#'He thinks maybe his heart is still in the other room.'

[middlepartmatt]

Hotshot

“you're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud... but i'm about to show you, baby, slow down” — SLOW DOWN, chase atlantic

SUMMARY: you and matt have been enemies since you were kids, but one night when you're forced to share a bed with him, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, mainly dom!matt, mainly sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), doggy lol

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first smut on here i am NERVOUSSSSSSSSSSS but anyway this is an outtake from my matt fic on wattpad causeeeeee i can't be getting cancelled on that silly little app... i hope u enjoy lol. ALSO if you don't like smut that's not really my issue so just don't read it!

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"I'm not sleeping in here."

Matt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks from you to the bed, then back again. 

"Nick and Chris are already asleep," he says. "So unless you wanna go and wake them up, you're stuck with me."

You sigh, looking around the room.

"I'll just sleep on the couch," you decide.

"It's not like we haven't slept together in the same bed before," he reminds you, referring to when you would have sleepovers with the triplets back when you were kids. He pulls off his black tee and climbs into the bed. "So just get in."

Your eyes widen, but you obey, climbing in on the other side. You immediately rolls over, turning away from Matt since you knows he's facing the middle. Why does he always have to face the middle? It infuriates you.

To your surprise, Matt doesn't say anything else. Considering you'd just been having an argument for five minutes about the sleeping situation, you'd expected him to try and get in one last dig at you before you both go to sleep. He's not done that though, instead he's fallen completely silent.

You know he isn't asleep. When Matt's asleep, his breathing becomes heavier, a little ragged, but right now he's silent as ever. You shift uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure what to make of the situation. Matt's right; you've slept in a bed together before, yet it feels weird now, with his brothers in the room just next door.

But it's not just that.

It also feels weird because of the fact that you feels the need to cross your legs, and that your heart is beating faster than usual. Matt's room, which is usually freezing, seems boiling hot right now. You're thinking that it just might have to do with the fact that Matt's currently shirtless.

Matt moves, causing you to be snapped out of your thoughts and jolt at the movement. You inhale sharply, feeling your eyes on her back.

"'s something the matter?" he questions.

"Nope," you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you. 

"You sure?" Matt hums. "You seem uncomfortable."

"Just shut up and go to sleep," you snap. Matt just chuckles.

"Night, angel," he says, using that infuriating nickname he'd given you back in elementary school. Angel. It's not supposed to be a compliment, but rather make fun of you for supposedly being a goody-two shoes, which you personally don't think you are.

"Night, hotshot," you answer. You started calling him this a few years ago, when he was promoted to main goalie of the lacrosse, and also when he and his brothers started getting popular on YouTube. Annoyingly, he doesn't seem to hate the nickname as much as you hate yours.

You closes your eyes but still, your senses pick up on his every breath, every shift of his body in the pitch black darkness. Yeah, you're definitely not getting any sleep tonight.

You hear Matt moving around, then suddenly feel something cold on your waist. It takes you a moment to realize it's Matt's hand, now resting lightly on your hip.

You stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the touch. Maybe it's an accident? you think, but there's no way Matt would accidentally put his hand on you.

Okay, now you are most definitely not getting any sleep tonight. Not that you really mind though, to be honest. 

You feels his fingers slide up your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip. You shiver involuntarily, and his hand slides back down, grazing the hem of your tank top.

"Is this okay?" he whispers, and you just nod. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak, anyway.

You then feels his hand move upwards again, slowly, deliberately, until it reaches the bottom of your breast. You gasp softly, arching your back slightly, offering him better access. His hand cups your tit, squeezing gently, making you moan softly. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body.

You can't help but let out a small whimper. His fingers are still pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you can feel you core starting to throb.

You close your eyes, biting your bottom lip. You can feel his breath on your neck, and you slowly pulls his hand off of you so that you can turn around to face him. You tilt your head up to meet his lips. His tongue slips into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

After a second you break the kiss, panting. "Matt," you say, barely above a whisper. 

"Yes, angel?" he replies.

"You shaved," you point out. Last you'd noticed, he had a little bit of stubble where he hadn't bothered shaving the last couple of days. 

"Thought it would make for a smoother ride," he murmurs in response, and he kisses her again. You feels yourself getting wetter at his words as you kiss him back, your hands roaming over his chest. Matt kisses your neck, trailing his tongue along your skin, and you arch your back once again, pressing yourself against him. You can feel him against your front, and just the touch of his dick against you only makes you needier for him.

Matt moves his hands down your body, pulling your tank top up over her head. You lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. He trails kissed on your collarbone, before moving down your stomach. You lie back, letting him take control. 

You lets out a soft whimper as he reaches your pyjama shorts, toying with the edge of the waistband.

"Matt," you whimper. He doesn't reply, pulls them down along with your underwear, exposing you.

"You're so wet," he muses, a grin present on his lips. "Is this all for me, angel?"

"Obviously," you answer, rolling your eyes. Becoming impatient, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards you.

He licks your slit, tasting you. You moan, arching your hips towards him. His tongue flicks over your clit, making you shudder, before he begins sucking on it gently. You moan louder now, grinding your hips against his face. He licks your clit again, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying out.

Matt pushes two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. He slides his fingers in and out of you, making you writhe beneath him. You bite your lip, trying not to make too much noise.

He puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You're slowly coming undone, moaning loudly, but he doesn't stop as he continues to rub your clit while he fingers you. 

"I want your tongue again, hotshot," you say breathlessly, and Matt simply grins before obeying, moving forward and licking up your slit once again. You yelp, her whole body responding to his action. "Keep going," you order, and he does, tipping you over the edge.

"Fuck, Matt, fuck," you whimper as you cum, legs shaking under Matt's touch. 

You collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily. Matt kisses your stomach, moving up to kiss your lips again. You taste yourself on his lips and you moan, reaching out to stroke his cock through his pyjama pants. Matt exhales sharply, bucking his hips into you.

You smirk, pulling down both his pyjama pants and boxers, before taking hold of his cock and stroking it gently. He groans as you run your finger over his slit, stroking him faster until you can feel him about to cum. Already. 

You stop, and he glares at you. His eyes are dark in this dim lighting, fueled with desire just for you.

"Don't tease me, angel," he says quietly.

"What?" you ask sweetly. "I want to taste you."

It looks like it takes all of Matt's strength not to cum at your words. Instead he just nods, and so you climb on top of him, straddling him. You crane your body downwards, and he watches as you take his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him groan.

You take more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. He holds your head, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. You gag, but refuse to pull away.

"Just like that, baby," he tells you, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. "Fuck," he whimpers, and you almost come undone at the sound alone. "Jesus, angel... yeah... just like that," he mumbles to himself, eyes closed as he throws his head back while you continue to suck him.

You feels him finish, shooting his hot cum into your mouth. You swallow it all, moaning, and he finally pulls you off of him. You sit up, wiping the cum from your mouth. Once you've regained focus, you see that he's already half-hard again.

"Want me to fuck you?" he asks nonchalantly like he wasn't just whimpering for you moments before. You just nod, moving up and kneeling on the mattress. Matt gets behind you, rubbing his cock against your opening. Without warning, he slides it inside of you, making you gasp.

He begins fucking you, pushing his cock deep inside of you. You moan, pressing your ass further up against him.

"Matt," you groan, causing Matt to thrust faster and harder. "Matt," you repeat, and he moans.

"Keep doing that, baby," he tells you.

"Matt," you breathe. It's all you can say as he continues fucking you, his cock going deeper inside of you with every thrust.

"Fuck, angel," he mutters. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He continues to fuck you, making you scream out in pleasure. He pulls your hair, and you groan at the harshness of his touch. You arch further into him, noticing how it makes his hips buck harder into you.

"Matt," you whisper, hearing the way he moans loudly as his name leaves your lips.

"Angel, oh my God..."

"You there yet, hotshot?"

Matt shakes his head, refusing to fall for your teasing. He pulls out, causing your mouth to fall open in shock, before he rubs his tip against your clit. You moan loudly, wanting nothing more than for him to continue fucking you as he was before.

He slides his cock back inside of you, and you whimper in pleasure. He thrusts harder into you, making you cry out. He starts fucking you faster, making you moan even louder. On a high, you reach between her legs, playing with your clit.

"Am I not good enough for you, baby?" he questions, laughing dryly.

"Help me out here," you answer. "I'm almost there, fuck!"

He reaches down, grabbing your hand. He makes you keep playing with yourself, all while he fucks you harder, making you moan louder. He pulls your hand away, and you cry out.

"I'm cumming, Matt," you whimper, and he unravels at the sound of his name leaving your lips, thrusting harder as his orgasm bursts through him. You finish too, letting out a loud moan as you shudder, the feeling coursing through your body.

Matt pulls out, and both of you immediately roll over and lie back down on the bed. You lay in silence, apart from their ragged breathing. A moment later, he turns to face you.

"Still not wanna sleep in here?" he asks smugly. You roll your eyes.

"I said sleep, not fuck," you scoff. "Now shut up or I'm gonna be showering alone."

Matt does in fact shut up.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2: hi LOL ??? i never know what to say in author's notes it's always so awkward but anyway... feel free to request anything you wanna see: matt, chris, or both!

#matt sturniolo #mattsturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chrissturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicksturniolo

[nadvs]

imperfect strangers (one-shot)

pairing zach maclaren x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary after a painful break-up, you and zach go no contact, agreeing it’s best to cut yourselves out of each other’s lives. when he cracks and texts you a month later that he’ll be at your college for a game, you lie to yourself that seeing him can’t be that bad of an idea.

» masterlist

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Zach has been dreading tomorrow’s game. And it’s only because it’s at your college.

He keeps going back and forth on if he should break the promise he made to you and himself that he wouldn’t contact you.

He blames the fatigue from a strenuous practice. It’s what muddles his mind and makes him give in.

You two agreed that cutting all ties was best. But he’s just reaching out to an old friend that he might run into. That’s what he tells himself.

You’re sitting in a lecture when Zach’s name flashes on your phone. Your heart leaps at the notification and you hate that it does that.

You were supposed to delete his number, but it felt wrong. He wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your best friend.

Removing him from your life wrecked you, so little things like keeping his contact information and the promise ring he gave you the day of your high school graduation feel like acts of rebellion against the hardest decision you’ve ever made.

Zach: Hey. How are you? I’m playing at your school tomorrow. Just wondering if you’ll be watching :)

You reread his text a few times. You know he has a game here tomorrow. You’ve been following his soccer season even though you know you shouldn’t.

On the screen, you see the last messages you exchanged, a little over a month ago.

Zach: Wish you nothing but the best. You deserve it.

You replied: you, too.

The night of your break-up was agony. Your video call lasted three hours.

Zach’s eyes were glossy, matching yours. His dark honey hair was tousled and sticking in every direction after he raked his hand through it over and over in frustration.

Your dorm rooms slowly got darker as night fell, neither of you bothering to turn on a light. It was a cruel reminder that you’re not even a timezone apart. Your schools have only four hours between them and you couldn’t manage to make a one-year relationship work over the distance.

Hurtful words were exchanged. You accused him of neglecting your relationship. He told you his extra efforts in school and soccer didn’t mean you weren’t a priority. He said you were giving up on him. You retaliated that you were working harder to stay together than he was.

Somehow, things still ended civilly. You agreed that the distance was too much of a big, ugly, unavoidable wedge driving you apart.

You’re convinced that ending on good terms hurts more than ending on bad terms. It would be easier to hate him.

Your fingers hover over your screen, wondering what you should say. If you should say anything. You realize this means he didn’t delete your number, either. Maybe he’s been holding onto hope, too.

You decide to reply, trying to act casual and in good spirits.

You: I’ll try to make it! Just don’t be mad that I’m cheering for the home team :)

He’s grateful you texted back. He misses you so much that it hurts.

Getting better has been a slow climb for Zach. You two lasted a couple of months of long distance before calls slowly shortened and texts became infrequent. It was too hard juggling everything.

Now, he’s putting his all into school and soccer. It’s all he has left.

When dark clouds roll in on the day of the game, you think about how Zach never liked the rain and you hate that you’re doomed to remember these insignificant things about someone you’re not supposed to be in love with anymore.

You decide not to go to the game. It’ll be too hard watching him play like you used to.

But eventually, you lie to yourself that it’ll be fine and your feet are dragging you to the stadium on campus, your umbrella blocking the raindrops. You join the roaring crowd, sitting in the bleachers.

You always sat behind the opponents’ net. At every one of his matches. Zach is a striker and whenever he’d score a goal, he’d be right in your eyeline.

He would find you in the crowd when he scored, beaming at you before his team swallowed him in a group hug.

But that’s where you sat when Zach was your boyfriend. And he’s not anymore. So you find an empty seat on the side, close to the middle of the field.

You spot him immediately. He’s running down the field, his cheeks flushed.

The same boy who nervously asked you out the second day of senior year. The same boy you gave your first kiss to. The same boy who called you the moment he found out he was granted a full-ride scholarship. Now slowly becoming a stranger.

This is too hard. You need to leave.

But then you watch Zach gain possession of the ball and he’s running fast and suddenly, he collides with a player on the opposing team, sliding in one of the mud puddles scattered across the field.

The crowd erupts in a mournful whine, reacting to what was surely a painful impact.

You’re on your feet, rigid, heart racing as you watch him in the distance. He’s not getting up. Why isn’t he getting up?

You wedge your way out of the aisle and rush to the bottom of the bleachers, hands gripping the cold, wet barricade at the same level as the field.

A medic runs out onto the pitch but when he reaches Zach, he’s slowly standing up on his own. But then he leans over, hands on his knees, shaking his head.

The medic beckons Zach to put an arm around his shoulders and leads him off the field while the referee holds up a yellow card against the other player.

Zach’s hamstring is throbbing in pain as he limps through the wet grass, his cleats heavy, but when he sees you standing at the front of the stands, everything feels better.

He thought you wouldn’t attend. His lips quirk up in a smile. Your stomach twists.

Zach’s coach is trying to get his attention once he reaches the sideline, but he mumbles something to him and disconnects from the medic and closes the distance between you two, his steps short and quick.

“You came,” he says, blue eyes travelling over your face. It’s only been a month but he swears, it feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you.

The bright stadium lights are emphasizing every plane and feature of his handsome face. His hair is soaked and plastered to his skin, his uniform muddy.

“You okay?” you ask over the loud chattering crowd surrounding you.

No. He’s far from okay.

“Survived worse,” he says with that smirk that is so typically Zach.

“MacLaren!” his coach calls.

“I’ll find you later?” he asks. Your eyebrows lower in confusion. You know he typically goes straight back to his school after a game with his team. But you just meekly nod.

The game ends in a tie. Zach texts you that he’ll meet you outside in front and takes a rushed, hot shower in the locker room.

You’re standing under a streetlamp outside of the stadium, spectators pooling out of wide doors. The rain is simply spitting now, your umbrella closed in your hand.

When you watch Zach pace towards you, all cleaned up after a shower, a big duffel bag over his shoulder, you’re so happy you came. Even though it hurts, it also feels so good to see him.

“You’re walking totally fine,” you say when he approaches you. “Did you fake it?”

He loves how you make a joke right away because that’s what you would do when you were together and it’s nice to feel like you are.

Zach laughs and pulls you in for a hug and you hate how the smell of his shampoo makes an uncomfortable nostalgia rush through you.

But this is who Zach is. He’s always been warm and affectionate and cheerful.

He notices how tense you are in his arms and pulls back quickly. Maybe giving into the impulse to hold you was a bad idea.

“A yellow was ridiculous, right?” he asks. “That deserved a red.”

You gaze up at him now that he’s so close to you and try not to get enamored.

“How bad is it?” you say, glancing down at his leg. The concern in your eyes makes his whole body feel like it’s been wrung out.

“Just a sprain,” he says. “Didn’t pull anything.”

“Good,” you say, nodding. “How long are you out for?”

This feels like a conversation you’d have when you were together. Next, you’d ask if he needs a massage and that would always lead to making love, but that’s not happening this time.

“Next game isn’t until Wednesday, so I might be fine,” Zach answers. You know all about his team’s schedule, even their standings, but you don’t tell him.

A tense silence settles between you now that the small talk has been used up.

“So, this is no contact?” you ask.

Now that the break-up has been acknowledged out loud, Zach is disappointed. He liked having his head in the clouds and pretending like you’re still his.

“You texted back,” he teases, his eyes glinting in their usual playful way.

“Back,” you emphasize, pointing to him, finally cracking a smile. “You started it.”

“We can be friends, right?” Zach says. “It’s weird not talking to you.”

Being friends hurts. You both agreed to that. But he’s here already and things feel so good with him, so you ignore your instincts.

“Sure,” you simply say. Your short response throws him off.

“Nice campus,” he says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I was gonna give you a tour when...” When he visited as your boyfriend. You never made it that far.

It was unlike Zach, the way he started to flake on promises to visit or call. You gave him grace, but you eventually reached your limit.

“You can give me a tour now,” he says, pushing the conversation into easier territory. He always had a knack for that.

“You sure you can walk?” you ask. He misses that tone of voice of yours. When you’re worried about him.

“Come on,” he says with an exaggerated scoff. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of baby.”

In reality, he always loved being babied by you.

“When are you guys heading back?” you ask. You already noticed the massive branded bus you assume he arrived on parked in the stadium lot.

“I drove up by myself, actually,” he tells you. “I’m gonna go see my family later.”

Your college is only half an hour away from your shared hometown. You nod and turn, silently beckoning him to walk with you.

“How are they?” you ask.

Zach shrugs, looking down. He’s always been close to his family and they always loved you, so telling them you broke up was almost as hard as the break-up itself.

“Mad at me,” he admits. “I told them it was mutual, but…”

“Yeah, your mom texted me,” you say.

“She did? What’d she say?” He sounds surprised.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you if she didn’t tell you herself.”

His mom’s message went into just how perfectly you fit into their lives, how upsetting it is that Zach let you go, how happy you make her son. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you don’t make him happy anymore.

You remember so clearly how she ended the message. I hope this is just a temporary bump in the road.

“Come on, tell me,” he urges with a joking tone.

“Zach,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry - I, um - we shouldn’t get into this, right?”

His smile fades. With a deep breath, he nods and looks at the ground again.

“Right,” he says.

Like always, Zach gently complies. You naturally took on a more dominant role in your relationship, leading while he happily followed, even during intimacy. It’s what you bring out in each other and falling back into your roles feels effortless.

“How much time do you have?” you ask, checking your phone to see that it’s merely minutes past six.

“Couple of hours,” he tells you. “You hungry?”

You know if you tell him you’re not, he’ll feel bad dragging you to a restaurant.

“There’s a place I think you’d like,” you say.

You’re soon sitting across from each other at an on-campus eatery, talking to each other like friends, covering safe topics like classes and dorm life.

It’s not exactly easy, but you were together for so long that holding a conversation with Zach is second nature.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” he finally asks, pointing to your plastic-wrapped sandwich. He’s almost done with his food, while you haven’t taken a bite.

“Later. I’m not hungry.”

“What?” Zach watches you from his side of the table, heart thrumming at the adorable way you shrug.

“You wouldn’t have gotten food if you knew I wasn’t going to eat.”

“Oh, my God,” he laughs.

“You know I’m right.”

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.”

You both awkwardly straighten in your seats, bodies firming as far apart as possible. Your knees pull together. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” Zach’s voice is low, eyes focused on the table. The term of endearment he used to always use for you just slipped out.

You feel stupid for thinking this would be okay. It’s way too hard to pretend like you don’t love him. You collect your bag and umbrella off the table.

“I should go. It was good to see you,” you mumble.

