#also update for the Late Night Call fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

r4izx · 2 months

Text

the next page

scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.

- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.

- slight cursing

a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.

9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.

you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.

these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.

you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.

10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.

it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.

"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.

"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.

you nervously speak up,

"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.

"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"

"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."

you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.

"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"

"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.

8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.

ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.

just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.

"scara! h-hey!-"

you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.

"ah- stop it!!"

scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,

...with someone else.

he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.

it hurts.

and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.

so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.

15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.

as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.

you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...

as they kissed.

you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.

the dam broke.

tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.

and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.

"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."

you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.

you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.

and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.

going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.

and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.

you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...

33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.

...moving on.

#genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #rai! ✍️#scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche angst #wanderer x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #exams are over #genshin oneshots

557 notes · View notes

tojiscumdumpster · 3 months

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ knockout x renji abarai

✧ summary there’s no better way for renji to celebrate a big win than to spend the night with y/n.

✧ content warnings reader described as a black woman who uses she/pronouns. feisty!reader, chubby!reader x undergroundfighter!renji. modern au — no bleach verse. told in first POV — renji’s. mentions of stitches and bruises. usage of profanity, praise kink, cowgirl position, nipple play, facefucking — renji will finish in reader’s, squirting. terms of endearment — baby, sweetheart, angel, etc. reader and renji are in their late twenties.

✧ author’s note hello, hello. i am here with a fic that’s not jjk for once in my life, lmfao. this idea has been in my drafts since january 2023, and it was just sitting there collecting dusts on my old tumblr. but i said i was going to do more bleach characters, so here we go. first time writing renji, so if this ain’t how you see him, oops. still enjoy. also didn't really focus on the underground!fighter portion as much. but maybe i will if there's a next time. support me by liking, commenting, and reblogging this post. i would greatly appreciate it. AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND MINORS— DO NOT INTERACT.

I know she told me not to come by after the fight, but I needed to.

I won.

I fucking won, and there’s no other way for me to celebrate winning ten thousand dollars than to be with Y/N.

Well, that’s if she’s still not mad at me.

Before I left for my match, we got into an argument. A huge one. She doesn’t like that I fight for a living, let alone illegal underground fighting. I mean—I get it. Seeing someone you care about constantly getting his ass beat isn’t a sight worth seeing.

But fighting is all I know.

I had a shitty childhood. Didn’t know who the hell my parents were since they gave me up at birth for adoption. Jump around in foster care homes until the mothers got sick of me and kicked me out in the streets. Survival was basically forced on me.

Fighting is what kept me alive. For food. Clothes. A place to lay my head. Whether I lost or won, I know the reason why I’m alive today is because I’m a fighter.

It wasn’t until I was eighteen when I found out about the world of underground fighting. Ten years deep and I know nothing else.

Y/N knows this about me. She understands I didn’t have it easy and never judged me. But that doesn’t mean she agrees with my lifestyle.

She came to a few fights in the beginning. Eventually, she got tired of seeing me stitched up almost every weekend.

Shit, me too.

However, after tonight, I feel good about my future wins. I busted my ass in training, so now I don’t have to hear shit about anymore losses.

Even if right now I’m stitched up and have a black eye. I feel good.

Great.

Better if Y/N opens the door after keeping me waiting out in the cold for the past ten minutes.

I know she’s awake. She has a habit of staying up late, studying for med school. And plus, I haven’t messaged or called her yet. Despite her not showing up to my fights, she still wants an update afterwards that I made it out alive.

“Y/N, let me in,” I say, knocking loudly on her apartment door. “You know I don’t care about making a scene.”

After a few more obnoxious knocks, the door finally swings open and I am met with deep russet skin, tight curls, and chocolate-colored eyes that pierce an annoyed look in my direction.

“What do you want?” She bites out. “I’m busy.”

I smirk and hold the bag of money in the air. “I won.”

“Congrats.” Her tone is flat and she tries to slam the door in my face, but I placed my foot to stop it from closing. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Are you really still mad at me?” I teasingly ask.

“You won. I said congrats. What more do you want?”

I shrugged. “I’m locked out of my apartment.”

She arches a brow at me, already recognizing my bullshit ass excuse of being locked out of my apartment.

Y/N knows me. She knows I would do anything to be in her presence, so going back and forth in forty degree weather is pointless.

Her pretty brown hues travels across my face and body, examining the stitches and bruises that probably has her wondering, who the fuck treated him?

Me. But that’s besides the point.

A deep sign escapes her mouth when she realizes I’m not going anywhere until she lets me in, so she opens her door wider and turns her back to me to walk further inside her apartment.

“Sit,” she orders, which I happily do so while chuckling to myself.

While Y/N goes to the bathroom (assuming she’s getting a med kit to fix my shitty patch job), I take advantage of staring at her round ass that’s barely covered in those tiny boy shorts. Every step she takes it jiggles, creating an ocean of waves I’m eager to swim in.

I get comfortable while I wait, taking off my skully, sweater, and any other form of heavy clothing that would cause me to sweat in her heated apartment.

“I’m going to start charging you if you keep fucking coming to my apartment like this, Renji,” Y/N snapped, walking with the kit in her hand as expected.

“Outside of paying for your tuition, I can think of other ways to repay you.”

She rolls her eyes at my suggestive comment. “Get over yourself, Abarai.”

I let out a snort before she stands in front of me and tilt up my chin to start making work on my face.

She’s cute when she’s mad. Huffing and puffing while whispering slick comments under breath. But how she’s handling my face by moving it around with force rushes blood straight to my groin.

I’m getting hard.

Hard as shit, and it’s not helping that I’m in close proximity with her.

That jasmine lavender scent that circulates through my senses. Looking up at her full lips that’s coated with gloss. Then, lowering my gaze to her tits that’s big, naturally saggy, and pretty. My mouth is watering at the sight of her nipples hardening.

And I don’t know if it’s because she feels that I’m checking her out or the coldness outside is affecting her.

Either way, I’ll act on it.

Taking it upon myself, I grab the back of her thighs to pull her on my lap. As if she’s used to my antics, it doesn’t catch her off guard and she continues to clean up my wounds.

“You’re all bloody up with a black eye and somehow you still have the energy to be a pervert,” she retorts.

I move one of hands to her ass, massaging comforting circles. “For you? Yeah.”

The quiet between us was comfortable until she opted to speak again. “So… who’d you fight?”

“Some huge motherfucker. I thought I was going to die.”

She leans back to grab more alcohol and dabs it above my brow. “Maybe that’s what needed to have you stop fucking fighting.”

I throw my head back to laugh, but she grabs my chin to bring my face forward. “Like you want me dead.” My hands creep beneath her cheeks to pull her closer to me and apply more pressure to my cock. “That’s what you want?”

“That came out my mouth, Abarai?”

“Why are you still mad at me?”

She scoffs. “Why am I mad that you’re practically coming to me everyday with a busted face and broken ribs?” That’s one thing I love about Y/N—her feisty personality. It turns me on so fucking much because I know when I fuck her, it’ll be a different story.

Continuing, she says, “I think I would be a little more satisfied if you did this professionally as opposed to underground. Underground doesn’t come with insurance, Ren.”

“Aw, you care about me that much?” My question was supposed to be posed as a joke, but the look on her pretty face says otherwise.

“Fucking asshole. I don’t know why I still deal with your ass.”

“Probably because you love me.”

“Probably not.”

Gripping her hips, I pull her with me and lean back into the headrest of the couch. We’re inches away from our mouths cooling and I take advantage of this proximity by basking in her sweet smelling breath and beauty.

Simply because Y/N exists, my cocks hardens for her. Holding her in my arms. Feeling her pussy against my erection and breasts suffocating pressed on my chest. Girlfriend or not, she’s mine.

And she knows it.

I can see how she looks at me, even when mad, that she cares and loves me. Y/N is a tough girl. I can only imagine what she’s been through. Still, she manages to soften up just for me.

We never made it official since she doesn’t approve of the underground shit, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking.

“So when are you going to say yes to being my girlfriend?” I whisper.

She tries breaking from my embrace, but I tighten my grip. “Renji…”

“You feel my dick pressed against you, right? It only makes it harder when you say my name like that, Y/N.”

“Be real with me… will you keep doing this shit forever?” Her eyes waver as she awaits my answer and I can’t help the guilt from pinging my chest.

“If it lessens my chance of being with you, no.”

She searches my face for hesitance or deceit, however, she finds nothing because I meant what I said. Y/N is the only person that looks at me like I’m a human, and I wouldn’t let my obsession with fighting get in the way of our future together.

How she tucks her coil behind her ear and nips down on her lower lip shows me the bit of vulnerability she reserves for me.

So—I take advantage of it.

In less than three seconds my lips were on hers. I take my time relishing those sweet, plump and plush, strawberry flavored lips.

I can feel the skepticism from Y/N while kissing her, maybe because she’s trying to put on this show that she’s still mad at me. But soon, her rigid body melts into mine and returns the kiss.

Our heavy breaths mingle, increasing in speed the more aggressive we lock lips. She begins rolling her hips onto my cock and I let out a grunt, feeling the moisture of her pussy liquefying on me.

The slaps I leave on her ass are harsh, causing her to bite my bottom lip and suck it into her mouth. Y/N is so fucking aggressive it drives me nuts. She gives me a high and adrenaline not even a fight could give.

“Pull your dick out, Ren,” she orders through muffled moans and our kiss.

“Fucking bossing me around to give you cock? Not mad at me anymore?” Y/N ignores my taunt and works her hands between us to untie my sweats. I hiss at the feel of her cool hands engulfing my dick to give it a few pumps.

She must not know what her touch does to me. She handles my cock like she owns it, and gosh, I fucking love that shit. My fingers gently tangle into her coils to deepen our kiss, but she soon gets up to strip her clothes.

Fuck… Fuck, she’s so goddamn sexy. I’ll never get tired of her thick body, filled with soft dips and curves. I look at her, observe her like she’s an expensive piece of art hung up at a museum because that’s what I see her as.

Pretty pussy leaking arousal and I smirk to myself, thinking how she had all that attitude earlier while being wet for me like she didn’t want me inside of her.

“You’re fucking beautiful. You know that?” I ask, massaging her tits and looking up at her. “You still have that attitude or are you going to come ride my cock like a good girl?”

She gently pushes me back against the couch with her lips on mine and straddles my lap. “Depends on if you’re going to be a good boy and take this pussy.”

“Shit, angel. I will.”

Y/N hums while reaching around to align my cock with her sex. Two seconds later, she slowly sinks down my length until I’m buried into the hilt. That soft lingering fuck that slips past her pretty lips sounds sexy as hell and has my dick twitching in response.

I can’t bust now. Not yet. Even if the tightness and heat of her pussy pushes me off the edge of a mountain. Her pussy is so warm, so fucking warm, fat, and wet. Gosh, I don’t ever think I can be without this pussy.

I throw my head back and savor this feeling, but Y/N had other plans for me.

“Remember to look at me when I’m riding you, Ren,” she coos. “Eyes on me, baby. I want you to see how much I love this dick inside my pussy.”

Fucking Christ. “Tell me how much you love it while bouncing on me.”

And she does just that. Telling me how big and girthy I am, that she’s sorry for giving me attitude and admits that she just wanted dick. But no. I want her to fuck me like she’s mad. I need that type of energy pumping through my veins after this win tonight.

I reassure Y/N and tell her to fuck me harder. Her pace quickens and slaps her ass fervently against my cock. I can’t stop moaning her name. The wet slippery noises coming from her pussy increases in volume and it creates a mess between us.

This is where I belong, deep in her pussy and feeling her walls squeeze the hell out of me. I don’t even hold her hips or waist. I relax comfortably with my arms sprawl over the top of her couch, watching how gorgeous she looks while fucking what’s hers.

“Oh, fuck, Renji,” she moans, tugging her lips inwards and lolling her head to the side in complete pleasure.

Those perfect, full tits bounces in my face and I can’t help but stare and become mesmerized. Light marks that resemble tiger stripes decorated the valley of breasts. Her nipples, pebbled and straining underneath my gaze, look desperate for my touch.

I take it upon myself to pinch them between my fingers and a soft shriek escapes her mouth, further arching her back.

Y/N keeps getting wetter by the second, every bounce she makes. And hearing her sticky arousal, I know and see how she’s creaming my cock. Purposely, I sit myself on the couch, thrusting up in her a bit to feel my head hit her g spot.

“Ren, help me little,” she begs through a whimper. “Fuck me back.”

I caress her cheeks with the back of my head. “Yeah? You want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

God, I love it when she’s needy for me like this.

In no time, my hands are at her waist and my thrusts meet with her jumping movements. Y/N isn't loud when it comes to her sounds of pleasure. Vocal, yes. But right now, her moans and whimpers are louder than usual.

It’s like she needed my dick inside of pussy just as much as I needed it.

I see the desire in her brown hues. I feel the heat radiating off Y/N’s skin while my fingers dig into her flesh, holding her in place to pound upwards into her pussy.

This is what I wanted—to fuck my girl after a well deserved win. And she’s going to congratulate me how I want.

My lips are at her neck leaving wet kisses and sucking her flesh until purple specks form. “Coming home to this good fucking pussy. Gosh, I love how you feel, angel. Going to fucking mean it now when you say congrats?”

“Congratulations, baby,” she purrs, slamming harder on my cock. “You did good… so damn good, Ren.”

I hum, dragging my tongue along her neck. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Y/N continues to gasps out her pleas for me to fuck harder. I comply… I comply in helping my pretty girl come and savor the look when she washes over me. My grips are firm on her waist, betting that’ll leave marks when she wakes up the next poor, and drive my cock deeper into her pussy.

I’m in pure awe. I feel my own releasing catching up to me the more I watch her take me. This is my woman. My fucking girl. I come home to this every night after every fight to hold her in my arms and fuck her.

Her name from my mouth sounds like a broken record when I moan her name. This fat, gushy, slick and tight pussy has this power over me. She won’t stop fucking squeezing me, I can’t prevent my face from growing hot. It’s intense how I feel right now, and it’s all because of Y/N.

“Good, good fucking pussy. God, you’re so fucking good to me, angel face,” I rasp, pecking her lips. “You’re going to come for me?”

“Yes, Renji, baby. I’m going to come. Keep giving me that dick. Please don’t stop, please.”

“Put your fingers in my mouth.” She does quick with my command. I suck on her digits and coat them well with saliva before pushing them out of my mouth. “Now rub your clit, pretty girl. I wanna see you squirt everywhere.”

Because she’s overwhelmed with arousal, Y/N stops bouncing on my cock and allows me to fuck her while she plays with clit. Her mouth hangs gape, drool slightly coating the side of her mouth and breathing heavily.

My balls slap her ass. My head kisses her soft cushion repeatedly. Her velvet walls transfer warmth to my cock and the bubble that rests in the pit of my stomach is on the verge of explosion.

I’m about to come. Hard.

But I need her to come first.

“Fucking come for me, Y/N. Keep playing with that pretty pussy and moan my name,” I grit out, pushing past all my thrusts.

“Right there, Renji. Keep fucking me right there… I’m–oh, fuck–I’m coming.”

She’s so pretty when she comes. Dark brown porcelain complexion, slick with sweat. Eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pussy clenching and unclenching around my cock. Moaning, whimpering my name back to back.

She’s breathless. Flawless. I have this image of her painted perfectly in my mind. Watching Y/N come, makes me come, so I make quick work to pull her off my lap. And she knows exactly what I want–to fuck my release down her throat.

Her mouth is as warm as her pussy, and I let out hitched breaths and harsh grunts when she swallows me whole. I’m relentless when forcing her head down on my cock as I facefuck her. The gurgling noises she makes are obscene. Pornogrpahic, even.

And what caused my come to shoot through her mouth is seeing that she’s still massaging her clit, eventually squirting all over her wooden floors.

My hips stutter and I throw my head back to moan into the air. “Fuck, Y/N! That’s my fucking girl. Look at you making a mess while choking on my cock and swallowing my come.”

Y/N takes it upon herself to wrap her lips tighter around my cock and massage my balls, ensuring every single last of my nut has released in her mouth. I take it for a while, but I soon become sensitive, practically feeling my skin being sucked off.

“Easy now, angel,” I say through an airy chuckle. I pull my cock out and her mouth echoes a pop sound.

She whines a little because I’m no longer in her mouth and it causes me to smirk because it wasn’t too long ago where she acted like she hated me.

My hand grasps her chin and guides it upwards to meet with my eyes. “You swallowed for me, Y/N? Open up.” She nods, sticking her tongue out. “Perfect.”

“You’re going to fuck me again?” She asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.”

Gosh, this woman will be the death of me.

tags: @dejwrld @hvshinas @diamondoidxx @xxjazzxx @thegirlwonder1 @ryukenzz @maiapuhpaia @elitesanjisimp @amyrahrose @sweetpeachies @abigolemess @linastired @diorsbrando @starrygetou @niya729 (if i didn't tag you it's because tumblr wouldn't have your user pop up)

#anime x black!reader #anime x reader #bleach x black reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #fanfic smut #renji x reader #renji x black reader #renji abarai x reader #renji abarai x black reader #bleach fanfic

471 notes · View notes

hellishjoel · 8 months

Text

slow shift

7k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Next Chapter

series summary: Tommy’s Diner is where dreams go to die and burnouts clock-in for work. Waitressing would be boring without the flirtatious distractions of line cook Frankie Morales.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, talking about w33d, alcohol consumption (not by reader or frankie, but discussions of alcohol), oral (f! receiving), discussions of periods and Plan B, frankie having a fat d!ick, slightly public sex, unprotected p in v (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), you know how I roll

A/N: welcome to the first part in my linecook!frankie series! It's all just going to be chaos!! enjoy dirty dishes, cussing, and decent food made by the hot linecooks. I’ll have a title as soon as I stop putting it off <3 enjoy! let me know what you think! also how LIT is the banner

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle. You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Welcome to hell.

