him back down.

“Jesus, you’re really something, huh?” His smirk deepens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes now—something like recognition, like maybe he’s starting to see the version of you he never bothered to notice. The one that’s done waiting for him to care. “You don’t have to get all dramatic about it. We were just having fun, that’s all.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat like a drum, loud and insistent. He’s standing there, smug and arrogant, as if he still holds some kind of power over you. Like you’re a joke. Like you haven’t just hacked off your hair and thrown on the dress that makes you feel like a goddess in defiance of everything he’s ever said.

And yet, despite the burn of his words, you can’t deny the pull. That stupid, magnetic draw that he has over you. You hate it. You hate him. But there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at you now, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. Something you recognize all too well.

“I’m dramatic?” Your voice rises, thick with sarcasm, but the pain seeps through, like a tear you can’t stitch up fast enough. “You’re the one who just broke up with me—or, sorry—broke up with me from the relationship that apparently never existed. So excuse me if I’m a little dramatic, Matthew.”

He leans back against the bar, taking another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. There’s that look again. You know it well—half-annoyed, half-amused, like you’re entertaining him somehow, like this whole mess is just another game to him. His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. "Well, if you're gonna throw a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way, maybe this is for the best.”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the anger bubbles beneath your skin, ready to burst. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s an asshole, that he’ll never deserve you. But the words lodge in your throat, tangled up with the hurt, and instead, all you can do is glare at him. God, you hate him. You hate how he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin, to make you feel small, even now.

But as much as you want to storm out, to prove that you’re better than this, you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, locked in place by the storm brewing between you. The air feels electric, like something is about to snap, and you can feel it—this pull between the anger and something else, something darker and heavier.

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. The smell of his cologne—woodsy, warm—hits you, and it pisses you off even more because it brings back memories you don’t want. Late nights tangled in his sheets, the way his lips felt against your neck, the stupid, tender moments that don’t match this Matthew standing in front of you, smirking like none of it mattered. Like you don’t matter.

“God, you’re such a prick,” you mutter, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. But he hears it. His smirk falters for just a second, and in that moment, you see it—something cracks behind his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh, I’m the prick? That’s rich coming from the girl who’s been throwing herself at me for months,” he fires back, his voice dripping with mockery. His words sting, but you don’t flinch. You’re done letting him hurt you. Not tonight, but then he keeps then talking. “You wanna know why I never saw this as anything more than fun? Because you pull this shit. Every time. You get all clingy and needy, and it’s fucking exhausting."

You stand there, staring at him, his words a knife twisting deeper and deeper into your chest with every syllable. Clingy. Needy. Exhausting. They echo in your head, bouncing around like cruel little taunts, each one sharpening your anger until it feels like it’s going to spill out of you, red-hot and uncontrollable.

Clingy? You’ve been "clingy?"

You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but instead, the sound that escapes you is more of a strangled scoff. How dare he? How dare he act like you’re the problem? Like you’ve been the one hanging on too tight, when all you ever did was try to be close to him. All you wanted was to feel wanted by him, but apparently, that made you exhausting.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, like the world’s closing in on you. Or maybe that’s just your body’s way of processing the tidal wave of rage, hurt, and—goddamn it—desire that’s pulling you in too many directions at once. You can barely think straight, your heart pounding in your ears as his smirk only deepens, like he knows he’s hit a nerve and is more than happy to twist the knife in further.

Exhausting? You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, heating you from the inside out. No, you’re not exhausting—you’re furious.

He has the audacity to stand there, cool as ever, his gaze sliding down your body as if this entire thing is nothing more than a minor inconvenience for him. You want to slap him. You want to scream at him. You want to walk out of this bar and never see him again. But instead, you’re rooted to the spot, because there’s something else simmering beneath the rage—a sick, twisted pull that’s keeping you here, stuck in this toxic mess of a situation, and it’s only getting harder to ignore.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself before you lose it completely. “Clingy, huh? Is that what you call wanting a fucking relationship? Needing someone to actually give a shit about you?”

Your words are sharp, biting, but there’s a tremor beneath them, the anger barely masking the hurt that’s been clawing at you since the phone call. Matthew doesn’t miss it. His eyes flicker, just for a second, like he almost feels bad, but then his expression hardens again, that irritating, cocky grin sliding back into place as if he’s made of stone.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like the world’s ending every time I don’t text you back, we wouldn’t be here,” he retorts, his voice laced with mockery. He takes another step closer, his body towering over you, the heat of him pressing into your space, but you stand your ground, refusing to be the one to flinch first. “You get so goddamn dramatic about everything. I didn’t sign up for that shit.”

His words should make you snap, should make you storm out of this bar with your dignity intact, but instead, you’re frozen. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but not just from anger. No, it’s that stupid, horrible, unbearable attraction. The one that makes you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. The scent of his cologne strengthens, the same one that used to cling to your sheets after he’d sneak out in the morning. The same one that’s tied to every bad decision you’ve ever made where he’s concerned. And God, you hate him for it.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, voice low and tight, but your throat is closing in around the words. “I’ve been throwing myself at you? Right. Like you weren’t the one showing up at my place at two in the morning, wanting to ‘hang out’ when we both know what that meant.”

His smirk falters again, but not for long. He steps even closer, close enough now that you can see the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A spark that you know all too well. The same one that got you into this mess in the first place. You shouldn’t still be here, you shouldn’t still be entertaining this bullshit, but it’s like your body and mind are at war, and your body’s starting to win. Your fists clench at your sides as he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin when he speaks.

“You loved every second of it,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t act like you didn’t. Like you didn’t beg for it.”

That’s it. That’s the final straw. Something inside you snaps, and before you can think better of it, your hand lashes out, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely stumbles, but the shock in his eyes is enough to make you feel a small, fleeting victory. “Fuck you, Matthew,” you spit out, your voice trembling. “I didn’t beg for shit. You’re the one who kept coming back, like some... like some goddamn parasite!”

The second the words leave your mouth, you expect him to snap back, to yell, to argue. But instead, his eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s two seconds away from either tearing into you or kissing you. And you hate that you can’t tell which one you want more.

The air between you is thick, suffocating. You’re breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and he’s right there, barely inches away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. And then, as if some invisible thread snaps between you, he moves.

In an instant, his hands are on you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and before you can protest or even think, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate, angry, a mess of teeth and tongues and heat. You want to push him away, to scream at him, to throw something, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as hard, your body betraying every rational thought in your head. It’s like everything inside you is on fire, all the rage and hurt and lust combusting into one reckless, overwhelming need.

His hands are rough as they grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt as if you’re trying to ground yourself, to keep from getting swept up in the tornado of emotions swirling around you. But it’s no use. You’re already lost in it.

The kiss deepens, and you can taste his signature mint gum on his breath, can feel the urgency in the way he’s touching you, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you as much as you hate needing him right now. Your back hits the bar, and he presses into you, his body solid and warm, and it feels so familiar, so maddeningly familiar that you could scream.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.

But you don’t stop. Neither of you do. Because even though you know this is a bad idea, even though you know you’ll regret this in the morning, right now, it feels like the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping tightly, and you moan into his mouth, your body arching against his. The sound makes him groan, low and rough, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You wanna get out of here, princess?” he whispers, his voice rough, “Or did you want to put on a show for everyone? You were obviously planning on it, with this slutty little thing.” he punctates his last words by snapping your visible bra strap against your shoulder, making you gasp.

Your breath hitches at the sting of his words, but there’s a part of you that thrills at the edge of humiliation, at the way he’s using your vulnerability against you. It’s twisted, but it’s like a key unlocking something deep inside you. You’ve been fighting so hard, trying to stay in control, but with him so close, with him touching you and talking to you like this, everything unravels.

“Get a grip, Matthew,” you manage to snarl, though the tremor in your voice betrays you. “You don’t get to act like you’re above this when you’re the one who dragged me into this mess.”

