#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)

[theminecraftbee]

task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[twirlyleafs]

“Bet”

Lando Norris x Verstappen! Reader

TW: Angst, betrayal, huuuurt

A/N: this pained me

~~~~

Lando started to sense something was wrong when you weren’t in the garage after qualifying. Usually, you’d be there, waiting with a bright smile and open arms. Just before he got into the car, he’d kissed you, feeling his chest tighten with affection as you laughed, cheeks dimpling, when he barely ghosted his lips over your skin. Like always, you’d whispered the same playful, “Break a leg,” but then softened, as you added, “Just… be careful, okay?” He’d winked, like he always did, flicked down the visor, and sped away.

When he returned, he instinctively searched for you, expecting that warm, familiar presence, only to feel the slight pang of disappointment settle in his chest when you were nowhere to be found. A hint of a frown tugged at his lips as he asked around, and one of the team members mentioned they thought they’d seen you leave. The uneasy feeling took root in his stomach, coiling tightly.

By the time he checked the Red Bull paddock, Lando was certain something was wrong. He found your brother, Max, and casually tried to play down his worry, not wanting to raise suspicions. Max’s relaxed shrug was far from reassuring. “I haven’t seen her,” he said, and Lando’s heartbeat drummed a little faster. Why would you leave without telling either him or Max? The question buzzed in his mind, feeding his anxiety. He tried texting and calling, but each time he was met with silence, the unanswered messages adding weight to his growing dread. In between interviews, he dialed your number, his patience thinning with every call that went straight to voicemail.

When he finally returned to the hotel room that night, the relief he’d been hoping for evaporated in an instant. You were there, but instead of the embrace he’d longed for, he found you frantically stuffing clothes into your suitcase, your expression stormy, tear-streaked, and entirely closed off.

“Baby?” His voice was tentative, almost afraid, as he quietly shut the door behind him. You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. He took a few slow steps closer, his hand reaching toward you as if touching you might make you turn to him, might ease whatever pain seemed to radiate from you in waves. “Angel, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Save it, Lando.” Your voice cut through the room like a blade, as cold and sharp as he’d ever heard. Lando’s breath hitched, and he withdrew his hand, caught off-guard. He had never seen you like this. His fingers found your arm again, a gentle, almost desperate attempt to ground you, to ground both of you.

But the instant he touched you, you flinched away, spinning to face him with a look that made his heart feel as if it had shattered on impact. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and fresh tears shimmered there, but what undid him was the sheer intensity of your gaze. Anger, betrayal, and hurt mingling together into something he could hardly bear to look at.

“Baby—” he tried, his voice cracking as he spoke, but you cut him off, every word like a dagger.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that.” Your voice wavered despite your anger, and the way it broke only mirrored the turmoil he felt. Lando’s confusion deepened, a tangle of emotions twisting inside him.

“What is going on?” he asked, voice thin with barely restrained panic. His mind raced, every possible explanation slipping out of reach, leaving only the dread settling deeper in his chest.

“I heard them, Lando. I heard them talk about us.” Your lips twisted, the disgust evident in your expression. “How crazy it is that we’ve been together for this long. How crazy it is that you actually kept up a bet,” you took a deep breath. “That a bet has been going on for over a year.”

A surge of cold washed over him as he realized what you were saying, the pit in his stomach opening wider as he saw the pieces fall into place in your mind. His eyes squeezed shut for a split second, regret flooding his face. How could he have been so careless?

“I can explain,” he said quickly, desperate to salvage the fragile remains of the trust he felt crumbling between you two. But the scoff you gave felt like another slap. He reached for you, voice trembling with emotion, “Y/N, please—”

You took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield from him. Your voice broke, anger and sorrow mingling together in a heartbreaking mix. “A bet, Lando? You’re dating me because of a bet?” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you didn’t bother to brush them away, too devastated to care about holding yourself together.

“No, no, of course not!” He took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised slightly as though approaching something fragile.

“Why?” you choked, hurt radiating from every word. “Why did you let it go on so long? You could have just, had your fun and ended it. But now, after everything we’ve shared, after I’ve—” Your voice caught, and you angrily wiped at your cheeks. “I thought we had something real. I love you, Lando. And you…“

“I love you, too,” he whispered, almost to himself. The sight of you in such pain was unbearable. He gently pushed your suitcase aside, capturing your wrists, and brought your hands to his face, his thumbs brushing away the tears spilling from your eyes. “I love you, baby. Of course I do. God I love you so-.”

“You don’t love me,” you whispered, voice hollow, the spark that once defined your every smile and laugh extinguished. “If you did, you wouldn’t have kept this going. You wouldn’t have let me fall so deeply.”

“Please, it’s not what you think,” he pleaded, voice breaking, his heart pounding in his chest as he held you, praying you’d let him explain. “It was a stupid mistake, something I never took seriously. You have to believe me.”