A makeshift building somehow still holding up four walls that housed a small restaurant inside.

This wasn’t some secret treasure that belonged on an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives or a hidden hole-in-the-wall five-star Michelin Restaurant. This was Tommy’s Diner.

The locals had different names for the run-down dump you called your place of employment: the Hometown Heartburn Hut (true), American Pie ( ha-ha funny), the Rusty Spoon (some guy OD’s behind the place one time, and no one ever forgets), or Tumbleweed, your pothead coworkers liked to call it. It was a tumbleweed because the restaurant was barren, emphasis on the weed to accommodate the faded line cooks that lurked in the back of the restaurant.

Don’t let today’s slow shift fool you; there were times when Tumbleweed was cram-packed. Friday night football games were busy with tailgaters, bustling with teens after a championship game. Other times, it was when a Greyhound bus or a similar cross-country vehicle drove through and took a stop for the passengers.

The most popular time of year was in the summer. Tommy’s Diner hosted Saturday night Cruise Nights. The town would flood with classic cars and hot rods, and the diner would transform into a drive-in. Their engines revved through different cities from far and wide to be at Tommy’s. That’s when the place felt the most alive, bustling with people and their laughter, little kids running with their milkshakes and flipping quarters into the rigged claw machine.

But it wasn’t a Saturday in August. It was a Monday. You were stuck with the misfit motley crew that did everything from dishwashing, cooking, bussing, running the register, being half-ass managers, and, of course, the token pretty waitress. You.

You will admit that each character working at Tumbleweed had a unique story etched into their grubby hands or baggy-eyed faces. They’ve weathered years of late-night shifts and condiment, grease-stained aprons.

Tonight there was Lou, the jaded by heartbreak teenage busboy. He walked with a shuffle, always sniffling about an ex-girlfriend. He worked slow and god damn, did that piss you off.

Then there was Tina, the aspiring singer stuck in a small-town type. She was newer, still learning how things worked since she had never waited tables a day in her life. She had that fresh twinkle of stardom in her eye despite being in her late 30’s. You were training her and trying not to let her drive you up the wall whenever she started singing different songs on the jukebox. Note to self: Put a sticky note saying it’s busted every time you work together.

Paul was the do-it-all guy. Toilet clogged? Get Paul. Dishes piling up? Ask Paul to do it. The cashier on a bathroom break? Paul can run the till. He was useful, just complained and grumbled a lot.

Tommy of Tommy’s Diner hasn’t worked a day in years. He’s older, so it’s understandable. Last thing you heard was he was down in Florida, living out retirement in a cheap home with a gambling addiction. Sounded like he was doing well for himself. But now his idiot son Rudy ran the place. Tommy’s picture was still on dusty display, toothy smile and all at the front door that people huddled in and out of—speaking of.

Your head lifted to attention as the bell above the door chimed, sighing in annoyance as you leaned back onto the counter. It was just Frankie.

“It’s fifteen after. You were supposed to be here on time today because we have to set up for Carla’s thing.”

Frankie breezed past you, aviators and stupid ballcap on, his smile lifted in a sneer. He was smacking on pink bubble gum as he neared your part of the counter and purposely shuffled past you with his hips against yours in an attempt to get into the kitchen. You couldn’t help but lean into him with a little smirk.

“Tommy said it was fine I was late.” He joked once he ducked into the back, your arms crossed as you followed him aimlessly.

You sigh and lean back against the locker next to his, watching him shuffle off his jacket.

“You disappoint me, Frankie.” Your face held a teasing pout.

“Never meet your heroes, baby.” That stupid fucking cocky smirk painted his face.

You opted to roll your eyes and look away as a defense tactic against Frankie’s flirty moves. Frankie calling you baby made your guts twist.

He was an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, but you two were hired the same summer a few years back and were the only ones who stayed once summer had run its course. You supposed it was bonded trauma after that.

New workers had come and gone, but you and Frankie were still at Tommy’s, still working crappy shifts on crappy hourly pay. Despite Frankie being a douchebag, he made the place bearable. He was comfortable. You knew each other.

“Can you just meet me on the floor like you were supposed to fifteen minutes ago and help with the banner? Carla’s going to be here at five, and you still have to make her special-”

“Jesus fuckin’- yes, I’ll be out in a few.” Frankie playfully groaned, shoving the brim of his hat into his mouth to hold it, his hands busy as he tied a tattered red bandana around his forehead before he replaced the cap back on. Okay… hot.

He took a deep breath once he finished, and leaned against the locker beside you, arms crossed, mimicking you as your shoulder brushed his bicep. You looked up at him, so many inches taller than you, as he looked down. Maybe too far down. He started at your eyes, but those eyes of his tended to wander right down to the cut of your shirt.

“Ugh- Frankie!” You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, readjusting your top as he playfully threw his hands up on the defense.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous today, by the way!” He shouted as you exited the locker room, smiling and shaking your head with your back to him and throwing up your middle finger before the door swung closed with your exit.

---

You stood on the top of a dining table in your sneakers, attempting to hang a shitty banner you had painted for Carla’s birthday. You glanced down at the table and made a little face about the scuff you put in it. Oops. You can try and scrub it later.

There was no other person you or Frankie would do this stuff for. But it was Carla’s birthday and she was a diamond in the rough at this dump.

Carla's position at Tumbleweed is a mixture of human resources, accounting, decent management, and a mother figure to not just you but the entire staff. Besides Carla, we could all care less about everyone else's birthday. You were burning this ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner as soon as the clock struck midnight.

You let out an exhausted huff as you attempted to tack the final hanging string into the wall, but it was just out of reach. That’s when you heard the smacking of his stupid pink bubble gum. You didn’t even have to look.

“Are you gonna help me or not, Morales?” Your voice seethed in annoyance, not only to Frankie but also cursing your short legs and your just not long enough arms.

He didn’t say anything. Just crossed the differential space between you and took the tack and string into his meaty fingers.

You glanced down, watching his teeth capture his lower lip in concentration, checking to see if it was straight. Pushing the pin in, he backed up to where you stood on the dining table and crossed his arms in observance.

It was incredibly crooked. But it was the thought that counts, right?

“Good enough for me. You?” You glanced down at Frankie, and he was biting back a smile.

“What?” You pushed, narrowing your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good.” Distracted by something else. “D’you paint this?” The warmth of his hand slowly crept onto the back of your calf, your chest tightening as he slowly skated it higher with no interference from you.

You gently nod, avoiding his eye contact as you look at the sign. Now, his hand was on the back of your thigh, and you had to take a breath. A mhm was all you could muster up.

His fingers delicately skimmed the skirt of your uniform, knuckles brushing against your backside. You used to hate these 50’s style waitress uniforms, but now they didn’t seem so damn bad because Frankie’s movements were making you lightheaded. Snap out of it!

“Need help down?” Frankie asked, hand at the ready on your hip.

You shook your head despite using his assistance anyway. You squatted on the table, black lace panties peeking out as you used Frankie’s broad shoulders as leverage. You put one foot down onto the linoleum and then the other, wiping your hands cleanly down your uniform as you both returned to look at the lopsided sign.

You hoped it was enough. You hoped she appreciated it, especially all that she’s done for you over the years. Covering your shifts, leveling out the register when you accidentally gave someone the wrong change, tucking extra tips into your apron when she knew your rent was coming up. Everyone needed a Carla, not everyone was lucky to have one.

“She’s gonna love it,” Frankie seemed to sense your nerves as he lifted his cap to bring some air to his sweaty dark curls before putting it back into place. “I’ll start workin’ on her special. Mushroom Swiss patty melt?” He said before disappearing into the kitchen again, only leaving once you gave him your little nod of assurance. You liked that he remembered.

---

“Happy birthday, Carla!” Uncoordinated voices cheered as Carla entered Tumbleweed right on time for her shift.

Her face lit up, and she looked beautiful. She packed a little extra blush and eyeshadow to commemorate the special occasion.

“Oh, shit- oh my- You guys! Thank you!” Carla made special eye contact with you, knowing you were the only one caring enough to orchestrate this shindig.

Carla has this soulful charm about her. Raised in Louisiana, she loved to cook family recipes and bring the leftovers to work for you and Frankie to fight over. You remember she had three kids at home, so she had this curvy mom's body that put a proud sway in her walk. A playful and confident woman at heart, she was all the regular’s favorite to see. And she knew everyone. And she knew everything. She put Tommy’s back in business during the slower seasons. People would come to see her face on Sunday mornings over their coffee and runny eggs.

“Oh, baby, thank you.” She cooed as she cupped your cheek and squeezed, making your face tick. “This the red velvet?” Her voice hummed as she observed the cake in your hands, pushing her finger lightly into the frosting to taste it.

You had pulled one of the cakes from the display case and shitily piped it with chocolate sauce ‘HBD!’.

“Of course, your favorite... Right?” You pursed your lips and snuck a nervous glance at Frankie before you set the cake down on the countertop.

Carla looked beyond touched for something you’d consider a bit lackluster. “It’s my favorite ‘cause you made it. Thank you, baby.”

You glanced around for the cake cutter, watching as Tina pushed a quarter into the jukebox and got the party started. Everyone was doing shitty dance moves, even the one or two customers that had filtered in for a cheap dinner.

You sighed as you looked behind the counter for the cake cutter, grabbing the cake and its stand to haul it to the back.

You thrust your shoulder blades into the swinging door, setting the cake stand on the counter as you started sifting through the different drawers to find the serving knife.

Half a carton filled with cigarettes; Frankie’s. Matches from an old jazzy gentleman’s club; Rudy’s. Hair ties; yours. Where’s the fuckin’ cake cutter?!

The music from the jukebox was more faded in the kitchen. The serving window, professionally called the pass, was just big enough to see faces and hand plates through from the kitchen to the front.

You made a face when you found the cake server inside a large pot-- how, no, why? Jesus Christ. Fucking idiots.

The swinging door to the kitchen wooshed in before slowly creaking closed, seeing Frankie coming to stand beside you in your peripheral.

You carefully plunged the slicer into the soft sponge of the cake, carving a piece for Carla and setting it on a plate. You reached forward across the counter for another small plate, the short skirt of your uniform revealing the curve of your ass to an overly curious Frankie. You could feel his heat burning through his chest.

“Could you be less obvious?” Your voice held teasing notes, putting another piece of cake on a plate and pushing them away to make space for more.

He had tried this a handful of times with you, and he had yet to be successful besides that one time when you both drunkenly made out at the last December holiday party. You were pretty sure he had been hung up on you ever since. You enjoyed watching him try.

Your eyes flitted over to his, observing his body and facial features.

He looked gross, honestly. The two meals he cooked including Carla’s special before she came in for her shift made his face and neck sweaty and his hands greasy, his apron to match. It was white at one time, a long, long time ago. His stupid red bandana was still tied around his forehead, catching the spare sweat droplets, as the kitchen became unbearably hot in the middle of August.

You probably didn’t look much better. Hair all over the place with makeup you put on in the morning probably half smudged off by now. Your hands were checkered in pen ink, a spare papercut from snagging a receipt from the register. But still decent. He was still decent.

His hand was back in dangerous territory, lingering low on your waist. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. You could feel warmth flooding your body, heat from the heart of his hand burning into your hip. He was admiring your body, slow and appreciative as he cupped the curve of your ass. And then he squeezed.

Your shaky hands barely got the fourth slice you cut onto a small serving plate. The cake cutter clattered onto the metal counter as Frankie shifted his body behind yours, his watchful eyes on the pass. No one was watching, stupid and oblivious. You swallowed a lump down your throat, your small hands clenching the rim of the counter. His hips were flushed against yours. Worst of all was that you really fucking liked it.

“This okay?” You’re flattered he asked after the fact.

You leaned back into his touch, quietly humming on the brink of a little moan. You were a little desperate for touch, maybe you’d be on your period soon. “Mhmm..”.

Frankie was a douchebag, but you two have been flirting back and forth with one another for years like an ongoing tennis match. He was older, he had years on you. Not an obscenely amount, but enough to make people raise an eyebrow. You were surprised he had the balls to actually make a move on you like he was right now.

“Like you in black.” Frankie’s voice was cut down to a murmur, low and all-enveloping. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the black in your waitress uniform or your black panties. Probably the latter.

His fingers brushed past your goosebump-covered ass and slipped between your legs to your clothed pussy. You softly gasped, eyes shifting closed as your hips involuntarily leaned into Frankie’s touch. You didn’t look subtle at all. You looked like you wanted to be touched, manhandled, kissed, fucked…

“Open your eyes, baby girl.” He purred, your chest already heaving. “Act normal.” You forced your eyes open, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes. Needy pupils connected with his blown-out ones. The back of your head brushed his shoulder, setting it there for just a moment before he looked straight ahead.

Frankie nodded back to the pass, your eyes following his eye line to everyone distractedly dancing and sipping coffee mixed with bourbon on the floor.

You bit down on your lower lip, knuckles cast over in a milky white with the iron grip you held on the metal rim of the counter. Frankie’s body heat had disappeared from your back, and now you felt it cast against the back of your legs. You glanced around, seeing him on his knees behind you with his mouth now latched to the back of your thighs. Oh, fuck. His kisses sponged up higher, towards your heat.

Your eyelashes fluttered, Frankie’s act normal echoing through your hollow head. With distracted hands, you resumed cutting the cake. You probably looked slow and stupid, but feeling his patchy beard hair nestle between the sweet skin of your inner thighs had you in a haze.

Frankie’s big hands reached under your skirt, lining the black panties that sat snugly on your hips with his forefingers. He slowly peeled them down, feeling the material roll as he stopped them to rest halfway down on your thighs.

Your shoulders shuddered as your warm pussy met the slight chill of the outside world, panties adorning a little soaked spot.

“Frankie,” Mm? “Someone’s gonna see.” But you weren’t stopping him. You weren’t telling him to fuck off. You weren’t kicking him right in the gut like you probably could. In fact, you were leaning into him.

“Such a pretty pussy... Can’t stop, baby.”

A helpless whimper left your lips, thighs shaking at his affectionate, warm kisses.

Frankie’s hand swatted at the inside of your right ankle and then the other, hinting for you to spread yourself for him. You pursed your lips and shakily sighed, parting your legs as your sneakers lightly squeaked on the checkered floor. Fuck me, Frankie.

You didn’t know how much longer you could be patient. The waiting was tantric, hypnotizing you into seduction.

Spread for him and dripping, Frankie’s mouth finally attached to your slit. Your knee lightly jerked up and smacked a bus tub filled with dirty dishes, a few eyes on you through the pass as you nervously laughed. “S-Sorry!”

Frankie couldn’t help but let out a warm puff of laughter against your cunt, and you swore your insides were twisting at the sensation.

“Easy pretty girl… Don’t need us gettin’ caught. You want me to stop?” Frankie’s voice was husky, warm palms spreading your thighs, your body lightly bending over to lean on the counter. You tried to look busy with something, stupidly polishing a random fork. With the extra exposure, he had full access to your sex.

“Does it look like I want you to stop?” You finally punched out through air-abducted lungs, anxiously chewing on the skin of your lip. “Frankie.” You said in a hushed warning tone, wanting more and not knowing how to ask nicely for it. But that’s what he liked about you. You weren’t nice.

His lips finally attached properly to your pussy, his devilish tongue lining the center of your cunt and flicking off your clit. Your head dropped, ears ringing at the sensation.

You wondered how good he would feel if he could take his time instead of giving you head quick while all your coworkers were distracted. Maybe he could run his thumb over the front of your panties, trace the seam of your pussy, and feel how soaked you were for him and his attentive fingers. You thought Frankie had always been so down bad for you. He probably dreamed about getting this opportunity. He finally got you when you were just as horny for someone with a pulse. But this wasn’t all the time in the world; this was a slow shift at Tommy’s.

You rut your hips back into Frankie’s face, hot pants fanning fog onto the cool metal of the counter.

Frankie put his mouth where you needed him most, his tongue dedicating a poem to you. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide, wet strip up through your core, taking in all your juices. His tongue lapped at your weeping hole, thighs shaking against his head as you stifled a moan into the counter.

He was good, manipulative, a fucking menace.

Frankie’s tongue made precision flicks against your bundle of nerves, a gasp a bit too loud leaving the kitchen as you whimpered broken fragments of his name.

You weakly looked up, seeing Tina pluck another quarter in the jukebox, cranking the volume to some seventies soul music. Fuck being quiet.

Concealed by the groove of Stevie Wonder singing We Can Work It Out, your moans were hidden by the shake of a tambourine and plucks to an electric guitar.

“Goddammit, Frankie, mmm, so fucking good,” a gasp and a moan followed suit, lazily smirking with your eyes closed. “So fucking… hot.” You murmured.

Frankie’s mouth was a welcome wonder, dedicated to making you cum. He was swirling his tongue around your clit, weakly flattening your front over the counter again and pressing your cheek against the cool metal. Don’t be a douche right now, Francisco Morales. Make me fuckin’ cum.

The kitchen door swiftly swung open, and your body flew up to stand straight as Carla waited in the doorway.

“What’s taking you so long to cut my cake, baby? I know that bitch is stale as hell, but that don’t mean I don’t want it.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in an attempt to speak, but Frankie’s movements didn’t cease despite Carla’s unexpected intrusion. You bit back a whimper as he lined his tongue just barely into the tight entrance of your walls, his greedy fingers piercing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you spread. Thank god the counter covered your waist down.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Carla looked you up and down, curious but ultimately not giving a damn. You could feel Frankie’s dirty smirk against your thighs.