His eyes flash with something dark, almost predatory. “Dragged you? You came running. Don’t pretend you didn’t want this, didn’t want me to notice you. This whole act—” he gestures vaguely at your dress and hair, “—is just you trying to get me to see you. Well, guess what? I see you. And you know what? I don’t fucking care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you can’t back down now. You’re in too deep, and the anger mixing with your lust makes you reckless. “I don’t need you to care,” you snap, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer. “I just need you to fuck me right now. Show me how much you don’t care.”

His lips are on yours again before you can even think, stealing your breath and your sanity all at once. You hate him for it. God, you hate how easily he can undo you, how quickly he makes you forget why you’re angry in the first place. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you’re kissing him back, harder this time, as if the sheer force of it will somehow knock sense into both of you. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Your body presses up against his, the heat between you almost unbearable, and you can feel him smirking into the kiss, the bastard. You want to wipe that cocky look off his face, but at the same time, you want to see just how far he’s willing to push you. It’s like every nerve in your body is buzzing, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to strip him down and ride him until neither of you can remember your own names. The worst part? You’re not sure which one you’ll end up doing first.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sharp and deliberate, and you gasp, the pain only fueling the fire inside you. "That all you got, princess?" he mutters against your mouth, his voice a low, mocking growl. It’s the same tone that’s always driven you insane, always made you want to throw something at him—and now, it’s making you wet. Great.

You narrow your eyes, wrenching yourself away from his mouth long enough to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, hating how breathless you sound, hating how much you’re giving away with every ragged inhale.

He just grins, the kind of grin that makes you want to slap him, but instead, you find your hand curling into the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. “What, don’t like your cute little nickname? I thought you loved attention, baby.”

“I don’t need your fucking attention,” you shoot back, though the lie burns your throat on the way out. “I just need you to shut up and make yourself useful for once.”

He chuckles darkly, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force, and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin, how quickly he can strip away all the walls you’ve built up around yourself. “Useful, huh?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember you complaining the last time I had you screaming my name.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but you refuse to let him see how much that rattles you. “That was a fluke,” you mutter, though your voice wavers. “Let’s not pretend it meant anything.”

That was a fluke? Did you really just try to sell that lie? The memory of his name leaving your lips—no, leaving your throat in a desperate, pleading gasp—burns behind your eyelids. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the way he pulled sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making. And now, here you are, trying to convince him, and yourself, that it didn’t mean a thing.

Pathetic.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, your throat tight with the effort of holding back all the things you want to say, all the venom you want to spit right in his smug, infuriating face. He’s just standing there, practically vibrating with amusement, like he knows he’s won this round. And that—that’s what sends your anger spiking again, turning into something molten.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “Fluke, huh?” His voice is low, dangerous, and you hate that it sends a ripple of something dark and wanting straight through your core. “So, if I touched you right now—if I slipped my fingers under that pathetic excuse of a dress—I'd find you soaking wet by accident?”

You hate him. You hate him so much, it hurts.

Without thinking, you pull back just enough to whisper, “Let’s get out of here.” Your voice is rough, breathless, and you hate that he’s the reason for it.

His eyes flash with something dark, something feral, and he smirks down at you, his lips swollen and red. “Yeah?” he taunts, his hands still tight on your hips. “You want me that bad?”

You grit your teeth, hating how he twists everything, how he always knows exactly where to hit. “Fuck you,” you bite out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Take me somewhere, or I’ll find someone who will.”

His grip on you tightens dangerously, his eyes flashing with anger and something else, something possessive. “Over my dead fucking body.”

Before you can blink, he’s pulling you away from the bar, his hand gripping yours tightly, practically dragging you through the throngs of people. You stumble after him, your head spinning, your body still buzzing with adrenaline and anger and lust. The music pounds around you, the heat from the crowd suffocating, but all you can focus on is the way his hand feels in yours, the way your heart pounds in your chest like it’s trying to break free.

It’s reckless. It’s insane. And it’s exactly what you need.

The air outside should be cooler–but it’s not. It’s humid, sticky, and uncomfortably warm, Florida summers coming into full effect. The night threatens to swallow you both whole as he hauls you down a side alley, the noise of the club fading but the adrenaline still roaring through your veins. Every step you take feels like it’s leading you further into the eye of the storm, and even though you know there’s no going back now, you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

“What’s the rush?” you sneer, yanking at his hand, though not hard enough to actually break his grip. “Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

He glances back at you, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Nah, princess. I’m just getting us somewhere quiet so I don’t have to listen to your whining while I fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your throat tightens, a hot flush crawling up your neck as you realize where this is headed. A dingy alley behind a club, dimly lit and reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke—this is where it’s going to happen? Your body is screaming at you to care, to turn around and leave, but your legs keep moving forward, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

He pulls you into a narrow alcove, barely wide enough for both of you, and the second you’re tucked inside, he’s on you. His body presses against yours, firm and demanding, and it’s all you can do to keep your knees from buckling as his hands grip your waist like he owns you.

This is ridiculous. How did you end up here? Again. Every damn time. You swore after the last time that you were done—that you wouldn’t let him crawl back into your space, under your skin, and wrap his filthy, bruising grip around your heart. But here you are, yet again, like some stupid moth drawn to the inferno that is Matthew Tkachuk.

You want to shove him away, to scream in his face that you’re not the girl who falls for this. Except, you know better. You are exactly the girl who falls for this. The one who caves when he looks at you with those maddening blue eyes. The girl who lets him wreck her in alleyways behind clubs in the sticky heat of a Florida night, knowing damn well how this will end: messily.

“Still pretending, huh?” His voice rumbles low against your ear, mocking and sharp. He’s pressed so close you can feel every word vibrate through you, igniting your nerves like a lit fuse. "You keep telling yourself you hate this, but you're so fucking obvious. Look at you—" he pauses, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls your body tighter against his, "—practically melting into me. If you were any more desperate, you’d be begging."

The insult should sting. It should make you slap him, curse him out, anything—but instead, a fire blooms in your chest, fierce and hot, because the bastard’s not entirely wrong. And isn’t that just the worst part? He knows how to press every button, dig under your skin like it’s his damn playground, and worse yet, you let him. Every. Single. Time.

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” Your voice is breathless, each word shaky and ragged, but at least you still manage to get them out. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Please. The only reason I’m here is because no one else in this godforsaken place knows how to shut you up.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you regret them—not because you don’t mean it (you do)—but because it only serves to fuel him. That cocky grin spreads across his face, slow and deliberate, like he knows he’s won something. His eyes flicker with amusement, the kind that makes you want to punch him in the throat.

“Shut me up?” he repeats, one brow arching. He leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice low and dripping with arrogance. “Funny, you didn’t seem so eager to shut me up the last time I had you moaning my name loud enough to wake up half the fucking city. So, what’s the plan this time? You gonna play hard to get until you’re dripping for me again?”

Heat rushes to your face, your pulse racing at the way he’s goading you. The memory of that night comes rushing back with startling clarity—the way he made you unravel piece by piece, the sounds he dragged out of you, your body shaking in his hands. No. Not again. You grit your teeth, fighting back the whirlwind of feelings that threatens to consume you.

“God, you really are delusional,” you bite out, shoving at his chest, though it’s mostly for show. His body barely moves under your weak attempt to push him off. “I’m not here because I want you. I’m here because I pity you. You always need someone to tell you what a good job you’re doing, don’t you, Tkachuk? Can’t go five minutes without being validated.”

It’s a low blow, you know it. But you’re playing dirty, because that’s what this is—dirty, ugly, and twisted beyond recognition. His expression darkens for a split second, and you think maybe you’ve gotten through that thick skull of his. But then his grip on your waist tightens painfully, and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall, your back pressing hard against the brick harder, the air punched out of your lungs by the force.