“You’re leaving?” Zach asks, a slight whine to his tone.

“This was a bad idea,” you say, avoiding eye contact, words quiet and rushed. “You should go see your family.”

You rush out of the building into the dark evening, the cold air pressing against your skin, hot tears welling in your eyes.

Zach’s leg is aching as he jogs behind you, but he’d do anything for you just talk to him, at least look at him one more time.

“Wait,” you hear. “Please.” The desperation in his voice is what gets you to slow down, letting him close the rest of the distance.

You’re standing on a pathway between a building and a courtyard, chewing on your lip, grateful nobody else seems to be around.

When Zach catches up to you, his chin dips as he studies your face, raising his hands inches away from your cheeks just to promptly lower them.

Your eyes are just as wet as they were the night you broke up.

“What?” you mutter.

“I’m sorry I called you that,” he says, breaths shallow. “Old habit.”

“We said no contact,” you tell him. You swallow hard. “We should have stuck to it.”

“Are you mad at me for texting you?” His stare is deep and so painfully sorry.

You’ve been on the receiving end of this look so many times. He was always on the sensitive side, needing reassurance that you weren’t upset with him.

Despite everything, you’re not mad. Your heart is broken, but you’re not mad.

“No,“ you say, “But we can’t be friends, okay? After what we… I just can’t.”

“So, nothing?” he says. “We’re just nothing now?”

“It’s what we agreed on,” you respond resolutely. “Just because this is easy for you doesn’t mean it is for me.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Zach puts a hand over his heart. You scoff at this, looking down, gently wiping under your bottom lashes. “It’s not.”

He puts his hands on his hips, grimacing.

“Why’d we break up?” he asks, voice thin.

“Zach,” you breathe. Just like that, the wound you’ve been working on patching up splits open again.

“I love you,” he says, hot tears building in the corners of his eyes.

“You can’t do this,” you say. The fact that you don’t say you love him back breaks him. “Do you not remember how bad it was?”

“We made each other so happy,” he retaliates.

“We weren’t even a couple by the end,” you say. “You got too busy for me, remember?”

“Don’t,” Zach mumbles. “I wasn’t too busy for you. You stopped trying.”

“We’ll just talk in circles,” you sigh, frustration bubbling inside you. You had this talk so many times. “I don’t have another three-hour conversation in me.”

He still has bad dreams about that night.

“See?” he says with a frustrated shrug. “You gave up.”

“You used to act lucky that you had me,” you say, your temper flaring. “Then I became a chore. Would you fight for me if I made you feel like a chore?”

“I’d fight for you no matter what,” he says.

“You’re not listening to me.” At this point, he’s being selfish by talking this to death. It’ll end the same way.

“As soon as it got hard, you left,” he says.

“As soon as it got hard? I tried for two months, Zach. You were so busy and got so distant and-”

“That didn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you,” he counters. “There’s so much pressure on me with soccer and my scholarship.”

“I know and I tried to be there for you but I only added to that pressure,” you say. “Keeping up a relationship was too much work.”

“No, babe, I-” He winces. “Sorry. Just… Don’t you remember how good we used to be? How the summer was?”

You try not to think about it. The summer before college was perfect. You spent all your time together. You gave each other your virginities. You were sure you’d be together forever.

“I remember saying we’d find time for each other no matter what,” you mutter.

Guilt floods him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Zach says.

“I know you are.”

He apologized so many times and nothing changed. He said he’d drive up to visit you. He never did. He told you he’d call you. Then he bailed more than half the time. That wasn’t the man you knew. You could feel him falling out of love with you.

“I thought we could get through the hard times,” he says. There’s that unrealistic idealism of his. You shake your head.

“My best wasn’t enough for us, Zach,” you say.

“Yeah, neither was mine, apparently.”

You nod, throat aching from your tears.

“Go see your family. They miss you. And don’t tell them we saw each other,” you suggest. “It’ll just give them false hope.”

Zach both loves and hates that the last thing you say before you walk away is something protective and considerate about his family. But your kindness is one of the many things he fell in love with you for, so it’s no surprise.

An hour later, you’re curled up on your bed, watching a comfort show with the lights off when you hear a knock on your door.

Zach’s heart is pounding in his ears. He still has your address from when he sent you flowers as a sorry for flaking on a video call you two had planned back when you were still together.

All he did since you left him standing by the courtyard is sit in his car and think and cry. He feels like an idiot for ever making you feel like a chore.

When you pause your show, turn on the lights and swing open the door, your body goes cold. His eyes are red and puffy from crying.

“Did you stop loving me?” he asks. “I need to know.”

You take his hand, the first contact you’ve had in months, and pull him into your room so that your neighbors don’t hear your private heartbreak.

The door shuts behind you and you stand across from him, trying to let go of his hand, but he doesn’t let you, his cool palm pressed against your fingers.

“Did you?” Zach urges.

You glare up at him, cheeks burning from how many tears you wiped away.

“No,” you admit.

“Then why aren’t we together?” he pleads. “You just have to remember why you love me.”

You let him continue to hold your hand. The contact feels so good.

“I never forgot,” you say.

“Then tell me,” he urges. “Tell me why.”

“I…” You look down.

“You want me to go first?” he says. “I love you because you bring out the best in me. I love how when we joke around, we annoy the people around us and you never care.”

You huff a chuckle. Too many times to count, you’d send each other into a fit of laughter, leaving your friends or families confused over what was so funny.

“You went to every single one of my home games in high school,” he continues, “even though I know you hated it.”

“I liked it,” you counter. He smirks. You always had such a big heart.

“Try for me. Please,” he says. “We’ll make it this time.”

You’re silent and it scares him. You could be seconds away from telling him to leave.

“This is why I love you,” you say. “You’re so optimistic that it’s irritating.”

Zach laughs, still holding onto your hand.

“What else?” he asks lowly.

“You’re funny and sweet and…” you say through tears. “When you care about someone, you care so hard. That’s why…”

You loosen your hand out of his grip. His heart feels like it’s been wrung out.

“That’s why it hurt so much when you didn’t make time for us. It felt like you stopped caring. Like you stopped loving me and you didn’t know how to tell me.”

“I never stopped loving you, babe, I swear,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything.”

Zach didn’t anticipate how hard keeping up with classes and practices and games would be, especially with the weight of his scholarship looming over him. He failed making you a priority. He knows that.

“It was hard and it only got harder when we broke up,” he says a little quieter.

You frown and Zach cups your face with his hands. His thumbs slowly rub over your cheeks as his gaze penetrates you.

“I’m not saying that to make you feel bad,” he says, words rushed. “I just want you to know you were never a chore. You were the best thing in my life. I messed up.”

The way your lashes flutter as you blink away tears makes what’s left of his heart crumble.

“What’ll it take?” he asks. “I’ll drive up here every weekend. We’ll talk on the phone every night. I’ll text you all day and I promise I won’t flake.”

“That’s crazy,” you say with a soft laugh.

Although he’s the more passive of you two, he’s determined that he’ll make it with you. He can’t picture a world where you’re not his and he’s not yours.

“I’ll do it.” You meet Zach’s eyes and you can tell that he wholly, sincerely means it.

“That’s not what I need,” you tell him with a small smile. The love in your gaze is exactly why you always felt like home to him. “I just need the you who kept promises and made time for me. When we were together, you were present. Like this.”

“Anything you need,” he says eagerly, head bobbing with quick nods, making you giggle. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You revel in how his long thumbs drag over your skin, gazing at you through desperate eyes. Being so close to him causes a gentle heat to trickle through your body.

“You can do more than that,” you reply. He smiles and exhales sharply in excitement, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

Zach’s stomach tightens the second he feels the softness of your lips and the taste of your tongue. He slowly dips to kiss your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of you that he has smelled so many times.

His hands trail down your waist and over the curve of your hips, pulling you as close to him as possible, gripping just tight enough not to hurt you.

You always loved this about him. He makes you feel so cherished.

Your hands are in Zach’s hair as his hot mouth smacks on your skin. His body curves against yours perfectly, a piece completing the puzzle you missed being a part of for so long.

You can feel him growing hard against you and you lower a hand to rub him over his jeans, making him groan against your neck.

“Already?” you tease in a whisper. He chuckles, missing your touch and your voice and how hot it is when you taunt him.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Zach groans. You smile. He hardly ever swears, usually reserving it just for moments like these.

His fingers dip below the hem of your shirt, his skin warm against yours. He feels you nod, granting him permission.

As soon as he pulls your top off of you, he groans in delight when he sees that you’re braless. As he leans down to kiss you again, you push his jacket down his shoulders. He promptly and impatiently tugs it off, followed by his shirt, earning a laugh from you for his enthusiasm.

You gently push him backwards, straggling to your bed together. Zach lies down, desperately reaching for you as he watches you lean down over him.

You straddle him, kissing him deeply, his arms wrapping around you tightly as your bare chests press together.

His love for you consumes him, driving him to pull back and kiss you all over, puckering his lips over your cheeks and your nose and your forehead.

“Babe,” you laugh.

“I’m so sorry I made you so sad,” Zach says between kisses. “I’m so sorry I let you walk away.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you say as he continues to pepper soft kisses over your skin. “We’re never fighting again, okay?”

“Never.” You always say this after a fight. It never sticks, but you both love pretending it will.

You thought you were destined to experience these shared quirks through memories only. But now Zach’s here in your dorm room, panting beneath you, holding you like he might die if you pull away.

You feel him buck his hips forward, his hands squeezing your waist. You press your forehead against his, biting your lip.

“You want me, hmm?” you purr, the power you have over him filling you with excitement.

“I need you,” he whines. His breath is warm against your cheek. “So bad.”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, rolling your hips. The sensation of you grinding on him is so perfect. He couldn’t ever feel another girl like this and he wouldn’t want to.

“I wanna taste you,” Zach says. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Take my pants off.” You shift to kiss him, smiling against his lips as he pushes your bottoms and panties down with eager hands.

You kick off your clothes and shuffle to hover over his face, your naked core inches away from his mouth.

Zach’s hands hook around your thighs, beckoning you to lower your hips, hungry for you. You inhale sharply once you feel his hot tongue press against your folds.

He knows you well, knows where to lick and suck to earn moans from you. You look down at him, his eyes closed as he laps at you, fingers dug into your flesh.

“That’s so good,” you say. “You’re so good with your mouth.” The praise makes him suck even harder. You tremble as you slowly roll your hips on his face.

“I love how you taste,” Zach says, muffled. “I can’t live without you.”

You throw your head back, pleasure flooding your body at the sensations and his words. You put a hand in his hair, lightly tugging as he works his mouth with slow, hard movements.

You start to breathe harder, tension coiling in your stomach.

“Can we…” he asks. He’s starving to feel you from the inside. You look down to meet his striking, needy eyes. You know exactly what he wants.

“You wanna be inside me?”

“Please, yes, yes.”

“You’re so cute when you’re desperate,” you coo. He nearly rolls his eyes from the pleasure of hearing you talk like this again.

You put him out of his misery when you pull his pants and briefs off of him. You sit on your knees above him, taking his length in your hand and earning a groan from him.

“Where’d you hurt your leg today?” you ask, stroking him up and down. “Want me to massage it?”

“I just want you to ride me, babe, please,” Zach shudders.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you?” Your eyes are locked on his as you caress him, rolling your wrist.

“You are,” he says, whimpering at this point. “Please let me feel you. I miss you.”

Your body remembers Zach’s perfectly. As you sink onto him, sitting up, every muscle in your body loosens. He dips his head back, lips parting, jaw sharp.

“Shit,” he groans as you squeeze him in your soft heat. “You’re perfect.” His hands run over your thighs, your hips, your waist. He pulls you down so he can kiss you again.

“So big,” you whisper, noses nudging together as you rock slowly.

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says, his voice gently shaking. “Even if you don’t want me.”

“Zach,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. He’s crying again. “I’ll always want you.”

You drag a thumb under his eye, cleaning away a warm tear. He nods, looking at you with a sorrowful gaze.

“Do you promise?” he asks.

“I promise,” you say. “My sweet boy.” He trembles at your words. You kiss him again, your pace starting to quicken, the pressure of him inside you so nice.

Zach swallows hard, forcing himself to believe you. Breaking up shattered him. He can’t go through it again.

“Hey,” he says against your lips.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” You’ve loosely talked about the future before, but he has never said these words to you out loud. Your heart numbs.

“Do you promise?” you whisper with a smile. The coil in your core tightens again, making your breath shake.

“I promise.” Zach feels you clenching around him and he can’t stop himself. His muscles tense and he tightens his jaw as he feels himself reach his peak.

“There you go,” you praise as he shudders beneath you. The drunk look on his face is what makes you climax, joining him in his euphoria.

He’s heaving beneath you, your skin taut and warm and sticking together. You shift to rest your head on his shoulder and he finds your hand immediately, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you say, your heart burning.

Zach holds your hand inches away from his face, a finger tracing down one of yours.

“Do you still have it?” he asks, afraid of your answer. You look at your ring finger, where you used to wear his promise ring.

“I couldn’t get rid of it if I wanted to,” you say. He shifts to meet your gaze, his eyes still glossy. “It’s in my dresser.”

“Will you wear it again?”

“Of course,” you say. “And I’ll get one for you, too.”

The thought of having a constant reminder of your love for him on his hand makes his stomach flip. His dimples cave into his cheeks as he beams at you.

“How’d I play today?” he murmurs. Zach would always ask your opinion on how he did after a game. Tonight’s no different.

“Amazing,” you say. “I… I’ve actually been following your team. I know we said no contact, but…”

Zach’s elated that you cared enough to follow his progress.

“I’ve been checking every social media account you have every day,” he admits.

You giggle and he hugs you tightly, burrowing his nose into your hair. Suddenly, the memory of your argument outside rushes back into your mind.

“Wait, did you go home?” you ask.

“No, I just… sat in my car,” he tells you.

“What? Zach,” you say, voice heavy. “Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“I never told them I’d be in town,” he confesses. You shift to look at him again. “I knew that when we saw each other, we’d… realize we should be together. And I knew I’d only want to spend the night with you. I’m sorry - I only didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

Zach’s undying faith in your relationship melts you. Even after a messy break-up and a month apart, he believed in you two making it.

You nod, pinching his cheek, making him smile again.

“We could go now, if you want,” you offer. “They’d be so happy to see that we’re back together.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud makes Zach’s heart leap.

“Next time,” he says, squeezing you tight. “Right now, it’s just you and me. And eventually, we’ll be sleeping in the same bed every night and there won’t be any distance at all.”

You can’t wait. Neither can he.

author’s note: i started this blog with the intention to write for rafe only but my friend showed me the zach maclaren light and for that @juniebugg i owe you my life 🫡

#zach is subby and you can’t convince me otherwise! #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and you

[luv4georgie]

ooohh a number 16 and 18 angst with lando omggg pls.

(your writing is so amazing )

the scientist.

Lando Norris x fem!reader

in which formula one star, Lando Norris, and “girlfriend”, Y/n L/n, go through some complications after Y/n finds a-few things out.

warnings: toxicasf!Lando, cheating, allusions to death, mental death, crying, a-lot of swearing, FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS

prompts 16 and 18 for angst- “it was a dare” and “why am i always your last option?”

“tell me you love me, come back and haunt me.”

i was sad. not even sad. more than that. Lando had broken up with me. 2 years gone to waste. 2 years of me loving him. 2 years all a lie. nobody said it was easy, fair enough, but no-one ever said it would be so hard. i could never fall in love again. i just couldn’t. it hurt so much. it still does. every-time i think of it, it feels like a dagger goes through my heart. was it me? was i the problem? why was i so hard to love?

it was a Saturday night when Lando decided to confess. confess the biggest lie of my and maybe, just maybe, his life. “it was a lie.” Lando said. me, still laughing and oblivious to what was happening, responded. “what?” i said still laughing, not turning to face the ‘love of my life’ yet. “everything Y/n/n” i turned to face him, a smile still on my face which quickly dropped seeing his overly serious expression. he had tears in his eyes and looked like he was cowering. “what’s everything Lan?” i questioned again. tears fell from his eyes, then i knew it was bad. “our relationship. my love for you.”

then it happened my stomach did 100 flips, my heart beat 1000x faster. some odd taste popped up in my mouth and before i knew it i was running to my bathroom, throwing up. Lando hadn’t moved from where he was standing. he was crying, letting his head hang low. once i finished being sick. i washed my mouth out and slowly made my way to the living room which looked into my kitchen, where Lando was. on wobbly legs i walked up to him around 3 feet away from him. now i get it. now i get why he never wanted to move in with me. i get why he acted weird and always rejected my love around his stupid friends.

me and Lando was at the club with a few of his friends. he had cheated. i know he did. i didn’t leave though i stayed there. he didn’t bother touching me around his friends. he never has really. i watched Lando dance, grind and kiss on another girl. i was shocked but to drunk to care. i was upset nonetheless but just couldn’t wrap my head around it. i watched as he did the same with 3 other beautiful girls. that’s when i had enough. “Lando!” i shouted. i grabbed his wrist, told him he’s had a-lot of drinks and that he should slow down but he waved me off. offended i scoffed and ignored him. “a bit clingy, ay” i heard Max shout. “yeah, she’s always all over me it’s weird” Lando responded. my eyes widened and i shoved him out of my way and made my way to the the exit. “fucking move” some random man said. “shut up dumbass” i retorted.

“what did you just fucking say?” he said, pushing me really aggressively into another girl, one of the girls Lando was dancing with, who gave me the dirtiest look ever. i tried to say sorry but she slapped me. all i heard was one word getting chanted around ‘fight’. a circle formed around us both. i kept dodging her punches but still took a few. i didn’t hit her back. i didn’t want to. i couldn’t. suddenly i saw a familiar pair of arms wrap around the girls waist, who i found out to be called Chelsea. it was Lando. grabbing onto her waist and carrying her out of the exit. i scoffed again. tears pricked my eyes and i was so annoyed. i was that angry and pissed off i cried. i ran out of the exit and accidentally bumped into a wall-like chest. Lando. “where are you going?” he asked. i didn’t answer just wriggled out of his grasp and ran to the corner of some steps i saw earlier. he followed me. “why am i always your last option Lando? why? i’m your girlfriend, yet you help someone you met 10 minutes ago and comfort them. i don’t get it”. Lando being Lando told me i was overreacting, called an uber and took us both home.

“why are you fucking crying Lando?” i whispered. “you don’t get to fucking cry!” i shouted this time. tears stung my eyes and more fell from his. he dropped to his knees and cried pathetically. i just stared at him in disgust. “you’re fucking sick Lando” i said, my voice broken and wrecked. “sick. i can’t believe it. am i a joke? why am i so fucking hard to love?” i cried. “please baby, i’m sorry, it was a stupid dare and i laughed and did it” he begged. “you laughed at me? you fucking laughed at the idea of asking me to be your girlfriend. you knock me fucking sick Lando. fucking sick.” i cried and cried. he wouldn’t shut up, even after i told him to get out, he didn’t. he just kept saying sorry and please. i didn’t get it. am i that fucking hard to love. that’s when my life ended. everything inside of me died that night, even if i was physically there, i died.

-

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry this is really short, i’m literally just reflecting on my last relationship with this because most of this is a true story in my life but a-lot less worse, that ex hurt me in every-way possible and as we know Lando would never do something like that so please don’t say i have said he would. thank you. and thank you for all your support recently ❤️❤️

#f1 #f1 x reader imagines #spotify #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #nolan hansen

[moodriingz]

Waiting Room pt. 2 | Q. Hughes

Summary | part one it’s Quinn’s turn to pine over the reader while she tries to move on, but can she do that when she’s still in love with Quinn?