“Alright... Hurry up. I’m tryna get my dessert.”

And with that, the door swished closed, and your back slumped at the relief.

Frankie’s unexpected voice made you jump lightly, his words echoing against you. “Gotta make ya finish fast, princess. Want my dessert, too.”

You whimpered but willed yourself to stand up straight and turn around to face him. He looked like a mess. Lust-filled black eyes and a cocky smirk to match. Your juices glistened on his lips and chin. Frankie would be incredibly hot if he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

“Taste as good as you look, princess.” Frankie stood up, tall and broad body making a white hot spot form in your stomach. Fuck, you couldn’t do this right now. Not right here.

He could tell. He took a few cautious steps away, you watched him carefully like a rattlesnake. He knew when not to push you and when to let you make the decisions. He also knew how to give you orders when you were too pussy fucked to think straight.

“Serve that cake and meet me out back.” He was looking over you, enjoying the few times you looked totally fucked like you did right now. He stepped back into your space and pulled your panties back into place, a sobby whimper leaving your lips as he gently cupped your aching mound with a smirk. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You mumbled, fixing the bottom half of your uniform.

You watch as Frankie grabs the beer bottle you all used as a makeshift door prop and his half-carton of cigarettes you had brought out of a drawer in an attempt to find the cake cutter. He disappears out back into the alley. Shit, the cake.

You hurriedly sliced the remainder of the cake, placing a few stray candles into the slices. You lit them once you greeted the group waiting on the floor, singing a shitty rendition of Happy Birthday. Paul lights his cigarette from one of the candles, puffing smoke across the frosting.

The crowd hastily grabbed one of the small plates and a fork. Most of you only tried a bite or two. The cake had been in the display case for far too long.

---

Anxious and impatient, you slip into the back with everyone’s dirty dishes and sneak back into the kitchen. You do nothing more with them than chuck them into the sink for Lou to wash up at some point or another. Your eyes stare at the beer bottle keeping the back kitchen door ajar. You take in a deep breath, leaving a shaky sigh before following Frankie out into the alley.

The air was warm, a welcome breeze passing over you. The alley was everyone’s hideaway, littered with crushed beer and soda cans, two large garbage dumpsters, and a large one for recycling. You could see the highway in the distance. The sun was setting, and the sky was turning purple and blue. You’d watch those cars drive right past your little town, paying no mind, probably off going to somewhere bigger and better. The only people from the highway who stopped to visit Tommy’s were people who didn’t know any better.

A flick of a lighter crackled, dividing your attention. Frankie was smoking his cigarette, his back leaning against the brick wall of the diner. He was trying not to smirk. Seeing you out here was way too much power for him. He took a drag, the end of his cigarette lighting up in a glowing orange haze before he pulled it from his mouth. The smoke he exhaled was taken by the breeze.

“Happy to see me?” His goading tone asked.

“No.” A challenge. A pause.

“So, you want me to go back inside?”

“No.” Another beat. A step closer to him, arms crossed. He’s smart enough to let his cigarette land on the ground.

“So, you want me to stay out here?”

Silence. Staring. Gauging each other’s reactions. Your tight jaw meets his cocky smirk. Too stubborn to ask meeting too stubborn to give without begging. Fuck.

Maybe it’s because you’re both desperate. Maybe because Frankie knows you. Knows you’re too stubborn to ask for him to fulfill your needs. Your inaction meets his unwillingness to waste another moment that he could be inside of you.

Stomping on his cigarette before closing the distance between you two, he envelopes you in a kiss that robs you of your breath. He tastes musky and bitter. The smoke that recently captured his lungs was hot on your lips.

Your heart was beating with excitement, happy to lose control for a moment as Frankie walked you blindly backward into the brick wall. Ouch.

Your tongues danced in a rhythmic motion, seducing you into letting him take the power as the kiss deepened. The flavor was subtle but distinct. The Marlboro’s held an acrid undertone, an unexpected layer of the kiss you sort of liked. If he tasted like spearmint gum, it might have turned you off.

It was like you were his cigarette now, breathing you in and clinging to you in addiction. It was his bad habit, but who were you to judge. You had a closet full of skeletons you weren’t open to anyone seeing. Maybe this was one of his.

His hands were a welcome guest, feeling his warm palms explore a body he had probably fantasized about.

“Don’t-- mm -- don’t have a lot of time, Francisco.” You teased for dominance, using his full name made him muster up a dirty chuckle.

You were ready to turn around and have him fuck you into the wall, but his hand snagged your wrist, and he stopped you. Confusion screwed into your face. Then his mouth muttered the most filthy thing you had heard yet from him. “Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you.” He muttered, your body slumping into his. Fuck it, you were Frankie Morales’ tonight.

Frankie guided you further from the backdoor, hearing voices enter the kitchen. Probably Paul and Lou to start working on closing chores. He took you behind the dumpsters and hiked up your dress. You decided to be useful and push your panties down. He rounded up the material that was tying you up at your ankles and shoved them into his pocket. You were not letting him keep those.

You pushed his apron aside, fingers fussing over his belt buckle. He watched, amused, unwilling to help. He liked seeing you so desperate for his cock. Unbuttoned. Unzippered. Black boxer trim peaking out now. You made slight eye contact with him before you shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs. Your heart clenches at how girthy he was. Fuckkk, this was gonna feel good.

He didn’t take his apron off, merely shoved it to the side as it haphazardly swayed on his hip. He closed the distance between you again, a greedy kiss, a kiss to mark you with. You pulled away to spit into your hand, taking him by his base and squeezing.

Frankie’s eyes shuddered closed, his head dropping as you took his manhood in the small of your hand. He was.. more than a handful. He was so meaty, not even able to wrap your fist fully around him.

You purred out a little moan as you worked your hand over him, feeling him grow heavy in your hand as you lubed up his tip, slowly circling your thumb teasingly around the pulsing head.

“Enough.” He muttered. He didn’t like you toying with him.

Frankie hiked up your leg by the underside of your calf, hooking around his hip as you leaned your back against the cold brick wall. It wasn’t comfy, but when you fuck against a run-down diner, you don’t get many options.

Your chest shuddered as you felt his cock heavy against your folds, erect and brushing up against where you needed him most. He was running his hand up and down himself now. You watched as he put down another line of spit from his mouth to his cock before his knuckles shuffled up and down his shaft a few more times.

The sight made you reel your head back and stare up at the sky. As eager as you are, you’re worried about feeling how thick he is. He knows.

“M’gonna go real slow.” He punches out, setting his forehead down against yours, and you shakily nod. Please don’t fucking split me in two, Frankie Morales. You still have a shift to finish, after all. You’re thankful he at least acknowledges his girth. It’s sort of the elephant in the room.

You both look down at your centers, your dripping one and his angry, pink head meeting in unison. It’s sort of fucked up the way that you’re two horrible people. But you knew horrible people always seemed to find each other.

You wet your lips and bite down. Hard. You weren’t a fresh spring virgin, but this wasn’t any other half-decent dick.

You lay your head back against the wall as Frankie guides himself into your welcoming entrance. Your wetness lubes him up well, but he’s still large.

You clench your eyes close and smile. The pain is always pleasure. “Fuck,” you mutter, your head wanting to come back down and watch.

Frankie’s being gentle, an odd word you’d never describe him as. He’s grunting and impatient, but patient for you. He fills you up to the brim and your head is flooded with clouds. You’re in the sky, lightheaded, but so fucking horny.

His hips meeting yours are a gentle greeting, both of your lips brushing as you shared pants of desperation as well as relief. Your stomach was tight, recoiling with the pressure he was providing to the inside of your walls.

“God-

“Jesus-

“-fucking damn.”

“Christ.”

The two of you moaned in unison.

Your nails are piercing into his shirt, bunching around the tops of his shoulders. You move to grip his apron for some sort of control. There is none.

One of his hands is still supporting your leg wrapped around his hip, the other flattened against the brick wall beside your head. You took solace in his arm, resting your forehead against it weakly.

He was cocky for a reason. His length in inches was his amount of reasons.

“Fuck me.” You finally mustered up enough strength to demand. He shakes his head against yours.

“Give it a minute.” He mutters, barely coherent. You’re scrumptiously tight around him, and you know it. You both do.

“We don’t have a minute.” You feverishly bite back, attempting to shift your hips against his. He retaliates by planting his hips against you, fucking the final few inches of his dick into you as you both fell deeper into the wall.

A hot moan rolled off your tongue, hiding your face away in his forearm and shuddering your eyes closed. Frankie’s hand slipped from your leg, cupping the globe of your ass in his warm hand. He squeezed and it made you smile as he reeled his hips slowly back.

He grumbles something.

“What?” You asked with a dopey grin. He pushes back inside you and wipes the smirk clear off your face.

“I said… you’re so fuckin’ impatient.” His voice was tattered with grunts, your tight little pussy making it hard for him to breath.

Now he was creating a rhythm, fucking you into the wall in steady thrusts. You were already feeling your insides tug eagerly in excitement, the hot pool he had created in your guts simmering to a boil.

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm,” you moaned in silent begs, moans you had to read between the lines to understand. Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck you feel good, I-I can’t think of anything other than fuck! Fuck me, Frankie!

He filled you up to a brim you had yet to discover you had. His tip tickled your cervix with each snap of his hips. He was getting greedy, a little sloppy. You’d judge him on this short-lived fuck later, for now, it was perfectly timed to get back into work without anyone noticing.

Your eyes widened and met his murky brown ones as he moved the hand he had against the wall nudged between your thighs, circling your clit. It was messy at first, but he found what made you tick and adjusted. Now he was running tight circles around you, and you were finding it hard to stay silent.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect for me.” He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing motion. You actually wanted to taste him again, so you leaned into it, your tongue lining his mouth and tasting his old cigarette with a moan.

Now he was filling you up, no hesitancy in his hips as he snapped the full extent of his length into your cunt. Your head flew back against the orange and red brick, a fucked moan leaving your mouth. Neither of you cared. Frankie’s face was nuzzled against your jawline and neck, sloppy kisses tasting old perfume as the circles on your clit intensified your impending orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Frankie, shit, I’m gonna-” You gasped and closed your eyes, clutching your arms weakly around his shoulders and holding him to you. His body enveloped you like a shield protecting you from anything in your surroundings.

Your orgasm crashed over you, coursing through your body like a million volts of electricity as you whimpered and moaned into his neck. Your eyes were clamped closed, your walls clenching and fluttering around his sensitive cock.

His moans were heavenly, guttural and deep, a little shaky even as he puffed them into your neck and shoulder. His hips twitched against the inside of your thighs as he came undone inside of you. It felt like he was cumming for days, filling you up with white rope after white rope of his semen and painting your insides with only remnants of him.

You couldn’t think. You just focused on the distant sound of the highway, creating a bustling amount of white noise for you. You gently held his head to keep him close, your shaky hand winding into his hair as the two of you reconciled over your orgasms.

He was the first one to move. He slipped himself from you and gave you a few lazy kisses. Your stomach fluttered before you shook your head.

Stop it, Frankie.

‘M not doin’ anything.

Teasing smiles. Hands softening their holds on each other’s bodies. Fixing hair. Fixing undergarments.

He would have held onto your panties. He probably hoped you forgot about them. You tugged them from his pocket and attempted to slip into them with ease, but you ended up having to use the brick wall as a support to lean into.

You steadied his apron straight, and he pulled the skirt of your uniform down. Teamwork.

You don’t really talk, just clean yourselves up, nod, and dart back inside before anyone can really notice or give a damn that you were missing in action. You kept having to excuse yourself to the bathroom, feeling Frankie still seeping from you. It made your chest hot, an embarrassed smile on your face.

Fuck it. That’s what Plan B is for. Or you can just wait to see if you get your period in a few days time.

---

You and Frankie danced around one another during the closing shift. Carla went home and took the cake in a to-go container to give to her kids. It was shitty that she had to work on her birthday, but she said that getting to see your gorgeous face was a present of its own.

You tiredly yawned, seeing it was a few minutes past ten. You helped Tina even out the cash register, putting today’s earnings in an envelope, then putting it in the safe for Rudy to take to the bank at the end of the week.

“You sure you don’t mind cleaning up on your own?” Tina asked, giving her a tired smile and a soft shrug.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Despite her annoying singing, Tina wasn’t that bad. She gave you a big grin before she hopped off the stool and left out the front door. Lou and Paul had already left at the start of closing. You didn’t know if Frankie snuck out the back early.

You did a double take to the jukebox, watching Frankie flip his baseball hat backward and push a quarter into the machine. Your face softened, seeing him flip between the different records before landing on one.

Something by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You watched him reach up and untack your banner from the wall easily. You nodded softly before grabbing the spray bottle filled with disinfectant and began wiping down the counters, seats, and tables.

He walked up to you once you finished cleaning, handing you your folded-up banner. You twisted your lips in thought, rolling the banner around in your hands.

“Wanna help me burn this in the burn barrel out back?”

Frankie sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Fuck it. Got nothin’ better to do.”

---

With Frankie’s lighter, both of you watched with glassy eyes as the Happy Birthday! banner burnt to ashes. His face was lit up in orange and yellow hues. He haphazardly tried to lean into the flames with a cigarette dangling between his lips, a stupid laugh leaving you. He shrugged and put the cigarette behind his ear.

“Fuck it.” He huffed, both of your eyes transfixed on the fading flames.

There was a beat of silence.

Frankie’s eyes met yours. “We should do that again sometime.”

Half of your mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Do what?”

He cocked his head to the side in annoyance. “You know what.”

You shrugged and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets. The hum of the highway in the distance made you flashback to just a few hours ago with Frankie railing you against Tumbleweed. A black and purple-streaked night sky submerged the two of you, making you feel tiny. You sigh and shift on your feet, keeping your eyes on the flames that licked up the ay! in Birthday!

“Maybe.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Maybe?”

“Mhm.”

Frankie teetered on your half-ass decision. Even the notion of having an open door left for him to sneak in was enough to make him happy. “Okay. I’ll take a maybe.”

God, you were bluffing so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be sooo bad to throw him a bone every once in a while.

Your fantasizing was cut short as ashes of the banner spewed up from the depths of the barrel and fluttered up into the air between you and Frankie, both of you taking a preemptive step away.

His lighter clicked again; he had to do it a few times before the end of his cigarette caught a flame. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He murmured. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was trying to walk you to your car, wanting to leave, but not until you started heading home, too.

He swung his body into the driver seat of his beaten-up pickup truck. You decided to follow suit, sliding into your car. You saw Tommy’s fade away from the rearview mirror in the distance. But the thoughts of Frankie between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, and begging to serve your aching center would sit with you until your next shift at Tumbleweed. Sorry. Tommy’s Diner.

---

here's my masterlist!

wanna join my taglist? I don't have one! follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #catfish morales #francisco morales #joel miller #joel miller smut

856 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 6 months

Text

careful what you wish for // sam and colby (pt. 4)

A/N: first off, terribly sorry this came out so late. i've had a hectic last couple days, and didn't get to finish this fic up until tonight. and sadly, this the last thing i'm posting for my 13 nights of halloween. it's crazy to think that this is finally over. to anyone curious i will be getting back to answering asks by tomorrow. i'll also be writing up my review of hell week, and any other random things i had planned to write about/review before my 13 nights. also, i know so many of you have been waiting eagerly for this next installment, so sorry for the long awaited update. but hopefully it's made better by this fic. happy belated halloween, and happy haunting !