“Oh, I don’t need validation from you, princess,” he snarls, his face inches from yours now. His lips curl in that infuriating smirk, all teeth and malice, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I get that plenty from everyone else. You’re just the one who can’t seem to keep your legs closed when I’m around.”

You hate that his words stirs something in you, some deep, primal urge you’d rather ignore. He can see it too, the way your breath catches, the faint flush that creeps up your neck. Every scathing insult, every venomous remark felt like a bruise that you both pressed harder into because neither of you could seem to stop. And worse, some traitorous part of you doesn’t want to stop. You’re furious—at him, at yourself, at how easily you let him turn you into someone else entirely. Someone who gets off on the ugly, spiteful mess you make together.

But what do you do when that mess feels so fucking good?

Your thoughts swirl, a chaotic storm, as his eyes bore into yours, dark and predatory, daring you to do something—anything. God, how do you always end up here? You swore you were done. You told yourself that the last time he fucked you against a wall like you were something to be used and discarded. You’ve never been able to stay away, though, and the worst part? He knows it.

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, the words tearing from your throat as if that could somehow free you from the pull he has on you. “You think you can talk to me like that and I’ll still—” But your words die in your throat as his hand slides up your side, fingers pushing over the straps of your dress. The sensation makes you jump, a sharp gasp escaping before you can bite it back. Goddamn him.

His lips curve into a wicked grin, eyes narrowing like a predator who’s caught the scent of blood. “Still pretending you don’t like this?” he breathes, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl that rakes over your skin. His other hand trails lower, brushing the inside of your thigh, and your body betrays you—your legs quiver, and he feels it. Of course, he does. “Tell me again how much you hate this,” he mocks, his lips grazing your ear, the words sending a shudder down your spine. “Go ahead. Convince yourself you don’t want my hands all over you right now.”

I hate this. I hate him. You keep repeating it, as if the words could solidify and become truth, as if you could convince your traitorous body to listen. But no matter how hard you try to summon any real anger, all that rises is a wave of heat that feels like it's going to swallow you whole. You feel him smirk against your skin, his breath hot on your neck, and it makes something in you snap.

"God, you're so fucking predictable," you sneer, even though your voice trembles. "Always gotta prove you're the big man, huh? Does it get tiring, being this pathetic?"

You’re trying, trying so hard to dig your heels in, to maintain some sense of power in this wretched game you’ve both played a hundred times before. But you know—he knows—it’s crumbling fast. His hand is already inching higher, under your skirt, rough fingers ghosting along the inside of your thigh, and every ounce of resolve you cling to feels like it's slipping through your fingers.

Don’t react, you tell yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction. But then his fingers brush the edge of your panties, and your whole body jerks involuntarily, a shuddering gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. And there it is. The crack in your armor, the proof that despite all your sharp words, your body is already begging for him.

"Still got that smart mouth, huh?" His voice is velvet laced with venom, a dangerous drawl that makes your skin tingle. "It’s funny, you talk such a big game, but I’m pretty sure I can feel how much you want this. You’re soaked."

His words slam into you, making your cheeks burn with humiliation, but there’s no denying it. You can feel it—the heat pooling between your legs, the dampness that betrays everything you’ve been trying to deny. It’s pathetic, really. How he can reduce you to this, turn you inside out with just a few touches and that goddamn voice.

“I fucking hate you,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again, but the movement is weak, half-hearted. You’re shaking—whether from rage, lust, or some twisted cocktail of both, you don’t even know anymore. But he doesn’t move, not even an inch. Instead, he presses closer, so close you can feel every inch of him against you, hard and insistent.

“Yeah?” His lips curl into a smirk, eyes dark and glinting with amusement. “Funny how hate looks a lot like you grinding on me, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to rethink that?”

Your body answers before your brain can. Without meaning to, your hips roll against him, just a slight shift, but enough to make his breath hitch. And God, the satisfaction that flares in your chest at that tiny victory is intoxicating. But it’s short-lived, because suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are—pressed against a brick wall in the sticky heat of a dimly lit alley, where anyone could walk by at any moment.

Your pulse spikes with a new kind of anxiety. “Wait,” you breathe, suddenly feeling exposed, raw. You push at him again, harder this time. “Not here. Someone could—”

But Matthew doesn’t even blink. If anything, his grin widens, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your ear. “Oh, what’s this? Now you’re getting shy? That’s cute.” His fingers rub your thigh, a deliberate, maddening slowness that makes you want to scream. “Don’t tell me the idea of someone catching us is what’s really got you worked up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a dizzying mix of arousal and panic swirling in your veins. You’ve never been this close to losing control in public before, and the idea of someone seeing you like this—needy, desperate, coming undone under Matthew’s hands—it sends a jolt of fear straight to your core. Although you’d deny it, there’s a tiny part of you, buried deep, that doesn’t hate it.

“Matthew, I’m serious,” you manage, though your voice is strained, shaky. “We can’t—”

“Oh, now you care about getting caught?” he cuts you off, amusement dripping from every word. “Come on, don’t act like this is the first time we’ve done something reckless. Admit it—you like it.” His hand slips underneath your panties, pressing against the heat there, and your knees nearly buckle. “You like knowing someone might see what a filthy mess you are for me.”

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, and it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. His grip tightens, his body pressing harder against yours, pinning you firmly in place. You can feel him—all of him—and it only makes the ache between your legs worse. Your body is betraying you at every turn, no matter how much your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“Filthy mess?” You force out a bitter laugh, your chest heaving, trying desperately to regain some sense of control, but your body is betraying you at every turn. You can feel the wetness between your legs, undeniable, a humiliating testament to just how much he affects you. “Coming from the guy who begged to get his dick sucked the last time? Please. You’re so easy, Matthew. One touch and you’re practically falling apart like a teenager.”

His eyes darken at the insult, that dangerous spark flaring behind them, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. But instead of backing off, he leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, his breath hot and ragged. “Keep running that mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Your pulse quickens, your stomach twisting at the way his words seep into your skin like venom. You hate that he’s right—hate that he knows exactly how to unravel you with just a few touches, a few sharp words. His hand moves again, slipping further down, his fingers sliding over your slick folds, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. It’s involuntary, humiliating, and the satisfaction that flickers in his eyes makes your blood boil.

His fingers press harder, slipping inside you, and a sharp jolt of pleasure surges through you, your knees nearly buckling from the intensity of it. You bite your lip, hard, refusing to let him hear how much it affects you, but the way your body trembles against his tells him everything he needs to know.

His lips curl into a wicked smile as he watches you fall apart, his thumb brushing over your clit with a gentle, almost mocking pressure. The sensation sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you, your knees buckling under the weight of it.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're all bark, no bite. Always talking like you're too good for this, but look at you. Practically fucking yourself on my hand."

Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, your body shaking with the effort to hold back the moans threatening to spill out. The shame and arousal twist together in a tangled mess, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“I fucking hate you,” you spit again, but the words sound weak, hollow. You’re losing this battle, and you know it.

“I know, baby,” he coos, his voice soft and patronizing, fingers curling inside you just right, and fuck, you can feel yourself slipping. “You hate me so much you’re about to come on my hand.”

Your vision blurs, the world around you narrowing down to the feel of his fingers, the press of his body against yours, and the way every filthy, degrading word he speaks sends heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so close, teetering on the edge of something dark and all-consuming, and you know—God, you know—you’re not going to last much longer.

But Matthew isn’t done with you. Not yet.

His free hand slides up your body, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose the curve of your breasts. His mouth is on you in an instant, teeth grazing your skin as he sucks a bruising mark into the delicate flesh. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, a sharp, desperate moan ripping from your throat as your body convulses around his fingers.

“There it is,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he presses you harder against the wall. “There’s my good girl. You can pretend all you want, but this is who you are. Mine.”

The word echoes in your mind, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding, breathless and trembling under the weight of his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, barely able to form the word, your body still trembling. “Fuck, yes.”