Pairing | Quinn Hughes x reader, Elias Peterson x platonic!reader, reader x oc

Warnings | Angst?, mutual (but blind) pinning, cursing maybe 

Author's Note | Thank you so much for all of your support for part one! I feel so bad that it took me forever to write part two, but this semester really kicked my ass. I hope this lives up to the hype. I honestly just wanted to get it done to move on if that makes sense? I’m hoping to continue writing so feel free to send requests! I’ve also recently gotten into F1 so you can send requests for that too!! xx

Masterlist

“You were so right, me and Evan got along so well. He’s great. We’re going on another date too.” 

Quinn felt sick to his stomach. Not only had your friendship dwindled out of nowhere, but now you’re with someone else. Worst of all there was no explanation to why you pulled away. Quinn racked his brain for any reason why you would stop hanging out with him. 

Now he had to watch you give your attention to someone else. He was so jealous of this random guy. Quinn wondered what made Evan better than him? All he knew was that the bright smile and light blush you seemed to always have was for some other guy now. 

A couple of weeks passed and Quinn barely spends time with the team outside of practice and chooses to spend his time going through old photos and videos of the two of you or watching anything you’ve ever suggested to him. He’s halfway through one of your favorite movies when there’s a knock on his door. His heart flutters hoping it's you, but is immediately let down when he realizes that it's Elias and Brock at his door.

“What do you want,” He asks begrudgingly, leaving the door open as he returns to his couch.

“We wanted to make sure that you’re alive,” Elias said.

“Well now you know bye,” Quinn quips at them.

“Dude something is up with you and we’re not leaving until we find out,” Brock said.

“Is this about Y/N?” Elias asked.

“Fine yeah it’s about Y/N. I just really miss her,” Quinn admits after taking a deep breath.

“We used to talk almost everyday and that all stopped on the last road trip and now she’s seeing that new guy. I was finally going to ask her out and she just shut down.”

“Wait you were? You told me you didn’t see her that way and she overheard,” Elias says confused.

“She heard me? Why didn’t you say anything?” Quinn asks as his heart shatters all over again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“She was so upset and I didn’t think I could change your mind. She had been pinning after you for months and you never did anything, so I just believed you,” Elias said with a shrug.

“I didn’t think she felt the same way so I was just putting my feelings aside because I cared more about our friendship,” Quinn says, putting his head in his hands. “I think I royally fucked up.”

“Maybe not, Y/N and Evan don’t seem super serious yet. You might be able to wiggle your way back in with her,” Elias says sitting down with Quinn.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe bring her coffee? Start there and see what happens,” Brock suggests and Quinn just nods making a game plan to get his girl back.

The next morning he gets up early for practice to go pick up your coffee from the cafe you always go to. He knew where to go because the cafe printed their logo on their cups and he had plenty of time to take note of it. As he walked in he immediately recognized your silhouette waiting in line.

“Looks like you beat me to it today,” Quinn says walking up to you in line.

“Beat me to what?” You ask confused why after not talking to each other for a month he decided to come to your cafe.

“I was going to bring you coffee today,” He says awkwardly with a small smile on his face.

“Oh well you can still pay if you want,” You suggest as a joke.

“Yeah I guess that’s true,” Quinn says, hoping a conversation would start on its own. After a minute of silence he gives in and asks, “So what’s new with you I feel like we haven’t really talked that much recently.”

“Nothing much, you know filming you guys all day,” You say wondering if you should mention Evan. It’s still so new and you don’t know if it's going to work out, but he makes you so happy.

“I actually just started seeing this guy. His name is Evan, I think you would like him actually, he's really nice,” You say, deciding to rip off the bandaid.

Quinn knew he wouldn’t like Evan because he was getting with the girl of his dreams.

“Yeah maybe you should bring him out with us after a game or something. I'd love to meet him,” Quinn says kicking himself because that’s the last thing he wants, but anything to get back in your good graces. 

You give him a smile at his comment thinking of what to say next. Luckily for you the barista calls for you two to order. And just like you suggested, Quinn paid. He offers you a ride to the arena before you even start walking back to the metro station to get to work.

You both sit in silence trying to think of anything to talk about. You finally start the conversation by mentioning that an author you had recommended to him a while ago put out a new book and how excited you were to pick it up. 

Just like that the two of you fell back into conversation like you hadn’t missed a beat. You arrive at the arena way quicker than you thought you would and almost don’t want to get out of the car and leave Quinn again. You walk inside and as you are about to separate, but Quinn stops you.

“Would you like to go stop at a bookstore after work today to pick up that book? I could take you home after so you don’t have to take the metro home,” He asks hoping you would say yes.

Yeah that would be really nice. I’ve really missed hanging out with you,” You say with a smile and leaving to go get your work started.

“What’s got you smiling like that? Evan?” Megan, your coworker, asks jokingly.

“Actually no I ran into Quinn this morning when I was getting my coffee and we just talked for a while. Now we’re hanging out after work,” you say, taking a sip of coffee. Hoping to hide your smile behind your cup.

“Wait, really I thought you two were going to avoid each other forever.”

“Well I guess not. He said he was going there to pick up my coffee which was really sweet of him.”

“Oh he’s so into you,” Megan says sitting back in her chair. 

“No he’s not, why would you say that?”

“Think about it, he stops talking to you right after you start seeing Evan and out of nowhere he’s doing all of these nice things for you?” 

You stop and think about it, but there’s no way he told Elias that he could never see you that way. You brush it off and get on with your day. You didn’t have to shoot any content today so you didn’t see any of the guys during their practice, but Quinn was waiting for you after work to take you to go find your book.

You try not to think about what Megan said to you today, pushing it to the back of your mind. Once the two of you get to the bookstore you feel like a kid in a candy store showing Quinn all of the books you had on your reading list but haven’t gotten yet. Without you paying attention he grabbed a basket and started throwing them in there to pay for them himself.

He finally leads you up to the counter and insists on paying for all of the books he grabbed for you. You try to convince him that he didn’t need to but you were cut off by the clerk.

“Girl just let your cute boyfriend pay for your books. That’s what I would do.” You try to deny the accusation from this random teenager, but before you could they were announcing the total and Quinn was inserting his card. He grabbed the bag and walked you back out to the car.

“Sorry if what they said was weird, but just think of it as a payback for all of those coffees you got me,” Quinn said, trying to make you feel better.

“No it’s fine I think it’s kinda funny actually.” You say finally realizing you were there for several hours and were too tired to make dinner.

“I think I’m just going to order take-out for dinner if you want to keep hanging out at my place,” You say with a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Quinn says as you start ordering. He stops at the restaurant while you run in to pick it up. He decides to text Elias and Brock an update and that he’ll tell them more later. 

The drive to your apartment was filled with playful banter about what you should watch and Quinn just watches you as the streetlights illuminate your face. The two of you finally arrive and settle on a new movie you just saw. It really didn’t take much convincing for him to give in; he just wanted to push your buttons a little bit.

Later, they are surrounded by take out tins and you’re starting to drift off. At some point during the movie your head ended up on Quinn’s shoulder and you started to doze off. Quinn wasn’t complaining, but felt like it was time for him to go as the credits started to roll.

“Hey Y/n/n wake up,” He says quietly as you groan and cuddle into him further. “Y/n/n you have to get up-the movie’s over.”

When there’s no sign of you moving he decides to just pick you up and bring you to your bed. Thinking you’re asleep he decides to give you a “friendly” kiss on your forehead and says goodnight. You feel the butterflies that you thought were now reserved for Evan coming back all over again. Quinn grabs the trash from the takeout and sees himself out, and can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. On his way home he decides to call Elias.

“Elias I’m in so deep I don’t know what to do,” Quinn says concerned because he doesn’t want to break you and Evan up and ruin something else for you.

“Wait what happened?” Elias asked confused because all Quinn had told him was that they were heading back to her place.

“I kissed her-” Quinn said before Elias cut him off.

“You what? You move fast, man.”

“Well I kind of kissed her. She fell asleep on my shoulder and wouldn’t move so I carried her back to her room and then I kissed her forehead. Now I’m going home,” Quinn says still with a deep smile on his face. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I guess act like nothing happened. She was asleep right? Just leave it be for now and still hang out with her. I can talk to her and see what’s going on with Evan and then you can go from there.”

“Yeah good point thanks Elias, I’ll see you later.”

The next day you walk into work reminiscing last night with Quinn hoping you could relive it again soon. Silly crush aside, you missed your best friend and wanted things to go back to normal. 

Elias practically corners you just to ask questions about Quinn.

“Quinn told me you two hung out last night, so you aren’t ignoring him anymore?”

“I was never ignoring him I just was busy,” You say trying to move around him to get to his office.

“Yeah alright. Anyways, how is it going with Ethan?” Elias asks, teasing you.

“Evan is great. I think I might invite him to a game or something soon,” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Oh wait, really?” Elias asks as you start to walk away. “For the record I think that would be a great idea. Maybe next week against Winnipeg?”

“Yeah I’ll have to ask him. Now if you will excuse me I have to go to my desk.” You say finally walking away. 

You set your things down and open your computer and Megan starts questioning you about your evening with Quinn.

“It really wasn’t anything crazy. We just went to the bookstore where he bought all of them for me and then we went back to my place and got dinner,” You tell her leaving out the fact that he brought you to your bed and kissed you goodnight.

“The fact that he bought all of your books is enough to tell me that he’s into you. I know you had a long list you were slowly buying for yourself.” Megan may have set you up with Evan but she wasn’t blind to how much Quinn was into you and vice versa. 

“I’m thinking of inviting Evan to a game. What do you think?” You ask to change the subject.

“I think it would be a good idea if you weren’t afraid of what your work husband would do,” Megan says, teasing you.

“I- what are you talking about,” You ask, hiding your blush.

“Y/N you can pretend to be oblivious, but Quinn really likes you and you should think about his reaction to having your new boyfriend at a game.”

“Who even knows if Evan would want to go,” You say before locking in on your work for the day.

You had already made plans to go out with Evan later that night so you figured it would be the best time to ask him then. You go home and get ready for your date thinking about what Megan said to you earlier in the day. 

Soon enough you leave to go meet Evan at some new restaurant you would never pick out because it was too fancy for your taste. He greets you with a kiss to your cheek asking you how your day was.

“It was good I just had to deal with Megan and Elias berating me all day,” You say, aiming to leave the questions about Quinn out.

“Why would they do that?”

“Oh I was just thinking about inviting you to a game soon and they were just making fun of me,” You say sheepishly.

“That would be so cool! Would you be able to hang out with me or would it be like a wag situation where I just watch you do your magic,” Evan says with a chuckle as you start to look over the menu.

“I could probably get the night off and sit with you. Do you think you’d be free for the game next Saturday against the Jets?”

“Yeah that would be great! I’m looking forward to it!” He says closing his menu to signal he’s ready to order.

You continue to hang out with both Quinn and Evan, but choose not to tell Quinn about your invite for Evan to come to the upcoming game.

Saturday’s game finally rolls around and Quinn notices your absence during the warmups. You usually can be found on the bench shooting content but tonight it’s Megan in your place. 

“Hey Petey do you know where Y/N is tonight?” Quinn asks hoping Elias might have some insight.

“Yeah she’s in the crowd tonight with Evan,” Elias says pointing towards Y/N and Evan in their seats.

Quinn’s heart drops. You had mentioned that you were thinking about inviting Evan but didn’t think it would be so soon. He tries to forget that you brought your boyfriend to the game, but he can’t forget the fact that you’re wearing his jersey. He can’t help but feel a fire ignite when Evan leans in to say something to you. The sense of jealousy does not go away, but there is a sense of pride knowing his name is the one on your back.

You spot Quinn looking at the two of you and give a shy wave like you had been caught. Evan leaves to go grab some water and you are stuck worrying about what Quinn is thinking about you bringing Evan. 

Honestly since you started hanging out with Quinn again you just felt like your heart wasn’t in it with Evan anymore. You were planning on ending it but he kept talking about how excited he was for the game, so You decided to wait until after to end it with him.

There were no goals by either team after the first period, but something about Quinn seemed off. He was checking the other team left and right and was obviously agitated. The crowd is electric even though the Canucks are down 3-2 half way through the third, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.

Quinn continues to instigate against the Jets and eventually gets himself into a fight against some player who was aggravating him all night. It doesn’t last long, but enough to get himself a penalty. He looks even more upset than before watching over the play.

Y/N was worried for Quinn. He never was this short tempered and she couldn’t figure what made him that upset. Evan can feel the nerves radiating off of her and rubs her shoulder to try and calm her, but he can’t help but feel like he is the last thing she needs right now.

“Hey Y/N I hate to do this here but I think we should probably end this,” Evan says and you finally take your eyes off Quinn. There is nothing you can do but sigh.

“Evan I’m so sorry I really wish I could’ve been better for you.”

“No it’s ok we had a great time and I’m happy being your friend I just think you have feelings for someone else,” Evan says with little to no hurt in his voice.

“Yeah I would love to still be your friend,” You say with a small smile as he gets up to leave.

Quinn sees Evan get up, but he just assumes that Evan is getting you something from the concessions. He realizes he needs to stop focusing on your date tonight and lock in for the rest of the game.

Unfortunately the Canucks lose 4-2 and Quinn looks like a kicked puppy, but luckily he isn’t assigned to interviews so he can just clean up and get ready to head home. He hopes he can just forget this night, especially seeing you with Evan. 

Little does he know that you’re already waiting for him in the hallway all but pacing the area hoping he’s not too upset to talk to you. Quinn keeps his head down not wanting to see all of the sweet reunions of the couples and families until he hears you call his name. 

He almost doesn’t want to stop worrying Evan would be with you, but you ran up to him to get his attention. Quinn turns around surprised to see you alone with a worried look on your face.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asks, his voice laced with annoyance. His comment leaves a sting in your chest.

“Um we actually ended it, but I just came to see how you were doing. I was really worried about you. I've never seen you so upset,” You say with worry lacing your voice.

“Well thanks for checking on me but - wait you ended it with Evan?” Quinn asks, lighting back up.

“Yeah we were better off as friends. I honestly wanted to end it a while ago because I kind of have feelings for someone else, but he was really looking forward to the game,” You say rubbing your arm hoping he might start catching on.

“Oh?” Quinn says with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but still guarded in case it is someone else.

“Yeah he’s some goofball who was stupid and got himself a penalty tonight,” You say, stepping closer to Quinn.

“Well hopefully he can get that under control for the rest of the season, I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck with someone spending time in a box the whole game,” Quinn says with a smirk and leaning in.

You decided to close the gap and the kiss was all you had ever hoped for. There was a mix of fireworks and something that just felt like home as he grabbed your sides to pull you in closer. Neither of you wanted this feeling to end, but unfortunately you had to come back up for air. 

Quinn has the slightest pink tinge and smile on his face as he pulls back far enough to scan your face for any regrets.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” He says.

“Finally!” Elias says as he rounds the corner to see the two of you still wrapped up in each other's arms.

“I never thought he would make a move,” Elias adds as Quinn tries to hide in your neck.

“Well maybe we should get out of here and talk a little bit,” You suggest and Quinn excitedly nods, grabbing your hand to lead you out.

The two of you get into his car and you leave the arena stealing kisses from each other at stop lights and looking forward to your future together.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #elias pettersson

[amourane]

hate the way you smile

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, e2l + childhood enemies??

w/c: 4.7k

summary: from the second you met theodore nott you knew that your life would be torturous and that the boy would never leave you alone but maybe forever isn't so bad with theodore nott.

warnings: none just a lot of bickering

a/n: omg this one is a bit long but i finished it!

From the moment that you met Theodore Nott at the bright age of five you knew you would hate him forever. Maybe it was the way he would sneer at you with distaste or the way he would mock you for being a big crybaby whenever he took your toys. All you knew was that you simply loathed his presence.

Your families had been friends and they had initially thought that you and Theo would get along since you were both the same age. What they didn’t expect was the young boy to rip the heads of your dolls and proceed to mock you for crying your heart out. Yet even with all of your constant bickering your families still met up every holiday, bringing the demon child with them to torment your life.

Since that day your childhood was filled with cruel laughter and the mischievous eyes that would watch wherever you went.  At age seven, Theodore Nott found it appropriate to fill your bathtub with toads causing you to shriek out in terror when you opened the bathroom door, and him, to run away with glee at your horrified face. At age nine, he thought it would’ve been funny to surprise you by dumping a bucket load of pumpkin juice all over you and he cackled at your expected screams of anger. What he didn’t expect was for you to retaliate by smashing a tray of cauldron cakes into his face. 

Needless to say the war between you two started way back then and it had continued, the only difference being that now you both were more mature and civilised and there was no room for childish pranks.

“Suck my cock you mangled prat, I hope you trip and fall to your death you insignificant shit goblin!” 

At least so you thought.

You made a move and lunged for Theodore Nott’s throat as anger flared in your eyes. No one paid mind to the scene that was unfolding before them afterall it was a common occurrence for the last six years. 

“You enchanted my hair green!” You shrieked as you shook the brunette violently. “Are you out of your mind Nott? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mess with each other’s appearances, what happened to that?” 

Theodore simply smirked and you felt your fury bubble inside you. He tilted his head to the right and acted as if he was actually pondering your question. If you could you would have been breathing flames as you felt yourself grow more livid as every second went by. 

“Hmm…I like your hair L/n, really suits the whole vibe you’re going for, don't you think bella?” Theo flashed you a wicked grin as he reached out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. You slapped his hand away.

“And what vibe am I going for Nott? Please enlighten me since you apparently are the one making decisions for me.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should’ve just cursed him out and gone to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of remedy instead of staying and entertaining whatever shit-faced idea he had come up with. The moment you saw the smug smirk that spread across his face and the dangerous twinkle in his eyes you knew he was going to spew some absolute bullshit. And you were right.

“Well obviously it’s a statement declaring that you’re mine, why else would you dye your hair to match my house?” The Slythering feigned disbelief, clutching his hands to his chest innocently. “But Salazar, I didn’t know you would be so bold about your feelings towards me bella.”

You felt heat rise and settle on your cheeks as you tried to come up with a colourful comeback to wipe the stupid smirk off his face but the words die in your throat. It was against your will but you could feel your face growing hotter as he continued to stare at you with that flirty glint in his eyes. Your brain spluttered to a stop and you scrambled desperately for something to say.

“Fuck you Nott.” You seethed before storming away with your hands balled into fists. You could hear the whispers of students and you could feel their stares as you stomped to the infirmary, determined to find some way to get your hair back to normal. 

Theodore Nott was the biggest pain in the arse you knew and he had never stopped being one. You still remembered when you had received your letter to Hogwarts and he had scoffed at the sight asking why Hogwarts would want a half-wit like you. Needless to say your parents weren’t surprised at the cries that erupted a second later from both you and him.

Throughout your years the two of you had become known for the obvious tension and pure hatred you harboured for each other though it did seem to lean on your side a bit more than it did to his. It had been the same for the first three years, bickering, pranks and whatnot. Then fourth year came and the scrawny boy you once knew had magically grown much taller and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat it once had. All at once Theodore Nott became one of the most sought after boys in Hogwarts and it only made you loathe him more. It made his ego triple in size and it made him much more flirty towards everyone but you seemed to be his number one target. All you wanted to do was to take your wand and puncture that bloated head of his.

Though his appearance changed he still was the boy you knew since you were a child and whenever he smiled you could see the same boyish grin he had way back when he was five. He had always been the same but now he just had a much more pretty face to disguise the fact he was a blithering idiot.

Theo watched as you stormed off, his smile never once leaving his face. He loved to mess with you purely to see the visceral anger that radiated off you every single time. The way you would try to stare him down but the action proved useless as he was much taller allowing him to simply look down smugly. It amused him to see how your reactions never changed. 