prompt: sam and colby have left you high and dry, so now you've resorted to possibly hooking up with a coworker at an event. but sam and colby will be having NONE of that. || vampire!sam and demon!colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SO MUCH SMUT, manipulation via powers (surprise! it's not you this time), fucking in a public, fucking with a crowd watching, the crowd is also all of your coworkers, dumb business shit that i know nothing about bc i went to school for theater and work in retail lol, fourth wall break (spooky), cursing, degrading language, being bit but no blood drawn), mentions of: princess, baby girl, baby, slut, whore, called a fleshlight once, unprotected sex (but no fear of getting pregnant bc they're supernatural), gets a bit dark and possessive towards the end, heavy use of MINE and OURs, snc own you so…. if you don't like that don't read,

word count: 7077

~~~~~~~~~

It was Halloween night, and while you usually looked forward to Halloween, this night was a bit different. The company you worked at was having their annual 'Final Fiscal Quarter Party'. The higher ups agreed that it would be easier to throw it during October, rather than in December. Individual offices could throw their own then, but the main, big event was happening tonight.

Your company rented out a huge hotel ballroom. There was catering, a local DJ playing some family friendly tunes, and a stage where awards were going to be given out. You had been to a couple of these events over the years, but they were always very... boring. You would much rather be at home, snuggled up, watching a scary movie.

Or maybe getting fucked by your... boyfriends? It was hard to describe the relationship you had with Sam and Colby. They used you, but you used them. It was a very symbiotic relationship in that way. But currently, you weren't really too keen on them.

You considered hitting up your old friend, Jess. She was the one, after all, that magically brought Sam and Colby into your life. You hadn't talked to her in a long time. It could be because she still blamed you for the book permanently shutting and ruining her dating life forever.

She could bitch all she wanted, but she wasn't the one being stalked and fucked by a demon and a vampire.

You had grown a bit tired of Sam and Colby, their antics, and their overall ability to flip your world upside down. The sex was great, obviously. But at what cost?

Not to mention, they hadn't spoken to you, or showed up, in months. You were going through a bit of a dry spell, and hated the fact that they hadn't answered your calls. So, it did cross your mind to get rid of them. Permanently.

But that was an issue for another time. Right now, all you had to focus on was getting just drunk enough to enjoy this stuffy party, but not too drunk that you get messy.

And that came a bit easy for you. Across the bar, a handsome man smiled at you, giving you a nod as you accepted his drink. You could see his paper nametag said Brian, and you hadn't recognized him from your own office - so he was a safe bet. God knows you weren't the only one trying to hook up with someone tonight. Plenty of colleagues from different divisions were going to be getting crazy tonight. It was an inside joke amongst the company that this night was usually a fuckfest.

You gazed over at Brian, admiring his silky quaffed hair and great suit. He had a lovely smile; one he shot your way over the glass of whiskey he had in his hand.

A man like Brian seemed... dependable. A good choice for a significant other. Boring, basic, Brian. Maybe that's exactly what you needed. Something steady and settled. Not... supernatural.

Yeah, but could you ever fuck a man like Brian? A man like him could never fulfill your needs. You could hear Colby's voice in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip from your wine glass. No. Brian might seem a bit basic on the surface, but who knows? Deep down he could be a sex god. Maybe he was packing some serious heat, and just knew all the right ways to eat a woman out. Yeah, that's what's you would be focusing on. Not the imagine that Sam and Colby would surely try to paint in your head.

You were brought out of your thoughts as the lights dimmed up and down, signaling everyone to get to their seats, as the speeches and award ceremony was going to start soon. You shot a look at Brian one more time and found your seat quickly.

The head of the company sauntered up on stage as applause erupted throughout the room. He nodded his head, shooting a couple people smiles and finger guns. Eventually as the room quieted down, he stepped up to the podium, beginning his speech.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm so happy you all could make it here tonight. Happy Halloween by the way. Isn't this much better than a Christmas party?" He let out a solid laugh, swatting at the crowd jokingly. "But as I was saying, tonight we are all here to celebrate. This company might be big, but it's the little guys - the individuals - that deserve the praise the most. Sure, I'm the head and face of this place, but you guys are what make it possible."

Another round of claps came from the room. You glanced around and noticed that the chair next to you was empty. There was a name tag on the plate, designating this spot for a "Colson Brock".... whoever that was.

"Now before the awards begin, I would like to introduce you all to someone remarkable. This man has helped shape this company in many ways. And, he's incredibly sexy. So let's all give a round of applause for Samson Golbach." The CEO grinned brightly, gesturing to the side of the stage.

You raised an eyebrow, Sexy? That's a strange word to use at a business party. Not to mention, The CEO was married to a woman so... this was all a bit confusing. You awkwardly clapped as the light shined on a man with light blonde hair. He was in an all-black suit, his hair gelled in a sleek look. He waved at the crowd, smirking mischievously. He smiled once he got to the podium, his fangs glistening in the light.

Was that... Sam?

You gasped in your seat, staring up with wide eyes at the stage. It looked like him, but you had never seen him in a suit. Plus he wasn't exuding the same energy he usually would so, maybe this wasn't him. Maybe this was his doppelganger, or someone that looked extremely like him. You sat back in your chair, narrowing your eyes up at the man.

"Thank you all for having me here today. I know many of you don't know who I am, but that's by design. I purposefully like to stay in the shadows, remain almost anonymous. It's a system I built to keep this company running at breakneck speed, and so far... this has been our most successful year to date!" Samson cheered.

You could feel the room clap again, happy with Sam... Samson's words. You took a deep breath, your anger rising. This can't be Sam. Sure, it looked like him and even sounded like him. But Sam and Colby had never taken this... thing, with you outside of your own house. There was no way they would do this to you in front of all of your coworkers and colleagues.

"It's nice to finally be appreciated and received so well. I'm sure you've all had some crazy days and night working here. I usually work all hours of the night and barely get to see the sun. You would think I was some sort of a vampire or something." Samson chuckled, some members of the crowd following suit. He turned, catching your eye, and gave you a wink.

Did he just...

The chair next to you pulled back, a man sat down hastily. He cleared his throat, catching his breath. He unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket, the silver pinstripes reflecting in the light. Your eyes traveled up the man's form, taking him in until finally stopping on his face. Everything about him was familiar, but his hair was pushed back, exposing his forehead. He took his glasses off, cleaning the lenses and sliding them back on.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” You growled.

The man, Colby, turned to look at you suddenly. “I'm... sorry?”

You crossed your arms tightly, sitting back in your chair. “I can't believe that you and Sam would do this.”

He gave a weary smile. “I'm so sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Right, Colby.” You huffed.

“Colby? That's a silly name,” he chuckled. “My name is Colson.”

“Of course it is.” You turned to him sharply, “You know you two have a lot of audacity to do this.”

He shook his head awkwardly. “Again, I'm not sure what you're talking about, Miss.”

“You guys haven't spoken to me in months. I've called out to yall and got nothing back. And now you show up and want to play dress up?!” You whispered harshly. “You guys are sick.”

“I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm not who you think I am,” he dissented. “I'm Colson Brock, not Colby, and I've never met that man on stage before in my life. But I am about to get an award from him so... if you could just stop talking to me, that would be for the best.”

You scoffed. “I swear to God, Colby-!”

You were cut off as Sam’s voice grew louder, “This award is given out to individuals that show inspiring traits and work countlessly day in and day out for us. The award for Best Dedication, Integrity, Creativity, and Knowledge goes to... Colson Brock!”

You scowled as Colby stood up, patting down his suit softly. He walked towards the stage, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder. He stepped on stage, shaking Sam's hand, and a photo was taken of the two of them holding the award.

You grabbed your purse, sneaking off to the bathroom quickly. You stumbled in, rushing to the sink and leaning against it. The bathroom was empty, just you alone. You breathed deeply, shaking your head.

That had to be Sam and Colby. There's no way that wasn't them.

But a part of you imagined, for just a moment, that maybe... it wasn't them. How could they have manipulated everyone into thinking they were real workers at this company? The CEO introduced Sam, or Samson. Colby's name, or Colson's name, was on the nametag and award.

You felt yourself flush at the thought. Oh my God, if that isn't Colby, that man out there thinks I'm absolutely insane. How the fuck am I supposed to go back to my table, sit there and eat an under seasoned chicken parm, and pretend I didn't just berate a man?

You groaned, bending down, and resting your head against the sink counter. Even when Sam and Colby weren't around, they still fucked with you.

You heard the bathroom door squeak open, your body jolting up. You didn't need another person thinking you were losing it.

Heavy footsteps crept into the bathroom, a man. A deep voice sighed, snickering lightly. You glanced up through the mirror, your eyes widening. Colby swayed in, leaning against the wall. His suit jacket was gone, now just in his button up and slacks. He rolled up his sleeves, running a hand through his hair.

“Surprise, Princess. Did ya miss us?” He teased.

You glared, “What the fuck, Colby?”

“What?” He gestured outside the bathroom, “A bit too dramatic?”

“This is my livelihood! How dare you and Sam come and fuck this up for me!” You exclaimed, anger coursing through your veins.

“Relax, baby. We would never do anything too bad. No need to worry. Everyone will forget any of this happened. Honestly.” He put his hands up defensively. “This was all meant to be a bit of fun. We just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“You should be congratulating me on my award. I have the best dedication, integrity, creativity, and knowledge.... D-I-C-K. Dick? Best dick, get it?” He bit his lip cockily, “Came up with it myself.”

“You're a fucking genius,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “God, I knew I should have talked to Jess sooner.”

“Jess... why does that name sound familiar?” He questioned, feigning curiosity.

“She's the one that gave me the book that made the two of you.” You explained bitterly.

“Oh, she is? I'm gonna have write her a thank you card,” he winked. “But why exactly do you need to talk to her?”

“You two... I want you gone.” You admitted.

His face dropped, “What?”

You stepped up to Colby, getting in his face. “Aren't you tired of fucking around with me? Coming and going as you please? Why am I not allowed a normal life with a normal guy?!”

The lights flickered in the bathroom, Colby's eyes turning black for a split second, his horns visible. You shuttered, pressing yourself against the counter. The lights stopped flickering, and Colby was back to normal.

He cleared his throat, loosening his tie a bit. “Because... you're ours. You belong to us.”

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“You have... multiple times,” Colby pointed out in a snarky tone. “Even last year around this time, too.”

“Last Halloween?” You thought back, and a bunch of images started popping into your mind. Sam snapped Colby's neck but was also somehow terrorizing trick-or-treaters. Colby took control of your body but was also somehow dead while you and Sam fucked in your kitchen. It was all very confusing and didn't make quite sense.

“Wait, how the hell did you both fuck me and simultaneously not?” You puzzled, aggravated.

“I guess it just depends on what you picked.” Colby smirked, “Right, reader?”

“What are you talking about?” You replied.

“Don't worry about it.” He leaned against the counter next to you, “Back to what you were saying though. So, you want a normal guy so you can live a normal life... why? Isn't it more exciting to get fucked by a demon and a vampire?”

“Yeah, but there's more to life than sex.” You argued.

He feigned shock, “Take that back.”

You jeered, “You're extra fucking annoying, you know that?”

“And you clearly need the brattiness fucked out of you. But for some reason you don't want me or Sam to do it. Why? Did you have someone else in mind?” He took a couple steps, facing you again, “Like, say... Brian.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “How do you-“

He interjected. “I'm a demon. I know a lot of things. Not to mention I saw him and you eye-fucking each other by the bar. You're lucky I saw it and not Sam. Because Brian would be drained dry by now. Still probably will be.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, fine. I was eye-fucking Brian. And why am I not allowed to? Yall have been gone for months.”

“But you've been putting that toy of yours to such good use,” Colby taunted.

“You're an asshole.” You shot back.

“Thank you. I appreciate the love,” he smiled genuinely. “But I gotta ask, do you really think a man named 'Brian' can make you come like we can? Be honest with yourself on that.”

“That's not the only reason I want him,” you responded sassily. “Plus, he could be really good at sex.”

“Okay then. Let's find out.” Colby stomped over to the door, yelling out, "Brian! Get in here!"

You furrowed your brow, confused as to what Colby had up his sleeve. What the hell was he bringing Brian in here for?

Brian stepped in, glancing between the two of you. He had a dazed look on his face, clearly entranced.

“Colby, don-“ You started.

He cut you off again, “Look, princess. You wanted to know if he's a good fuck. So, I'm giving you the chance to find out. See what a normal fucking will bring to your life.”

“You can't force him to fuck me!” You fumed.

“I mean, I definitely could, but I'm not going to.” He turned to Brian, patting his shoulder, “Brian, my guy, do you want to fuck Y/N?”

Brian nodded. “Yes.”

“That's why you were buying her drinks tonight, right?” Colby asked.

“Yeah.” Brian’s voice was dull, almost like there were no thoughts behind his eyes.

“Such an honest man,” Colby commented. “Do you find her attractive?”

“Of course.” Brian agreed.

“Would you sleep with her if she said yes?” He continued.

Brian blinked, “Yes.”

Colby looked at you, “There we go. Happy?”

“I'm not fucking him in here, or in front of you.” You retorted, leaning back against the counter.

“Don't you want to prove me wrong? Don't you want to wipe the smug look off my face when he makes you come with his tongue? Or his totally, not average sized, dick?” Colby stepped up to you, his voice low, “The moment I walked in here, you got wet.”

A rush of blood came to your cheeks, your breath hitching.

“No amount of blushing can hide that deep down, you're a slut that wants to be fucked - pretty much - anywhere. And you're only giving me lip because we left you cold and alone for a couple months. I'm sorry about that. I truly wished I listened to your pleads...” he leaned in, kissing your cheek. “And cries...” he moved to the other cheek, giving it a quick kiss. “And screams,” he kissed your forehead gently. “Begging me to come fuck you. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. And this, right here, is my apology to you.”

You stood still, unsure what to do. Part of you did want to fuck Brian, just because you did find him hot. But with Colby standing next to him... it was no contest.

“Here. I'll sweeten the deal,” Colby offered. “If he makes you come, we'll leave. Forever.”

You froze, “Really?”

“No, probably not. The whole magical book kinda forbids that. But we will leave here, and you and Brian can go on your merry way and you two can go have beautifully... vanilla, sex.” He smiled dryly.

“Lucky for Brian, I'm already wet.” You quipped, glaring.

“Perfect. Brian, give the lady what she wants.” He gasped, “Ooh, can I choose what he does? Pleaseeeee?”

You blinked, giving the slightest nod.

“You are so generous.” Colby spun to him, “Brian, do you want to eat her out?”

“I would... but I don't do that.” Brian spoke monotone.

Colby’s face dropped, almost mimicking yours. “You don't give head? Sloppy toppy? None of that?”

“No.” Brian replied.

“This is the man you want, huh? Absolute loser,” Colby pointed at him, rolling his eyes. “Well, Brian, now you do. So, go crazy.”

Brian turned to you, a lustful look overcoming him. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards you. Your heart raced, watching his every move. His hands wrapped around your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg gently. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, your head falling back a bit.

Colby leaned against the wall, studying you. His face was blank, almost uninterested. You glared at him, trying to ignore his presence. He smiled, giving a little wave.

Brian nibbled on your inner thigh, his fingers stroking up and down the center of your underwear. He brushed against your clit, your knees almost buckling.

“You're wet, Y/N.” Brian hummed in awe.

“Yeah, that's what happens when you turn a woman on.” He leaned in, whispering to you, “Is he new around here or...?”

“Shut up, Colby!” You groaned. “Keep going Brian, please. I need you.”

“Don't take it too personally, Brian. She says that to everyone. Especially me.” Colby grinned.

“Drop dead.” You hissed.

He remarked, “I'm not really alive so...”

Brian pulled down your underwear, letting them fall down your legs and to the floor. The cool air hit your hot sex, making your body tense up. Brian leaned in, his mouth connecting with your clit.

You closed your eyes tightly, allowing the sensation of his tongue to arouse you more. It was a slow build, that was for sure. Nothing like Sam and Colby and the way they did things. But it was still nice.

But maybe not what you needed.

You placed your hand on the back of Brian's head, pushing him more into your heat. He grunted, the vibrations feeling fantastic against your clit. You amped up your moans, hoping it was believable to Colby.

He yawned, gazing at you bored. You shook your head, deciding to ignore Colby. You were determined to come, to make them leave. But Brian was not helping you, which was upsetting.

“Brian, baby... go a little faster please.” You begged, annoyed.

He nodded, moving his tongue hastily. You could feel the pleasure build more, but it was still a long way away from being close to an orgasm. He slid a finger in, pumping in and out sloppily. You groaned, feeling even less turned on suddenly.

“I guess I know why you don't give head.” Colby swatted at Brian, “Move.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No! Brian, st-”

“I know you want to come so we leave, but that ain't gonna happen with Brian over here.” Colby mentioned.

"Well, maybe he could fuck me!" You argued, gesturing to his dick.

“But I'm not hard.” Brian stated.

Colby raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Eating pussy isn't really a turn on for me.” Brian informed.

“God, Y/N, you really know how to pick them.” Colby pulled him up by his arm, smiling sinisterly. “Brian, why don't you leave and go find Sam? I think he can teach you a valuable lesson on what happens to men that don't please their women.”

Brian turned and left, not saying another word. You huffed, glaring harshly at Colby. “Your little glares aren't going to do anything to me, sweetheart. If anything, they just make me hard.”

Colby's hand slid down and cupped your sex, palming your clit gingerly. You gasped, back arching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Colby barricaded you in, his hand beginning to make small circles on your clit.

“This is how a man fucks a woman like you.” He uttered, staring at you intensely.

“But you're not eating me out.” You challenged.

Colby cocked his head. “If you wanted my tongue, you could have just asked.”

You suddenly felt a tongue licking at your entrance, your body shuttering in ecstasy. “Fuck, h-how-?”

"Did you forget I have abilities? Is it because the horns aren't here?" The lights flickered, and when they turned back on, his horns were out. “How about now? Do you remember what I am now?”

"Yeaahhh, I remember." You whined, your head falling back in pleasure.

“You are so sexy when you get close to coming. God, it makes me hard just thinking about it.” Colby pushed his clothed, growing dick against your thigh, “Do you feel me?”

You nodded mindlessly, your hands gripping his forearms.

“Princess?” He asked innocently.

“Uh-huh?" You murmured.

“I think that's enough for you." All the sensations stopped, Colby pulling away from you.

“Wha-? No. No! Colby, please.” You grumbled.

He asserted, “It's time for you to be punished.”

“What did I do?” You questioned, your mouth a gape.

"I'm sorry, was Brian that forgetful or do you like playing dumb?" Colby spun you around, making you face the mirror. He rolled your dress up a bit, pressing his bulge against your bare ass. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna start fucking you, and you have to remain quiet. Just like you were with Brian."