For a fleeting moment, he saw hesitation in your eyes, a glimmer of hope. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by steely resolve. You pulled your hands away from him, and the emptiness that filled the space between you left him frozen, helpless.

“You’re cruel, Lando. Cruel. And I never want to see you again.”

The weight of your words crushed him. He was drowning in the guilt and the sorrow, unable to breathe as he watched you bend to zip your suitcase, your movements quick and determined. Desperation took over, and he dropped to his knees, his hands pressing down on the suitcase to keep it closed.

“Please, please don’t go,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as the tears fell freely down his cheeks. “Just let me explain, don’t walk away without letting me explain.”

A knock at the door interrupted, and both your heads snapped toward the sound. Your brother’s voice called your name softly, and Lando’s heart sank even further. Max stepped in, his expression darkening as he took in your tear-stained face and Lando’s distressed form on the floor. Instinctively, Max wrapped a protective arm around you, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from the man who had broken your heart.

“Please,” Lando whispered, his voice hoarse, but the words felt useless, meaningless in the wake of the devastation he’d caused. He felt paralyzed as Max picked up your suitcase, his gaze hard and unyielding, offering no sympathy as he guided you toward the door.

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the silent room, leaving Lando alone, his world collapsing around him. He stayed on the floor, staring blankly ahead, numb with the knowledge that he had lost you.

[itsnathateasy]

aot characters reacting to you asking them “what are we?”

warnings: just fluff word count: 1,1k author's note: this was a bit silly hehe, too silly, it broke my heart because they’re all drawings and not people

⭑🌻 ⭒🤎 . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . ⁺ . ✦ 🙈 . 🤎⭒🌻 ⭑

eren dies and i mean DIES to make things official with you but, let’s face it, eren’s a scaredy cat when it comes to matters of the heart. he does, however, reassure you that he’s thinking seriously about you two and that you’re really important to him, but he wants to take things slow

armin blushes all over but has the biggest and happiest smile on his face. he’ll have you sit down and talk through things together, making what was a situationship, now official. he stutters all the time, not because he’s shying on you, but he’s so excited, his words are trying to match the pace of his thoughts and he just stumbles over his words A LOT. he’s also trapping your knees between his own in an attempt to face you the entire time of your conversation, your hands intertwined on both of your knees

HEAR ME OUT, but mikasa probably gives you a glare, her eyes as wide as physically possible and exclaims “we’ve been dating for all these months, what do YOU think we are y/n?”, then grabs onto your hand, intertwining your fingers together, scooting closer to you on the couch and shushes you, “don’t interrupt movie night with silly questions”

levi is kind of like mikasa, in the sense that in his head, you’ve also been a couple for quite some time now, but when you surprise him with his question, he’d simply sigh, and hold both of your hands in his. he’d explain that even though this is what he thinks it might be the right time “to make it official in a proper way, right?”, looking up at you with a crooked smile. he’d kiss your hands and strike you with a “do you want to be my silly lil girlfriend/boyfriend y/n?” “why would you call me silly levi?” “we’ve been dating for 7 months and you dare ask me what we are… i know what YOU are and it’s “very silly”, as previously stated”

hange doesn’t even get it and responds with “uhm what are you talking about? we’re comrades” they said as they dag in the garden, their current project being “planting lilies”. you kneeled down beside them, proceeding to helping them with the holes on the ground. if hange paid one tiny look at your face, they’d know you were upset by their response, but instead, they kept on babbling about the plants and shared all the new information they’d learned about soil and seeds. what really got to them, was how you never responded to any of their statements. “something wrong y/n?” “yes hange, i asked you what we are and you said “comrades”, is that all i am to you? after all this time?” at this moment, you could see the confusion in hange’s face, the gears in their mind finally rolling. “oh y/n, i thought you meant right now cause we’re still on scout premises, you know… i think we’re a very happy, romantic couple and i’d like things to stay this way. but when on duty, we’re comrades” they said and gave you a sweet peck on the lips, you face becoming greasy with soil from their hands as they cupped your cheeks.

