Lorena (on Hiatus)

Forget About Your Boyfriend (NSFW)

Nico Hischier x Rempe ex-gf!Reader

Cumbersome: part 2

TW:// unprotected p in v, rough sex, brief hard kinks, dirty talk, cuck behavior lowkey??, friends with benefits situation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, shit talking

Matt wasn’t doing well since his break up with _____. He was still sulking and miserable while she still went on living her life. One stupid decision and both of their lives changed so drastically. How could two people who were once so desperately in love become strangers again? How does that even happen?

So now, _____ found herself at a dive bar in New Jersey, missing the absolute fuck out of him. But she knew that missing him would only lead to self destruction, so she decided to drown the feeling of longing that lingered. The alcohol couldn’t leave a worse taste in her mouth than Matt’s betrayal, right?

Her eyes absentmindedly roamed around the dimly lit bar until they locked onto a surprisingly familiar pair of dark eyes that were already glued to her. His gaze was unreadable yet undeniably heavy at the same time. He didn’t move and neither did she. He kept his distance in his corner, and she kept hers as she leaned against the bar. She took this opportunity to observe him, not to intimidate or seduce, but simply to look. His hair and his face were the same as always, although his expression was, once again, unreadable. His clothes were casual, jeans, Air Force’s, and a t shirt. He looked like your average guy, except something about him was much more… desirable tonight.

His eyes slowly ran over her, much like her, his gaze was only observing. She looked beautiful, but when didn’t she? Even dressed casually in a crappy bar, she still managed to be the most beautiful girl in the room. In his eyes, at least. Hair down, just some mascara and lip balm, an off-shoulder T shirt, a pair of jeans, beat up shoes that were definitely on their way out… she still looked great.

Eyes met again and he took a deep breath, gathering the courage to approach her.

“Hey.” His voice barely cut through the noise as he stood beside her. She could faintly feel his body heat and as she looked up at him, she caught a whiff of his cologne that nearly made her eyes roll back in her head.

“Hey.” She replied politely, a small smile gracing her lips. _____ wasn’t like most WAGs. The rest were more extroverted; outgoing… meanwhile, _____ was more on the timid side. She was polite and respectful, nice and got along well with everyone, she just had a tendency to be more… quiet. She preferred to speak when spoken to and observe rather than be heard.

“You’re not alone often.” He said casually, hinting at the loss of her typical companion. She nodded briefly in understanding. Somehow, word must not have gotten out about her and Matt yet.

“We uh…” she inhaled, exhaling a slightly bitter laugh. “We broke up a while ago.” She informed him. He nodded slowly, showing his understanding.

“I’m sorry to bring up.” The words left his mouth sincerely as his eyes looked her over again. His gaze was soft. Friendly.

“No.” She said a little too quickly, an embarrassed laugh following her words. “I’m just… having a hard time dealing with it.” She said with a shaky sigh. He nodded again.

“We can talk about it?” He offered with a shrug. The offer came from a place of comfort and it was surprisingly evident even in his casual tone.

So, for the next hour, she talked his ear off while he listened intently. She talked about how Matt went to a strip club with the guys, how she felt betrayed, how he couldn’t let her go and kept asking for her back, how it was getting harder to deny him even though she knew that if she went back, she’d only be hurt because she couldn’t change the past and the hurt she already felt. She could forgive, but she couldn’t forget the past.

“You need to forget him.” He said gently after her rant.

“But how?” She let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at him, a slight pout on her lips. Nico thought for a moment, biting his lip as he thought of a solution. With a sigh, he finally answered.

“Find a distraction.” He said, offering as genuine advice as he could but even he seems to be grasping at straws.

“I’ve tried that.” She sighed. She hadn’t even noticed that they had made their way outside and were now leaning against the side of the bar. She tilted her head back against the brick wall and closed her eyes in frustration. “Hobbies, work, sports, hanging out with friends.” She listed. “Only thing I haven’t tried is fucking someone else.” She said sarcastically. Nico thought for a moment before looking over at her.

“Maybe that’s what you need.” There wasn’t any ulterior motive behind his words in this moment, he was just genuinely trying to find a solution for her. He wanted to help the best that he could.

“I need to fuck someone else?” She asked with an amused scoff and laugh, looking at him again. He shrugged, after all, it was a suggestion. She sighed, deciding to entertain the idea. “Who would I even fuck? I’ve never slept with someone that I wasn’t dating.” She reasoned.