You’re still reeling from the orgasm he ripped out of you, your legs barely able to hold you up as Matthew unbuckles his belt with that smug smirk never leaving his face. The sound of the metal clinking should send alarm bells through your mind, but all you can focus on is the throbbing ache between your legs, the way your body is still trembling in the aftershocks of what just happened. You can feel your own wetness on your thighs, sticky and undeniable, and it’s infuriating how much you want him again already.

Your breath is still ragged, and there’s a knot of panic building in your chest as you realize what’s happening next. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before—Matthew getting you worked up, wrecking you with just his fingers or his mouth, then leaving you raw and aching. But this? This is different. It’s so public, so reckless, and you’re spiraling, caught between the shame and the all-consuming need that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

His hands are rough, impatient as he slides the leather through his belt loops, and the sight of him makes something inside you twist. “What, can’t wait to get your hands on me?” He mocks.

“Shut up,” you snap, the words sharp, but your voice is ragged, breathless. You’re trying so hard to hold onto some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through your fingers faster than you can catch it. “Just—do you have a condom?”

For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, you’ve managed to cut through that smug, self-satisfied exterior. His hand stills on his belt, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you, and then he snorts, a low, condescending sound that makes your stomach twist. “A condom? Really?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks, voice dripping with arrogance. “I don’t give a fuck.”

You blink, taken aback by how blunt he is. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to push him away, to tell him to go to hell, but the rest of you—the messy, broken part that always falls for his shit—is already caving. There’s something dangerous about the way he says it, like he knows you won’t stop him. And God, isn’t that the worst part? He’s right.

“Of course, you don’t,” you hiss, trying to muster up some semblance of dignity even as your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought of what’s coming. “But we both know you don’t want me to have your demon babies.”

His laugh is low, dark, and filled with derision. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers working the zipper of his pants. “You’re still going to let me fuck you raw in this goddamn alley, though.”

Your mouth opens to protest, to tell him he’s wrong, that you’re not some pathetic, needy thing desperate for his attention, but the words die in your throat when his hand slips back under your skirt, gripping your thigh and hooking your leg around his hip–then pushing your panties to the side. You bite back a moan, your body trembling with the need for more, and the smug look on his face tells you he knows exactly how close you are to breaking again.

Before begin to think anything else, he’s lining himself up, his breath hot against your skin, and without warning, he thrusts into you, hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt. The sharp, overwhelming sensation rips through you, a gasp tearing from your throat, and for a moment, all you can feel is him—filling you, stretching you, claiming every inch of space you swore you wouldn’t give him again.

It hurts. It always does with him, at first—he’s too rough, too insistent, too much—but you’ve always liked the pain, haven’t you? That’s the sick, twisted truth of it. The burn, the way he takes without asking, the way he knows exactly how to push you to the brink—it all leaves you breathless, dizzy with need.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, anything, but you’re unraveling, piece by piece. His hips slam into yours with a brutal, unrelenting pace, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the narrow alleyway. You can feel the dampness of your sweat mixing with the sticky night air, your skin slick against his, and it’s filthy. All of it. Filthy and wrong, but God, it feels so good.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you spit out between breaths, voice trembling from the force of his hips slamming into yours. His pace is punishing, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help the way your nails dig deeper into his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Matthew grunts in response, his breath ragged against your neck. His lips skim over your ear, and his teeth nip at your skin, making you shiver despite the oppressive heat. “Says the girl getting fucked against a wall like a desperate little slut.” He’s ruthless with his words, throwing them like knives that slice straight through you, but the sharpness only spurs you on.

You bare your teeth and bite down hard on his shoulder, not holding back, feeling the satisfaction of his skin giving way beneath your teeth. It’s a desperate, feral reaction—your body’s twisted way of regaining some control. He hisses, his muscles tensing as your bite sends a shockwave through him. You know it hurts, and you want it to. You want him to feel a fraction of the chaotic mess he’s making of you.

But it only makes him rougher.

His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back hard enough that it stings. “Oh, you like playing rough now, huh?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous. His grip tightens painfully on your leg as he slams into you harder, forcing you to choke on your next breath. “Biting me, clawing me like a desperate little whore—pathetic. You’re just pissed ‘cause you know how much you want this.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you lie, gasping as another wave of pleasure courses through you, your body responding despite your brain screaming at you to stop. It’s pathetic, truly—how your body betrays you, how you’re falling apart in his hands, coming undone at the same pace that he’s pulling you tighter against him.

He laughs, breathless and cruel. “Liar.” His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, and you’re instantly undone by the sensation, your hips bucking against his despite yourself. “You’re squeezing me so tight, it’s like you’re trying to keep me inside you.” The smugness in his voice makes you want to slap him, but you can’t even think straight, not with his body driving into yours, his fingers working you over like you’re nothing but a puppet on strings.

Your response is unintelligible, more of a broken moan than actual words. You try, desperately, to hold on to some part of yourself, to remember who you are beneath all this anger and lust, but it’s slipping, unraveling with each thrust, with each word he spits at you. Your nails drag down his back again, harder this time, drawing a hiss from his throat, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter.

“You can keep trying to hurt me, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough, “but it just makes you tighter for me. Keep going—I can take it.”

You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to stop the sounds that are escaping you. The alleyway feels suffocating, the heat of the night clinging to your skin, making everything feel more intense, more raw. The smell of sweat and sex mingles in the air, and you’re hyperaware of every sound—the way your bodies slap together, the wetness between your legs, the soft, desperate gasps that you can’t control.

“You’re going to regret this,” you manage to say, your voice trembling as you try, for the millionth time, to regain some semblance of control. It’s a weak threat, and you both know it. Matthew’s grin stretches wider, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“I’ve never regretted a thing with you,” he growls, his pace quickening. He’s relentless now, hips snapping into you with a force that makes your head spin, his thumb working over your clit faster. "Keep biting, sweetheart," he says through a tight grin, his pace never faltering, "I’ll make you scream for it."

And God help you, you do. Every thrust has you trembling, gasping, barely able to think beyond the white-hot pleasure searing through you. It’s too much, too fast, but you can’t stop yourself—you’re pushing against him, meeting every punishing stroke like you’re trying to match him in this sick, twisted game of dominance.

Your breath hitches, your body arching against his as that familiar, unbearable pressure starts to build low in your belly. You can feel it—feel yourself slipping, unraveling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. His name slips from your lips, ragged and broken, and you want to hate yourself for how desperate you sound.

"Already?" he taunts, his voice low and dripping with condescension. "Didn’t take long this time, did it? Always so damn easy for me."

"Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper, because he’s right. You’re already falling apart around him, your body betraying you in the worst possible way.

"Too late for that," he growls, thrusting into you harder, and the sharp slap of his hips against yours sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. "You’re already fucked, baby."

And that’s when it happens. That tight, coiling knot inside you snaps, and you fall—hard. Your whole body clenches, thighs shaking as a violent orgasm tears through you, your head tipping back against the brick wall as a choked, guttural moan rips from your throat. You’re shaking, barely able to breathe, and he doesn’t stop. Not even for a second.

Matthew’s grip tightens on your hips, bruising, and he’s still moving, driving into you with a brutal intensity that makes your whole body ache. "God, you’re such a fucking mess," he mutters, his voice rough and breathless, and you can hear the strain in his tone, the way his own release is close, just out of reach.

Your fingers scramble against his back, your nails raking down the muscles there in a desperate attempt to hold on to something solid as your mind spirals. You can feel the raw scratches your nails leave behind, but it’s not enough—it’s never enough to satisfy the gnawing need to make him feel this too. You can feel him, hard and throbbing inside you, and somewhere in the haze of it all, you hear him grunt, low and rough. “Where do you want it, huh?” His voice is breathless, but there’s still that edge of arrogance in it. “Tell me. Where should I come?”

You should tell him to pull out. You should tell him you’re not that stupid, that you know better. But the words that come out of your mouth aren’t the ones you intended.