Ever since you were five you held the same expressions: whenever you were mildly irritated by him you would chew on your bottom lip, whenever you were pissed your eyes would double in size and you’d look like a fire-breathing dragon, and whenever he made you upset you would stare blankly without a word. He’d only ever made you truly upset once and when seeing your face he knew he would never do it again because even if the two of you bickered and fought he would never hurt you.

“Sometimes I think you’re secretly dating because you should see the way you’re daydreaming hopelessly while staring at L/n’s retreating figure Nott, you look like a bloody imbecile.” Draco slapped Theo’s back startling him out of his own thoughts. He scoffed after realising what his friend was implying.

“Oh Salazar’s balls I think I’m going to regurgitate my breakfast. You’ve gone insane if you even think for a second there’s a chance I fancy that creature.”

Laughter erupted from his friends and they continued to mock and tease him obviously not being mature enough to handle the situation with grace.

“I would rather shag the giant squid than date L/n and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

Mattheo hummed to himself and smirked. He placed his arm on Theo’s shoulder. “Well then can I ask her out? She’s real hot and I think she’d be interested.”

“L/n might be stupid Riddle but she wouldn’t ever go out with you or even give you the time of day. So don’t even think about doing it.” And with that he left and his friends exchanged knowing glances before bursting into another fit of laughter at their friend’s own obliviousness.

//

This was so not your day. 

Never in your life had you forgotten to hand in homework yet one silly slip up had cost you to spend your free afternoon in detention. It wasn’t your fault you had mixed up the dates on when the transfiguration homework was due. 

You begrudgingly opened the classroom doors, finding a seat to sit down for the next hour. At least you were able to catch up on some other classes while you were in detention otherwise you thought you would’ve gone mad. You looked around the classroom save for Professor McGonagall who had already greeted you when you walked in there was no one else there. 

It hadn’t even been a minute when the doors burst open to reveal a very tall and very smug Slytherin.

“Mr Nott, glad for you to join us, find a seat please.”

Theo's grin faltered as his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of confusion dancing across his features before it was swiftly replaced by his trademark smirk. He made his way toward you, closing the distance until there were mere centimetres separating you from him.

“Now L/n, Nott, I have important business to tend to so I assume the both of you are mature enough to sit through this detention. I hope that I don’t hear about any incidents when I am gone.”

It was as if your nightmare had all of a sudden come to life as you watched McGonagall leave the classroom. You tried to protest but it fell upon deaf ears as the professor had already left the room, leaving you stuck with your nemesis.

You whipped your head to face the brunette, irritation flashing in your eyes. Why had he chosen to sit next to you when there were plenty of other seats available? The classroom was far from crowded, yet here he was, invading your personal space with his mere presence

“Why are you sitting next to me Nott?”

“Why can’t I? Do you happen to own every seat in this classroom?” He teased. “I didn’t think you did, so I’m going to sit where I want.”

You grumbled under your breath at his stubbornness, getting up to pack your things. “Fine, but then I’m moving.”

Before you could make your move, Theo reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey slow down, I have a perfect seat right here.” Your irritation flared at his audacity, and you shot him a scathing glare as he gestured to his lap with a smug smirk. “Why don’t you-”

“Nott, if you seriously propose that I sit in your lap I will hex you to oblivion.”

“Okay!” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression feigning innocence as he cocked his head to the side, the smirk never once leaving his face. “Stay here, I won’t bother you, I swear.”

You eyed him cautiously, your scepticism evident. You weighed the options before you reluctantly sat back down. “Fine.”

A quiet hush befell the classroom and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment. That is until you were interrupted by a persistent poking sensation that disrupted your concentration, each jab of the quill more annoying than the last. You clenched your jaw as you tried to ignore Theo but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave him attention and there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of reacting. So he continued to poke and poke and poke. 

His incessant poking finally pushed you over the edge, prompting a sharp hiss of irritation from your lips. "What?" You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer.

“What are you doing here?” 

If there was a competition for incompetence Theodore Nott would sure have won first place.

“Detention obviously.”

“Oh you know what I meant, why are you in detention? Did you do something stupid? Wait, you do that all the time I forgot.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of your skull. "Tell me, bella," He continued, his voice laced with faux innocence. "I don't bite."

“Forgot my homework.” You reluctantly mumbled under your breath, feeling all too claustrophobic at how close he was to you. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh but it is.”

“What does that even mean, Nott?” Your eyes narrowed. Theo’s face twisted into a playful smirk and he was so close that you could practically hear his heart beating.

He chuckled, undeterred by your hostility. "But it's not like you to forget your homework," He teased, leaning in closer. "There must be something distracting you. Perhaps... thoughts of me?"

As if on instinct your hands reached out to push the unbearable boy away from you and you immediately got up at his incredulous words. You saw the way laughter bubbled and slipped from his lips, mocking you which only added more fuel to the evergrowing fire.

"In your dreams, Nott," You retorted, your voice laced with venom as you rose from your seat, your movements quick and determined. "I would sooner volunteer for a Dementor's kiss than waste a single thought on you."

Theo’s smirk only widened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual," He quipped, his voice dripping with amusement as he rested his chin on his palms, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You huffed out an angry breath before picking your stuff up and stalking to the opposite end of the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t follow and you were left in peace for the rest of the detention.

//

It had been a week and a half since your detention yet Theodore Nott hadn’t approached you once since. In fact, you hadn’t seen him around school a lot, not that you were paying attention of course. It was just weird. Usually his face would pop up in front of you multiple times a day yet he was nowhere to be found. You had even lingered around the Slytherin table at lunch to see if he would show up but he never did. 

There was this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even though you did despise Theo you had known him since he was a kid and he never was one to skip lessons much less disappear for over a week. Even his Slytherin friends didn’t know where he went.

That is until today. The moment you had walked into the dungeons ready for your Potions lesson you spotted him. There was a part of you that hoped you would see him today, after all he was your Potions partner. But there was something wrong. His face looked gaunt, pale, sapped of life and his eyes were merely blank as he sat unmoving. His usual demeanour was replaced with one of hollow emptiness.

“Where have you been Nott?” No response. You frowned as you looked at him, he seemed to not even hear you. “Nott? Have you suddenly become deaf?”

“It’s none of your business.” He snapped voice obviously laced with malice as the words cut through the air. The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, a twinge of hurt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness despite the fact you both had said worse to each other.

You chose to ignore the fact that Theo was obviously in a sour mood and sat down beside him, unpacking your things. There was nothing special about the lesson, nothing that you needed to particularly pay attention to. Not that you did since you were too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with your partner. Theo didn’t look okay, not in the slightest. He seemed exhausted and his sluggish movements proved you correct as he diced the various ingredients. 

You were in the middle of stirring the cauldron when Theo dropped a dandelion root in the mixture causing it to bubble and spit. The concoction spilled onto your hand and you shrieked at the sudden burning sensation that seemed to consume your hand in flames. The sensation is unbearable, a sharp, burning agony that seems to penetrate deep into your very bones. By now the whole class had stopped to look at you not fully registering what had happened. You turned to Theo, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the pain but he stood there frozen, an expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“Theo-”

"Fucking hell, L/n." He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Would it kill you to not be such a clumsy moron? You could've hurt me as well. How can you even call yourself a witch?"

His words were sharp and spiteful. Through the many years of knowing Theodore Nott he had never blamed you for something he did. He might have been an incorrigible prick but he would still apologise if he had ever hurt you genuinely. But as you looked at him you couldn’t recognise the cold harsh look he gave you and you bit back your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. 

Despite the fact your hand was in pain you felt something tighten around your chest and it made the air around you feel thick as if you couldn’t breathe. You stood up angrily, opening your mouth to snap back but your vision starts to fade, black spots invade your senses and that was the last thing you remember before you tumbled to the floor.

You woke up a few hours later as you felt the sun shine on your face. You blinked, disorientated, as you tried to get used to your surroundings. The familiar walls of the infirmary materialised and you felt some ease at knowing where you were. Confusion still gnawed at your mind as you struggled to piece together what had happened. How had you ended up in the infirmary? And why did everything feel so hazy, as if viewed through a foggy lens? 

Your gaze drifted to your hand, the source of the searing pain. And there, wrapped in a pristine white bandage, lay the answer to at least one of your questions. The memory flooded back in fragments, disjointed and incomplete.

Theo's careless mistake, the scalding mixture splattering across your skin, the sharp cry of pain that had torn through the air, all of it came rushing back with startling clarity.

“Miss L/n you’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through your thoughts and you saw the woman make her way towards you hurriedly. “That was a terrible burn you had, lucky I had some burn-healing paste on me otherwise you would have had an ugly scar.”

You were still a bit dazed, trying to piece together how you even managed to make your way here. You distinctively remembered collapsing to the floor but that was where your memory stopped and it refused to give you any more.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey but do you know how I got here? I really can’t seem to remember.”

“Oh dear.” The nurse frowned at your condition. “Mr Nott brought you here. He’s been here the whole afternoon. He's only just popped to dinner. I'm sure he’ll be back. Merlin, the boy did look worried.”

You resisted the urge to scoff at her words. Theodore Nott, worried. Not a chance. He probably only brought you here because Slughorn insisted, and he couldn't risk getting on the professor's bad side. No, you highly doubted he cared about what had happened to you.

The memory of his harsh words repeated in your head like an echo that refused to go away, a reminder of his indifference to your situation. And yet, despite your efforts to brush it off, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Why were you even upset? After all, the two of you were experts at hurling mean insults at each other. It was practically a pastime. 

Rather you should have been mad at the fact he was the one who caused you to get this injury anyway. If it wasn’t for his stupid mistake you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, you remembered his movements, how his usual nimble fingers were fumbling the ingredients, how he stared at the pages of his book as though they were in a foreign language. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re awake.”

The words startled you and you spotted the Slytherin boy approaching your bed as his face held the same blank expression as before. He sat down beside you and your eyes narrowed. You shuffled away, not wanting to be near him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly and the words caught you off guard. “These past few days just haven’t been the best and-”

“That’s your excuse?” You bristled at his pathetic apology, hoping that you had misheard what he had said. “You mess up our potion resulting in me getting hurt and then hurl insults my way trying to blame me for what happened. And you think simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough? Using the excuse of having a few bad days as your way out?”

He stayed silent allowing you to continue.

“Theodore Nott, you always were an idiot.” You spat, the words tinged with disappointment. “But I never expected you to be such a heartless prick.”

As the final syllable fell from your lips, a heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of your breath. You held Theo’s gaze and as you studied him you noticed something you had failed to notice before. The dark circles that marred the skin beneath his eyes, the redness that rimmed their edges. The weariness that had been etched into his features. 

“I went home.” He finally said, breaking the silence with his words. “Father sent a letter saying it was urgent, that I needed to return home at once.”

You felt yourself deflate and your gaze softened. Theo and his father had never been on the best terms and ever since his mother died they drifted apart even more. Suddenly his attitude made sense and you felt the guilt seep into your senses.

“Turns out his urgent matter was that he found himself another potential wife. Some poor woman to endure his torture and he wanted to happily announce it to his son. He burnt all of my mother’s belongings and if I hadn’t stopped him he would’ve gotten rid of her grave as well.” Theo scoffed bitterly and you saw the way he was trying to stop the tears from falling. “That bastard calls himself my father but not once in his life has he ever cared about me.”

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you as you sat not uttering a word. You knew that he had always struggled with the strained relationship with his family. The death of his mother had resulted in Theo being distraught for weeks as he relived the nightmare whenever he closed his eyes. 

“I’m not going back there. I’m never setting foot in that house ever again.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as you tried to offer some sort of comfort. His eyes locked with yours and you saw how his tears glistened as they fell silently. You felt ropes tighten around your heart and you squeezed his shoulder gently. It had been a long time since you saw Theodore Nott cry. It was a rare sight but that was what made it that much more painful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I honestly…I’m so sorry Theo. He really doesn’t deserve a son like you. You’re incredible, you know that? You might be irritating and loud and downright infuriating at times but he doesn’t deserve you because you’re amazing Theodore Nott. And, Merlin, if I’m saying that then it must mean a lot because we both know my word is golden.”

You offered him a small smile and your heart warms when you see one tug at his lips too. He looked away for a second and you saw his eyes land on your bandaged hand and he winced.

“I really am sorry for messing up our potion. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re a brilliant witch Y/n, you always have been. I was just being a prat, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s honestly nothing bad. My hand will probably already be back to normal, I heal quickly you know.” You paused as your smile faltered and you chose your next words carefully. “If…if you don’t want to return to your house, you can always go to someone else's.”

Theo chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is going to accept me into their house without turning me into my father.”

“I will.” 

Silence. Theo looked at you, confusion clear on his face but your gaze was strong and he could tell you had meant what you had said. You felt yourself flush at his stare and you realised your hand was still on his shoulder and you quickly removed it.

“Accept you into my house I mean. My parents love you and you know they haven’t been on good terms with your father ever since what happened. We would be more than willing to take you in.” You watched as his face contorted into expressions that you couldn’t formulate. “That is if you promise not to fill my bathtub with toads again.”

Laughter fell from his lips, cascading like a melody. He lifted his hands to wipe away his tears that had been streaking down his face. His eyes no longer held the blank emotionless look but rather a certain warmth that you had missed seeing. Your grin widened upon hearing the sound and you found yourself joining in.

“At least you look pretty-”

Your words were cut off abruptly as Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden and unexpected kiss. You froze, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as disbelief rippled through your body. His hands found their way at the back of your neck and you feel his thumb caress your cheek tenderly. You were still in shock when he pulled away and the last few words of the sentence you were about to say tumbled out of your mouth.

“-when you cry…”

You blinked as your mind tried to grapple at what had just happened. Theodore Nott had just kissed you. Theodore Nott, the boy you had despised since you were five, had just kissed you. He kissed you. Kissed…you. Immediately, your body erupted into flames and you felt your face flush hot at how close the both of you were.

“Your body temperature has risen extremely quickly.” Theo teased and you felt yourself grow even hotter.

“Shut it.”

“Like you’re actually a human radiator.” He continued undeterred by your glare.

“Nott if you don’t want to lose your head I would advise you to shut up.”

Theo grinned and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. “Oh so now I’m back to being Nott? What happened to Theo?” He said his name in a high pitched croon in an attempt to mock your voice and you smacked the backside of his head which only encouraged his laughter.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me.” You groaned as you slumped back down the bed, pulling the covers over your face as a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the pretty Slytherin.

Theo poked your arm and you peeked out to find him staring at you with a bright grin on his face. 

"Don't worry." He reassured you, his voice light and teasing. "I'll make sure to stay by your side forever and ever, like a blood-sucking parasite."

“How romantic.” You drawled as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance as you retreated under the covers once more.

“Aren’t I just?” 

You ignored Theo’s playful whines for you to let him see your face. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. But even so, you were unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, forever wouldn't be so bad with Theodore Nott by your side.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut

[monstrousvoice]

Date Night?

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationship: Husk X Female Reader

AN: I had a week long writers block cause of this damn thing, but I hope it turned out well despite the trouble I had writing it. Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I was struggling with it

Beta-read by the lovely @irkimatsu! I consider them to be the Husk expert, so their input is very important.

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, No actual smut tho, Angel Dust being a good friend - Hes there for his buddy, As always - Husk is implied to be on the chubbier side

Summary: Sometimes you need a friendly reminder that you're allowed to be happy.

Read on AO3!

“You should head back to your room.”

Your heart seized at the words being spoken to you. Your back was to him, so he wouldn't see the heartbreak on your face. Not that it did any good, one look in your direction and he'd see the way your shoulders tensed, the way you curled in on yourself for comfort he wouldn't give. Not that he would look in your direction anyways. 

Even after the vigorous rounds of sex you went through, even with him sitting right behind you, the bed feels cold. 

“Right.” You manage to choke the word out sounding relatively normal. You don't want to move, you're tired and sore and you just want his warm body to hold you close, to bury yourself in his scent and sound and feel loved in a way you don't think you ever have, especially not since falling into hell.

You try once more to reach across the gap between you. 

“Uhm…Charlie said she's planning a movie night tomorrow? If you wanted to sit…with me-...” Your voice gives an embarrassing crack from nerves as you propose the offer. You know what his answer will be.

“That…sounds tempting doll…” 

But he can't. 

“But I can't.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath even as you sit up. Swallowing the disappointment and hurt welling up in your throat like bile. You don't think there's any room left inside yourself for such pain…

He offers no explanation other than that - he never does - and even knowing he's not paying attention to you, you still nod your head in acceptance. 

“Maybe next time.” He offers, as a pathetic attempt at consoling you. You know there will never be a next time. 

So why do you always ask? 

The answer to that question hurts so bad you feel like you'll collapse into a million shards, never to be put back together again.

You dress yourself in silence, forcing yourself to not look in his direction as you cover the bite marks and forming bruises from the world. Eventually you crack, and peek over your shoulder at him with all the demur bravery of a lamb.

He sits with his back towards you and the door, facing the red wall of his room. A bottle of cheap booze is already in his claws, and he takes a swig of it without acknowledging your existence. Like you didn't even exist if your cunt wasn't squeezing his dick. 

You feel like you're about to vomit.

Clothes on, the area between your thighs feeling sticky and used like a throw away toy, you sneak out of his room and walk back to yours feeling disgusting and weak. 