You lowered your voice, “Why do I have to be silent?”

“Because otherwise, you'll get caught.” He whispered cheekily.

The door busted open, and a gaggle of women came in, chit chatting like there wasn't a demon about to fuck you right against the sink.

You gulped; your voice even quieter. “What the fuck, Colby?!”

"Don't worry, princess. If you remain silent, they won't see you. But once you make a single noise, they'll know. They'll know that you are a dirty slut that likes to get fucked in the bathroom. That you're so desperate for dick that you'd let a demon fuck you. And a vampire." He tsked sassily, "Double greedy."

Colby unbuttoned his pants, giving your ass a slap as his cock sprang free. You bit your lip, holding back a gasp.

"You ready for me, baby?" He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding along your lips. Then finally, he glided his cock in.

You trembled from the sensations, direly wanting to moan along with him. But you didn't want to get caught. Being fucked while others were around, whether they could see you or not, was embarrassing enough.

But also incredibly thrilling.

Colby thrusted deeply, his cock hitting the right spot over and over again. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best way. Your body already felt like it was building rapidly, your legs shaking under your weight. You felt like your skin was on fire, burning against the cool air.

A lady walked up to the sink next to you, washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror. You shuttered out a breath, Colby picking up his pace.

“Don't look at her, Y/N. Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself get fucked.” He commanded breathlessly.

You turned your head, staring straight. He smirked at you in the mirror, keeping his pace the same while lazily pulling off his tie.

"This is what you deserve, sweetheart. You're such a slut for me." He yanked your hands behind your back, tying them easily with his tie. He gripped your connected hands, bucking his hips harder and faster now.

Your body buzzed erotically, your hips gyrating in time with Colby's. You could feel your edge building; all you had to do was stay quiet.

Colby slid one hand down between your legs, finding your swollen clit instantly. He rubbed it faster than his thrusts, causing your whole body to jolt. You sucked in a harsh breath, knowing you shouldn't have. But God... the sensation was too much for you to stay quiet.

The women in the bathroom looked around, confused.

"Baby, do you want to get caught or something? Because you are being awfully loud. Maybe you need something in your mouth to quiet you down." He snaked his other hand up towards your face, his two fingers rubbing along your lips. You parted your mouth, allowing his fingers inside.

He cursed, “That's fucking it baby. Be a good girl and suck them for me.”

You sucked his fingers like your life depended on it. He finger-fucked your mouth in time with his dick, both speeding up as the minutes passed. You could feel yourself getting close, knowing that your orgasm was imminent.

“It's been too long since the last time you sucked my cock.” He chuckled darkly, “Maybe later you do that for me. Wouldn't you want that, princess?”

You nodded desperately, bucking your hips wildly against his cock and hands. You were about to explode, your edge hitting its peak. This is all you wanted for the last couple months: to be fucked hard and well. And that's what Colby was doing.

“You almost ready to come? Build up baby. Suck my fingers dry. Suck them like you would my dick.” You took his fingers deeper, gagging around them. You pumped yourself on his cock, whimpering. "There you go, baby. What a good girl." Colby leaned in, his horns grazing your cheek as he uttered, "My good girl... Come for me."

Your body spasmed around Colby's cock, bouncing on it helplessly. You moaned loudly around his fingers, not caring if anyone heard. You had been so focused on staring in the mirror at yourself getting fucked that didn't see that you and Colby were all alone in the bathroom once more. His eyes bore at you in the mirror, flashing to black.

Relaxing your hips, his cock pulled out of you for a moment, letting you relax. You felt your juices run down your inner thigh, your body still running high. You leaned down, placing your head against the counter as you took some deep breaths.

“Hi there, baby girl. “A familiar voice came from behind you, but it wasn't Colby's. You looked up quickly, Sam now behind you, and Colby was nowhere to be seen. Sam waved back at you in the mirror, smirking. "You ready for me now?"

“W-Where is Colby?” You stuttered, your pussy twitching at the thought of Sam's hard cock.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him. He'll be back soon enough." Sam traced a finger along your sex, gasping. "God baby, you are so wet. Completely soaking yourself."

He took his finger into his mouth, tasting you. "Fuck, I missed that."

Your mouth hung open, watching him through lustful eyes. His hand snaked around to the front of your body, grabbing your neck firmly. He pulled you flush against his partially exposed body, his cock hard against your ass. "We give you everything you could ask for, and you still wanted someone like Brian? How pathetic."

He forced your head to look at yourself in the mirror, "You are a desperate slut just begging to be fucked. But we're the only ones that can make you feel this good."

Sam slammed his hips into yours, his cock taking you deeply. You grunted loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. He took advantage of your still tied up hands, holding them tightly. His other hand raced up your back, lowering you down to the sink. He placed you flat against the counter, fucking you harshly. You shook with each of his thrusts, mewling at every in and out.

“You think you get to choose who fucks you now? You think you can move on from us?” He fumed, his cocking hitting your spot repeatedly.

You panted, “Noooo.”

“There is no one other than us. Let me make that abundantly clear: you're ours.” Sam's fangs sunk into your skin, your eyes widening. He continued to bite you all over, barely drawing any blood, but marking you; letting everyone know you were taken.

Your second orgasm was close. You needed this second one badly, itching to come sooner rather than later. You could feel how desperate and hot and slutty it was turning you.

“Baby girl, do you deserve to come? Have you been good?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, your whole body shaking, “Yessss. Yes I have. Please Sam! Please!”

He pulled you up again, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly. “Ride my dick, baby. Make yourself come on my dick.”

You uncontrollably bucked your hips, whining on his cock. His hold on your neck tightened just enough, making it hard to breath and your vision blurring. The lack of oxygen made your orgasm hit twice as hard. You soaked his member, moving mindlessly on it until you finally finished. Your legs gave out a bit, Sam catching you. He snickered, his red eyes taking you in through the mirror.

The doors to the bathroom busted open again, a random lady coming in. She turned and looked at the two of you, not even acknowledging what she had to be seeing. "Y/N, you need to come out there quick."

You were taken aback by this woman, unsure of who she was or what the hell she wanted you for. "W-what are you talking about?" You rushed, shimmying your dress down, trying to cover yourself back up.

“They're calling your name. You won an award!” She exclaimed, leaving the bathroom happily.

You furrowed your brow, turning to Sam. But he was gone. Those powers of their really do come in handy for moments like these.

You shuffled out of the bathroom, even more confused as you glanced around at everyone from your company. They were all looking at you, smiling brightly and being congratulatory. You walked towards the stage, the people directing you, and as you got closer, you saw Sam and Colby on it, holding a plaque of some sort.

Sam pulled you on stage, kissing your cheek sweetly. Colby handed you the award, shaking your hand dramatically. You took the award in your hand, turning it to see what it said.

“Give it up for Y/N everyone. The biggest slut of the year!” Sam yelled into the microphone. “Congratulations baby, you deserve it.”

You gawked at Sam and Colby, the reality of what they did hitting you. You threw the award on the ground, glaring at them harshly.

“Hey now, we worked really hard on that.” Sam pouted.

“Fuck you, how dare you make me a fool in front of everyone!” You ranted, getting in their faces.

"Princess, no one is gonna remember this. And luckily, no one will remember this either." Colby smiled devilishly.

Sam and Colby grabbed at your dress, tearing it off your body like it was made of cheap fabric. The crowd cheered, your body heating up immediately as you were suddenly naked in front of everyone.

“Now, don't argue with us, plaything. You can bitch and moan all you want to but being fucked in front of everyone... turns you on.” Colby wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “No matter how much you want to deny it, you can't deny how drenched you are right now.”

Your body quivered as Colby's fingers slipped easily into your cunt. You fell back against him; his suddenly naked body cool against your hot skin. Sam sauntered up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your torso. His hands kneaded your breasts, nipples aching to be touched.

Sam laughed, “Look at her, Colby. She can't even argue with us. She knows that we're right. She is the biggest slut of the year. She's our slut, our toy, our plaything. Ours. Forever.”

The room erupted in applause, some even screaming out your name.

“Let's give them a show, princess,” Colby gestured to the eager crowd. Let the people see the real slut you are. Isn’t that what you want? To be fucked in front of everyone.”

You couldn't think anymore. Every sensation was overpowering your thoughts. You knew deep down that Sam and Colby were right, and all you could think of was how badly you wanted to come again.

You nodded feverishly, your hands automatically pawing at both of their bodies. The air around you changed once you said yes, your body being positioned graphically. Forced down onto your knees, Colby stood in front of you, while Sam was behind you.

“Aww, baby. Look, it's your favorite positions: on your hands and knees, getting railed by us.” Sam jested playfully.

Your sex throbbed, direly needing them inside of you. You whined, looking up at Colby. “Please, just fuck me. No more teasing.”

Colby stared into your eyes, jerking himself off right in front of your face. “You want this, huh? You want me in your mouth. Say it.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I want you in my mouth.”

“And what about me, toy?” Sam slapped your ass, making you look back at him.

“Fuck, I need it. I need the both of you so bad!” You cried, grinding your hips back against Sam.

Hoots and hollers sounded off around the room. You glanced at the crowd, their hungry eyes taking your desperate form in.

“Fine then, since you asked so nicely,” Colby cupped your face, turning your head back to his cock. The tip pushed against your mouth, sliding in easily. He moaned lowly, almost animalistically. Sam teased his cock along your entrance, slipping in effortlessly.

Once they were in you, you sighed deeply. It felt so good to be surrounded by Sam and Colby, to be filled by them. They had you right where they wanted you, and you loved every second of it.

And the crowd seemed to love it even more.

They started off slow, taking their time to build your pleasure up. There was nothing else on your mind. All you could think about was their cock and how much you wanted them to come deep inside of you.

Colby gaped, “Oh princess, you have the filthiest mind. Maybe even dirtier than ours.”

“That's why she's our slut. We are just innocent people being used by this whore of a woman,” Sam shuttered, lulling his head back as he fucked you. “And God, I love every second of it.”

“I could fuck this mouth for hours. How does that sound, sweetheart? You love that idea, don't you?” Colby breathed, biting his lip, staring down at you.

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his shaft deeper. He grunted, hips twitching. His hand rested on your head lightly, pulling your hair softly. His grip tightened, causing you to gag around him.

Sam cursed, “Fuuuuck, she clenched around me when gagged. Keep doing that, baby girl. That felt so good.”

“Y/N, how can you get all of this, all of us, and still want something else? Especially Brian. What a fucking loser.” Colby groaned, disgusted.

Sam agreed, grimacing. “Dude didn't even know how to eat pussy. He didn't even like eating pussy.”

The crowd booed, screaming expletives at the sound of Brian's name.

“See, everyone knows that Brian sucks. How could you ever settle for something like that when you have the best right here?” Sam inquired. “Two men willing to do anything to make you come.”

"Let me make this perfectly clear, darling," Colby pulled himself out of you, raising you up so you were eye level with him. He held your face firmly, his voice low and calm. “While I'm never the type to get jealous, and watching you get eaten out by that joke of a man was entertaining and kinda sexy, let me be honest with you.”

His face dropped, his eyes darkening with each word. "If you ever go after another man again, I will personally make sure to rip his heart out in front of you, and then I’ll breed your cunt so deeply you will feel me for days. Because there is no one else for you, princess. Just. Us. Forever. That means for eternity, you are ours. You are mine."

Sam yanked your hair, pulling you out of Colby's grip for a moment. He grunted harshly, "That goes for me too, baby girl. If you ever even breathe near another man again, I might have to drain your sexy little body dry and turn you into our immortal plaything for forever. And don't think for a second I'm bluffing."

Colby took you by the neck, pulling you back towards him, choking you lightly. All the while, Sam was still fucking you. "There is no escaping us, Y/N. We will never let you go. No matter what you do for the rest of your life, we will always be there, in the shadows, watching. We own you. And nothing will change that."

His face relaxed, going back into his casual, smug look. "So... in the meantime, enjoy yourself, princess. And open your mouth again."

He pushed you down, his cock still hard and leaking, ready to fuck your mouth. Their words sank deeply into your mind, arousing and frightening you all at the same time.

Colby thrusted himself back in, gagging you. “There you go, baby. But now, I think it's time we give the people what they want. Right, everybody?!”

The room screamed in approval, lustful energy shooting through you from the sound. Suddenly, Sam and Colby began fucking you passionately, the sheer brutal force alone bouncing you back and forth on their cocks. You whined around them, feeling yourself get lost in the feeling of being their toy.

Sam groaned a breathy sound, “God, you're basically just a fleshlight, Y/N. Don't you love being used by us?”

“You know she does, Sam. Just a set of holes for us to use.” Colby’s voice was husky and low, “God, her mouth feels incredible.”

“She's so pathetic, really. She squeezed around me so tightly when we called her names. Maybe we should do that more often.” Sam taunted.

“Of course. There are so many more names we could come up with for her. But right now, all I'm concerned about is coming down her throat and fucking her until she chokes.” Colby's hips sped up as he face-fucked you. You didn't even have time to react, your jaw becoming slack and just allowing him to take over and use it like a toy. Tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks and drool dribbled down your chin from his harsh actions.

Sam's hand went between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. Your thighs shook from the feeling, the pleasure overwhelming.

“You're so close, aren't you, princess?” Colby panted.

Sam chimed in; his voice depraved. “Build up for us. Come with us, baby girl.”

They pounded into you in unison, almost taking the breath out of you with each thrust. The room began getting louder, chants of "Come for us" came from the crowd, building up in time with your orgasm.

Every part of this was spectacular and you couldn't get enough.

Your breathing hitched as your orgasm hit the edge, ready to fall over once they said you could. Sam and Colby kept going, kept using you, until they were ready. You begged them to let you come, your pleas muffled by Colby’s cock. Both thrusted with abandonment, needing to come just as badly as you.

Colby grunted, pulling your hair, “Fuck, fuck! Y/N, come! Come for us now!”

“Do it baby! That's fucking it, YES!” Sam growled, his fingers bruising your hips as he held them tightly.

All three of you exploded in euphoric pleasure, bellowing out in ecstasy. The crowd roared as Sam and Colby filled you up with their cum. You released around Sam's cock, soaking him. You swallowed as much of Colby's cum as you could, gagging as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly until finally slowing his hips down. Sam slammed inside of you once more, grunting out a strained cry. Your body was spent, exhausted from being fucked so many times. You felt yourself black out, unable to stay awake a moment longer.

When you came to, you were in your hotel room, inside the same hotel the event had taken place at. You felt sore everywhere, knowing that wasn’t a dream. You sighed happily, snuggling into bed. You noticed a note on the side of your pillow. You picked it up, reading it quickly.

Ours.

- Sam and Colby

<< Part 3B ||

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fic #sam golbach fanfiction #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #sam golbach smut #colby brock smut #sam golbach one shot #colby brock one shot #sam golbach oneshot #colby brock oneshot #sam golbach x reader #colby brock x reader #sam and colby x reader #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

740 notes · View notes

lowkeychenle · 1 month

Text

masterlist + all about me (and nct dream)

hi everyone! name change/rebrand alert ;)

prev @/lowkeyjaemle, now @/lowkeychenle :D

i'm juls (as some of you already know) and my ult group is NCT Dream! i'm chenle biased (this will never change lol) and the majority of my blog is also chenle biased lol.

i do not have a bias wrecker. chenle is safe (although jisung is my #2, which just makes sense bc chenji is a package deal okay).

i'm 22 (almost 23!) years old, and my pronouns are she/her. now that all this intro/boring stuff is out of the way, please keep reading for my updated masterlist ;)

p.s. if u are also a chenle stan, there are so many chenle fics here just for u

AY YO! MDNI >:(

text!au masterlist | smau masterlist

So, this'll be a little different. These fics will be in order of my personal faves, so if you want a rec on where to start, try right at the top ;)

And Then It Was (M)

After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Cruel Summer (M)

He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

See My Sea (M)

You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Like We Just Met (M)

Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever. (smut/fluff) *WC>10k

SOS (M)

Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down. (suspense/thriller/smut)

this is me trying (M)

Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance... (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Is It Over Now? (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over? (angst/smut) *WC>10k

Within the Piano Keys (M)

For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word…or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Paris (M)

Pure smut on a hotel room balcony in Paris! Woo. (smut)

Sunshine (M)

You're not usually able to wake up with Chenle due to his schedules, but on the days that you can, it's certainly worth it. (smut/fluff)

Quiet Down (M)

You and Chenle visit your parents, but he just can't help himself... (smut)

You're Not Sorry

You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken. (angst)

The Last Straw (M)

Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin). (smut/fluff/angst)

Chilled Nights, Fogged Windows (M)

After being gone for weeks, the first thing Chenle wants to do is get ice cream with you. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're in the backseat (oooops). (smut)

In Your Dreams (M)

What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) (Chenle as Freddy Kruger Halloween thing lol)

Irrevocably (M) Series Masterlist

You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction. (angst/smut/fluff)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle AU] Series Masterlist

Your relationship with Jaemin started out simple--friends with benefits with zero complications...until there was one. That complication's name is Zhong Chenle, and after Jaemin agrees to expand your exclusivity deal to involve him, there's only one logical thing left to do... (smut)

모래성 (ONE) (TWO) (THREE)

You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison. (smut/angst)

Late Nights (M)

Mark's busy schedule only gives him time to come over late at night, but it's safe to say neither of you are complaining by the time you fall asleep. (fluff/smut)

Empire State of Mind (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him. (smut/angst)

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one. (fluff/smut/angst)

172 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 2 months

Text

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far.

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you.

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player.

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls.

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.”

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him.

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up.

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright.

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people.

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.”

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away.