“A friend?” Nico suggested but even he sounded unsure. She sighed and shook her head, not even knowing where to go from there.

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I just really wanna get home. I know this is a huge ask, but would you mind buzzing me back, maybe?” She asked him. She wanted to go home but she didn’t necessarily wanna be alone, and his company seemed the most comforting out of anyone’s right now. He agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parked in her driveway, they sat in Nico’s car. Both of them looked straight ahead, neither one of them daring to break the silence. Finally, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye to see that he was already staring at her. He looked conflicted… troubled about something. His chest rose and fell with each breath as she slowly turned her head to look at him. She opened her mouth to say something but before she could even get any noise out, he lunged over the center console and smashed his lips on hers. He didn’t dare move his lips as he felt her body stiffen, just pressed them to hers and waited for her to either reciprocate or push him away. Eventually, her hands came up to cup his cheeks, and her lips locked with his.

“Come in.” She whispered against his lips. That was all he needed for him to rush out of the car and all but carry her inside. Closing the front door and locking it, he immediately pushed her against it, his lips attacking hers.

“I can help you forget him.” He breathed against her lips as his hands ran up and down her sides. His lips fell to her neck and a soft moan escaped her. “Just us, pretty girl.” He whispered against her skin.

“Mhm.” She bit her lip and nodded. She carefully lifted his head back up and nodded her head in the direction of her bedroom. He let her lead them there and as soon as they were through the door, he swept her up into his arms. He carried her to the bed and dropped her on it.

Clothes came off both slowly and quickly. They rushed yet took their time, savoring the moment of undressing each other. Flinging each other’s clothes around the room, whispering dirty compliments, hands roaming each other… it was like it was practiced and impromptu at the same time.

“Forget about him tonight. You’re with me.” The words left Nico’s lips, his breath fanning across her neck as his thumbs rubbed circles on her hips.

“Yeah. I am.” She hummed the words, her fingers lacing together behind his neck. His hand slid down to grip her thigh and he slowly slid it up his side until it was hooked above his hip.

“You good?” He asked. She nodded and that was all he needed to plunge into her. Her back arched against him and her nails dug into his shoulders. “Feel good?” He chuckled with a low groan. She whimpered back with a nod. He thrust into her once again, slow and hard. “Better than him?” Nico asked with a smirk, followed by an even harder thrust.

“So much better.” Her words came out breathy. Two thrusts and she was already breathless as he stretched her out. “So much bigger.” She purred with an almost drunken sounding giggle.

“Oh yeah?” Nico all but growled. “Is that why you’re so braindead for me already, babygirl?” He asked and looked down at her but her eyes were closed as she let the feeling of him overtake her. He put one hand on one side of her face, made sure her mouth was closed, and brought his other hand down across her cheek in a swift slap. “Answer me and look at me when I’m fucking talking to you.”

“Yes sir!” She whined under him, looking up at him like a wounded deer.

“Good fucking girl.” He growled, rocking his hips into hers. Every movement drew out another moan from her lips, egging him on further. “He could never fuck you this good, huh?” He smirked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking. Hard.

“No sir.” She squeaked, her hands gripping onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“He doesn’t deserve to fuck this pretty little hole, does he?” He asked, his thrusts growing harder and faster.

“No sir.” She whimpered. “Fuck no, he doesn’t.” Her voice broke.

“Yeah, there you go. Let me ruin him for you.” Nico’s hands moved to the back of her neck and her hip, gripping her tightly as he fucked her aggressively.

“Fuck him.” She said through gritted teeth.

“Fuck him, baby girl.” He repeated back to her, burying his face in her neck. A tension formed in her stomach and Nico could tell. His hand on her hip flew down to her clit and started rubbing circles. Not too long later, she came to a shaking orgasm, clenching and spasming around him, bringing him to the edge of his. “Where do you want it?” He asked but he didn’t have enough time for her to answer. He pulled out not a second later, spilling all over her stomach with low, growled breaths.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been about 4 months since then and _____ hadn’t spoken to either Nico or Matt. Nico was right though, that was the perfect distraction.

I see it and I get the idea, however, what I had in mind was more of he was too fucked in the head to comprehend it was even happening, y’know? I’m more than willing to write a DIFFERENT fic with the same premise though.

There were clear hints of regret and guilt on his part but I wanted to go the route that neither of them get closure and he doesn’t face repercussions. I wanted that open ended question of “why?” on both ends; the spiral, the doubt, the regret, all of it.