“Inside,” you gasp, before you can stop yourself. “I don’t care. Just—fuck, Matt, do it. Please.”

His eyes darken at your words, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, his grip on your hips tightening as he slams into you one more time, burying himself deep. With a rough, guttural groan, he lets go, his body tensing as he spills inside you, the warmth flooding your core in a way that makes your already oversensitive body shudder.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you breathing hard, the sticky heat of the night settling back in around you. You’re still pressed against the wall, your legs trembling, his body heavy against yours, and for a second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’ll say something that makes this less horrible. Maybe he’ll apologize or admit that this is as fucked up for him as it is for you.

"Need a ride home?" he asks, his tone almost casual, like he’s offering you a lift after a night out with friends and not after he just fucked you against a wall without even a second thought.

You blink at him, still too stunned to answer right away. "Are you serious?" you snap, your voice laced with disbelief. "After everything, that’s what you say?"

He shrugs, unbothered by your tone. "What? You wanna walk?" His eyes flick over you, taking in the disheveled state of your dress, your mussed hair, and the bruises already forming on your hips. "Thought you might want to clean up a little before you try to get into an Uber looking like that."

The nerve of him, acting like this was nothing, like he didn’t just wreck you in every possible way. "You’re such a piece of shit," you hiss, shoving him hard in the chest, though it feels more like an afterthought than anything else. You’re drained, physically and emotionally, but of course, Matthew doesn’t care.

He just laughs, low and dark, brushing off the shove like it’s nothing. "Yeah, well, you still let me fuck you, so what does that make you?"

You hate him. You hate him so much you can barely breathe through the anger, but all you can do is be dragged by him out of the alley, with a promise of nothing.

[pedge-page]

i keep imagining dom!reader with piss kink omg 😋

Thirsty!

Joel Miller x Dom F!Reader

Notes: idk if this is what you're looking for but I'm saving my other other dom(ish) reader with PK joel for the big PK4. Also I'm not a fan of piss drinking but I'm testing it here to see If you little freaks like it.

Warnings: piss kink, piss drinking, dom!reader, sub!Joel, pissing pants, watersports, face riding

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You knew Joel had to take a leak the second you two got home from your date.  With only one bathroom, you ran straight to the toilet, pulled your jeans down your ass and sat on the porcelain seat.

"Fuck baby. Seriously?" Joel asks, a little breathless from shaking his leg all the drive home.

You shrug. He practically shivers at the way you smirk, eying him all the way down slowly to the tightness of his crotch. His legs were a little jittery, crossing slightly in an awkward position.

But then he hears the slight hissing and splatter of your urine leaking your body and into the toilet. He moans, gripping his crotch hard. Out of desperation not to go, or trying to contain his errection, maybe both.

"Mmm that's better," you hum, letting him listen and watch you take your time relieving yourself.

"Shit—shit—oh—baby—" he grunts, wanting to tune you out but unwilling to.

You smile wickedly when a quickly growing wet patch spreads like wildfire along his dick print, dampening his jeans and down his legs.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," he sighs loudly, a little too sexually. Head thrown back with eyes closed as he urinates his pants. A generous puddle of his own yellowed piss drips from the cuffs of his jeans and on the tile floor.

"Awww Joel, so naughty. Big boys don't pee their pants," you tut. You stand up and flush, but kick your panties off entirely. You approach him, hips swaying and cunt on full display, still a little wet from your earlier tinkle.

"I want to ride your face. Right now."

-

You're practically waterboarding the poor fucker.

You've got him pinned under the weight of your body, thighs suffocating him as you grind down on his delicious little face.

"Are you my little piss thirsty boy?"

He just grunts from between your folds. Each deep inhale is directly from your cunt, makikg him feel dizzy trying to find the little oxygen.

There's just some remnant of your urine from earlier. It's only enough to remind him of the taste of your juices when you occasionally squirt as he gies down on you.

"You want the real thing, don't you?"

He grunts again.

You giggle, the vibration rocking his little skull against the floor. You couldn't really interpret if it's a yes or no, not that you'll give him an opportunity to speak.

He can feel your fingers through his hair, soft and soothing before you're fisting tightly.

"Here we go!"

He opens his jaw wide against your entire slit, and soon you're flooding his mouth with warm piss.

It's bitter and salty, burns in his throat all the way up his nostrils unlike anything else. And he can't spit it up, can't spit it away. It's terrible, blisteringly disgusting on his tongue. You force  it until his cheeks are bulging, and he chokes, body desperately rejecting and spitting before having no choice but to swallow. Every fiber in him is telling him to refuse the bile in his stomach, but fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Another gulp of your sour fluid down his gullet and he's gripping your thighs tighter, and burrying his tongue deeper, chugging and swallowing what he can.

"Ha! You really were thirsty! You're so greedy, Joel."

It spills down his chin as his esophagus rejects the salty taste but he forces it down anyway like forbidden hunger.

You get up briefly, and he sputters up the hot liquid, choking over and gasping. He licks his lips of the ammonia.

"Do you like it, baby?" You ask.

He rolls you over to your back, his hunking shoulders spreading your legs wide. You feel his hot tongue lap at your folds, rolling over your clit like a masseuse with little mlem sounds. He humps the floor, still wet and cooling in his pee-ruined pants while his tongue lazily dips in to your hole.

He opens his mouth wide, tongue out. You part your folds with two fingers in a V. "Oooo good boy good boy!" You praise. You clench your lower tummy and squirt out some more liquid gold, shooting messily on to his tongue. It drips down his chin and onto the floor.

"You're wasting it," you seeth. "Lick it all up."

You lean up to see him between your legs, refusing to miss how quickly he obeys and licks your warm honey off the tiles.

"You're a filthy fucking slut, Joel Miller. You'd do anything for my piss, wouldn't you?"

He hums into your slit, nodding as his tongue prods your hole again and fucks you, curling upward and suckling your clit, cleaning all the remnants of your filth.

His lidded eyes just begging for more.

- - - -

Permanent taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96

[oneshlut]

Could you possibly do some hcs for Jax with a s/o that's a tsundere at times and he finds their reactions to his teasing amusing? (If you don't know what that is defined as a term used to describe a person or character who swings between emotionally hot and cold, in particular when dealing with a love interest. Especially used to describe someone who is usually cold or cranky but occasionally shows a soft, kind, mushy side.)

A/N: yesyes! i know how much you folks love flirty/teasing jax, and i am here to feed you all. eat up my little weirdos😋

Lovingly Hated (Jax x Tsundere!Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: Headcanons of a flirty Jax with a tsundere S/O, how Reader reacts to his teasing

Oh, when I say he makes fun of you, he makes fun of you. Nothing amuses him more than making you mad, irritated, or just generally pushing buttons. I feel like we've gone over this many times before, but yes, he's a total asshole. Never too mean to you, though.

When he eventually gets with you, (how that happened is another story), he realizes you get irritated not just by him being a dick. Rather, being the opposite. Seems like you get flustered by just the slightest bit of flirting. And he teases you relentlessly.

Jax is always up for good comedy. Why not make his own? To him, you're his own personal amusement. Yes, he still views you as a person, with feelings and all that jazz. But he's not just about to pass up this opportunity. After all, you just looked so cute, getting all flushed and defensive.. he couldn't help himself!

So, despite your many protests, he continued to tease you. Even if you stated how much you hated him, and even told him to his face how huge of an asswipe he was, the slightest glint of a dorky grin gave it all away. Jax could see through you like glass.

On this subject, he never gets hurt at your remarks or denying of feelings. Again, he can see right through you, so putting up a facade in front of him is a bad idea unless you want to be joked about it to your grave. Honestly, Jax finds himself enlightened at the scowling look on your face, because he knows--even as much as you try to refuse it--you love him. And here returns the strange feeling in his digital stomach.