Husk only looks back after you close his door. 

~~~~~~

“A-and then he just fucking fell over! Dick still out!” Angel cackled, throwing his head back as he laughed at his own story. Husk laughed with him, the pleasant buzz of being drunk making everything funny. He poured the two of them another shot each as Angel continued. 

“Fuck man, it feels so good to laugh. You know that Husky? For fucking years I've been down here-” The spider hiccuped as he grabbed his drink, downing it in one go. “-And I've never been happier than I have been since coming to this tacky ass hotel.” Husk nodded along to his words, letting the spider speak his mind. 

“Like, I actually have fucking friends here! That's insane!” Angel laughed, looking giddy. “I-I actually…like being here…” The smile didn't leave his face, but it did soften a tad, looking more genuine and true. His lower hands were folded on his lap under the bar top, and he was leaning against the wood on one top arm. His free arm was idly playing with his glass, tilting it onto its bottom edge and rolling it in circles. His eyes stayed glued to the last bit of liquid courage inside, swishing side to side as he rocked the glass. 

“It is…pretty nice here. Even if I was forced into it.” Husk conceded. He wasn't even pretending to work anymore, leaning on one arm on top of the bar as he spoke. He felt so calm and sluggish…like he could lay here and sleep for days…

And then Angel spoke again.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure you don't regret meetin’ her, eh?” His tone was light, and the smile he gave Husk was a genuine one. It made the bartender's blood go cold. Immediately he shifted, shoulders stiffening as he closed himself off. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He grumbled out, looking away and scowling. Angel froze, letting his glass fall back onto its bottom with a ‘tink’. He raised a single eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at the cat demon. 

“I'm pretty sure you do whiskers.” Angel leaned forward, genuine concern overtaking his features. “What happen’? You two get in a fight?” Husk growled low in his throat, the fur along his spine bristling.

The image of your face flashed in his mind, looking so fucking sad, all because of him-

“Drop it. It doesn't fuckin’ matter.” He hissed. He felt uncomfortably exposed in this moment, alcohol mixing with his self loathing into a potent concoction of misery, and Angel is still fucking staring-

“Why do you do that?” 

That…was not the question Husk was expecting. 

“What?” He asked, more bewildered by the question than angry.

“You and I are friends now, yeah?” The spider asked, gesturing between them both with a single hand. He didn't wait for Husk to respond before continuing. “We're losers, you said. And so it's okay to do loser things in front of each other cause it doesn't matter. So why ain't you tellin me what's wrong with your girl?” He dropped his hand back onto the bar top, drumming his nails against it as he continued. The alcohol in his system put him in a ranting mood. 

Husk wanted to be offended, to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business, but he just…couldn't. As Angel spoke, Husk's ears drooped lower, his tail curling around his legs. 

“We all know you like her, you know. We all see it, and we all hear it, lemme tell ya. So if there's a problem…I'm here to help, or whatever.” Angel rolled his eyes at his own words, hating how corny it sounded but meaning every word. 

Husk sighed, leaning his full weight against the bar. His gut told him this was a terrible idea, but…he did trust Angel. Maybe…he could help? 

“For starters…she's not my girl.” Angel looked genuinely shocked at his words, sitting up straight and furrowing his brows. 

“I didn't take her for a ‘fuck, no attachments’, kinda gal.”

“Cause she ain't. I'm the one who said to keep things…whatever.” He gestured vaguely, unsure how to label what you two are even to himself. Angel's eyes widened in surprise, blinking at Husk like it was the first time he'd ever seen a demon. 

“Well…why the hell did ya go and do that?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Angel trying his damn best to be his friend…maybe it was the way your voice had sounded late last night when he told you to leave his bed…

Husk felt himself crack. 

He hung his head, feeling pain and self loathing flood through him. His next words sounded tired and sad.

“Fuck, cause what else could I do, Anthony?” He took a shuddering breath. “Ask her to be mine and go on to live happy, knowing that someone like her is fucking-...fucking chained to me? A fat alcoholic who's addicted to gambling everything, even his own damn soul, away!?” The bristling of his fur was starting again, his tail swishing angrily at his feet. Even his wings were tense and ready to flare open. Angel - Anthony, simply stared at him, wide eyed but unimpressed. 

“Wasn't there something you told me before…? Hmm let me think,” The spider pretended to think, giving an exaggerated eye roll as he did so. “Oh, yeah! You think that makes you unique?” Husk paused, eyebrows furrowing at his own words being spoken back to him. 

“Everyone has problems down here buddy, you know that as well as I do.” Anthony brought a hand up to pat him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face. “So if someone wants to be near ya despite that…well what's stoppin’ ya?” 

Husk couldn't meet his eyes any longer, lowering himself till he was laying his head on his folded arms on the bar top. His ears drooped as he huffed the saddest, most pitiful sigh of his life - and death. 

“Because she's worth so much more than that. Because the way she smiles is damn near perfect, and she doesn't even seem to hate when I have too much to drink, she goes out of her way to say ‘hi’ to me…Because she makes me feel so damn happy…” He buried his face in his arms, his voice coming out muffled. He hoped it concealed the way his voice cracked with emotion. 

“And that's what terrifies me the most.”

Anthony didn't say anything in response. He moved his hand from Husk's shoulder to his head and neck, idly stroking the soft fur there and finishing his drink. He gave his friend the time needed to compose himself, waiting patiently.

It took a few minutes, but Husk came back to him. The bartender straightened up, carding his claws over his muzzle and back over his ears to link behind his neck. He breathed deep, cracking his neck side to side before letting his hands fall back down as he exhaled. Angel took his hand off him, letting his friend have his space for a moment. 

“Feel better?”

“...A bit, yeah.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Angel took a last sip of his drink, pushing the empty glass back towards Husk.

“I can't tell ya what to do Husky, that's your choice.” The spider shrugged his shoulders, “But I do think you should give it a shot. We're allowed to be happy here.” Husk grabbed the glass, moving on autopilot as he dunked it in the soapy water of the sink to clean. He dried it with a rag as he thought on Angel's words. 

“Just…think on it baby.” And with that the spider demon stood, knocking on the bar counter with knuckles before heading towards the stairs. Husk stayed put, letting his emotions settle in the quiet of the hotel lobby. 

He went through the motions of closing up, emptying the sinks and restocking as he thought. He knows he's a piece a shit, that he's irredeemable at this point…but maybe Angel has a point. 

They were all surrounded by crooks and murderers and assholes, but if you choose to be with him then maybe he should embrace it? Maybe that was the last good thing his stupid ass could do, was make you happy…

Charlie's lessons must be getting to him. 

Even so, he couldn't stop smiling as he went back to his room, thoughts and ideas of how to impress you blooming in his mind like flowers. He could use his old suit, that still fit him…and Charlie no doubt knew a place that grew pretty hellspawn flowers, she seemed the type to like that sort of thing.

Husk finally found sleep late in the night, the resolve to sweep you off your feet boiling his blood and making him dream of color for the first time in decades. 

~~~~~~~

When you got out of bed this morning, you didn't expect anything special. You went about your routine and stepped out of your room, only to hear a ‘crunch’ and feel the shape of something under your feet as you stepped out. With a sense of panic you jumped away, your mind immediately assuming that Nifty was crawling on the hallway floor and you had somehow crushed the small demon under you, despite how ridiculous that seemed. 

Instead, you found…something not alive, thank Lucifer. You tiptoed closer to peer at it, and recognized bright colored paper wrapped snugly around some very crushed flowers. Confused and more than a little curious, you picked them up, noticing a bent up card tucked in-between the stems. You recognized the handwriting. 

Doll,

Got these for you, hope you like em.

I wanna take you out tonight, somewhere nice. I'll stop by your room at 6 to get you. You don't need to go too fancy, just wear something nice but comfortable. 

Husk

You stared…and stared some more. Take you out? Where did this come from? You looked up and down the hallway, half expecting Alastor to pop out and laugh about how he ‘got you’ and your look of confusion was sooo funny. Then laugh even harder when he saw how genuinely hurt you felt over a fake letter from the bartender. 

No such thing happened. 

You continued standing in the empty hallway, looking back and forth for an explanation you wouldn't get. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked back to the card, flipping it this way and that as if you missed some secret note. When nothing changed, you looked at the flowers. They were nice, or at least, they were before you accidentally stepped on them. No other messages attached, though. 

You popped back into your room to lay the items on your dresser. Did you really believe this? Husk has made it clear he didn't…didn't want anything more than a rough night of sex every once in a while. He couldn't have left this for you…

Could he? 

Hope sparked in your chest, so fast-so quick, and you immediately shook your head and tried to squash it down. No. No. You were not doing this. You were not going to get your hopes up that this was anything more than a booty call. He wanted to get dinner or something first? Fine. You could do that and not get attached like a leech to the smallest bit of affection he showed you. 

Should you even go…?

The constant loop you found yourself in with the cat demon…it was taking a toll on you. You could feel it in the way your eyes still stung after crying the night before, the way your chest ached at the thought of him. The sex was good, amazing even, but was it worth the hurt you felt every time you tried to reach for his hand only for Husk to pull away like you burned him? 

You groaned, rubbing your face in frustration. Why did you have to make these things complicated? Why couldn't you just take what he offers you and be happy with that? 

You knew why…

Huffing, you stared at the letter and flowers and made a decision. You would try tonight, and see if you could make this…thing between the two of you work without all the…the emotions and stuff. And if you couldn't, you would stop. Because it wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be fair to him. 

Just one more try. 

And so you found yourself waiting in your room hours later. You had done as Husk’s letter said, dressed in something nice but comfortable, worrying your bottom lip to dust from nerves. What were you supposed to expect from tonight? A cheap dinner to get you in the mood for sex only to be told to leave in the morning once more? You so desperately wanted more than that…

You jumped at the sound of knocking on your door. Tripping over your own feet, you managed to get the door open and felt surprised by what you saw. Husk stood before you, fur slicked back and neat looking, with a proper casual suit on - no missing shirt. He still wore his suspenders, thumbs hooked into the straps and pulling them as he waited for you. 

His pupils dilated at the sight of you.

“Whoa…You uh-you look nice doll.” Husk smiled at you, and you felt your heart melt a little. You smoothed non-existent wrinkles in your clothes, fiddling with your appearance.

“Thanks…I hope it's not too casual? Or too fancy?” He shook his head ‘no’ at your words. “You look very nice too, Husk. Very handsome…” Your voice trailed off as you spoke, nervous you were overstepping a line by complimenting him back. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. You were biting your bottom lip, bracing yourself for him to reject your kindness and tell you not to get attached to him, like he always did…

Husk swallowed his words, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as his eyes darted to the floor. 

“Right, thanks baby…” He mumbled, feeling embarrassed. By the way you relaxed, looking at him with wide hopeful eyes, he figured he gave the correct response. Shaking off his nerves, Husk moved to a slight bow, gesturing for you to take a step past him and into the hallway. 