erwin is upset, what kind of stunt are you pulling on him? “we’re married, y/n. have been for 2 years now. what is this little game of yours?” he said and crossed his arms, staring at you intently. it was extremely difficult to hold back your laughter, it almost felt that you were about to choke trying to hold your breath. “it’s just a joke erwin, i’m filming your reaction” you explained and pointed to where you’d hidden your phone, camera capturing the both of you. “you and your pranks” he said, while grabbing the phone in his hand and saying “she got me… AGAIN!”, camera on him, then handed the phone back to you, kissing you on the temple. “we’ll sort this out later”

ymir will simply smile contently at you and hold your hand, a silent reassurance that you’re a thing. ymir tends to be more on the shy side, so she conveys many emotions through physical touch and by giving you certain “looks” and tons of special treatment, but you’ve come to know this is her way of expressing her feelings towards you

connie wasn’t expecting this conversation to happen right now, but he’s the calmer of group. “imma put this out there y/n and i hope i won’t regret it” he took a deep breath in as he held both of your hands in his, thumbs softly pressing down on your skin. “i know we agreed to be casual but this isn’t working for me anymore. i want us to properly be together, if that’s what you want too of course” he paused and waited for your response, avoiding your gaze. you responded with “of course it’s what i want too co-” but before you could finish his name, he hugged you tightly, squeezing your breath out of you and kissing all over your face the moment he pulled away. “is it too early to ask you to meet my mum?” connie pleaded innocently.

jean will play it nonchalant, as if he wasn’t about to burst and die because he wasn’t sure about your situation either, but was too scared to be the one to ask you first! “the talk” is quite welcome though, you can see how jean seemed more calm the more you talked about your situationship and where it might lead you, agreeing that you’re in it for the long run. he’s been giving you the puppiest of eyes throughout your conversation, only shifting his gaze elsewhere to put a strand lock of hair behind your ear or to caress your cheek. did i mention he has the goofiest smile? you almost thought he might be having a stroke, but poor boy is just so in love with you, he can’t believe you’re also in love with him.

sasha freaks out and begins to jitter. “what do you mean “what are we” y/n? are we not lovers? romantic lovers? very much in love? did i do something wrong? have i hurt you? what did i do?” you have to stop her rumbling by physically shutting her mouth with your hand and explain that everything’s fine between you, you simply wanted to clear any ambiguities and talk things through, but as you explained your trail of thought and why “the talk” was so important to you, you noticed sasha was spacing off, the look on her face turning more and more absent by the second. “hey, are you still here?” you’d question, but sasha’s response was “what’s an “ambiguities” baby?”

read part 2

[alwaysthefool]

[Requested] Naïve MC/Reader x LADS (Xavier, Sylus, Zayne, Rafayel)

They realise you’re a little too sheltered when it comes to sexual/romantic stuff

Warnings: Discussions of purity, sex education (not NSFW), OOC MC. This wasn’t meant as suggestive!

Tags: Gender neutral reader, fluff?

This was the request, but I changed it up to exclude the mention of a club since the premise of short fics can’t address my feelings about the issue seriously… everyone has unique scenarios->

Xavier

As the work day ended, instead of waiting for Xavier as you usually would, you walked out with the new hunter you’d met recently, chatting merrily about your day. “So where we going?” You smiled, walking out the Association HQ.

“Your place or mine?” They replied, smiling back, looking down at you.

You didn’t think much of it before replying. “Mine, I guess!” It was just chilling while watching Netflix after all. You really wanted to check out this new horror series, but didn’t get the chance to ask Xavier since he was always busy, and you certainly weren’t going to watch it alone.

He laughed at that for some reason, so you laughed back, although a little confused.

You felt a hand on your shoulder right as you were about to leave the premises. “Ahem.” The two of you turned around to see Xavier behind you, a stern look on his face. You frowned at his expression, and also the fact that you didn’t even hear him follow you. “You gotta stop creeping up on people like this, man.” Your colleague sighed. At this point, everyone was aware of Xavier’s antics when it came to you (which is also what made it shocking to them that you’d agree to hook up with someone else).

“What did you mean you’re taking them to your house?” Xavier completely ignored the person next to you.

“Uh…”. You weren’t sure how to respond. Wasn’t this a normal thing? When you were younger, your friends would come over to your house all the time. Although oddly, they’d have to be approved by Caleb first. He never really told you why, though.

“What do you think, buddy? We’re Netflix and Chilling.” Your companion responded for you. You smiled at that, nodding. “Mhm!”

Xavier’s expression turned hurt immediately, and he bore his puppy dog eyes into yours. “Really, [Name]? You’re… doing that with them?”

For some reason, looking at him, you felt such guilt, you held his hand. “I’m sorry Xavier, if I’d known you wanted to watch that new show too, I’d have asked you instead!”

“Wait, what?” The two spoke in unison. The person beside you rolled their eyes. “Seriously, you’re saying you’d rather be with him in front of me?” Before they could continue, Xavier’s death stare made them throw their hands up in defeat and walk away, too scared to even murmur profanities within his vicinity.

“Hey, where-“ Before you could finish, Xavier turned your attention back to him, holding your hands in his.

“[Name].” His tone was serious, and his eyes concerned. “What do you think Netflix and Chill means?”

“Watching Netflix with chilled coke, of course!”

Xavier sighed, half in relief, half in tension. “I think there’s a lot we need to talk about. But for now, please just ask me if you want to watch a show, try out new Ramen, or ‘hang out casually’.”