Will call you cute little nicknames just to see your reaction. Some examples being: Sweetheart, Cutie, Sugar, Love/Lovely, Sunshine or Sunflower, Angel, all that jazz. And yet, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Though, one that Jax notices that you favor, is Darling. He makes sure to use that one more than the others. His personal favorite, though, is sweetheart. It always seems to make you stumble.

If nothing else, you were one of Jax's favorite people. That thought made you lightweight. But, god, if you ever admitted you enjoyed his company, you wouldn't hear the end of it. You hardly ever showed him your mushy-gushy side, since you had hated getting so open and vulnerable. Normally, when you did eventually get soft, he had teased you about it. But he knows when and when not to joke about things with you.

Sometimes? He's completely incapable to joke. If you're irritated and tough part of you managed to slip away, and you had told him how you genuinely loved him in a heartfelt way.. Jax would crash.

Jax is more of someone to give affection rather than take it, so if you hugged him, held his hand, or, you know.. kissed him, he wouldn't be able to handle it and would just freeze up on the spot. But, of course, Jax still teased you about it afterwards.

Days will go by where you just fight back and forth like children. You'd deny your feelings for him, and he'd tease you about it. Over and over and over again. Kind of like a 'nuh-uh', 'yeah-huh' situation.

Jax himself doesn't like to get sentimental. If he's gonna show you in any way that he likes you, he's gonna do it by flirting playfully until you get sick of it and just say you like him. He'll say something like: 'Don't worry, I like ya too', then walk away, leaving you slightly befuddled and warm.

He may tease and flirt all the time, but know that Jax genuinely loves you. He loves the way you fight and tease back, he loves your reactions, he loves everywhere that you go. Not like he'd admit it or anything.

But, if there's anyone you're gonna get with, I'd be surprised if you choose Jax. Because believe me, around here, Valentines Day is treated like another April Fools.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi Ms Bonny

So I remembered you said no one sends asks for the ilysib couple anymore, and I just had this idea last night but didn't have the energy to pick up my phone again💀

Okay so, basically kookie shaves his head right, maybe for the weather or his hair was damaged or I don't know really I'll need your creative mind for that part👀 and he becomes a little self conscious and oc comforts him by saying he's still😋 and he doesn't believe her. So she takes him out on a date and like before, everyone is looking at him and basically building his confidence back up.

PS I really hope you get this ask because I've sent some for this couple before and it was never answered

Tumblr sometimes eats asks, I'm so sorry :(

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's avoiding you- and that's just so not your Jungkookie.

You thought everything was going well between the two of you- but apparently something must've happened to make him so withdrawn again, refusing to see you, refusing to meet up, refusing to show himself. You're not sure what's wrong-

But you're about to find out.

"You know, I'll just camp outside then, I don't care!" You threaten, sitting in front of his apartment door, stubborn as ever- when his voice is finally heard.

"You'll laugh." He whines, before you can hear something slide along the door before it falls to the floor with a thud- he's probably sat down on the other side of the door. "You'll.. I look stupid." He says.

"Did you dye your hair or something?" You ask, and he's quiet, making you angry. "Jeon Jungkook you could've buzzed it all off and well full on Vin Diesel on me what do I care! Are you serious right now?!" You get up to knock on the door and right his doorbell again. "Open that goddam door, I'm worried about you, nerd!" You cry out again, even stomping your leg in anger.

"No, I'm.. I'm fine. Just.." he stumbles over the words, clearly panicking.

"I'm sorry." You say, and it's quiet. "I.. I'm sorry if my constant joking has gone too far at some point, if I made you feel like.. self conscious or something, I swear I never wanted to do that." You confess, feeling terrible. This must be your doing, right? It has to be your fault. Because you're insensitive as fuck, and you can't read a room, and you got way too comfortable with him and-

The door opens. He stands in front of you, beanie on his head.

"Its.. it's not your fault." He tells you. "You didn't do anything." Jungkook mumbles, and you can't help yourself.

You basically tackle the poor guy, door falling out of his grip and closing behind you, making you successfully infiltrate his home. He holds you because he's missed you too- he hates the fact that he couldn't have you this close for days by now, no physical contact with you whatsoever, no visual sight of you. It felt like torture-

But he just feels like he can't face you.

"Why are you doing this?" You whine, tears clear in your eyes, making your eyelashes already heavy with them. You're not even wearing makeup today, he notices. This must've really gotten to you.

You're still so pretty.

"What happened?" You worry, and he begins to bite his lips, a nasty habit he has whenever he's nervous. "Jungkook.." you say his full name, no variation of it, no silly petname.

He knows it's serious.

"I.. look stupid." He confesses. "I.. had an accident, a few days ago, in the bathroom." He sighs, sitting down on his couch with you, while you listen. "I slipped when I stepped out the shower, and hit.. my head on the edge of one of the cabinets.."

"Oh Jungkookie-" you whine.

"And- and they had to like.. cause my hair was so long they couldn't stitch it without, you know, shaving it, and it looked dumb when I came home so I thought might as well buzz it all off-"

You're quiet, staring at him.

"Are you okay now?" You ask, oddly serious.

"Yeah, they kept me overnight to make sure I was fine-" he answers, before you shove him, hard, angry.

"You stupid idiot!" You scold. "You're so dumb! What the fuck?!" You complain, angry tears in your eyes. "What the hell do I care about your hair?! You could've died or something, and all you thought about was how you could look to me? Am I that shallow to you?" You ask him, and he shakes his head.

He deserves this. You're right.

"No.." he denies, taking the scolding like a dog that's being told off. "No you're not. I just.. felt weird. Like I'm not.. fit for you anymore. You should have a nice looking boyfriend and all that, and you always said how you love my hair-"

"I love you most!" You whine, leaning forward to climb on his lap, and cling to him. "I love you, not your body. That's just.. that's just the only thing I can touch, so I want you to take care of it.." you explain into his chest. "..so it'll be here for as long as possible.. until we're all wrinkly and old.."

"Oh." He hums, realizing what you mean.

He's never thought about it that way. But you're right- he doesn't love your body first and foremost either, but you- your personality, your soul, your mind. Your body is simply the vessel you live in, and he'd want you to keep it up and running for as long as he's alive too.

"I'm sorry." He confesses. "I'll never do that again."

"I sure dare you to, I swear I'm gonna break in next time!" You threaten, letting him dry your tears before your hands reach for his beanie. "..can I see it?" You wonder, and he looks down, shrugging.

"I guess." He confirms.

The moment you skip his hat off, you search for something- finding the small stitched wound near the tip of his ear, making you immediately coo at it, fingers carefully touching it. "Does it still hurt?" You wonder- and he shakes his head.

"Just a little, if I lay on it or something." He admits.

"Oh my baby-" You whine, before you rub his head. "This feels weird though. How is it still soft?" You wonder, taking the pressure away from the situation, making him laugh. "And you honestly rock this look. Now you really do look like a guy who can throw a punch."

"..I can and will, for you." He mumbles, making you laugh again.

"Heh, and I lo~ove you for it!" You sing a little, kissing his nose before you kiss his lips a couple of times, cheeks held in your hands.

And he can't believe he's been living without this for just a week.

He never wants to miss you ever again.

[ciel-yuu]

Hello!

I really loved the last post that you posted "Can I draw on you?" And I was wondering if you could draw it for Diavolo too..

You can ignore this if you don't feel like writing, I don't mind! 🙀🫶🫶

Don't forget to drink lots of water, and know that you are loved 😋💞

Hello! Thank you for your lovely greetings ^^ I don't mind writing it because I plan to write for the side characters too so dont worry :D I hope you enjoy this version too, have a nice day! o(≧▽≦)o

--

"Can I draw on you?"

Scenery: You have a habit of drawing doodles on your notes or sometimes your hands when you get bored. One day while you're sitting next to him, you get bored and after turning both of your arms into paintings full of random doodles, you start to turn your attention to his arms. And so after a while of staring you decide to ask him. "Can I draw on you?"