“After you, sweet thing.”

~~~~~~~

Dinner was…something. 

It was a tiny hole in the wall joint that Husk brought you to, one with good food and better alcohol. It looked a little nicer than your average bar however, with nice mood lightning and even music. You wondered if the reason it was so nice was because it was on the edge of the city, not far from the Hotel. Less gangs looking to rob a place all the way out here.

When you sat down, immediately your gut started churning with self loathing and fear. What happened now? 

Normally going out with Husk meant him getting absolutely sloshed before flirting with you, asking you to come to bed with him. The words he spoke always managed to make you blush, his baritone voice doing wonders to your body even as you knew he was only interested because of the alcohol coating his breath. 

He never seemed to stay sober in your company long enough to talk seriously. You doubted he even remembered the numerous nights you gave in to his charms. 

Would tonight just be a repeat of that? 

When he ordered a hard whiskey as you settled down into a booth, you feared the worst. 

“So um…why did you want me to come out tonight?” You asked, staring a hole into the table top as you hated yourself for falling for this again. You didn't even notice the waiter putting your drink in front of you. Husk took a sip, a single sip, of his drink before turning to you. At least he wasn't chugging them tonight…

“Well I uh…I wanted to do something for you. Make up for everything else, I guess.” You gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. When he didn't elaborate further, you sighed, curling in on yourself where you sat.

“Right, okay…” Your voice trailed off, the two of you sitting in silence even as others in the bar made a ruckus of noise. Out the corner of your eye you saw Husk open his mouth as if to speak, only to snap his jaw shut and take another sip of whiskey. 

Just as you thought you would go mad from the suffocating tension, your waiter came back. 

“The fuck you guys want?” He asked. He was chewing something (tobacco maybe? smelled like tobacco) obnoxiously loud, looking bored as he started down at you. 

You floundered for a moment, realizing you hadn't even looked at the menu yet to see what you wanted. Panic rose in your chest and squeezed your lungs tight as your brain short circuited on what to say. 

“Uh-”

“Two of the house specials, and make sure to-” You turned to look at Husk with wide eyes as he ordered for you, telling the server exactly what you wanted and didn't want on your food. Your waiter rolled his eyes and scoffed even as he wrote everything down, not noticing the grateful and shocked look you were sending the cat demon.

You couldn't believe it, Husk actually knew what you liked! You had honestly thought he never noticed what you ordered to eat…

“Th-thank you…” You managed to squeak out after the waiter left. Husk smirked at you, eyes hooded and pupils wide as he looked at you. 

“Gotta make sure my baby gets what she wants~” He all but purred at you. He shifted closer to you in the booth, and you jumped in your seat at the soft tickling of his tail against your leg. 

Oh no.

You tried to smile back despite the mix of emotions making your stomach twist. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of your heart, if only he would stop staring at you like that-

“H-how was your day!?” You blurted out, a little louder than you meant to. Husk's eyes went wide just like yours did, taken back by your volume. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, giving a muffled apology. 

“Sorry, sorry…didn't mean to be so loud…” He chuckled in response, a deep sound that vibrated through your body even with the distance between you. Distance he was slowly closing in on.

“S’alright baby girl.” Oh god- “My day was alright. Was making sure I got everything done at the bar in time for this.” He gestured between the two of you, and all you could do in response was nod. What was happening right now!? Husk never acted so bold towards you until he had a few drinks in him - and ‘a few’ is quite a bit before he started to feel the buzz of intoxication. Was he drinking before he picked you up? He didn't seem drunk at the time, but it's the only explanation your fried brain could think of as to why he was acting so…not himself.

Everything today was going against the norm of your relationship. Husk never complimented you like he did today. He never let you compliment him back. He never called you nicknames unless he was in the mood for a night of fucking.

Was that what this all was? Just another attempt to get you in his bed only for him to push you away again come morning? 

Your chest felt tight…you couldn't breathe. He was so close now-

“How ‘bout you? Good day, I hope.” As he spoke, he brought a paw up, laying it over your own hand on the table. 

Oh no.

No, you couldn't do this. Husk never asked about your day. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to end well for you, your gut was urging you to run.

You took in a deep breath to ground yourself, and pulled your hand away from his. You didn't meet his eyes. 

If you had, you would have seen the quiet worry in his gaze. He already missed the warmth of your hand. 

“You don't have to do that.” You whispered.

“Do what?” Husk asked, a feathered eyebrow raising in concern. Why weren't you looking at him…?

“I mean you don't have to pretend to care, or anything. It's not necessary, we both know what this is all for.”

“...What?” The bartender sat up straight, slowly pulling away from your personal space. 

“You know that I like you already, Husk.”

“Yeah…?”

“And…well, after dinner you'll want to go back to the hotel. You'll want to sit at the bar for a little while, have a few more drinks…and I'll sit with you because-” You paused, swallowing hard. Husk didn't say anything, only the sound of his breathing letting you know he was even still sitting with you. 

“You'll ask me to come up to your room again. And I will. You'll have me sit on the bed and we'll talk a little, but after everything you've had to drink you won't remember it…nope.”

“...I remember the things you tell me…” His voice was soft, but you didn't stop talking. You couldn't. 

“I'll stay for the night. And it'll feel…so good to be with you. To have your hands on me, to feel desired and wanted…by you. And I'll convince myself that maybe you really do feel that way for me…that you want me for more than sex. That this time is different…And I'll feel happy.” You took a deep, shuddering breath. Your eyes were fixated on an old stain in the wood. Husk sat in silence next to you, ears perked in your direction.

“A-a-and then…morning comes. And you'll ask me to leave. And I'll try, fuck will I try, to-to…to reach out, in some way. But oh no, you're busy. Can't meet up later, can't spend time together. And I'll go back to my room, my legs s-sore and covered in-” You sniffed, feeling a sting behind your eyes that you refused to give in to. 

“...And I'll lie in bed and slowly die all over again.” 

Silence between you two. Someone at the bar is hauled outside by security. A group of demons a couple tables over cheer and shout over a game they're playing.

You look at Husk, your eyes burning with unshed tears. His own eyes were wide as he stared at you, like it was the first time he was seeing you. Really seeing you. His ears were wilting, laying flat against his head. His wings were closed tight against his back.

You couldn't help but give a disbelieving laugh as you spoke again. 

“I…I don't know why I put myself through this…” you whispered. That was a lie.

Husk felt his blood freeze, his heart crack and break as he looked into your eyes. His hand moved on instinct, moving to cup your cheek. You flinched at his touch, as if you forgot he was really there with you, in this moment. Your eyelashes fluttered as his warm paw settled on your face, your tears finally falling. He used his thumb to wipe them away.

He liked the way your face looked, cradled by his own paws. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered. You didn't respond, simply looking through him with a thousand yard stare. “I'm so sorry baby girl…I shouldn't have done that to you, I never wanted to make you feel so low that…that you think of yourself like this.” 

He feels you swallow beneath his claws. You haven't pulled away, yet, and he can't thank whatever god exists above you both enough for such a small mercy in Hell. 

“I was scared. I'm still scared…” He mumbled, pulling your face closer to his own. His wings wrapped around you both, shielding you from the rest of the bar as he spoke. “I thought…bringing you out tonight would be a step in the right direction. Showing you…how much you mean to me.”

You whimpered at his words, eyes closing as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Despite his surprise, he let you, quickly wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you even closer. He could feel your hot breath on his fur, a little wet from your tears too, but he didn't mind. As long as no one else in the bar saw you like this. A curtain of red feathers made sure that was the case. 

“I do want more baby…I swear I do. I'll take you out to dinner, I'll talk with you and I'll listen, I swear it-! And I'll hold you if you'll let me…I wanna hold you so bad…” Husk pressed a kiss against the back of your head, nuzzling his nose against you. His own voice sounded choked up at this point, and he swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. 

You nodded against him, gripping his fur tight in each of your hands. You felt overwhelmed, but you were happy despite that. His words felt like a balm on a burn, soothing and pleasant.

Breathing deep to calm yourself down, you slowly pulled away, just enough that you could look him in the eye. A thin ring of molten gold around wide pupils watched you in turn, and you could see the slight fear in him that you would pull away completely. You had no intention of doing so. 

“You r-really, really mean it?” You asked, voice so soft you wondered for a moment if he even heard you. His soft smile said otherwise. 

“Yeah, yeah I really do babydoll. I won't…I won't be great at it, at first-” He cringed at his words, ears going flat. “But I just ask for a chance, a real chance, to show you I can do better. Please.” You're leaning in to press kisses against his muzzle before he's done speaking, your hands carding through the fur of his chest and up to cup around the base of his ears. 

You hear a faint purr under the loud atmosphere of the bar. 

“Okay…” You manage to say in between smooches on white and black fur. Husk simply holds you tighter to him, claws pressing into the muscle of your back and shoulders. 

You stay like that for a moment, holding each other and calming down before you have to face the world again. You wipe your eyes and try to fix Husk's fur, smoothing out the spots you had mussed. You were both smiling. 

“Hey, we don't allow fucking in here, put the wings down or get a room.” The voice of your waiter cut through the tender moment. Like magic, Husk's demeanor changed, his usual grumpy frown back like it had never been missing. He dropped his wings as asked, but gave a scathing glare to your waiter.

“Wern’t fucking, dickhead. Just leave the food and go.” The waiter’s unimpressed gaze flicked between you two. Your flushed face, Husk's still messy fur, the wrinkles in your clothes from holding each other…

“Uh huh, yeah whatever man. Just don't do it.” With an eye roll so dramatic you wondered how his eyes stayed in his skull, your waiter placed your plates with an unceremonious ‘thunk!’ on the table and sauntered away. 

Husk glared after him, and the sight was too much-you laughed. Husk looked back at you with wide eyes, before his own grin took over his face, and he was chuckling along with you. 

“Well, that happened~!” He rumbled. You leaned against him, still giggling to yourself as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You ready to eat, doll?” His own arm settled over your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. 

“Mhm~” You nodded, pulling your plate closer so you could eat while snuggled against him still. Husk didn't seem to mind, squeezing you tight before digging into his own food. You could feel him rise and fall with his breathing, his stomach pressing against you, soft fur feeling warm against you. 

You didn't talk much, too exhausted after the onslaught of feelings you just sorted through together. The food was fine, the drinks were fine. What made you happy was being held close by Husk, and knowing you could hold him close too, and he wouldn't push you away.

Even after eating, even after flipping off your waiter as he left your table with his tip, even as you walked down the hectic streets of the Pride Ring, you were still holding each other in some way. You needed to feel him against you, to feel his warmth as you made your way back to the Hotel.  When Husk gently tugged you towards his room, you followed. When he pulled you into bed with him, you wrapped around him like a leech, legs and arms tangling with his as you settled down. You drifted off to sleep feeling warm, surrounded by the sound of his purring.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Husk #Hazbin Hotel X Reader #Hazbin Hotel Husk X Reader #Husk X Reader #Hazbin Hotel Angel Dust #TW Mentions of Alcohol #My Writing

[cherryxblossxms]

🔞 i guess it's because there's an event happening and that's why he's on my mind, but i've been thinking about sexual tension and some angst with Lucifer

[NSFW, minors DNI. GN reader, unrequited feelings(?), casual sex, getting caught. Maybe alluding to some angry/jealous sex, possible dubcon at the end?? This is....wayyyy longer than intended/accidental ficlet]

Like just imagining really coming to be attracted to him. Emotionally attracted because he's responsible and serious and intelligent, and then has his sweet and romantic moments that seem like they're only for you. And physically, he has every reason to be the Avatar of Pride. He's probably one of, if not the most, gorgeous men you've ever laid eyes on. Those intense ruby red eyes, broad shoulders, skilled hands that produced both gorgeous handwriting as well as wonderful piano music.

It comes to the point that you can't make eye contact with him or you know you'll get flustered. Starting to get distracted by thinking about what he'd be like as a lover, as a boyfriend. Slight touches are enough to send your daydreams on a journey. But knowing he likely doesn't like you that way, that the feelings aren't returned. And anyway, the plan is to eventually return to the human world, right? Is it worth getting into a relationship now, just to separate so soon down the road? But rather than deal with the rejection and heartache, just swallowing those feelings down and trying to move on with your life.

Of course, amidst the inner turmoil going on in your heart, you didn't expect to get involved with Lord Diavolo instead, the prince approaching you with the most unexpected offer that you decided to accept, perhaps against your better judgment.

It wasn't anything serious, definitely just a fling, simply responding to mutual attraction and a mutual desire for some stress relief. Honestly, it happened rather suddenly, a curious kiss after a meeting quickly evolving into more, but once it started, it was easy to just go with the flow, taking your moments alone to indulge and just release that tension. You reasoned it was both a good way to forget your feelings and still enjoy some kind of attention, and thankfully he was an excellent lover.

However, you had to admit to yourself that, as gorgeous and skilled as the devil prince was, you'd be lying if your mind didn't seem to wander off more often than not to a certain red-eyed devil. Even as Diavolo worked to rearrange your guts over his office desk, risking any documents he decidedly abandoned in pursuit of... greater pleasures, even as his golden eyes burned into you and he devoted himself to learning your favorite spots, your mind still went back to Lucifer.

If Diavolo knew that your heart was elsewhere, he didn't mention it. You were an adult and you weren't dating each other, he had no right to question it regardless. And as the heir to the throne, he had other things to focus on anyway. The whole point of the fling was something simple, pleasurable, and the less you two thought about feelings and regrets, the better.

Of course, assumptions can often be your undoing.

During one such beneficial "meeting" between you and the prince, your hands were grasping— broad shoulders, the desk, his hair, whatever was closest— as you tried to hold on for dear life. Something had seemed to really get under his skin lately, so he was working on releasing all his stress into you instead, his desk at risk of breaking, based on the amount of creaking that could be heard. His large cock bullying its way into your body repeatedly and pressing up against a particularly sensitive spot inside was driving you close to climax, and the overwhelming pleasure was driving any coherent thoughts from your mind.

The volume of the room was loud and only getting louder by the second, a sinful symphony of pants and grunts, rhythmic wood creaking, and the wet slap of Diavolo's balls against your ass. Thus, it was no wonder neither of you heard the approaching footsteps, or at least, couldn't be bothered to pay it any mind. Diavolo adjusted his grip on your hips at the last second, really driving his cock home inside you, and you could feel the band about to snap.

Just before you could go over that delicious precipice, the door to Diavolo's office opened, and your head whipped around to see the intruder. Of all the people it could have been, you should have known there was equal chances of being walked in by Lucifer as there was Barbatos. And yet, seeing him there still froze you to the spot as his eyes met yours.

Or rather, it would have. But Diavolo made one more thrust, the thick head of his dick pressing the sweetest little spot inside, and it was enough for the band to finally snap. In what felt like ages but was all within the span of a second, everything came crashing down. Your body tightened before releasing all at once, spasming in Diavolo's hold as you couldn't help but release a cry. The feel of your hole tightening around him dragged him into climax with you, and he seated himself deep inside before filling you with his cum.

What would have been an otherwise heavenly, earth-shattering orgasm was short-lived, as the horror of what happened quickly dissolved any remaining pleasure. You pushed against Diavolo's chest, trying to get him to move, to at least pull out of you, so you could pull yourself together and try to explain-- explain what, exactly? You weren't even sure, and it wasn't like Lucifer didn't just see you cum on his boss' dick just a minute ago, and in fact were still stuffed with it atop his desk.

You couldn't read the expression on his face, and didn't get much chance to explain anything before Lucifer apologized for interrupting and left.

It's days before you can speak to Lucifer again, practically cornering him in his office despite how hard your heart is pounding and how much you want to run away. You're expecting many different reactions: disappointment, shaming, anger, perhaps even indifference. But when Lucifer finally snaps, what initially seems like anger seems to morph into what is instead... jealousy? Questioning you on when your relationship with Diavolo started, how long you two have been fucking, if there's anyone else you're riding like a whore besides the prince.

You can't help the way your face burns when he spits out that word, "whore", but there's no time to attempt a defense before Lucifer is pushing you over his desk, a hand grasping your hip so hard you might bruise, the other yanking your hair to look back at him. The look in his eyes then blows you away, equal parts desire and anger swirling in those bloody depths. You'd ask him what he's going to do, but the solid length pressing against your backside is answer enough. Despite the shame hanging over you, you can't help the part of you that's thrilled that he wants you like that, even if it was happening for all the wrong reasons. But as the sound of a belt unbuckling caught your ears, you accepted your punishment and just hoped there'd be time later to truly confront each other.

#lucifer x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me smut #obey me angst #lucifer thirsts #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #spicy minx 🔥

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 03. Sebastian (Date Night)

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,779 Warnings: established relationship, cock humping, cum in pants. thats it <3 Prompt(s): 03 — date night Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: im loving how soft everyone in this event has been, it's allowed me to stretch my fluff writing muscles a little which i desperately needed <3 don't get me wrong, im just as excited to get to the rougher requests too hehe! but this is a nice change of pace from my usual stuff, so thank you for letting me indulge in this type of writing!

A weekly tradition, one he's kept with him for as long as he can remember. Even when he was too young to drink, his mom would drag him to the saloon every weekend just like how everyone else in town would inevitably show up soon after, the kids getting free reign of the pool room to play in while the adults enjoyed the end of the week together, surrounded by too tall glasses of beer he was always mesmerized by. And years later, he still visits to play with his friends— only he's of legal drinking age now and able to appreciate the taste of alcohol appropriately, which adds a fresh spin to the lifelong pool nights as it were.

And, of course, there's you too. The new addition to his routine, married and homely. A welcomed plus one at that, not just by him, but by his friends too. A small little get together with everyone that quite often doubles as a date night; especially considering there's fuck all else to do in the lazy Pelican Town other than get drunk outside or get high at home. And he does enough of the latter with you already, so he likes to think that these saloon date nights count for something, right?

It's a chance for you to get all dressed up and pretty at the very least! Not that he doesn't think that you're always the prettiest girl in the world, but he knows that he puts in a little more effort himself when it comes to attending the weekly function, and it's nice to see what sort of outfit you'll end up in too. Because you look so pretty in them all, he'd be hard pressed to pick a favourite. Giddily awaiting his chance to politely ogle you from across the bar, a secret hidden game shared amongst lovers.

"Seb!" He hears you yell from the bathroom, and a smile automatically finds its way to his lips. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, all ready to go, he yells back an eager yeah babe?

Footsteps answer his question, and he awaits your arrival with bated breath. Expecting you to be done dressing by now, maybe needing some help with a difficult to reach zip or something? But what he doesn't expect is... Well, God, look at you...

Oh, that's gotta be his favourite outfit on you after all. Wasn't so hard to pick now, was it? The sight of you entering the bedroom, cute confused look on your face, wearing what he can see is only his old hoodie and a pair of underwear is such a pretty view. He bites his tongue as you saunter closer, else he's liable to spill filthy secrets about just how long he's yearned to see you wear exactly that, eyes half lidded the moment his gaze lands on your bare thighs. You could wear anything in the world, the most expensive dress known to man, the prettiest pare of heels in the world, and this would still be his favourite. Barefoot and underdressed, how domesticated you appear, hair and face all done up nicely, dressed to the nines in his hand me downs. There's not a prettier sight, he suddenly decides. Wanting to clutch his chest from how in love he is with you wearing his hoodie, an unmistakeable thirst present in how his hands itch to haul you on top of him so he can love on you a little. Genuinely pained from how badly he wants you in such a swift moment, his pretty little wife.

Still, he hopes you plan on wearing more than just that out to the saloon; a tight tug of jealousy wrapping around his fluttering heart. Except, well, maybe he really doesn't. You look perfect as is, all smiles and wifely in his beloved clothing. His beloved wearing his beloved, he'd rather you stay just as you are. But the thought of others interjecting themselves into such a personal moment for him is annoying, has him already wanting to shield you away from prying eyes despite remaining safe at home.

"Do you know where my uh... My— y'know?" You vaguely gesture towards your bare thighs with your words, and his eyebrows raise in faux suspicion. You always get so frazzled before leaving for the saloon, something about the excitement of the night to come getting to you, and though he truly believes it's innocently adorable how you fret, he can't help but wet his lips at the way you draw attention to your pretty legs right in front of him.

"Your... pants?" He questions back, tutting quietly to himself when you enthusiastically nod yes!

Of course he knows where they are— you had thrown them to him just before getting in the bathroom to assumedly finish getting ready. And like the polite husband he is, he took them without any issue. Quietly holding on to your possessions like he's been taught to, because he enjoys helping you out without need for questioning. "Sure do." He plainly states, reaching behind his back to retrieve the thrown away bottoms only to waggle them in front of you— just out of reach!

The sigh of relief you let out has him chuckling, light laughter filling the air as you ramble on about being so ditzy sometimes, but he thinks it's cute. Loves being your metaphorical knight in shining armour when you come seeking his help for the easiest of things; simply because you've forgotten again. It's nice to be of use to you.

Buuuut, on the other hand, it's just as much being your bully, too. There is intimacy in the moment where your eyes go wide as he tugs the clothing a little farther away, a silent encouragement for you to keep coming, just a little closer. The soft padding of your bare feet on the old creaky floorboards of the farm house rings in his ears as you pout prettily at him, almost bashfully, and he considers it a blessing to see you this exposed and vulnerable up close. "Ah-ah." He teases, extending his arm as high up as possible and rendering your pants inaccessible, a sneaky smirk matching his taunting tone. "I think you should leave just like this," He wiggles around, escaping your attempts to take hold of your bottoms with ease, because he knows your tactics well by now. This is not the first time he's teased you like this. "What d'ya think, babe?"

"I can't, Seb! It's too cold, hence the hoodie!" You huff cutely, and by God does he wanna kiss your lips all better. Cock quietly twitching in his pants as you take his playful attitude well, leaking a little precum for you as you tug on the hoodie strings enough for him in your demonstration of how cold you really feel to be able to see that you wear it just like him: as in, with nothing else on underneath.

He briefly wonders if you can feel the heat coming off of him, big arms ready to cuddle you up against his toned chest in an effort to share his warmth with your apparent shivering self. But you answer his question swiftly when you take to climbing on top of him, his arms immediately wrapping around you as a sharp gasp escapes him— the feeling of your knee brushing against his cock knocking the wind out of him, and still he cares more for your safety than the embarrassing fact that just seeing you in his hoodie has him rock hard already.

Tense pause follows, frozen in place with his strong arms keeping you stable as you rock preciously on his lap. God knows where your clothes have gone, because they were immediately tossed aside the moment he thought you might fall, favouring your safety above all else. And then, without a second though, he blurts out a rushed "Sorry— I, it's just..." Before he buries his head against your chest, taking a shaky inhale to try and collect his thoughts, but with your body practically skin tight to his from how snugly he holds you, cock rubbing inadvertently against your leg, the scent of you mixing with the old musk of his worn hoodie— it was a mistake to tease you from the get go. Only resulting in riling himself up enough to have him biting down on his bottom lip to stave off the primal need to buck his hips against literally any part of you like some sort of horny teen; the things you still do to him. Maybe it'd be understandable if he was acting this way back in the beginning of your relationship, and yet...

"You look good in that." He sighs into you, emphasis on the good to make sure you understand the weight of your actions tonight, curling further into you and leaning back on the bed, safely dragging you down with him and letting go just so he can see how you look above him. "Should be a sin, honestly." He laughs with you, noticing the soft blush on your cheeks prompted by his open honesty.

It's not so bad to admit to such degeneracy, right? Cock nestled firmly between your legs, his hands coming up to stroke gentle lines up and down the fat of your thighs lovingly. Would that he could keep you here all night to himself, dying to show you just how much he loves the minimal fit the best way he knows how. But one look at the clock denies him such pleasures, a heavy sigh escaping him as he notices that he should have left with you five minutes ago.

"C'mon," he pats your ass fondly, blowing some hair out of his face as he half sits up, leaning his weight on one arm while his legs still yet hang off the edge of the bed. "We should get going, once we find your— ah, fuck— babe—!"