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes.

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles.

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night.

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment.

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came.

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner.

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating.

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse.

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words.

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly.

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash.

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner.

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side.

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head.

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest.

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two.

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back.

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time.

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?”

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing.

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug.

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more.

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations.

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table.

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended.

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real.

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles.

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible.

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms.

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead.

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom.

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears.

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?”

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf.

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever.

Which means your guilt does, too.

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort.

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him.

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it.

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest.

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts.

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career.

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…”

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.”

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday.

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear.

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm.

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember.

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest.

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed.

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount #manchester united imagine #my fics

331 notes · View notes

barnesafterglow · 10 days

Text

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

139 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 10 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (prologue)

College roommate Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1

summary: Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too. (roommate! Miguel O'Hara x reader, college-ish au).

warnings: no warnings, just angsty asf

a/n: this is the culmination of lots and lots of planning and me writing non-stop for a good few weeks. the next part will be much longer, and updates will be wednesdays until further notice. thank you for all your support! If you'd like to be tagged, see this post.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys :D

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 1.1k

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

rigor mortis,

You're sitting at a diner, the one on 57th. At almost 11pm, it's… quiet. The gentle bustle of a waitress behind the counter, coffee mugs and sizzling pans. To your side, a little old woman tucked into the booth. Bright red lipstick and bold eyeliner against tan skin, wrists heavy with bangles against the counter. It's animated: feather boa, green leather jacket - and you think you spy the padding of some slippers from underneath the table. She clinks and clanks, and it makes you smile in spite of yourself. Peeling walls, cramped booths. Warm. Steady. Pam's Diner, on the corner, but you've got to use the side entrance, 'cuz the front's been bolted shut since the 50s. Don't ask questions.

"Mags, honey… I just want to… can you get your mom for me?" She's squinting into her phone now, nose pressed to the screen. You can only imagine the view from there; a facetime call with a smudge of eyebrow taking up most of the little box.

It's odd, but you like to sit near the door. Some pancakes, a milkshake, or a bitter cup of coffee now that you're older: people watching, as you've always called it. Okay, maybe it's more than odd . Maybe even serial killer adjacent - people-watching, like the night stalkers in cheesy slashers. But it's fun, looking for a story in everyone that walks in.

In your hometown, you had your first date in a booth just like this one. Back pressed against once-bright cushions, tight skirt digging into your back, and at 15 you had sat and waited with wide eyes. Waited, and watched. The woman with a blue hair-tie at the counter: a new mom, definitely. She looks tired, a mystery stain on the cotton of her joggers and deep rims around her eyes. A jitter in her hands, and she's probably got a piece of shit boyfriend on the couch; wringing his hands at looking after the little one, at being a fucking dad, for once, and… oh. The bell of the front entrance rings, and another woman walks in, and catches the eye of Blue Hair Tie. A warm smile, a tight arm around her waist. You watch as she takes up the other's jittery hand in her own. Partner? Fling? You know now; it doesn't matter, not really. Hands still, the shaking slows, and they are loved.

Your date had been late, of course. But what had been your first in a line of disappointing men is long forgotten in the haze of adulthood.

"I know, sweetheart-" the older woman in the booth next to you almost shouts, making you jump. "...those are very pretty shoes… but, could you… Hand the phone over to mom, okay?“

Someone answers with cooing and soft babbling, and then there's raspy laughter from the woman near you. It rings off the tiles: sonorous and full-bodied, wraps around you like a warm hug. It makes you feel a little less lonely, for now.

As of exactly 9.42pm, you are single. A four year relationship, over in the space of less than 20 minutes. A cup of watery decaf, and it's all over before you can finish it. I'll stay at my sister's, and you move out by the end of the month. No theatrics, not a trace of tears. You had wanted to cry, to kick and scream and beg, but more than anything, you were numb. Crystalline and still with shock, at how clinical it all felt. Sitting in your favourite diner, the humdrum of the city just past the glass; it still felt… lonely. And when he left; placed money on the counter, took his copy of keys off the table, and didn't look back ; it was cold.

You remember what he had said so many nights ago, God, years back, when he was studying for undergrad, and would crack open anatomy textbooks on the little desk in your dorm. He'd trace the lines of your arm, poke the flesh as you'd giggle and recite his notes into your skin.

that… tickles! what are y-you… ohh my God-

Stay still! This is.. important…

… I swear, I'll start screaming if you-

Pallidity, cooling, stiffness-

that's it, I'm screaming… I'm gonna do it-

It's not gonna learn itself, baby. Pallor, algor…

and rigor, right?

…

I listen. Sometimes.

…rigor, livor mortis and decay. The stages of death.

I thought you wanted to be a surgeon, baby, not the grim reaper.

Very funny. It's still important to know about these things, no?

I guess? But if you're gonna be saving lives…

That's not how it works. I'm not God. I make mistakes, people die. I do everything right-

People die.

Right. Above all, I'm in the business of people. Whilst they're alive and when they're gone, what they leave behind…

…but that's not really your job, is it? And don't give me all that, it's a vocation crap-

I don't know what to tell you. It is. It's bigger than me.

…it's long and hard and killing you slowly.

…

Shit. Jamie, I didn't mean to-

Rigor mortis. Post-mortem 'stiffness' or rigidity, which occurs one to two hours after death.

I'm sorry, I wasn't th-

The summation of unraveling: a temporary stasis, which could be described as 'frozen' in time or place, often mirroring the cause of death-

Jesus, I'm not trying to fight-

..where a body becomes a dead body. Colloquially, referred to as Alius Mortem, or; another death.

The phrase stuck, acting as a cruel count for the eventual decay of your relationship. Resentment, on both ends, had burned out that flame long before the breakup. Jamie was cruel, in some ways. You were cruel in others.

"Alice! Just wanted to say hi, cupcake; missed your voice… oh yeah… mhmm… she's just like you, can talk for the trees…" With the rasp of laughter in the booth next to you, it spreads the kind of warmth that stings.

There's a spark of self awareness at the back of your throat; the bitter taste of realisation. It's not meant to feel like this, is it? The end of almost a half-decade of your life, an era, the culmination of decisions good and bad and gray that have led you up to this moment. There should be… passion. Fighting, maybe. Tears. Instead of a supernova, you find yourself floating in the empty vacuum of space: an acrid taste left in your mouth.

"Oh God, have you and the girls been eating well? Let me come over tomorrow, drop you off some stuff…I don't trust half the crap in that cupboard of yours-" There is love and light in her voice, despite groans from the tinny speakers of her phone. Your chest is hot; something leaden and heavy that sits in the crook of ribcage. Bittersweet, like rotting fruit in the cradle of a tree trunk.

Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Over the past few years, a thousand cuts. And now, in the yellow lights of the little diner on the corner of 57th; another death.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #eventual smut #kat_writes😼

947 notes · View notes

ymaohoh · 1 month

Text

Hellcheer Fanfiction Recs

So I've gone mad and read like a hundred hellcheer fanfictions over the last two months. I wanted to make a list of my favourite ones to share.

(all the writers for this duo are super talented honestly so there's plenty more to add here)

Updated: April/2024

You want a Chrissy joining the Hellfire Club AU? take a chance on me by WomanOf1000Faces Roll For... by Not a Little But A Lottie (klarolineagainnaturally) You want to read Hellcheer from an alternative character POV? still awake, playing chase with the sunrise by cyraclove (Max) The Cheerleader and the Hellfire King by cunninghamschrissy (Dustin) she said to me, forget what you thought by kattyshack (Max) You make me the best kind of nervous, pretty sure you do that shit on purpose... by PhoenixTalon (Will + the freshmen) for the freak and the princess by thehellcheervoid (Anysia) (Jonathan) Stereotypes by shroomyystar (Mike) A Gentle Nudge by bigdumbbambieyes (Billy) You want some straight up smut? honeycomb by cyraclove Late one night by AdelaideElaine and sequel Rose-tint my world talk me up so sweet by kattyshack You want some smut with fluff? love you as much as i do by thehellcheervoid (Anysia) the only thing i want (when one drop hits my mouth) by cunninghams and justyrae wilted by cunninghams You want some daddy kink smut? oh, pretty baby, where’ve you been? by kattyshack got someone to hold me, call me his by agentmmayy You want a smutty Hellcheer date? when you’re dressed in black from head to toe (think I like you best) by cunninghams You want Eddie or Chrissy longing after the other? synchronized denial by empress_of_snark Silver Smile by shroomyystar worthless players of a non-believer by cunninghamschrissy he comes to visit me (when i’m dreaming every now and then) by cunninghams (features a Chrissy/Steve dynamic which is also beautiful) i can see you by rose_n_gunses dust off my clumsy words & bad pick-up lines by kattyshack You want some wibbly-wobbly time travel stuff feat. Hellcheer? i just died in your arms tonight by shroomyystar someone reaching back for me by enoughtotemptme You want a body-swap AU? Duality by broomclosetkink (also features the best Chrissy/Wayne moment I've ever read) You want some Eddie vs Jason moments? always be here (from now on) by brightblackholes You want a re-do of Season 4 where Chrissy lives? Check out these epics Chrissy and Eddie’s Infinite Mixtape by LovelyThings aesthetic chills by sloelimbs On the Other Side by JohnGreenGirlAo3 You want a Chrissy/Eddie moving on from Vecna fic? heart begins to beat by makeshiftcandy graceland, too. (whatever she wants) by cunninghams (bucket list AU) trailing stars behind us by HearJessRoar You want an AU Chrissy/Eddie friends to lovers with no Vecna at all? Confrontations with the Devil by Spitecookie You want a fake dating AU? twenty-one rules by elanor_gamgee we're a lie (you and i) by makeshiftcandy

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheer fanfic #eddisy #eddissy fanfiction #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #hellcheer fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #everyone is so talented

117 notes · View notes

starcrossedxwriter · 1 year

Text

Masterlist

Here is the master list for all my fics! The date at the bottom is the last time it was updated (I try to keep it as updated as possible)

Thank YOU for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I appreciate and LOVE the reception and feedback and commentary more than you could ever know - it fuels me and keeps the inspiration flowing!

All stories have a face claim. However, with all my OCs, I encourage folks to see themselves in the story! Also I love angst BUT all my stories are happily ever afters so enjoy the emotional rollercoasters knowing everyone'll be ok lol Thank you again for reading! Love y'all!

MBJ Fics:

Built for Love Series - Michael B Jordan x Famous OC Reader Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan

Series Summary: Charlotte Bennett was not looking for love when she moved to LA and landed her first role in Creed. Quite the opposite actually. However, her costar, Michael B Jordan, makes her question everything she once believed possible for herself and her future. As she builds a life and relationship with him, ghosts from her past threaten to destroy it all.

Series Warnings: Violence, Mentions of past experiences with DV, Angst, Mature Sexual Content

** SMUT

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6**) (Interlude**) (7**) (8) (9) (10) (11**) (12)

One-shots:

Completely random one shots that follow Charlotte & MBJ as they navigate the world as Hollywood’s Black power couple. Whether it be stardom, their work, parenthood, or relationship drama, the Jordans are building a love that will last a lifetime.

Protective

Oscar Night Part 1** (Part 2**)

Bleeding Through (1)

Falling Apart (1) (2)

Date Night**

Asks:

Nicknames

GQ Couples Quiz

Wicked Fantasies - MBJ x Black OC

Moodboard: coming soon!

Series Summary: Raven’s life, as of late, was one unexpected turn after another. It seemed as though every time she got a break and could get her head above water, something came tumbling to knock her back down. As she struggles to get her foot in the door of LA’s call girl scene to make extra money, she stumbles upon her big break: Michael B. Jordan, Hollywood’s most famous, talented, and notorious actor, director, and playboy. One night of pleasure for him would solve many of her continuously mounting financial problems. However, an unlucky trip to the hospital and an ill-timed flash of a paparazzi’s camera snag her the proposition of a lifetime, one that would solve all her problems and allow her to live out her most wicked fantasies with the sexist man alive. However, she forgot one cardinal rule: fantasies and pretend never last and reality would always come around eventually.

Warnings: Mature sexual content (18+), HEAVY Dom/Sub storyline (the whole nine), this is for the kinky girlsssssss, angst

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Asks:

Late Nights

MBJ Requests:

A Love That Never Fades (MBJ x OC)

Erik Killmonger Fics

Unbreakable - Erik Killmonger x Black OC

Moodboard: Coming soon!

Series Summary: Naja, the younger sister of the Queen of Wakanda, hated few things. And at the top of that shortlist: Prince N’Jadaka. Well, if she were honest, he was the entirety of the list. Once destined to be a princess of Wakanda, Naja was the picture of kindness and grace. Now, she is hailed as Wakanda’s most fearless, dangerous, and reclusive war dog. After more than a decade of putting as much distance as possible between her and the life she almost had, Naja is forced to come face to face with the person she hates most again. With a threat looming over Wakanda and lives at risk, Naja must decide if trusting Prince N'Jadaka is worth the risk before it is too late.

Warnings: Angst

(1**) (2)

Last Updated: October 20, 2023

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x oc #creed 3 #black panther #masterlist

505 notes · View notes

astrophileous · 1 year

Text

Love Bugs (Pt. 01)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): 18+ NSFW SMUT, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, slight mdom/fsub dynamic, praise kink (?), dubious consent (only because both of them are kinda drunk), alcohol consumption, cursing (a lot of it)

Word Count: 3700-ish

Author's Note: sooo I used to write for law and order svu a long time ago on my old account, but I haven't really picked up fanfiction writing for a long time now, but this is definitely a first time for me writing smut so pls keep that in mind lol. that being said, I was absolutely APPALLED by the lack of derek fanfics on this platform, hence why I decided to take matters into my own hand and wrote this little piece right here :) this fic is gonna be divided into several parts and I'll try to post an update asap. the tw will be adjusted accordingly on each part of the fic. I'll also be making a masterlist for the whole series hopefully sooner rather than later. in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story below and don't forget to drop a like/comment/reblog xoxo

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Since the first time you met him, Derek Morgan was never less than 200 pounds of danger and charm, and he wore that fact with immense pride.

"I'm Derek," he offered smoothly, palm extended to shake yours the moment Hotch introduced you to the team.

"Nice to meet you," was your reply. His hand felt sturdy against your clammy one. "You can call me (Y/N). Or Beetle. Whichever works."

"Beetle?" Someone in the room interjected. You were pretty sure her name was Emily. "How'd you get Beetle from (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

"It's a childhood nickname. Kinda stuck." You shrugged. "It's a long story."

That was how everything started.

Flirtatious was Derek's second nature. You convinced yourself not to be swayed by the sweet nothings he kept on dropping wherever he went, especially when you began to understand more about his dynamics with Penelope Garcia. You were just another side quest in his little game, and Derek was merely eager to be the number one top player in the leaderboard.

But your heart, unfortunately, had always been much more vulnerable than your head.

And Derek Morgan, as you came to find out, was its biggest kryptonite.

"Hey, Bug." Derek had approached you after one particularly grisly case. The nickname he had chosen to adopt for you after a couple of weeks being on the team dripped easily from his tongue. "Drinks afterwards?"

"Sure. Who else is coming?"

"Just us two tonight, sweetheart." He winked.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have known that getting drinks late at night with Derek Morgan--alone--was going to be the start of your rapid downfall.

Derek Morgan was the kryptonite to your heart.

Yet then again, you always knew you were secretly a masochist.

"Okay, okay, back up a minute," Derek choked out in between laughter. "That's how you got the nickname Beetle?"

You were quite enjoying the sight in front of you. Twinkled eyes, carefree Derek, who was finally able to let himself loose thanks to the alcohol in his system. The smile lines on his face miraculously made him appear younger, and you could almost catch a glimpse of the young, ambitous football star he once had been before he began pursuing the life of law and justice.

"Yep." You nodded sheepishly, stirring the remaining liquor in the glass in front of you. "I didn't know, okay? How was I supposed to know that beetles can reproduce and multiply that much in the span of a couple of weeks? And frankly, I blame my teachers for failing to satisfy the curiosity of an eight-year old me."

"Alright. Blame the underappreciated heroes of this country, then. How were they supppsed to know you'd actually manage to cause a beetle infestation, Bug?" He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "Please tell me you got punished."

"I did. Mandatory volunteer work." Derek stared in disbelief at your answer. "Well, they wanted to suspend me, but my mother could be very persuasive."

"Meaning, she threatened to sue the school?" Derek raised an eyebrow, remembering the one time you told him that your mom was a lawyer before she passed away.

The rest of the night unraveled similarly. With more anecdotes shared and less sobriety kept, conversation with Derek flowed effortlessly. It felt like a swimmer being back in the water after a year-long sabbatical. Before the two of you realized it, hours had passed since you and Derek first stumbled into that bar, and the finale of an exhausting day had at last morphed into the premiere of a better one.

At Derek's insistence, he accompanied you on the taxi ride back to your apartment, ignoring the constant protest that you kept voicing out loud during the entire journey.