Pairing: Side character x gn!reader. Warning: None

==

Diavolo

He invites you to visit him at the student council office after he's finished his day's paperwork and has been given Barbatos permission to rest for a while.

"Hmm? Draw on me? What is that?"

He doesn't understand what you mean because the idea of drawing something on him makes him think more about makeup or tattoos. Seeing this you extend your hands so he can see the colorful little drawings on it and explain how you like to do doodles in various places.

Extremely excited and agreed to let you do it with a big smile on his face. Watching you draw cute little drawings on his hand attentively because he has never seen this before and no one dares to do this with him.

Take a picture and send it to Barbatos and Lucifer's chat group to brag all week.

Enchanting the drawings so they don't fade despite Barbatos' objections to keeping the image of a prince, he promises not to pull up his sleeves and reveal the drawings in public so Barbatos couldn't force him any further.

Let you draw on him whenever you want. Also wanted to draw on you and was extremely happy when you agreed.

Barbatos

You visit him after he ask you to came over to try the new cake he just created. He's fixing the recipe after you've tried it so it can be perfect, he wants you to try the best.

"Hmm? Do you really want to do it now?" nodding with puppy eyes "Haiz, I'll take this as your reward for coming to help me try the cake today then."

Smiling helplessly at your request but not refusing, he loves that you enjoy doing things with him.

Hold out one hand for you so you can get creative with the pens on his arm, while he perfectly do all the baking steps with one hand and his tail. He was used to getting multi job done at once as a butler, working with one hand was not something new to him.

Compliment your work once you're done with a gentle smile and decide to decorate some cookies in your drawing style as a gift.

Also enchant your work so it doesn't fade and enjoy looking at it as he does errands by himself. It makes him feel like you're with him.

(Of course no one knows this because he is also covered from head to toe like Lucifer.)

Will always let you draw on him every time you ask no matter how busy he is, he always has time in his busy schedule for you.

Simeon

You visit him in the Purgatory Hall during a group study session or, more accurately, you are the one studying while he is finishing a manuscript for his latest work. It makes him feel more motivated to write, especially when you're with him.

"Draw on me? Of course, here."

He holds out his non-dominant hand to you with a gentle smile and goes back to writing. Simeon doesn't mind you wanting to use his hand for something, sometimes you hold his hand or fall asleep on his shoulder during your time with him so it doesn't make him feel inconvenience or anything.

After finishing the work he carefully looks at your lovely works in his hands and gives you many compliments for them. He especially likes the doodle of a puppy with a beret because he knows you drew it after Luke.

Also took a picture and sent it to Lucifer to show off but his photographic ability was of course not very good so Lucifer didn't understand it at first until he explained what it was.

Keeps your work perfect for a few days and doesn't mind showing it off, he even took off his gloves so it wouldn't be hidden.

Alway let you do it again everytime you want, he sometimes asks you to draw the demon brothers on his hand to tease them.

Solomon

You are in Solomon's room after completing another sorcerer study with him. Solomon is currently researching an ancient book for a new experiment, he just found it so he's excited to try it out.

"Drawn on me? Like on your hand?" Nod. "Hmm… Okay, how could I refuse a request from my lovely apprentice."

He agrees with an amused smile and then holds out a hand to you so you can do whatever you like. Actually usually his hands will have a lot of pact marks on it so he always wears long sleeves but since you wanted to draw he purposely made it disappear so you have room to do it.

Pretend to keep reading, but he's actually still staring at you as you continue to doodle on his hand. Giggle when he sees you draw a picture of him with a star wand beating little demons.

Compliment your drawings with a hint of teasing and say that he and you are now has matching drawing on hands like a couple.

Showing off to everyone with a smirk, especially the demon brothers to the point where Mammon almost bit off his arm.

Allows you to draw on him whenever you want, especiall like it when you draw it similar to the drawings on your hand at the time.

==

master list | the demon brothers ver | thank for reading ^^!

[jesterofcringe]

hellooo!! It is I, the totally not suspicious anon❗️❗️ may I humbly request Caregiver Lottie helping a little one who has tantrums? Throwing toys in such. Maybe because reader has to go to bed? ty!!!!!!!! :3

Cranky Kiddo Caregiver!Lottie x Little!Reader

anon i could not be happier to write this for you ive been having the craziest cg!lottie brainrot omfg :3 also again sorry this took forever,, finals and everything but im finally done!! so fics will prob come out faster from now on 😋 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★You had a bit of a tendency to bottle up your emotions. It was a huge problem and you knew that. You honestly were working on it because you hated when you had your mini outbursts, but you couldn't help but to have a little tantrum from time to time. 'One step forward, three steps back' you called it though 'gradual progression' was the term Lottie liked to use for it instead.

★You were really happy to have her. She was so patient and calm anytime you had one of your little meltdowns. You always anticipated anger that never came, instead being greeted by gentle words and soft hands.

★One of your strategies for tackling your frustration was coloring. To be fair, it wasn't exactly your idea, more of Lottie's suggestion. Whenever you had a crappy day you drifted off and drew a little picture until your frustrations melted away with the crayon you dragged across the page.

★"Can you come to the table and finish eating please? You can play after."

★Of course, you didn't really like discussing when you had a bad day, so it wasn't Lottie's fault that she didn't know that's what you were doing as she called you to come eat. But that didn't matter because you were little, and frustrated, and holding a box of crayons.

★"Darling? Your food is getting cold-"

★One simple request. Lottie had given you one simple request. And for that you decided it was appropriate to introduce her face to the box of crayons you had in your hands.

★She didn't have nearly enough time to react as you chucked it at her. She brought her hand up to block her face too late as the box exploded like a firework, crayons scattering every which way. She stood a bit shocked for a brief pause, before sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb.

★You were fully prepared for her to be angry, but instead her expression softened and she sat on the ground to meet your eye level.

★"Rough day today, huh?" You didn't respond, but she nodded with understanding as if you had, "You still need to eat love, you might feel better when you do-"

★"I don't wanna!"

★Lottie hummed for a moment, considering this, "You can eat in here if you like?"

★"I..."

★"Just have to be careful, you don't wanna mess up you're drawing. It looks so good so far :)"

★You immediately softened up at her compliment, "You think so?"

★"Of course!" She stood up, ruffling your hair as she did, "I'm gonna get your food, stay here ok?"

★Lottie always knew the right words to help you settle down when you got yourself a little worked up. And it wasn't always her words, it was in her actions too. She knew all the right buttons to push to get you to settle down, even when you were being obnoxiously stubborn and absolutely refusing to let her in.

★"Baby c'mon, a quick bath won't kill you."

★You were less moody, more absolutely determined to not get in the bath. You knew what a bath meant; it meant settling down for the night, which meant bedtime. You were not a fan of bedtime, not when you had so many important things to do, like play with your stuffies and finish watching bluey.

★"Five more minutes."

★"You've been saying that for the part forty five."

It was like a verbal tug of war, with Lottie trying to convince you to go, and you asking for another five minutes. You knew you were winning based on how her eyelids drew heavy and she started to yawn more and more frequently. She was a sleepy person in general, let alone how late it was. If you could just keep this up, she was bound to pass out and leave you to do your own thing.

★"Darling I promise it will be fast-"

★"Nooooooo."

★"Baby,"

★"No!"

★She grumbled, and you could tell you were getting to her, "Don't be a brat-"

★ D:< "Don't call me that!"

★You hated being called a brat, and in her sleepy haze she must've forgotten that. Or maybe she decided to try name calling in an attempt to get a leg above you. Either way, you didn't appreciate it.

★You pouted and turned away from her to break eye contact. Although, after a short beat, something floated through your field of vison. A bubble, gently drifted past you. Your eyes grew wide as you watched it float past, more bubbles parading behind it. You pawed at them, grinning to yourself as they popped, before turning around to locate their source. You aren't quite sure why you were so surprised to see it was Lottie, but you reached out and gestured for her to give you the bottle.