Mid sentence, you effectively shut him up with a simple movement. Just a small rock forward, nothing too serious. But fuck does it feel great having you take control like that, his eyes flickering up to your face only to see it scrunched up similarly to his own. Tense, expectant. He holds his breath for a second or two, reclaiming a spot on your back as one arm wraps possessively around it, the other still holding him up.

"Or— We could stay here, if y'want?" He offers, but rather than waiting for a response, he slowly guides you into more movement. Pushing lightly on your back to help you hump forward, and removing the weight of his hand to watch you slide back down his lap. Knowing that you're depending on him for stability when your own hands take root on his shoulders is nice, strokes his ego about as well as your barely clothed cunt strokes his cock off right now. And he figures he's got his answer when you bite your lip so seductively that he has to roll his cock up in tandem with you, literally forced into helping you get off on his lap because instinct begs him to please his wife.

It's just that he's so in love with all the small details, y'know? Like how his hoodie fits you better than it ever has him, how it falls from your frame so prettily as you hover above him, his hand gripping the back of the fabric a little tighter so it showcases your frame just that much better for his leering eyes. The little hah's and seb's your pretty lips whine for him as he helps you ride back and forth on his fat cock, the way your brows furrow in concentration, trying desperately to feel the full weight of his hidden cock, cloth barrier providing enough stimulation to rub nicely against your scantily clad clit, but he knows that frustrated sob all too well. He's fucked it out of you enough times before to know that you need more— but babe, you're already running late.

"C'mere." He prompts you with a head tilt, the moment your face gets close enough to his own he courteously kisses you. Short and sweet, a quick peck more than anything, before your greed overtakes you and you push your hips down into him with more vulgar intent, leaving his mouth wide open in a silent gasp of pleasure for you to take advantage of. He'd never complain at the feeling of your tongue running along his own, his grip tightening on the old hoodie you adorn as a means to display some semblance of restraint, but every drop of shared saliva he's forced to swallow in hopes of more has his head dizzy with desire. A great need welling in his tummy to help you get off, desperate to have you use him for your own benefit like the pretty princess you are to him.

He returns the fervour readily, impishly nibbling down on your lower lip before you do the same back, charming him with a simple smile as he leans in for more kisses. All the while his hips continue to buck up for you, fucking forward when you stroke down, and vice versa when he helps your ride closer to him, drawing his hips down so that his tightly concealed cock almost mimics catching on your pretty hole. The shuffling sound of his jeans fill the room to match the squeak of the bed, and he welcomes every lewd moan and suck you have to offer his needy lips.

"Feels s'fuckin' good, babe—" He slurs truthfully when taking a breather from the heated kiss, vision hazy with how good you look riding him like this. And the fact that he's close already from just a minor amount of petting is a testament to how much he just adores you, he thinks, so there's no room for shame in his pervert thoughts when you push him back down onto the bed, his back cradled gently by the sheets below. And the addition of your open palms on his rapidly rising and falling chest as his lungs struggle to keep up with how fucking hot his wife is when you know what you want only adds to the tight feeling in his core. Balls taut under your relentless humping of his cock, head thrown back with barely there control.

He only wishes he could have whipped it out in time to really feel how soaked your pretty cunt must be, gliding up and down his red hot length as you start to shake on top of him.

Which is perfect, really, because he doesn't think he'd be able to last much longer at this rate either. Saloon well forgotten about when he's got the prettiest girl alive on top of him, riding him so well that he's about to stain his jeans white with how your hips snap up and down his tip, unsure who the main culprit is of the growing wet spot on his bottoms is— but that's hot. Unashamedly yearning for each other as your nails dig into his chest, your thighs tightening at his sides as you pinpoint the exactly location needed to help trigger your orgasm and then—

"That's it, that's my girl—" He manages to force out before he's cumming with you, mostly due to the sight of his hoodie sleeve getting suckled on as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the sickening contrast between how fucking cute you are and that fact that you're cumming all over his nice jeans is too much to handle. After all, he's but a simple man. And when his wife starts to moan his name around the makeshift hoodie gag, he can't help but to shoot his load against his underwear. Cock throbbing under your soaked little cunt as if he were actually filling you up— God he wishes he was, hands digging into your hips as he pushes you against his spurting length to help milk the remainder of seed out.

Just for you.

And he holds you there until he's done, only releasing his grip on you once his body stops tensing and he remembers how to breathe again, a dry half laugh crawling up his throat as you continue to shake for him.

"Better than the usual date night, right?" He muses out loud, pulling you in for a tight cuddle when you join in on his breathless laughter. Hid friends can wait, at least until he's able to find your clothes again. And, a new pair of jeans for himself.

#500 event! #i like this one its nice n soft #PRAYING FOR NO MAJOR MISTAKES THIS TIME BUT WHO KNOWS LOL #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sebastian smut #sebastian smut #stardew valley sebastian smut

[seancekitsch]

Can we have more Vox and Assistant! Reader? Maybe based on the headcanon you had involving Val?

i think im gonna make this a little series hehehe

warnings: rough smut, dom vox, aphrodisiacs, val getting cucked, sort of unethical power dynamics, bondage, etc

“More toys for us, Big Vee?” you ask, scooting further back from the edge of Vox’s bed as you make room for the box Val sets down, tucking your legs under you as you do. 

Vox scowls in your direction as he slides his suspenders down his shoulders.

“Don’t call him that,” he tells you, only to be met by your smirk. Despite his clear annoyance, Vox still takes the time to scan his eyes up and down your body, already delightfully wrapped in blue and red lingerie he had Velvette design just for you. You meet his gaze in a challenge.

“Why not? He’s taller than you. Big Vee.”

You know you’re playing with fire here, between your teasing and the absolutely shit eating grin you can see on Valentino’s face from the corner of your vision. Valentino laughs as Vox’s screen twitches in anger. This is all part of your game, though. Push Vox too hard and… well, he’s gonna go ballistic on you. Your grin only grows as your boss seethes next to the box and his business partner. 

“Careful, Princesa,” the taller Vee warns, picking through the box before he pulls out a set of what look like handcuffs on a leash and a bottle with no label, “Daddy doesn’t like brats.”

Vox snatches the handcuffs from Valentino, his free hand held out and waiting. Without protest, you offer both of your wrists to him while you smile up at him sweetly. He’s right, Vox doesn’t like brats; which is why you’re usually not this bold, but Vox worked you hard today and you like to play with him. 

Vox works diligently in fastening the restraints around your wrists, careful not to have them too tight around you. He’s learned the hard way, with one of your first trysts ending with him rubbing cream into your torn up wrists in the bathroom through begging apologies. Vox likes his toys, Vox keeps extremely good care of them. H gives a testing tug, his eyes flickering to you for confirmation. It’s moments like this where you see a glimmer of hope in Vox, like maybe he has a heart, maybe he’s a good man. You let out a breathy laugh as you nod your confirmation to him. They’re just right, and you remind yourself that both you and he are in Hell for very serious reasons. You don’t get where you are currently without a reason. 

“Okay, baby?” he whispers, too sweetly. Your smile widens, knowing that this is a ruse. He’s going to fucking wreck you, you just need to let him pretend he isn’t. 

Roughly, Vox pushes you over by the shoulder, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the duvet. He throws the other end of the restraints at Valentino, now sat in the chair pulled up to the end of the bed. 

“Yank on it if it looks like she’s having too much fun, yeah?” Vox instructs, a cool professional tone crackling in the static of his voice. Now that the restraint is more taut, it resembles a Y-shape, with one set of Val’s hands curling around the far loop. It would work well for being hung from the ceiling, or wrapped up around the bedpost. Vox could have you pinned to the wall in his office with this, bound and waiting for him, ready to be used and -

You’re literally pulled out of your thoughts by Val testing the waters, not enough to knock you off of your hands, but enough to make you wobble. Val’s grin turns hungry, vicious even. 

You turn your head quickly from Val’s gaze, something clinical and nerve wracking under it. You’re testing product for him, but somehow any physical reaction of feedback feels embarrassing. Vox has settled behind you, his clothes shed and an unlabeled bottle in his hand. 

“Whatcha got there, Sir?” you ask, even though you can guess. 

“Topical version of Val’s little love potion,” he focuses on his hands, not meeting your gaze, “just apply where you want sensations to increase.”

He continues looking down as he tosses the bottle on his nightstand and rubs the lube between his fingers, mechanical movements as he then takes a claw to the gusset of your lingerie, ripping it away easily before rubbing it in against your sex. His fingers move between your folds, warm liquid mixing with your own wetness. He speeds up his movements, fingers sliding faster against you as your wetness builds, every once in a while his fingers graze your clit to make you twitch. 

As Vox’s fingers move, you’re met with a rising feeling of heat, heat everywhere, and every spot he hits, every graze of his claws sends electric shocks through your veins. Exactly like when Vox shocks you, but without him having to actually do it. 

Vox has barely done anything, and yet you’re already a gasping mess in front of him.

Finally he meets your gaze, a smug smirk across his screen as his free hand starts to work the lube onto his cock, the edges of his screen twitching and emitting static as he works himself. You can feel how ready you are for him, practically dripping already. You bet he’ll slide right into you, and tell you what a good slut you are for him.

You throw your head back, ready for him; to fuck you, to grab at you, to manhandle you like the prized possession you are. 

Except the familiar stretch of his cock never comes. You shiver with anticipation, body clenching around nothing, wetness growing cold in the space between your bodies. 

“Do you think you deserve his cock?” Valentino asks, teasing you again with that smile. Valentino has unlaced his shorts, palming his member through the loosened leather with one of the hands not holding your restraint. Of course, he’s going to get something out of this too.

“Uh huh,” you respond with a dazed nod, mind already hazy and chasing a high. 

“Look at her, the brat’s already fucked stupid and she hasn’t even been fucked,” Vox teases, but his voice sounds strained as well. He’s one to talk, you think. 

His hands return to you, this time to spread your ass cheeks, baring you to him fully. You’re sure he can see how pathetic you probably look, wet and clenching for him and fully on display. 

And then your arms buckle, threatening to collapse you, as the heightened but familiar feeling of that long tongue of his makes contact with your clit. Vox shoves his entire screen against you, tongue teasing and weakening you.

 “You don’t deserve my cock until you can prove you’re my good little assistant, until you’re obeying me,” Vox growls between hungry licks to your folds. 

“You’re gonna come on what he gives you,” Val taunts, and you really wish you could fuck up his last good antenna. It’s not that you hate your boss’ business partner, but he’s being a real dickhead right now. 

Vox’s tongue assaults your cunt, sliding across your folds, right along the edges, prodding against your clit, but never plunging within you. Its torture. Each time the tip of his tongue makes contact with your clit is like a live wire, jolting you and pulling loud whining gasps from your lips. Vox moans against your cunt, openmouthed and unashamed.

His tongue oscillates, moving from side to side over the bundle of nerves without letting up, without mercy. He switches from left to right to up to down, every time you think you’re getting used to it, or hitting a rhythm, he changes it. It’s almost edging, the way Vox is keeping you teetering along the edge, keeping you right on the finish line without crossing it. Vox’s claws dig into your thigh, another loud moan fanning out against you. 

And then suddenly the sam breaks, and a high pitched whine tears from your throat, and Vox pulls away to admire his handiwork. You’re sure you can picture his face, you think between shuddering moans, all smug and confident. Vox at his hottest. Shakes rock your frame, as if Vox had actually electrocuted you. 

But instead of the soothing motions of his palms along your back, none of that comfort comes. 

Pain radiates through your ass, a harsh spank to it rocking you out of your orgasm stupor. 

Another spank follows it.

And another. 

Another. 

You’re sure it’s going to bruise, though you don’t care. Soon, it’ll be just another mark Vox has left on you. 

So you close your eyes and take it. 

Five. 

Six. 

Switch ass cheeks. 

Seven.

Your eyes are drawn open from the onslaught of the spanks by a weaker slap against your cheek. Opening your eyes you see Val, one hand on your restraint, one hand reached out to slap you again, and a third on his cock, now out and fully hard. 

Vox stops. 

“Hey,” he snaps at Valentino, “Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Valentino scoffs, and rolls his eyes. Vox presses his palms against the spots where he’s spanked you. 

“Well can she at least help me out?” he asks, clearly annoyed. 

“If she wants to,” Vox’s voice is cool and collected, rare for Vox’s usual temper. 

Valentino holds out his gloved hand, and you graciously spit into it, before watching him wrap that hand around his cock and begin to stroke it slow and lazy. 

You turn to look behind you again, Vox’s screen aglow with your wetness glistening across it, his own spit trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looks as fucked up as you’re certain you do, needy and wild. 

“Ready, Doll?” Vox asks, as sweet as he could possibly be. Any pretense about your brattiness forgotten, any game you were playing dropped. 

You wiggle your ass at him, and he chuckles, soft. 

“I cannot wait to be fucking buried in you,” he thrusts against you, tip bumping you and making your composure falter.

“Then fuck me,” you bit back, winking at him.

“Careful what you wish for,” he warns, and pushes himself in until his hips connect with your ass. He relaxes there for a moment, giving you a second to adjust before pulling almost entirely out, his tip catching on your folds.

He slams back in, no mercy for your well spanked ass cheeks, his hips rutting into them recklessly. Your fingers dig into the duvet, struggling to ground yourself. That electrocuted feeling is back, rising embarrassingly quick. Each time hips meet ass a squeak of a moan escapes your lips. Any fight you had in yourself is gone, as long as this feeling between you and Vox stays. You arch your back further into him, contorting yourself for pleasure and chasing your own desire.

But then the feeling of the lush duvet meets your face, and disoriented, you lose your high momentarily. Vox however, groans, loving every second of this. You look up, one set of Valentino’s hands pulling the restraint taut, the other vigorously working his shaft and balls. There’s a sinister grin on his face, obviously getting pleasure in your disorientation. Your hands stretch out in front of you, balling up more of the covers, a better grip than before.

“Fuck you feel amazing,” Vox sighs, “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up, Doll.”

Vox moves faster, starts babbling. You can’t even imagine how this feels for him, if it feels so euphoric for you. The new angle pushes you further, if that was even possible, moaning wantonly into the duvet as you clench around him, gripping at sanity.

“Gonna give you everything,gonna fuckin give you it all,” he rambles, speeding up his thrusting.

Each thrust pushes you up and up and up, the precipice of your high coming closer.

Vox sinks his claws into the top of your ass, anchoring you into place for him as he pistons in and out of you.

The shocking feeling grows more frequent, each time he bottoms out is a total reset of your system.

You come without warning, a harsh whine of a moan and your entire body clamps down on him, harsh and sudden.

You shake in the patterns of an earthquake,one after another after another. Vox holds you through it all, his thrusts slowing as your cunt becomes a vice grip on his cock, coming himself with a shuddering moan, collapsing upon you and savoring the feeling your bodies and fluids connected.

He keeps thrusting, working you both through the high and the comedown with ease, his hips snapping in time and spending all of his energy within you.

Vox only slows when your shaking stops, when your moans stutter out, when you go limp. He holds himself there in you, savoring the moment and the feeling. Euphoric warmth floods you, endorphins rushing below the skin. His hands run up and down your back, hot flat palms to soothe any aftershocks in your muscles.

Vox pulls out slowly, gentle and careful. You can already feel it, mixed spend spilling from you in his absence. He’s made a mess of you, and more than usual. You miss the warmth his body brings, the cool air of the room discomforting.

“Val you gotta look at this,” Vox’s voice is dripping with enthusiasm behind you despite the fact you know he’s as exhausted as you are. He runs the backs of his claws from your ass to your thigh, not a reassuring caress of aftercare, but the way one would admire a trophy. And in your case, a sweaty, messy, bound trophy. You meet eyes with Val, who tucks his now softening member back into his pants, and rises from his chair. The moth demon rounds the corner of the bed, and you can hear the dull thud of his leather glove against Vox’s bare shoulder.

“Oh, espléndida,” Valentino coos, the same tired lustful tone in his voice as Vox carries. Leather of Val’s glove makes contact with the small of your back, and your arch into his touch, but he moves no further. How is it that you still react to this kind of touch even after all of your body feels boneless and not your own?

“I know,” Vox practically moans, and you feel yourself once again constricting, this time around nothing. Fuck, the effect this man has on you. Vox indulges where Val doesn’t, his hand leaving your thigh to cup you between them. You moan, burying your face into the duvet below you as he runs the tip of his clawed finger between your oversensitive folds.

“Definitely good for business, right?” he asks, and you can feel the mixed spend of your releases dripping out of you, “Fuck, baby, you’re something else.”

He says that last part like Valentino isn’t here, like it’s the two of you, special and private. He smears it up between your ass cheeks, before removing his hand from you all together. You try to bury yourself into the blanket even further when you hear the sound of him sucking his own fingers clean. Normally you’d be opening your mouth for a greedy taste yourself, but something about Valentino being here keeps you meek.

“Can we keep this?” he asks his business partner, turning his attention away from you now.

“Of course!” Val booms excitedly, “And I can go ahead on production now that this trial has been a success!”

You slide down, your knees untucking from under you as you nestle further into the warmth of Vox’s navy blue duvet. It’s soft and doused in the same cologne he uses and oh so comforting. Conversation between the two men turns to Val’s business, nothing you actually have to pay attention to as it doesn’t apply to Vox’s schedule.

And then soon enough you feel Vox climb off the bed, hear the closing of a door, the click of a lock, and Vox’s hands return to your back, this time massaging and gentle.

He climbs back onto the bed, his body covering yours as he undoes the clasps of the restraints, pressing his chest against your back. He bends your arms at the elbow, bringing each wrist up against his screen to kiss them, his thumb massaging circles into them. His hands move back up your arms, over your shoulders, and down your back. Vox pushes you over, onto your side to lay on the bed, before laying down himself. You reach out for him in the dimly lit room, running your fingers along the bottom edge of his screen. He glows brighter, his little way of letting you know you have his attention even when he cannot turn to look at you.

“I’m messy,” you whine, but make no move to get up. You’re so spent your limbs feel like they’re made of stone.

“You want me to run a bath?” he asks, already getting up from his spot. He’s still naked, still your vulnerable Vox, something more than your boss.

You nod, jutting out your bottom lip at him. He chuckles as he gathers you up easily in his arms, making a beeline for his bathroom.

“Jacuzzi jets,” you tell him, and he nods vigorously. Of course, he was always going to turn on the jacuzzi jets; They’re your favorite.

Vox crosses the room easily as you wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling into him. He kicks the door to the bathroom open and sets you down on the cool tile of the counter. It soothes your ass, calms the handprint shaped bruises.

“Can I convince you to sleep over tonight, Doll?”

“No need,” you shake your head, a playful smile as he starts the bath, “I doubt I can fuckin’ walk after the number you did on me.”

Vox’s screen flashes, his smile huge.

#vox x reader #vox x reader x val #hazbin vox x reader

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

thinking about hamilton and burr together but not in a kissing way but in a you are so different on surface but are made of the same core way. they have the same sort of wants and hurt but they project it in such different ways.

#two people put together like that would either love each other with their entire hearts or would kill each other. #maybe both #alex and henry from rwrb are kind of examples from this. #look cmq made alex too similar to hamilton and henry too similar to burr for me to not connect the dots. #but while their character traits put them lethally against each other in the play in the book its.. different. #i can talk about alex more since both in the book and play we see alexander more (both such fucking main characters) #i think alex from rwrb had a comparatively better foundation in childhood than hamilton. he's less scrappy than hamilton #he still does things like be lonely and drown himself in his work etc etc you all saw the parallels #but but but he sort of has room for love in his heart in a way hamilton doesnt. maybe he did with laurens because its said that he #never really opened up the same after he died. makes me think that was pretty serious. but its not in the play so im not going too much #into it. alex isn't as suspicious and survivalistic as hamilton. if hamilton saw henry he would've never put him before his work #but alex does. from his side i think that's what makes the difference. #like how he says to henry in the fight scene that they're not really very different people?? remember that #there's waaay too many coincidences i am ready to believe cmq wrote rwrb as a very very sneaky adaptation of hamiltons life #the slightest hint from them and i would believe it. this is a conspiracy theory i can get behind #rwrb #red white and royal blue #hamilton #hmm i been having thoughts about this for the past 2 hours #maybe this stem thing was a mistake maybe i should've taken literature. i like what i do though

[albatris]

fuck aidan jasper all my homies hate aidan jasper

#a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #I'm glaring at him in my outline #i think a lot of the stupidity i projected onto reuben march belongs on Jasper instead #march gives the go ahead but jasper has FUN with it all #aidan jasper is the one who does most of the poking prodding torturing cough cough I mean medical experiments on nat #fun fact! nat is conscious for all of it :-) #being operated on..... and other things :-) #the first phase of jasper's research is just ''lets fuck this vampire up and record how he heals'' #they take a couple organs out #they inject some cancer cells #they remove some skin #they cut some fingles off #then nat gets tossed back into his sad little steel room to heal and maybe do a murder but hes trying real hard #not to do a murder bc they just threw some random hypnotised human in there with him #anyway. #fuck aidan jasper all my homies hate aidan jasper!!!! #its fine nat gets to tear jasper's heart out of his chest later #angery..... #so yes i will b shifting a lot of Reuben March's views and biases on vampirism onto jasper #dw march is definitely still gonna die tho #quinn will hunt him down dont u worry :-) #oh also fun fact this is the bit in the story where nat digests his own appendix LMAO #his body is just like. uhhhhh. we have better uses for this. lets melt it down and turn it into something else #like..... bro???

[ozzgin]

Yandere! House Monster x Reader

Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.

[Second Part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)

You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.

Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.

It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.

"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"

One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.

The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.

"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.

Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

[nanaslutt]

Forgotten lunch

synopsis: Nanami forgets his lunch and you being the sweet wife you are, decide to stop by Jujutsu High to bring it to him

contains: fem reader, established relationship, teasing, dirty talk, possessive!Nanami, rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral(f!r), cum eating, office sex

note: this was a vip request from a friend :3 i hope u enjoy <3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You awoke to a chime sounding from your phone on the nightstand, a text message from your husband, Nanami. He texted you only seconds ago, letting you know he had left for work and would be home later that night. He did this every time he left for work when you were still asleep, and every time it never failed to make you swoon. It was such a small thing, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

You couldn't wait for the day you transferred to work at Jujutsu High instead of the Kyoto school. The thought of getting ready every morning with Nanami and commuting to work together--maybe stopping at a coffee shop before you arrived at the school, made your heart flutter. Only two more weeks and your fantasies would become a reality.

After stretching your body and groaning dramatically, messing up the sheets in the process as you splayed your body out along the length of the bed like a starfish, you begrudgingly pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for the day. You had finished all of your assignments early the day before, meaning you had a day off. A rare occasion, but one you were extremely grateful for.

When you walked into your shared bathroom to wash your face, you were met with a small pink sticky note on your side of the bathroom, a heart, and the words 'Have a good day' written in Nanami's neat handwriting. You smiled as you looked at it before putting on your headband to keep the stray hairs out of your face as you continued with your skincare.

Once you had finished all of your morning care, and pulled on a simple, comfortable outfit, you strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, rubbing the back of your neck as you walked into the room. Immediately, you noticed Nanami's grey lunchbox sitting atop the counter. Furrowing your eyebrows, you walked up to the bag, wondering if he had forgotten his lunch, or if he had used a different bag today and this was the one he used the day prior. 

Sure enough, when you unzipped the bag, it was full of the lunch you had prepared for him the day before, the cold leaked out into the air, feeling it on your fingertips as you looked inside, letting you know that the food inside was still good. Thank god for insulated lunch boxes. You shook your head and smiled at his mistake, it was unusual that Nanami missed something like this, he was a man severely devoted to his schedule after all. 

You chalked it up to him being a little tired from the night before, causing his lunch to slip his mind. Because you had the day off, you might've been a little selfish the night before when you made Nanami fuck you into the sheets over and over again. Clinging onto him as you whispered into his ear 'Don't stop, give me more~' until the early hours of the night. 