The things that makes The Horrors of Man ineligible for a part 2 is Quinn is stuck in his self-loathing. He knows he’s in the wrong and he knew the entire time, he just didn’t care. He’s incapable of loving and being loved, because that would mean he would have to deviate from his routine which he finds comfort in.

The Horrors of Man was supposed to represent an internal battle between wants and morals on Quinn’s part, and the contrast between settling for lust when what you need is love on the reader’s part. It was supposed to bring up the questions: “am I doing enough?”; and “do I deserve better than what I’m being given?”

At the end, Quinn for sure realized he fucked up, just not fully at the reader’s expense. He realized he fucked up because, yes, she was hurt, but because he had to clean up the mess he made. A mess that he hadn’t realized he made as it was born of the ache of want, belonging, validation, and reassurance; the things that reader was seeking from him as well.

Although they got hurt, it was an equal exchange in a very fucked up way. The Horrors of Man was to symbolize that the biggest aid in your destruction, will most likely be yourself.

The Horrors of Man was to remind the reader that whether your goal is to love or be loved, to be careful as to not lose yourself in the process. It can happen so easily and without your knowledge. You may think you’re doing the right thing, or you may know that you’re in the wrong. Either way, you can’t give up yourself for the validation of someone else. You could run the risk of losing the recognizable parts of yourself, or you could run the risk of giving yourself away to an extent of your own fault. It’s a reminder to be true to you, your needs, your thoughts, your emotions, regardless of anyone or anything else.

The Horrors of Man

Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Tw// Quinn is a fucking asshole 🤷‍♀️

*fic is told from Quinn’s POV

It was wrong. I knew it. I couldn’t stop myself though. The rush that it gave me was… indescribable. I was an asshole, yeah. A piece of shit, maybe.

But I called her every night because my self control was as fragile as my ego.

I was destined for hell if it even existed. At this point, I wasn’t even sure anything worse than something like me could exist. I couldn’t bring myself to care though. It was pleasure for her, entertainment for me. Mama raised me better. Of course she did. I don’t know when or where things got fucked up but somewhere, I became the most sorry excuse of a man I could become.