★"Oh, you want these?" you nodded quickly, and she kind of giggled to herself, "You can have them... in the bath."

★The BETRAYAL.

★You turned to look away from her again, as more bubbles gently floated past, some popping on your skin and leaving little wet circles as reminders.

★You wanted them so badly.

★You tried to take the bottle from her, but she jerked her arm up and held them where you couldn't reach. You whined and tried to pull her arm down.

★"Darling these are all yours the second you get in the bath."

★Another thing you hated was letting her win, but you kind of had to admit, the bubbles sort of took priority here.

★"...fine >:("

[ravennaortiz]

37, 31, 35, 1, 17, 13 with Happy (shocking, I know! 😋)

Angst with a happy ending. He cheats, doubles down, but eventually realizes he's a complete idiot and goes to grovel.

Make it hurt before you make it better!

You want a Happy story?!??! ( LOL) .Mam! The way you have me clutching my pearls with this one! Though my brain has the perfect idea for this! I left it a bit open for interpretation at the end. As always 18+.

Prompts

37. who was that?

31. Jealous?

35. Don't touch me

You hate me

17. I love you

13. I promise

Stepping out

"Thanks again for picking me up Tig" you stated as you followed him into the clubhouse. "Not a prob-" started Tig before he caught sight of Happy making out with a blonde on of the couches. Stopping short he tried to usher you back out the door but it was too late. Your eyes had already clocked your husband. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched him stand up and carry her back to the dorms. No doubt in your mind what his next move was going to be.

"I'm so sorry" murmured Tig as he moved nervously from foot to foot desperately wishing Chibs or someone else was here. "No need to apologize. You're not the one cheating on your healing wife" you replied as you blinked back the hot tears. You refused to be further humiliated today. "Let him know I'm waiting outside" you stated as you carefully walked outside to sit at one of the picnic tables.

Too think that he could so easily throw away ten years of love and memories was unimaginable to you. The tears poured hot and fast as you waited for him. You had stayed loyal for every lockup, run and hospitalization. The thought of stepping outside the vows you had written each other never crossed your mind. You had always thought of him as the stronger one of you two. Obviously you were wrong since he couldn't even handle your going through a hysterectomy and chemo without going to get his dick wet in someone else's pussy.

You had shouldered the diagnosis alone for the most part. Happy had gotten distant right around the time the doctors said your chances were slim for survival and if they did manage to get it all irradiated you would never bear your own children. That had ripped through you worst than the cancer diagnosis. The two of you had been so close to a little bundle of joy four times. Each time ripped away due to club bullshit.

By the time Happy was standing in front of you anger had completely taken over. "Who was that?" you snapped as you watched the woman tear out of the clubhouse and to her car. "Why? Jealous she knows how to please a man?" replied Happy as he crossed his arms and stared you down. Your harsh laugh shocked you both before the sound of your hand across his face echoed in both your ears. Without another word you stormed off.

Happy stood watching you go. His cheek stung as did his heart. "Docs told her she was all clear. All she talked about on the drive from Lodi was how excited she was to tell you" stated Tig from the clubhouse door as he lit a cigarette. "You know your an idiot right?" questioned Tig as Happy pushed past him back into the clubhouse.

Four days later

"I told you to get your shit and leave" you snapped as Happy stepped into the house bypassing his belongings on the porch. "I just want to talk" stated Happy as he stood in front of you his eyes full of sadness. "Literally nothing to talk about Hap. I'm done. I wont sit here like Gemma, Donna and Tara and be made a full of by a scumbag man" you stated your eyes ablaze with an anger he had seldom seen in the years you two had been together.

"Please" pleaded Happy as he reached out to you. "Don't touch me!" you screamed as you knocked his hand away. "You don't deserve that privilege anymore." you continued as you balled your fist at your side. Happy shrank back some before tuning his eyes down to the floor. "You hate me. I understand" he whispered as tears pooled in his eyes. He had not only lost the battle but the war as well. "No. I love you still and that is so much worse than hating you." you replied your own voice cracking with emotion.

Neither of you spoke for several minutes. Happy finally nodded and got on his knees in front of you. "I promise it will never happen again. I also promise you that was the first time it has even happened. I was scared of losing you." pleaded Happy as he looked up at you with tears streaming down his face. "I think its best that you lose me for awhile Happy" you stated as you stepped around him and exited the house.

Want more Happy? Click here

Want to see how to make your own request? Click here

[jewbeloved]

hi there, love your writing! would you be willing to write main 4 + clyde, where they’re hanging out with their crush late at night, and their crush falls asleep on them?

Team Stan + Clyde hanging out with their s/o at night🌃😴🌌❤️

Warnings: None

Gender: Neutral

💙 Stan Marsh ❄️

Learning to go on crazy adventures and some mischievous things with the boys, you texted Stan if you both could hang out at midnight.

Stan agreed, quality time is one of his love languages and he wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to spend time with you <3❤️

You both made sure your parents (or siblings) were asleep before you guys started your midnight crazy fun.

You guys played video games down in the basement, tp a teacher's house because she pissed you both off, pillow fights, and etc.

You were having so much fun that you ended up falling asleep while rambling about everything you both did together.

Stan blushed a bit and he didn't know what to do so he just stayed still while you sleep on him before drifting to sleep himself after a while. 💙💙💙💙💙💙

💚 Kyle Broflovski ♻️

He was a bit annoyed and confused on why you called him at midnight. The boy just want his beauty rest >:C

Being stubborn, you climbed up the tree that was near his window and jumped onto his bed because, in south park. The windows are always opened 😋

Kyle made a pouty face while you refuse to get out of his room. But you know that he's secretly happy that you're here, why wouldn't he enjoy your presence?

So you guys ended up doing the fun ideas you had planned for this night.

Even though Kyle was a bit tired, he tried his best to keep his eyes opened as you rambling about something random you thought while you both watch something on your (device).

After another couple of mins, you both fell asleep together at the same time <3.

Ike eavesdropped on you both the whole time 💚💚💚💚

❤️ Eric Cartman 🍓

Being the little devious child he is, he is obviously the one who purposed the idea of doing something mischievous with you after everyone else is asleep.

You basically often follow out with Cartman's plans unless it's something dangerous then no.

You do worry for Cartman's safety even though the stuff he does pisses other people off, you can understand why they would be upset with him. After all, you're friends with/dating a sociopathic racist kid :>

Once your little hangout is over, you both managed to get back to bed without being spotted. I wonder what Cartman did to make you both have such good luck with that :O

You soon realized that this was going to be a daily night routine-❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

🧡 Kenny Mccormick 🎃

You both are always on the same page, you didn't have to tell each other what you were going to do this night.

Oh my god, you both ended up doing 49 activities together in one single whole night! Kenny definitely didn't make any dirty jokes in between.

How did you both managed to not caught? You both placed corks into your parents' ears so they couldn't hear a single thing. (You also did the same to your siblings if you have any).

When you first fell asleep on Kenny after a lot of fun together, he will chill and calm about it. He let you lean on him while he wrapped his parka around you like a blanket so you would get cold.

He secretly likes it whenever you sleep on him, it gives him an excuse to snuggle up close to you🧡🧡🧡🧡

❤️ Clyde Donovan 🔫

He almost pissed himself when you suddenly appeared onto his bed and scared him. (You were hiding in his room while in the dark.

You always liked to tease Clyde playfully and hang out with him, and since your parents are asleep you saw this as a perfect opportunity to bring him over to your house to talk about stupid stuff, play games, and etc together.

You even taught Clyde how to crave a jack-o'-lantern since he wasn't sure how to do it.🎃🎃

Clyde was a complete blushing mess when you fell asleep on him. Like Stan, he wasn't sure what to do besides staying still and letting you sleep on him.

He probably even went through 5 stages of grief at the moment.❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Already October? Damn time flies way too fast.🎃🎃🎃