It's not like Nanami was complaining, he was just as eager as you were. You definitely could've shortened your... session a little bit for his sake though. Maybe you would've if his dick allowed you to think of anything other than how deep it was inside you. Shaking your head you snapped yourself back into the present, pushing down the growing arousal you felt between your thighs while your brain replayed the most intimate moments you spent together last night. 

Clearing your throat, you zipped the lunch bag shut, taking it in your hand as you decided to take it to him. You had nothing to do on this day anyway, it's not like it was a hindrance to you in any way. Besides, Nanami's commute to the school was so close--a lot closer than you were to the Kyoto school.

Sitting on the floor with Nanami's lunchbox beside you, you pulled your shoes on, getting ready to leave. You checked your appearance in the mirror before you walked out the door, making sure you looked presentable before you saw your husband, ignoring the fact that Nanami had said many many times that he would find you attractive if you were in a garbage bag. 

You were surprised Nanami hadn't texted you about his missing lunch. Maybe he still hadn't noticed, even if he did, you doubted he would ask you to bring it to him. Even though he knew you had nothing going on today, Nanami wouldn't want to inconvenience you--such a selfless man. You grabbed the handle of his lunchbox, lifting it from the floor, and with that, you were on your way.

You always loved the Jujutsu High campus. The scenery was beautiful, and the plants and flowers that decorated nicely around the buildings were so well tended to, making it look so clean and inviting. Another plus was the people. Everyone here was so sweet and welcoming, save for a certain old guitarist who appeared to be withering away in front of your eyes, and the higher-ups of course. It was seldom that you saw them though.

The students on campus loved you as well, they were all so excited when they heard from Nanami that you were transferring. You hadn't had many interactions with them, but you could tell they were good kids and respected your husband, especially a young Yuji Itadori, who seemed to almost worship the ground Nanami walked on.

You knew the way to Nanami's office with ease, you had been there many times when you got off work before him and decided to come to his work and sit in his office with him while he finished up. Strolling through the quiet halls of the teacher's offices, your eyes lit up when they landed on Nanami's, his office placed next to Gojo's, whose door was poorly decorated with flowers and hearts that looked like third graders had drawn them. It always made you smile when you saw it. 

You knocked softly against Kento's door, not speaking as you wanted to surprise him. Before you even finished, the door was being swung open, and your eyes were met with your husband's, his reading glasses pushed atop his head, his hair being pushed back with them. You shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, god he looked good in a suit. His built stature was practically ripping through the material of his clothes, making your thoughts run rampant. You hoped he didn't catch the blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I sensed your cursed energy, what are you doing here my love?" Nanami asked. The tips of his ears were turning a light shade of pink. He was excited to see you--cute. Your hands were behind your back, hiding his lunch box from his view. He said a quiet 'come inside' before you spoke, stepping to the side as he opened his door more for you, letting you into his space.

You didn't miss the way he locked the door after he shut it, making you smile to yourself. "Forgot something, Ken?" You asked, tilting your head at him knowingly as you revealed his lunch box to him, holding it out with both hands in front of him. Nanami sighed, a small smile gracing his features as he took the lunchbox from you, taking a few steps to set in on his desk before he walked back over to you and wrapped his strong arms around your body.

"You didn't have to bring it all the way here, I would've realized at some point and gone to a cafe to get something to eat." He explained, his large hand caressing the side of your cheek. Nanami's body heat spread throughout your entire body as he held you against his chest, nuzzling your cheek instinctually against his hand. "I made your favorite, wouldn't want you to miss out. I'm not doing anything today anyways, it was nothing." You replied, tipping your face against his hand so you could press a kiss to the side of his palm.

Nanami leaned his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rested it there softly. His eyes flit between your soft lips and your gentle eyes, filled with so much love for him. "Mmmm." He moaned against you as he pressed your lips together, relishing how soft you felt against him. He kissed you slowly, passionately, before he pulled back, way too soon for your liking. 

You felt that same throbbing you felt while you were fantasizing about the night before making its appearance once more as he looked down at you with a smile, brushing the stray hairs from your face. "Well, I appreciate it, my love. Truthfully I would've been slightly disappointed when lunchtime came around and I realized I wouldn't get to eat you're cooking." Nanami said, his hands pulling away from your waist as he made his way back to his desk, sitting down in his expensive office chair.

While you mourned the loss of his hands on you, your greedy eyes took in the way his thighs bulged through his pants as he sat down, the material covering them straining to fit his muscles. Maybe you should get him some new pants... or maybe not, the sight of them was too delicious. 

Biting your lip, you strolled over to him as he looked back down at his documents, his glasses finding their home on the bridge of his nose. "What are your plans for the day? Just relaxing or did you need to go out for something?" Nanami asked, keeping his eyes on his paperwork. His body jolted slightly before relaxing when you came up behind him and started massaging his shoulders with your smaller hands. 

Your fingers dug into his muscles, working him over so well as you loosened the knots in his shoulders. Nanami rolled his head to the side, pressing his lips together as his eyes fell shut, relaxing against your touch. You leaned against the shell of his ear, biting the tip of his before you whispered teasingly, "I was just going to wait at home all alone in my panties till my husband came home." 

Nanami groaned in response, his eyes cracking open as he looked to the ceiling for help before he looked back down at his document when he realized what you were trying to do. "Don't do this right now." He said sternly, trying to ignore the heat that started to bloom deep in his stomach from your words. "Do what? I'm just helping you relax. I can't do that?" You replied, playing dumb.

Nanami felt his cock stir to life in his pants. He hated that he liked it when you played coy with him. "Honey, I have a lot of work to do. Was yesterday not enough?" Kento responded, his eyes fluttering when your thumbs dug into a particularly tense spot in his shoulders. You felt your arousal grow at his mention of what the two of you did last night. "I can never get enough of you Ken~" You teased, saying his name seductively in his ear. 

"Honey please." He begged, doing his best not to give in to you. "Gojo is just one room over, I can't do this with you right now." He said firmly, his shoulders flexing under your hands when he leaned forward to start reviewing the documents in front of him. "Hm? Why are you bringing him up? What kinds of lewd things are you thinking about in there?" You teased, tapping the top of his head with your finger.

Nanami was already fully hard in his slacks, just from a few touches and a couple of dirty words from you. Your ability to rile him up like this was truly a talent, he was absolutely whipped by you. You peeked over his shoulder when he stayed quiet, looking down at the very obvious bulge in his pants as he wrote something unintelligible on the paper, trying to look busy. 

"Are you hard, baby? I didn't even do anything, what got you so worked up?" You giggled, biting your lip as you watched his cock twitch through his pants, the sight making your mouth water. Nanami was losing his cool, he didn't know how much more of your teasing he could take. You decided to test your luck further, sliding your hands down his shoulders your ran them over his chest, your fingers teasing his solid pecs over his shirt. 

Nanami groaned when you raked your nails back up the expanse of his chest, they scratched over his sensitive nipples, making his cock twitch in his pants. You were about to say something overconfident and snarky, but you were cut off when Nanami stood from his chair, shoved it to the side away from his desk, and turned around to catch your slender neck in his hand. 

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work because my wife is a needy slut?" He growled lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brought his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist firmly. The sudden change in his demeanor made your head spin as you smiled at him. You were getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes please." You said selfishly, your smile growing with your arousal as you kept your lidded eyes on your handsome husband's face, plastered with frustration.

Your hands came up to grip Nanami's wrist that was holding your neck as you waited for him to make his next move. He licked his teeth before he manhandled you down on the desk, your chest crumpling any of the documents that were unfortunate enough to be sitting in front of him. He kept a large hand on the back of your neck while your hands gripped the edge of the desk.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and echoing in your ears from how excited you were. You tried to turn your head far enough so you could watch Nanami undo his belt when you heard the clinking of the metal as he ripped the leather from the confines of the belt loops on his pants. "What do you think you're looking at?" Kento asked harshly, squinting his eyes at you as he hastily unzipped his pants to release his cock from the too-tight confines of his work pants.

"Your cock." You said boldly, your eyes locking onto the appendage as he pulled it out from his boxers, keeping his pants on but lower on his hips so his cock had enough space to get out. Nanami wrapped his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum onto the floor from how worked up he was. 

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you Ken?" You asked, wiggling your ass at him. You really weren't planning on jumping on Nanami like this when you decided to bring his lunch to him, but a single quick one over of his impressive frame in his work clothes managed to change that. "Shut up." He growled back, releasing his cock after he gave it a few strokes to pull down the casual pants you wore, panties and all, exposing your dripping cunt to the room.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I like when you get rough." You teased, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when he exposed your cunt to the room. You watched from your peripheral as his eyes took in your soaked cunt, his thumb spreading open your folds to his greedy eyes. "And what makes you think I'm pretending, hm?" Nanami spat, the vein in his forehead popping out at your teasing. 

He slid his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he had on the back of your neck tightened against you as he watched your jaw drop in a small o, your eyes fluttering back in your head. "So fucking easy, all I gotta do is touch your clit a little and you behave," Nanami said, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbbed watching your face contort from your pleasure.

"'M n-not easy." You tried to spit back. Nanami was right though, the second he gave you any sort of attention, you were a good girl. He knew just how to calm you down. "No?" He asked, rubbing his thumb faster against your clit. "Look at yourself." He said, his fingers on your neck emphasizing his words with a squeeze to your pulse point.

You tried to press your thighs together as he rubbed your clit, but Nanami was having none of that. His larger thigh knocked your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he had full access to your pretty pussy. "You're gonna be quiet when I fuck you. Not gonna make a fucking sound." Nanami instructed, not giving you an option. 

You nodded, agreeing to his words--but honestly, you would say anything he wanted you to if it meant he gave you his cock. You whined at the loss of his thumb against your pussy, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock, rubbing up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you.

"Let me know you heard me, tell me you're going to be quiet," Nanami repeated, catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulled back, making you whine. "Yes, yes Ken I'll be quiet, just-, please." You begged, trying to push your ass back against him so he would give you his dick already.

"Please what?" He asked. You didn't miss the teasing tone his voice took, it was his turn to play with you now. "Y-your cock, give me your cock pleasee~" You whined, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him through your blurry peripheral. Nanami released the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in his one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back. "So easy." He repeated, referencing his words earlier as he slowly slid his cock into your cunt.

Your jaw fell open agaisnt the wood of his desk before a loud moan slipped from your lips. Nanami wasted no time in wrapping a hand under your face and pressing his hand against your mouth, his back lying flush against yours as he crushed you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he spoke, "Be fucking quiet." He groaned, keeping his voice semi-quiet as he spoke.

"Two inches of my cock inside you and you break your promise?" He whispered, thrusting the rest of his cock inside you, a muffled moan resounding against Nanami's hand. "I wasn't fucking kidding. Gojo is right on the other side of that wall and you just moaned like a slut for everyone to hear." He growled, slowly humping his hips against your ass. 

You let out soft moans against his hand, your eyes rolling back in your head each time his fat tip brushed against your sweet spot deep inside you. "You're my fucking wife. No one else gets to hear how you cry for me when I fuck you, got that?" He whispered, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. You loved when Nanami got possessive, it made you feel so fucking hot all over.

You nodded against the desk, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock as he fucked you open for him. He kept his weight against your back as he fucked you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around his office. He was too worried about your moans, he should've been more concerned with that. Anyone who walked by his room would easily be able to tell what was going on from the slapping alone, whether or not you were making any sound.

You did your best to keep your moans quiet as he pressed his hand against your mouth, but it was proving to be so fucking hard. It was rare that you and Nanami got intimate at any place other than your home, so you weren't used to having to be quiet. It wasn't like you had much of a choice either. Nanami was fucking you so hard, he was practically punching the sounds out of your body.

His cock was touching all the right places inside you, making you see stars behind your eyelids. "God your pussy is squeezing me so tight." Nanami groaned, his head burring in the crook of your neck as he whispered the words, his hot breath tickling your skin. "M-mmmm" You moaned into his hand, your ass wiggling back against him as you tried to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you--or were you trying to get more? You couldn't remember, he was fucking you dumb.

"What's wrong? Too much?" Nanami asked, faux sympathy laced in his voice. He sped up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abused your g-spot with his cockhead. You could only whine against his hand, unsure what you would've said if he wasn't covering your mouth. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He growled.

You whined, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Nanami's balls were slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucked you so deep. "Shhhhh." He reminded when you started to get a little too cockdrunk, forgetting where you were. His hand could only do so much in keeping your moans down, he needed you to help him out a bit. "Be quiet baby, do this one thing for me, c'mon." He urged.

You wanted to laugh. How could he say that, then somehow fuck his cock deeper inside you? Fucking tease, he knew what he was doing. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm build up inside you. All the stimulation was too much. Your hands started to go numb from how hard Nanami was gripping your wrists combined with his body weight crushing them. That was another thing--his body weight.

He was effectively suffocating you but in the best way. Each time his cock slid inside you, it punched the air from your lungs, and with how much he was laying on you, it was making it very hard to recover from his thrusts and take in a breath. It felt like he was choking you, but ten times more intense, and you loved it.

You think that's why your orgasm came on so quickly. The anticipation combined with how deep he was pounding into you was going to make you cum--and hard, all over his cock. "You got tighter...are you close? Hm? Gonna cum all over my dick right now?" He asked against your air, his deep voice only adding fuel to the fire as his soft lips sucked the lobe of your ear into his mouth, his teeth slightly pulling on it.

You nodded, your moans increasing in frequency but the volume stayed the same, you didn't want to anger Kento more than you already had. "Good, do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He cooed into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he kept the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your shins crossed over one another with the sheer intensity of the pleasure you were feeling. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open against his palm as it opened in a silent scream. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuckkkk, atta girl, good fucking girlll." Nanami groaned as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your moans sounded shaky as the rest of your body jolted as it was wracked with your high.

Nanami didn't have to look to know you had just squirted all over his cock, and undoubtedly all over his pants. "Gonna cum inside you, that's what you want right? Wanna feel me deep inside you?" He babbled against your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppy and stuttered the closer her got to the edge. He released the hand he had on your mouth so you could speak, he needed to hear you beg for him.

"Y-ess Ken c-cum inside me pleaseee~" You whined, your moans coming out slurred and choppy as he fucked you through the aftershocks of your high, slightly overstimulating you as he used your cunt to get him off. "O-okay okay- fuck c-cumming-" Nanami's hips stilled against your ass as his cock twitched inside you with every rope of cum he shot deep inside. His balls clenched with his cock as he released all of his seed inside you, groaning loudly against your ear--so much for being quiet.

"Oh fuck- there's s-so much." You whined back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolled his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stopped moving. "God... fuck..." Nanami huffed as he came down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such an intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his seed was spilling out around his dick from how much he had given you. "K-ken... can't... breathe..." You whispered against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood. Nanami quickly sat up, standing his full weight on shaky legs. "Sorry honey, that really took a lot out of me." Nanami groaned as he slowly pulled his spent cock out of your tight walls.

You hissed in overstimulation as he slid out of you. Your walls clenched around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugged his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reached over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wiped his cock clean before tucking it back in his pants.

You layed still against the desk for a couple of seconds before you tried to push yourself up. You were quickly stopped by your husband, who pressed his hand against your lower back, keeping you on his desk. "Don't move." He instructed, to which you obeyed, blushing as you laid still against the wooden desk, your body still shaking and twitching from your orgasm.

You looked around the room as you waited for Nanami to do something. Your body jolted when you felt his tongue lap at your used cunt, his large hands gripping the fat of your ass as he spread you apart so he could clean you better with his tongue. You slapped your own hand over your mouth as he ate his cum out of you, making you whine in oversensitivity.

"K-kento!" You whined through your fingers, your free hand shooting back to rake through his sweaty hair, your head tipping to the side so you could make eye contact with his lidded eyes as he licked through your folds, cleaning you up. Nanami moaned in response, shaking his head against you so he could get his face deeper, tasting your combined essence on his tongue.

You blushed at his antics, moaning softly agaisnt your hand before he pulled away, standing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at you innocently. "How's your cum taste?" You teased, smirking at him with a flushed face. He smirked back before he lifted your tired body and placed you on his lap, facing him, as he sat down on his office chair.

You adjusted your pants on top of him, covering your cunt with your pants and panties once more before he gripped your chin and leaned forward. You leaned into the kiss, your lips slotting together with his as he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you slowly. You tasted the familiar bitterness of his cum on your tongue, mixed with something else you could only assume was yourself. 

He pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you together as you gazed at him with a slightly slack jaw. "You tell me, how do I taste?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over your lip before he dropped both hands to your thighs, rubbing the skin there soothingly. 

You blushed at how bold he was being, oh how the tables turned. You pouted at him as he smirked, rubbing his hands along the soft material of your pants. "Any chance this was premeditated and you brought an extra pair of pants for me?" Nanami asked, looking down at the very obvious wet spots on his crotch and thighs from where you squirted on him.

"Was that- did I do that?" You asked, looking down at the mess and blushing furiously. You don't know how you were only noticing it now, it was a massive dark patch, really. "Yes baby, you did that," Kento responded, nodding. You looked around the room for anything that could be suitable pants or at least something he could use to cover himself when he left for the day.

After your eyes found nothing, of course, because you were in Nanami Kento's office, the very organized man who only brought with him what was necessary--you looked back to him before speaking, "You uh... you wanna wear my pants?" 

It was the thought that mattered.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami pls be mean to me #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanamin #nanami x reader #nanami kento season 2 #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk kento #kento smut #kento x reader #jujutsu kento

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics. #rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

[tender-rosiey]

How do you think sukuna would act with a baby girl?? The same as his son? Maybe a bit more soft since he reminds him of reader?

troublesome — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i have something else in store for geto <3

sukuna never planned on becoming a parent, but then you became pregnant. he had two choices: kill the kid from now or let you give birth to it.

he spent a good couple of days deciding on what to do, until he finally made his mind and headed to your room, swiftly. there you were in all your glory, eyes snapping to your husband the moment he entered.

you smiled, standing up, “hey, sukuna.” then walked to him and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

he, however, said nothing and simply kept staring you down then he said a simple phrase, “the kid.”

your eyes widened, your thoughts jumbled, and your nerves were all over the place. still, you manage to get out a response, “what about it?”

he stayed silent, and it drove you over the edge. you needed him to say something—anything. will he let you have it, or will he kill it? he was never fond of kids, always killed them first in his raids. will your own child with him bear the same fate as the others he had slaughtered and even eaten?

is this a joke from the universe? you married the king of curses, and, therefore, your punishment is never getting to experience the joy of having kids? but even if he does end up choosing wanting to kill it, how will he—

“I will let you keep it.”

you never thought a simple sentence would induce so much happiness in you. you cup his face and  start showering him in kisses, and you unceasingly thank him, “thank you, sukuna! thank you so much!”

he grunts, hand resting on your waist, “just don’t cause me trouble, and it better be a boy.” he takes hold of your chin and makes you lock eyes with him, “I don’t want a whiny, slimy little girl.”

and because the world loves him so much, he was indeed graced with a whiny, slimy little girl.

the moment the woman announced that it’s a girl, your face paled, and your husband’s frown could’ve never been deeper. his eyes traced every action that happened from the cleaning of the baby to the little girl being nestled cozily in your arms.

she starts calming down when she feels the warmth of your skin against her own. slowly, her breathing evens out, and she falls into a deep slumber.

the servants rush out of the room, leaving you, your husband, and your newborn daughter.

you don’t know what to do: do you speak first or do you wait for him to do it? you keep searching his face for any positive emotion, something that would give you hope and make you forget about his sharp scowl.

he puts a hand out and orders, “hand her to me.”

your heart fell to your stomach. there’s nothing you could do. whatever he decided on was what will happen. you desperately wanted to hold her for a bit longer and to feel her comforting weight in your arms.

though, your husband got impatient, eyes sharply looking you in the eyes, and he glowered, “y/n.”

despite your heart screaming and trying to resist ever letting him touch a single hair on your baby, you shakily put her in his hand. she starts huffing, puffing, and squirming in his hold. fearing the worst, you squeezed your eyes shut.

you simply won’t be able to take witnessing your daughter’s slaughter with your very own eyes.

you expect to hear a slash, a little thud, but you’re met with nothing, just a groan from your husband as he mutters, “she is small.”

you blink owlishly then stare at him. he is slowly raising and lowering the hand—an attempt to rock her maybe—that has your baby in it. then, he situates her against his chest.

he looks up to you and states, “she is also ugly.”

frowning, you retort, “that’s because of your genes.”

your husband quirks an eyebrow, “you’re balantly insulting me even after I spared it?”

“her.”

“same difference.”

sukuna shuffles until he is seated beside you and silently pulls you into his embrace.

you just took notice of how he is trying to avoid touching her with his nails and how his hold on her is rather gentle. the little girl lets out a small sigh then snuggles into his chest. her dad copies her with a sigh of his own then he grunts, “not a single word.”

a small giddy giggle escapes you, and you nuzzle into his chest in turn. he squeezes you lightly, before scoffing, “or a sound.”

later on that day, after you were transferred into the master bedroom along with your daughter, you’re left to rest in the expansive bed with your daughter napping in the crib right under the window.

you thought the light might give her some sort of comfort—call it a mother’s instinct. you wanted her to grow up in the light, not to be sheltered and hidden in shadows. who knows if these shadows will devour whole or not.

but you will try your best to provide her with a normal life.

as you start to drift off to sleep, you take note of a large figure standing in front of the window. he is blocking the light from sky—at least the one from the window above her crib. quickly, you are able to define its features and identify that it’s—thank god—your husband.

he has this sort of contemplating look on his face, a solemn look, maybe a bit troubled too. he keeps staring at the sleeping baby as she takes small and slow breaths.

she is fragile, he knows. he also knows that a flick of his finger will end her right then and there.

but he finds his hand only capable of gently caressing her cheek, and a wave of shock is sent through him when his daughter leans toward his touch. his daughter. he heaves a sigh and a frown is etched onto his face.

this is going to be a troublesome journey.

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