Maybe this was hell. Maybe my eternal punishment was to relive the entertainment over and over again and let the guilt manifest in my dreams so I could pretend nothing was wrong with me in my waking life.

~~~~~~~~~~

I remember when I met her. She was quiet. Pretty but not my type. She seemed shy and reserved, like the kind of girl I should take home to meet my mother. In hindsight, mom would’ve loved her. Everyone would have. We made eye contact a few times and I’d be lying if I said those eyes didn’t do something to me. Her gaze, although innocent and sweet, held something of pure seduction that shot through me. She seemed like a prude though. Definitely not my type.

Later on in the night, my eyes locked on her like a sniper as she pushed off the bar. Her stride mirrored her shy and closed off aura that radiated off of her. I watched with curious eyes and a smug smirk as she cautiously approached me. I was about to open my mouth to speak to her when she placed a piece of paper on the table next to my drink, quickly looked me up and down, and gave me a small and nervous smile before she shuffled away silently. Amused, I picked up the note and read it.

____ ________

(000)000-0000

I thought you were pretty cute but I wasn’t sure how to start a conversation. Call me if you’re interested :)

———————

So I did, even if I wasn’t really interested. I think I just wanted to pass the time. My life was eventful being a professional athlete but eventually it became dull. Every day became the same — train, play, win, lose, drink, fuck, sleep, forget, remember the previous week, repeat. It was a cycle that was nothing but unforgiving. About as unforgiving as who I had become as a human being…

“Hey, is this ____ ________? Sorry if I pronounced that wrong?” I faked the confidence easily. I always had a talent for faking confidence.

“Yeah!” Her voice was surprisingly deep but still soft and sweet. It was seductive and it had my spinning.

The first night, the talk was pretty innocent, friendly even. Second night I got a little bored and a little bold. Third night though, that was when the filth started. That was when sin was born. The third night was when I abandoned all morals, all ethics, all humanity and grace. I abandoned myself.

I was halfway to the high way, half naked, laying in my bed, listening to her breathy whimpers on the other end. The words that fell from her lips… drastically different from the reserved woman breathing them out. Her pathetic begging, the sound of fabric rustling, a sharp intake of breath. I was barely listening to her words, all I knew was that with each one, she got closer. Luckily all I had to do was mutter out a few “yeah?”s, “good girl.”, “sound so pretty for me.” and eventually, she was done. Embarrassed, she quickly hung up, and I laughed until I knocked out.

The next night she seemed a little more confident. Not in her voice, but in her words.

“Red… lacy… coming off.” She described her underwear with little detail, but I got the picture.

I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I knew better, I was taught better morals… standards. Yet, I was never able to stop myself. Even if I struggled to even pretend to be mentally present for the conversation, I couldn’t let go.

And so I found myself calling her every night like clock work. She started expecting me, thinking we were building some sort of relationship. Were we? I was so brain dead that I just kinda let anything happen. I didn’t know what was happening but I was too caught up in the entertainment of it to care.

Every night was the same, a cycle of what would eventually build to be a self-loathing that was near impossible for me to grasp. I called her, she touched herself, I didn’t care enough to listen to what she said after and just blindly agreed to anything, she hung up, I laughed until I vomited and passed out on my bathroom floor.

I didn’t care about her but the validation she provided was beyond words. She was something to curb the boredom at night. A toy. I still don’t know how I allowed myself to treat her like that. Another human being, especially with that human being being her.

Eventually, she showed up to an after-party for a game. I almost didn’t recognize her. This time, she walked with a confidence that was unlike her and completely foreign to me. She walked right up to me and gently took my face in her hands, a look of pure adoration filled her eyes. She said I played a great game. She told me she loved me and that she was proud of me.

“Woah. What the fuck?” I swatted her hand away and took a step back. Here was this girl that had been moaning my name from the other end of a phone for the better part of 6 months, standing in front of me, saying she loved me.

“Quinn? Are you okay?” She asked in genuine concern, her eyebrows furrowed together as her eyes looked me up and down.

“Who let you in here? How did you even get invited?” I asked in full confusion.

“I got a text in the WAG group chat asking if I was coming to the party tonight.” She said, her confusion mirroring mine.

“WAG group chat.” I echoed, mostly to myself. “That’s for the wives and girlfriend’s of players. How are you in there?” I asked. By now, we had started to draw the attention of other people who watched the interaction silently.

“Because I’m your girlfriend?” She retaliated like it was obvious. “Is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” She asked.

“Girl…” my voice traveled off. “I don’t even know you. What the fuck do you mean girlfriend?” My eyes narrowed as I tried to recall any information. Literally anything that could help me.

“Wow…” her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious right now, Quinn? We’ve been dating for 4 months.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a subtle challenge, waiting for me to answer.

“No the fuck we haven’t.” I corrected her like she was crazy. “I’m not dating anyone. I don’t know you.” I reiterated.

“So what has this been then? We’ve technically been together 6 months. Are you saying I’m making that up?” Her voice was raising in volume and the room had since fallen silent as the partygoers watched us intently, judging no doubt.

“The past 6 months? What are you talking about?” I decided to deny everything. The past 6 months, all I knew was that she came to my voice nightly. However, I decided it was my best bet to pretend like I didn’t know her at all.

“The last 6 months.” She stated, trying to hide the fact that her voice was breaking. “The nightly calls, the after game texts…” her voice trailed off. “You can’t just stand there and say you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Her voice finally cracked. “I’m not crazy.” There it was. Those words that finally forced me to feel some remorse for this poor girl.

“I have no clue who you are.” I doubled down, too far in my lie to fall back and apologize. My eyes stayed locked on hers and while I saw the adoration still, I also saw something else: betrayal.

“What did I mean to you?” Her words stung but I was in too deep at this point. She was hurt and it was my fault. I was in the wrong, but I couldn’t let anyone else see that.

“Nothing. I don’t know you.” I stated. With those words, she nodded slowly, and left.

For the rest of the night, I was on damage control. I acted like she was some crazed fan and how she must have been stalking me. I convinced everyone that I had never met her, but I knew better. I met her every night, I just never paid attention.

I went home drunk as shit and stared in the mirror for a while. I didn’t recognize the man… no. The boy staring back at me. This was a stranger. This wasn’t me, this was a version of me that I despised. What peered back at me through my reflection was a boy wasted with regret and shame, riddled with guilt and despair. This was someone that I would never have recognized… and had you said it was me, I would have said you were insane. This wasn’t me. It could never be…

With hollow eyes, a haunted gaze, disheveled hair, a gaunt face, I made eye contact with what I could only describe as the personification of hell itself.

What was reflected back to me in that mirror… it was the product of my downfall.