"This is absolutely unnecessary. I told you I'm fine," you grumbled as you staggered from the taxi towards your apartment bulding.

Derek caught up with you easily despite having to linger back to pay for the taxi fare. You stopped on the steps leading towards the front door, too busy fishing for your apartment key to notice that your balance had started slipping from your state of inebriation.

You laughed drunkenly when you felt yourself fall into a pair of strong arms. "Whoopsies. Sorry."

"Careful, Bug. Don't hurt yourself," Derek muttered softly.

Your whole body shuddered at the sensation of his breath on your ear. Derek had never felt this close before. Not even when you hugged each other goodbye or when you embraced one another after a close call in one of your cases. This time, his arms around you felt intimate. That fact alone managed to sober you up even if only for a fraction.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You scrambled out of Derek's firm but gentle hold, finally producing the offensive key from your purse before inserting it into the key hole.

"Thanks for taking me home. You didn't have to."

"I know." Derek raised his fingers, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen over your eyes as a consequence of the passing wind. "I wanted to."

You stood there under the darkness, body nailed in place by a force far greater than anything you ever knew. Derek was looking at you with an unidentifiable gaze. One that seemed to burn brightly beneath his eyes, but warm and tender once they fell upon your skin.

The intensity was new. Overwhelming. It struck your core, stripping you bare of any defense left in both your body and soul.

Perhaps, that was exactly why the next words even managed to leave your mouth.

"You're pretty."

And God, he really was.

Derek Morgan was beautiful. All six feet and two inches of him. He looked pretty in the mornings when he slid a warm cup of hazelnut latte across your desk, and he looked just as pretty in the evening under the delicate strokes of moonlight.

At the sight of his amused beam in response to your sudden remark, you began to contemplate why anyone hadn't tried to claim him as the eighth wonder of the world.

"I'm pretty?"

"Very."

"I think you're prettier."

"Hm?"

Derek took another step forward, closing the distance between the two of you until the air you exhaled became the very one he breathed in.

"Good night, (Y/N)." The rare sound of your name out of his mouth made you shiver.

Derek exterminated the remaining gap between the two of you. For a second, your entire nerve endings stood in anticipation, waiting for the moment that his plush lips would touch yours.

They never did.

Instead, his kiss had landed on your cheek, viciously close to where the line of your lips started that you could almost picture how he would taste when you closed your eyes.

Derek started to pull away, but he never got further than a mere centimeter before you decided to take matters into your own hand and pressed your own lips to his inviting ones.

He tasted of alcohol and mint. But most importantly, he tasted of Derek. A distinctive sweetness that erupted the dormant butterfiles in the pit of your stomach. They began to soar freely inside of you under the influence of Derek's touch.

Your entire being was on fire. What started as sweet and alleviating soon turned into a contest of desperation. Before you knew it, you somehow had managed to unlock the front door and moved inside, all the way to the door of your own apartment.

When he nipped your bottom lip, you couldn't help but moan into the kiss.

"Fuck," Derek murmured against your lips after hearing the needy sound you just made. "Fuck me."

"I'm trying to," you said impatiently, scrambling to get ahold of his collar and brought his lips back to where they belonged.

Your ministrations screeched to a halt with Derek's hands around your wrists. "Hey. No, Bug. Stop."

Derek took a step back then, letting your hands fall back to your side. He never strayed far from where you stood against the wooden door, but even that tiny bit of distance was enough to make you crave more of him.

You needed to feel his body pressed up against yours, to have him incredibly close that you had no idea where he ended and you began.

"Derek, please..."

You should have been ashamed by how wretched your voice sounded, but you didn't care. You wanted him past the point of caring.

His smile was gentle and forlorn at the same time. "No, sweetheart. Not tonight."

Just like that, your heart plummeted straight out of your chest. "What?"

"Go inside, (Y/N). Get some sleep."

"No!"

Had it been any other day or any other person, you would have chastised yourself for your lack of propriety. But it wasn't any other person standing in front of you. It was Derek. Beautiful, kind, and courageous Derek. Your friend. Your kryptonite.

The oblivious owner of your heart.

"Don't go," you whispered. "Come inside. Stay with me tonight."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

Your gut churned with dread. "Y-you don't?"

"Christ. I didn't mean it like that. Hey, look at me." He tugged a finger under your chin, forcing your eyes to stare into his dark ones. "You have no idea how much I want to. But you're drunk."

"So are you."

"Exactly my point."

"Derek--"

"I'm not gonna have you forget our first time in the morning just because you were too drunk to remember it, Bug."

The urge to chortle was almost unbearable.

Derek seemed to notice the comical mischief shining in your eyes. "What?"

"It's funny that you think I would ever forget the first time we fuck."

A breathy laugh rumbled out of his chest. "You're a menace, woman."

"A menace who wants you. Please, Derek," you started to whine. "I'm sober enough to give my consent. Hell, I could even recite the entire FBI oath to prove it if you want. You wanna see? I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend--"

"Bug--"

"--the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic--"

"(Y/N)--"

"--that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same--"

You never did finish reciting the remainder of that oath.

The taste of Derek's lips on yours was an interruption you'd gladly welcome at any time of day. Through some sort of miracle, you managed to drag the two of you inside the safety of your apartment without ever breaking the kiss.

When it was time to come up for air, Derek's voice was raspy in your ear, "Sweetheart, I think--"

You didn't give him a chance to protest.

The kisses you peppered started on his neck. When your teeth gritted over his pulse point, Derek let out a low moan that vibrated through your entire being.

"Oh God..."

You continued showering kisses down his body, enjoying the way Derek had been bespelled by the magic of your touch. The buttons of his shirt came undone, and when you finally fell to your knees in front of him, you sucked hard on the skin where his abs met his pelvis.

"Shit. (Y/N), you don't... we don't have to--"

"For God sake, will you shut up?" You chuckled. "Did you not hear anything I said? Or should I just demonstrate how badly I want you right now?"

You took Derek's lack of further objections as permission to go ahead.

His buckle and pants came off pretty quickly. The next to go was his boxer, and the sight that greeted you afterward had your most intimate part gushing in excitement.

You wrapped your fingers around his hardening length. Tentatively at first, but the blissed out look on Derek's face only spurred you on even further.

"Is this okay?"

Derek gulped down before answering, "Yes."

You began to move your hand up and down, feeling Derek going stiffer and stiffer in your hand.

"Holy fuck," Derek cursed when you took his tip in your mouth.

He tasted divine on your tongue. It took a little while for your muscles to fully relax around his impressive size, but when they did, you began to bob your head back and forth, moving in tandem with the hand still wrapped around the rest of him that you couldn't fit entirely in your mouth.

"Yeah, just like that, pretty bug. You're doing so good," he panted.

Derek continued giving his praises, his words--along with his fingers in your hair--doing things to your body that had your thighs clamping down tightly. You began rocking in rhythm with the pace of your head and hand, trying to put pressure against the pulsing need inside your warmth.

"Fuck. Trying to relieve yourself, sweetheart? Sucking me off gets you all hot and needy, huh?" Derek moaned at the sight of you on your knees, teary eyed and full of him, writhing from the budding heat in the pit of your stomach.

You gave him one last suck before he pulled you up to your feet.

"Come here," Derek ordered before kissing you fervently.

He maneuvered the two of you from the doorway, following the direction to the bedroom that you had vaguely gestured at him. Once inside, Derek pushed you towards the bed while he threw his shirt onto the floor.

"You're naked," you mused in between giggles.

"And you're overdressed," he retorted. Your hands began to undo the buttons of your shirt before Derek's hand stopped them. "Let me."

He discarded your shirt in no time, your bra following not far behind.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered before leaving feathery kisses across your collarbone.

He started sucking on your nipple while fiddling the other one, enjoying the way your body reacted to every stroke of his tongue and every pinch of his fingers.

"Derek, please. I want to... I want--"

"Hm?" Derek paused his ministrations, keeping his hand busy by running it up and down your side. "What do you want, pretty bug? Tell me."

"I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you."

You whined. "You know what I meant."

With a chuckle, Derek left one last kiss on your breastbone before continuing his erotic journey southward. After sucking a mark underneath your belly button, he started fumbling with the button of your slacks.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart. You're soaked," he mulled out loud once you were free of the confine of your pants.

Even with your panties still standing as a barrier between Derek and your mound, you could feel every breath that Derek blew against your most sensitive part. There was no doubt surrounding the truth behind Derek's words. You could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. It didn't exactly help that Derek had begun littering tiny kisses around your hip and pelvic bones.

When his lips made contact with your clothed core, the strangled moan you let out almost sounded animalistic.

"You taste so good," Derek said before diving in once again. "I could spend an eternity between your legs and die a very happy man."

"That's nice, but I don't want you to die just yet."

You tugged at his neck to bring his face back to yours, pressing both of your lips together in another heated kiss that had your toes curling inward.

"No more playing, please. I need you inside me right now," you rasped desperately.

"I still need to get you ready for me, sweetheart." Derek pecked your lips once more. "Why don't you lie back and relax, hm?"

Gingerly, you followed Derek's instruction. He made a quick work of removing your panties before his deft fingers began exploring your folds.

"So wet for me."

He inserted one finger at first, two, and then three inside your pulsing channel. It was a bit of a stretch, tight but not uncomfortable. Derek slid them in and out of you until you turned into a panting mess underneath him.

"Derek--"

He shushed you gently. "I know, Bug. I know."

He worked as if he was a musician and you were his favorite piece of instrument. The heel of his palm found solace on top of your bundle of nerves, drawing circles over and over again to the rhythm of his fingers inside of you.

Before long, you could feel the coil inside of your body snapping, sending your whole entire being shaking as you fell to the edge of a newfound ecstasy.

Throughout all of it, Derek kept his fingers sliding in and out of you, helping you ride your orgasm until your body had finally stopped spasming.

When you opened your eyes, you were welcomed with Derek's awed smile and warm eyes.

"Hi, gorgeous," you murmured breathlessly, still floating along the aftermath of your earlier pinnacle.

"Hey," he whispered back, kissing your temple with the most delicate of touches. "How are you feeling?"

"Blisfully sated."

Derek laughed at your overtly honest answer.

"Are you tired?" he then asked. "Because we don't have to do anything else if you feel--"

"Derek Morgan, I swear to God. If you try to talk me out of this one more time..."

His responding grin was mischievous. "Yes, ma'am."

After one last kiss to your lips, Derek started lining himself up with your entrance. The sensation of his tip pressing against you awakened the momentarily satiated hunger inside your lower belly. And when he finally entered you--slowly but surely--you could physically feel the air being punched right out of your lungs.

"Oh my God," you breathed out once he had filled you to the brim. "You're huge."

"And you're so fucking tight."

He pulled out his length until only his tip was left inside before driving back in with enough force to shatter your entire world. In no time at all, Derek had finally found a steady rhythm. Moving in and out of you while his lips and hands paid attention to the other parts of your body.

"Derek, Derek, Derek," you moaned his name endlessly, relishing every drag of his member against the pulsating muscles of your inner wall.

You could feel every ridge of him inside of you, along with every brush of kisses that he scattered all over your skin, every lazy drag of fingers on the curvatures of your body. All of your senses had been heightened around the presence of him.

"So fucking beautiful. Fuck. Such a good bug for me, hm? So desperate for my cock that you couldn't even wait to sober up."

The heat of Derek's words fueled your fire even further. You began to writhe underneath him, scrambling to make sure that every inch of you was touching every part of him.

"Tell me how good I'm making you feel," Derek ordered between his thrusts.

"So good, Derek. Oh God, you feel so good inside of me. Please, please, please."

Your desperation was the motivation he needed. Derek shifted you both until he was on his knees and your body lying halfway across his lap. When he continued to move again, the vigor of his pace nearly had you seeing stars.

"You feel like heaven, pretty bug. So tight and warm. Bet no one can fuck you as good as I do."

"No one, Derek. No one."

"Are you close, sweetheart? Hm? Tell me how close you are."

"I'm close. So close," you cried out. "I'm gonna... Derek, I'm gonna--"

As if he was reading your mind, Derek brought down his fingers and started drawing tight circles on your clit. All the while, he never relented the pace he had set inside your pussy.

"You wanna cum?" Derek groaned as he continued to nudge you further towards the edge.

You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over, nodding your head frantically.

"Use your words, Bug."

"Yes, yes. I wanna cum. Please, Derek, make me cum."

And just like that, Derek sent a powerful thrust that had your toes curling, ears buzzing, and body shuddering.

Your second orgasm washed over you in big, tidal waves. A silent scream broken into desperate pleas and moans as you rode the high with Derek still inside of you. It didn't take long for him to follow behind. The sensation of you cumming around him became the very thread of his own undoing.

He spilled everything he had inside of you before his spent body fell into your arms. The air was heavy with the smell of sex and the panting of both of your breaths. You reveled in the aftermath of what just transpired, running your hands up and down the muscular back of the person responsible for your satisfied smile.

When Derek finally lifted his head up, he was adorning a smile identical to the one you had.

"That was--" you started, but struggled to find the right word to say.

Fortunately, Derek knew exactly what you meant. "Yes. Yes, it was."

He left a single kiss, then two, and three under your breast, before resting his chin back on the soft cushion of your abdomen.

"Derek?"

"Hm?"

You smiled at his tired hum. "You're sleepy, aren't you?"

"No," he replied, betraying the slight droop in his voice.

"That's okay. Go to sleep, baby."

You weren't even sure that Derek had heard your last statement, because not even two seconds later, he had started snoring softly against your skin.

Slowly as to not disturb the sleeping giant on top of your body, you pulled the comforter and tugged the edge across Derek's shoulders. Before long, you, too, were slipping into the deep slumber with Derek's steady intakes of breath as your lullaby.

Derek's weight on top of you was an anchor, one that you could have never dreamed of physically having outside of your hopeless fantasies. But Derek was real, and he was there with you in the comfort of your bedroom.

For a moment, everything was alright with the world. But then again, this was only the beginning of an unforeseen end. And as much as you wanted to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that inevitably, something was bound to go wrong.

You just hoped that when it did, you would have the strength to make it all right again.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan smut #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #shemar moore #love bugs

701 notes · View notes

heyidkyay · 12 days

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: hi… I’m back? Idk if anyone noticed I dipped lmao, but! Back with another update of this fic and it’s a deep one, left off on uneven ground last time so here’s me clearing that up:) sort of.

Warnings: emotions. <maybe not needed but like, lots of emoting so. Quite a few references to Matty’s past, drug-use/overdosing, previous acts of slight violent and the usual stuff w him and this fic I guess (all mentions are brief)

ALSO back and forth changes of pov between Mouse and Matty so keep an eye out x

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Thing was, waking up had never come very easily to Matty. Even as a longtime insomniac.

Sleep came and went in staggered stages. He struggled with falling into it and then struggled with staying there in that languid state. It was almost as though his body was held prisoner by his mind and the thoughts which seemed to forever war there.

The drugs had fixed that, mostly. Stopped his heart. His lungs. And then finally, his brain. Leaving him in this tranquil haze, floating somewhere in between everything and nothing, muting those militant thoughts, blanketing his rampage of never-ending emotions.

It was the numbness that he had craved. The nothing.

By the time he’d been shipped off to his first stint in rehab, he was utterly clueless as to just how terrifying it could all seem without it. What with the crutch no longer there. Reckoned he still had scabs that wouldn’t properly heal from all the time he’d spent scratching in that tiny box room they’d given him. Never really sleeping and only ever blinking awake.

It sort of felt like that now. Opening his eyes to find that the world had tilted sideways once again, the wall slanted and the television opposite morphed longways. He sniffed, feeling the heaviness that immediately encompassed his head as he fought to force himself up onto his elbows.

It was quick, the sudden pressure that ripped through the joints, and he hissed as he peered down to find that the skin had been shred to bits, now blotted with flakes of rusted blood that had to have come from the night before.

“Here.”

Matty blinked blearily, swallowing around a lump in his throat before casting his eyes up slowly to find a glass being shoved towards him. He took it, skin prickling at the sudden chill he was met with and face scrunching up in distaste.

He didn’t move to take a sip though, even with how dry his mouth then seemed, instead rubbed at his tired eyes before he dropped his hand completely to find Ross already settled on the adjoining armchair. Matty realised a beat too late that he must’ve passed out on the man’s settee, just as a forlorn feeling settled somewhere in his stomach, the evident reminder of the promise he’d been given the morning before hitting him.

‘You can even head back here after if you want.’

He’d wanted. He was forever wanting when it came to her. But he could hardly even recall making it through Ross’s front door, let alone contacting her at any point last night. Brow furrowing over how much he would have had to have drunk.

“Time’s it?” Matty forced himself to ask, voice more guttural than he was used to, grogginess seeping into the edges of it as he settled himself a little better on the settee. He took a small sip of the water, testing the weight it would leave in his lead filled stomach before taking a couple more larger gulps. He settled it down on the console beside him after and then chanced another glance over at Ross, who looked as much a state as Matty felt. “Hm?” He tacked on when he was met with a bland look.

“Just gone one.”

Matty’s brows shot up at that, before he slumped further into the settee cushions. His head now ached something awful and he felt flushed to fuck, sweat causing the back of his tee to stick to the curve of his spine. “Shit.” He muttered unhappily, the familiarity of a migraine already setting in.

The word was met by a drawl chuckle. And look- Matty had known Ross for far too fucking long not to automatically hone into the odd quirks or reactions the bloke tended to favour, which was why he was already frowning when he squinted back over at him.

Ross had since turned his head against the back of the armchair, enough so that Matty could now see the darker sheen that sat beneath his lidded eyes whilst Ross’s gaze flickered over him. He didn’t say a word, merely chucked Matty’s own phone his way.

Feeling his forehead pinch, Matty forced himself to grit his teeth against the flare of pain that shot through his ankle when the thing purposefully missed his open hand and hit the bone of his ankle. “Fuck’s wrong with you?” He snarled at the oversized twat, picking the poxy thing up before rubbing at the offended joint.

Matty wasn’t offered up much of an answer though, what with Ross silently shaking his head at him. So he rolled his eyes in addition, lifting a finger up towards his face to rub at an eyelid before he finally managed to flip his phone the right way around and get a good look at it.

[HOMESCREEN]13:02

News 21 mins ago Back on a bender, Healy?The 1975 frontman was spotted out last night in an argument which quickly escalated and ruined a certain band member's birthday celebrations…

Twitter 28 mins ago Topic - music@/The1759: Matty captured in a deal gone wrong down in London?? Nahhhhh we all saw the relapse coming but this is just insaneeee...

BBC News - UK & World Stories 43 mins ago Matty Healy takes family bonding to whole new levels Hit singer spotted with girlfriend's son in an altercation whilst out in London earlier this month!

Messages 1hr ago Hann Ring me when you see this

The Independent 12:09 Singer, to the international band known as The 1975, was seen multiple times over the coming weeks in a variety of altercations that hinder his so-called sobriety, one of which was pictured and also witnessed by the young son of the frontman’s most recent fling. ‘Mouse’ as dubbed by her radio show, MouseOnAMic, has yet to comment on the behaviour concerning both her boyfriend and child, we continue…

News 11:44 This is how it starts! Matty Healy’s road back to rehab? Police were called in to break up a celebratory party held on the stretch of Soho in the early hours of this morning. Many faces were pictured amongst the masses, but most noticeably was singer Matthew Healy of The 1975, who was seen outside of a nearby club arguing with another man holding a bag..

Had you ever felt the floor just slip out from under you?

Or maybe even the way that the Earth seemed to suddenly stop spinning, enough so that you could feel every little thing that was happening inside of your body?

The swell of oxygen being forced out of your lungs.

The rush of blood attempting to find the place of impact, susceptible to the sudden pain that’s been felt.

Or even, the pulsing beat of every desperate squeeze your heart made in the very tips of your fingers?

There was a sudden sickness that clawed at the cage that bound Matty's chest together, thickening the walls of his throat and heavy enough that he had to inhale so deeply that the air demanded the bile to retreat back, back, back... Until his gut was the only thing churning and all he’d been left with as the most bitter aftertaste.

It was everywhere. Plastered all over Twitter, mentioned in every news outlet around for miles. Just there. Taking up the screen of his phone- and every other fuckers- without so much as a warning. Pictures, stories, accusations…

Evidence, a part of his twisted mind whispered.

But it was. A trail of wrongdoings which had led right back to that very day he’d spent with Teddy.

Teddy-

God, how the fuck could he have been this mindless? This fucking blind. How had he messed up so badly?

It didn’t feel immediate, the way he moved to grapple his phone, scrolling in search of her name, for her contact, but it was. It was just instinctive. Thoughtless, how suddenly overwhelming the need to hear her voice was. To make sure that she was alright. Not wondering over whether she’d still be there waiting for him- no matter how heavy that thought now weighed on his dreaded mind. He simply needed her to be alright. And for Teddy to be none the wiser. For him to be okay. Just okay.

He remembered bits and pieces. It was slowly coming back now. An old face. Being offered something or other. He’d refused. He remembered he told the guy no. He’d been tempted, fuck had he been so tempted. But he knew better. Deep down. And he remembered saying no. Remembered pieing the guy off, having a light laugh, backing away. But then there had been a throw of hands, a split lip, the ringing crack of a jaw that had made his mind spin with flashbacks of Luke. Of the roof. Of his face hitting the cold empty pavement.

Matty could vaguely recall shouts and calls. George’s wide eyes. Ross’s hands gripping his arms. Hann already on the phone.

Tempted.

He’d been tempted.

It was that thought which played on an endless loop in his head whilst the ring of his phone echoed out into an otherwise silent room.

A flash of faces rattled across the forefront of his mind; expressions, voices, the need to please, a need to entertain.

She didn’t answer. The line went dead.

So he tried again.

Then a third time.

“Fuck.” Matty muttered breathlessly to himself, the panic in his voice breaking up the quiet that stretched between one ring and then the next.

She didn’t answer.

–

Thing was, I’d always known it had been coming. As pessimistic as I was.

But hope was a fickle fucking thing. It made me cut the tip of my tongue on the front of my teeth to keep from ruining perfect moments with thoughtless words. It found its way into the little things I had done and still did. It allowed me just a second to smile, for no other reason than simply being. Than belonging.

Because that was what hope did.

It was also the very thing which had forced me to let my guard down, for those walls of mine to slip. It had granted him entrance into the life I’d so steadily built for myself on rocky foundations and borrowed time.

It had broken me so easily and effortlessly. Wrapped me up in nothing but an empty pang of regret that rang out for miles and miles.

I stared blankly up at the ceiling laid out above me, counting down the minutes until Teddy finally woke once more. Only this time it would be from the sun rising up over the overpass, rather than his mum slipping in to curl up beside him in the early hours of the morning when it had all grown too much. Her need to know that he was okay, her helpless guilt and the pain which had felt all-consuming.

I wondered over the times Matty had been in here with him, putting Teddy to sleep, laughing together, telling him drawn out stories and singing old melodies. I wondered what he’d been thinking in those dotted moments. If he’d been thinking anything at all.

I questioned how stupid I had to have been, how blind to not have seen it. The lies, because he'd done it so effortlessly. The web he had spun, just in an attempt to deceive me. All laid out before my fucking eyes. And he hadn’t even had the decency to tell me to my face. No, instead I’d had to watch it all unfold alongside the rest of the world.

My tongue licked over my lower lip which had since been bitten raw, having dragged it between my teeth in both panic and pity. Because even though I was angry, a bigger part of me still cared. Still continued to worry. Because oh, how I worried. And wasn’t that the most depressing part?

Here I was, concerned about him, whilst he was out doing whatever, fucking whoever, taking whatever. I’d seen the fucking pictures. I’d seen them all. Scrolled and scrolled until I’d come up to the last fuck-off headline. Until his face had morphed into somebody else, and then someone else’s after that.

The reasonable half of me, the half I was attempting to stamp down and drown out, also knew that what you saw online wasn’t always what it appeared. But still, it looked too much like my biggest fucking fear being brought to life to care enough. I simply wished to have him here, so that he could either explain himself to me or so that I could use him as an object to simply scream at. To rally against.

Because I couldn’t believe he’d gone and done the very thing I'd been so terrified of. That he had done it, and that he then had lied to me. That he had chosen to drag my fucking son into it. Into his fucking mess of a life! After-

After everything I’d given to him.

The thought made me question how much I was worth. How easily I could be tossed aside and shit all over.

A hand tightened around my wrist then and my tired eyes startled over to where a matching set now peered right back at me. Though these eyes were accompanied by a sleep filled smile and not haunted like mine.

I reached up to run a hand through Teddy’s soft curls, thumb brushing over his hairline before it trailed its way down the slope of his tiny nose. “Morning, lovely.”

My chest tightened at the hold Teddy found on my arm then, tucking himself up under it so that he could bury his face into the crook of my neck, those little hands of his coming up to clutch at the fabric of my shirt. I chuckled softly, unable to do much else with the surprise that coursed through me, and hugged him back.

“You okay?” I murmured into his hair, pecking the crown of his head and willing the tightness in my throat to go away. I wouldn't cry, not now.

“Sleepy.” Teddy answered me and I felt him smile against my skin when I chuckled quietly, dragging him even closer to me.

“You know what? Me too.”

His little hand started to gently pat my back then and it broke my heart that little bit more, “Stay here, ‘kay? Keep sleepin’.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, enough so that I was too scared to even speak, so instead I merely nodded, hoping that he’d feel it and somehow know.

“‘Kay.” He repeated after a moment in a hushed whisper, fingers clutching at the back of my shirt, “Love you.”

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to warrant some bleeding, the taste of bitter metal slowly filling my mouth whilst I willed myself to be strong. To not cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him.

“Love you too, baby.”

–

He’d wanted to go charging over there.

Mid panic-attack, itching for a drink, or a fucking fix. Fucking anything to keep his mind from imploding the way it currently was.

He wanted.

He so desperately wanted.

He’d shucked on his boots without much thought, paying heedless wonder to Ross’s words, his desperate attempts to get him to listen. ‘Cause it was all for nought.

His chest burned with a fearsome ache that could light pyres. It was all that he could focus on to get him through the front door of Ross’s flat and out into the hallway. There was only one other door on his floor, on the far end. Though it was empty, Ross having bought it out, loaded enough now to not have to fret about futile things like neighbours.

“Matt! For fucks sake, Matty!” Matty heard Ross stress before fingers were catching around his upper arm, the grip too tight, too overwhelming, stopping him in his stride.

Not even thinking Matty wrenched himself away, hard enough that it put a good distance between him and the bassist, pinking the skin of his bicep. His mind was working overtime, tick tick ticking. He was overstimulated and buzzing with an unfound energy that wasn’t unlike a bout of withdrawal shakes.

“The fuck happened last night?”

The sound of his own voice surprised him, forced his shoulders up and his gaze to widen, to hone in on the only other occupant that took up the narrow hall.

“What the fuck happened, Ross!” Matty demanded again, stomper now, inching slowly back over towards Ross and the still swinging door he’d just torn open.

Ross was staring back at him, reminiscent of days Matty had spent denying his ever increasing drug use, or the multiple overdose scares they'd been forced through. Matty could feel his pulse jumping beneath his skin now, hands shaking to the rhythm of it, but he could not for the life of him take a breath, so focused on Ross and his unmoving form until-

“What didn’t happen, Matty?”

The sting came then. Not just the metaphor for the way Ross’s words had gone and slapped him across the face, no, the sting that threatened to close his throat and wet his eyes. What didn’t happen.

“I need to know, Ross. ‘Cause my head-” Matty raised a trembling hand, dragging the limb down over his face before he was just stood there shaking his head, “It’s fucked. My head's fucked and I, I can’t. I can't remember even getting here. Can’t remember leaving that fucking club or fucking curling up on your sofa! I don’t know what could have happened for me to have fucked up this much.”

A long pause dragged between them then, Ross watching him like an injured stray he wasn’t sure whether or not to lure closer and take home. Whilst the hallway continued on in its stoney silence, not a peep being heard from anyone or anything, only allowing Matty’s hard and fast breaths to break it up and echo out along the walls. Taunting him.

“You didn’t take anything.”

It was both the worst and best thing Ross could have said. Matty’s shoulders slumped with the weight of it and he dipped his head down between the bones of his collar in lieu of an answer. He hadn’t taken anything. But, maybe if he had then there would be a fucking excuse, a way to annul all of his shitty actions. The choices which had inevitably led him here.

“You didn’t take anything,” Ross repeated after antoher stretch of time, eyes flickering back and forth over Matty’s sad face, “but you did fuck off for a while after. Found you slurring and pissed beyond belief down some back alley of another club a mile off. You,” He paused there- stuttered with uncertainty in truth, but Matty fixed him with a terrified look, whole body ceasing with it. “You were with some girl, Matt. She was as gone as you but she said she’d only wanted to help.”

A girl.

Right.

Right, yeah, no that made sense. He’d gotten drunk, she’d just stepped in to help. He, he wouldn’t have-

“And that’s it? You’re sure?”

Ross continued to stare back at him for a second or two, then his body slumped with a sigh, “I don’t know, Matty.”

“You don’t know?” Was his incredulous retort, “What the fuck am I meant to do with that, Ross? Did anything fucking happen or not?” Matty demanded, thoughtlessly taking another step closer. Ross, true to his nature, didn’t move away, merely stood his ground.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Ross reiterated with a sharp edge, as close as he’d ever get to shouting Matty knew. “You’re the only one who was, Matty. You go figure it out.”

Matty scoffed angrily, fisting his trembling hands at his side before they could lash out. “Yeah, and how’d you figure I do that then, hey?”

Ross took a breath, hand coming up to rub at his tired face. He shrugged and Matty could see just how exhausted he seemed with everything, with him. “All I know is you’d worked yourself up into a right state before you did your vanishing act, mate. Said something about Teddy, then about messing things up. I tried to talk some sense into you, I mean, we all did. But man, you were hellbent on fucking it all up completely.”

Ross’s throat bobbed and he looked off to the side, out of a nearby window that showcased the looming clouds above, before his gaze trailed back over to Matty’s defeated form.

“One second you were there, and the next you were gone.”

Matty couldn’t seem to find a reply to that.

Could only stand there. Questioning what the fuck he’d gone and done.

…

Hours passed, and then days.

Matty spent each minute trying to right his wrongs, to figure it all out. He’d called, he’d texted constantly. Basically barraged her with the little he had left to give. But heard nothing in return.

Hann had turned up in search of him later that afternoon he’d woken up round Ross’s and his entire life had been shot to shit. The man had practically boxed him back inside the flat and out of the hallway, forcing him to hole up there until the storm he’d created outside died down.

Not that it was much use. The storm only grew, more stories coming out, people stepping forward with fake tales and photoshopped pictures. Ross promised to talk to Mouse for him, but the most he’d been able to manage was an argument with Adi. Which hadn’t worked out all that well for Matty either as it turned out, seeing as how that had only proved to sour Ross’s already shitty mood, eventually putting the two of them on the outs.

Hann had tried too, attempting to contact Squeaks directly instead of through her mate. But had also come up with nothing. He’d been muttering away on the phone to Jamie since though, and Matty knew out of the five of them, it was probably him that Mouse would say something to. So Matty was avoiding him like the sodding plague, which was all too easy to do now that his phone was shattered to bits from a spiteful reaction to yet another unanswered call.

He knew Jamie would tell it to him straight, see. That Mouse could just as easily end things through him properly rather than face to face, that’s if things hadn’t already ended between them.

So day three and Matty was basically bouncing off the walls, having already raided what little alcohol Ross kept in his flat the previous day and worked his way through the last of the smokes Adam had dropped round a couple hours before.

He was ticking with the need to move. To fucking escape the flat he’d been confined to.

He’d also had yet to hear from G either.

Which, Matty couldn’t lie was surprising. So when he wasn’t trying to talk his way out of the flat or make plans to set things straight between him and Squeaks, he was prying Ross and Hann for answers.

Not that it was worth the effort. Neither said a thing. Or well, they’d said the same thing, repeatedly. ‘He’s just busy.’

Busy his pasty fucking arse. If George was anything, it was a decent fucking mate. Even when Matty had messed up time and time again, he’d been there. Fucking found him that last time he’d been face down and coughing on his own bile, hadn’t he? G always came through.

Just not now, it seemed.

Matty’s head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening and immediately jumped up off the settee to round the corner to see just who it was. Then was all too quick to reel back, shaking his head in utter dismay as he walked his way back across the living room and out onto the balcony.

He heard a sigh sound behind him just as he wrenched open the door. “Matty...”

“I’m not doing this today.”

Matty threw himself down onto one of the deck chairs that had probably come with the place and cursed at the feel of dampness that instantly seeped its way into the burrowed joggers he wore. He tutted, sitting forward in the seat and reaching down to see that the chair hadn't managed to keep itself shielded from last night's rain. “Fuck sake.” He muttered under his breath but didn’t make a move to stand, figured he’d probably sat in worse.

He didn’t look back over either when the sliding door opened again and Jamie stepped on out to join him, though he did hollow his cheeks in irritation when said man tossed a pack of cigarettes into his lap and situated himself against the glass railing. “Gonna talk now?”

Matty merely opened the pack up, chucking the cellophane somewhere to the left of him and shaking two out. He stuck one between his lips and put the other back in upside down. Stretching out a hand, he used the other to tuck the pack into the band of his joggers, and then forced a snide smile when Jamie ultimately handed him his lighter.

Two clicks and it was lit, he didn’t spare the man the favour of handing it back to him though, simply tossed it onto the end of the deck chair.

Jamie sighed once more, but Matty figured the older man was more than used to his ever changing emotions by now. Still, he knew he was acting the prick. It was just easier to be a prick and push Jamie away, than let the man fucking hurt him first. Not that he even would, it was just- Mouse, weren't it? Mouse and Jamie were mates, they spoke. They’d been fucking mates before even Matty had thought to even snag her number, before he’d attempted to even try to rid himself of the picture of her his mind had held onto. Jamie would tell it to him straight.

“She’s fuming.”

See?

Matty’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, catching on the front of his teeth and relieving the words with a sharp, albeit subtle sting. He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering quickly over to Jamie and then away again. “Like, bad?”

Jamie scoffed out a humourless chuckle and so in turn, Matty scowled, flicking the remnants of his fag ash out before turning to place the glare on the man.

“Yeah, as in on a scale from one to fucking ten, how pissed is she?”

With a heavy inhale- as though the question had been oh so demanding- Jamie looked up at the cloudy sky before eventually trailing his eyes back down again. “I don’t know.” Matty shook his head irritably, but Jamie just continued on, “But what I do know is that she’s messed up over it. Almost as bad as you, from the looks of it.”

And didn’t that just have Matty’s mind going down in a tailspin. He balled a hand up against his right thigh, letting his nails bite into the skin of his palm whilst his unblinking eyes casted themselves out onto the foggy sky rise of London.

A short scuffle sounded and then Jamie was sitting in the chair beside him, though he’d seemingly had the foresight to wipe it dry first. “Look, mate, it’s bad. But if you’ve done nothing wrong, then it’s something you can fix.”

“Nothing wrong?” Matty scoffed, the tick of his jaw keeping him from taking another drag of his cigarette. “Everything I do is wrong, man.” He let his head drop into his hand at that, the tremble of it more prominent now than it had ever been, “I can’t fix it, J. How can I? The fuck would I even start?”

The chill of the city air crawled up over the thin tee that covered Matty's shoulders, wrapping him up in it, but he could hardly feel a thing past the blur of thoughts that crowded the inside of his mind. Still, he shivered, jumping ever so slightly when Jamie’s hand came to settle on the top of his neck.

“Matty, listen to me.”

And that didn't help.

“All I’ve been doing is fucking listening! Listened to Hann, listened to pissin' Ross. Listened when they said not to go charging over there, to give her time, to give her fucking space! But they were wrong. If-” Matty hissed, rubbing at the sting that had settled behind his eyes, rubbing them raw, “If only I could explain! If I could just talk to her. I only want to make sure that she’s alright. To see her for myself.”

The breath of Jamie’s next sigh got swept up in the wind but Matty felt it all the same, but then the man’s hand tightened its hold on his shoulder and he felt Jamie dip his head in a gentle nod.

“I’ll work something out, yeah?”

And with those five words Matty’s head was snapping up, watery eyes honed in on his managers ageing face as though it held all the fucking hope in the world. And at that moment it fucking felt as though it did. Or it could have done.

“Yeah? Don’t fucking say it and then fall through on me, J. I can’t deal with that shit right now.” Matty told the man almost desperately, chest rising and falling aimlessly as he stared back at him.

Jamie simply chuckled, bracing himself with a smile. “When have I ever fallen through on you lot?”

83 notes · View notes