Rafayel

“Care to tell me what exactly you’re doing, cutie?” That last word to come out of Rafayel’s mouth was laced with venom, and that irritated expression you’d become so familiar with was splayed on his face once again.

You looked down at your phone. “Uh, someone at work asked for pictures my feet so I’m sending them pictures of my feet.”

“Is this another one of your pranks?” Rafayel crossed his arms.

“No?” Right as you were about to hit send, he took your phone from you, deleting the pictures before you could stop him. “Hey!” You exclaimed.

“You might not…” Rafayel sighed, giving your phone back to you as he sat beside you, tired. “…not love me anymore, but doing this while you’re in my house is cruel.”

You threw your phone away, and turned to face Rafayel, holding his face. He turned away from you, driving daggers into your chest. “Hey, why are you mad? It’s just feet…”

Rafayel, slightly taken aback, let go of his anger and looked at you. “Cutie, do you know why they’re asking for pictures of your feet?”

You shrugged. “Maybe they like my pedicure!”

He put his hands in his head, letting out a laugh. Before you could respond, he squished your cheeks, giving your left one a kiss. You returned the gesture, kissing his right cheek instead.

“You really are the most precious pearl in the ocean. As much as I’d like to continue seeing this pure side of you, I don’t want you to get taken advantage of again.” He stood up, reaching his hand out for you. “Let’s go, you have a lot to learn.”

Zayne

Realistically he’d make you study medical and ordinary romance books LOL

Zayne wasn’t sure how to go about it, how to confront the person who he thought was the love of his life, on why he saw them dressed to the nines having dinner with someone else inside a fancy restaurant on his car ride home. Zayne swore it didn’t upset him much, and that he had bigger things to worry about, but the thought did not leave his mind until he heard a knock on the door.

You looked tired. You didn’t know why you went to Zayne’s house, but you didn’t know who else to talk to. When he opened the door, you almost thought he looked surprised for a moment before his professional face returned. He left the door open for you, and without a word, went to his couch, reading a magazine.

You were already upset, and felt like leaving upon seeing his behaviour, but you were also extremely tired. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You spoke sarcastically. Zayne looked up at you, and you expected a snide remark from him, but concern etched his face. He put his magazine down and walked over to you.

“Why are you crying?”

You didn’t realise it until you felt wetness on your cheek. Zayne helped you get out of your shoes and helped you sit on the couch, bringing you a glass of water. He was way nicer than the guy you met today.

“I…” You took a sip. “I went out with a friend to celebrate his promotion, but he was being weird.”

You cried and explained how uncomfortable you felt with him asking questions about you, holding your hand, and then paying for the bill even though you didn’t want him to. It felt wrong and disgusted you.

“[Name],” Zayne was serious all of a sudden. “Did you… go on a date without realising it?”

Your tears stopped. “What? No, I mean, I just met him as a friend.”

He took off his glasses, keeping them in the pocket of his pajama shirt. “You said he wanted to meet you alone, for dinner, at a fancy restaurant, because he wanted you to be the one he celebrated his achievement with. You, and not his friends or family.”

“So?”

Zayne sighed. “You may not know it but he took you out on a date.”

You sniffled, and Zayne handed you a tissue, keeping his gentlemanly distance while patting your head. “I did not want the first date of my life to be this way.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure your next one is better.”

Sylus

Honestly he’d take this very seriously, sit you down, and explain this stuff without hesitation, because it’s super important to know.

It was just one meme at first. Then two. Then the whole discussion was about things you had no clue on, making you feel left out from your friend group. You groaned, throwing your phone away on the bed.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Sylus speaks, looking up from what he was reading on his chair. You had nothing to do on your day off and no energy to go outside, but Sylus still wanted to be near you, so you came over and lounged in his house.

“I…” You sat up on his bed, and he put his book on the table, focusing his attention on you. “I was very sheltered as a kid.”

“I can tell.” He quipped.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, anyway, it means I don’t understand what a ‘one night stand’ or a ‘hook up’ is, and I’m too scared to look it up.”

Sylus, as you expected, didn’t judge you. “Why are you scared?”

“Because I think it’s too late, and Caleb would be disappointed…” You knew Sylus didn’t like it when you brought Caleb up, but this time, his gentle expression stayed, as he took off his glasses, placing them inside his pocket.

“It’s never too late to learn about anything, especially things like these.” You gave him a polite smile. That was nice to hear. You shifted, sitting with your feet off the bed, to be a little closer to where he was on his chair.

“Not to mention, you have the best teacher in front of you.”

Bonus:

A while later, Sylus put on his glasses, frowning while going through your group chat, unsure of how to explain what they were discussing to you. “Maybe your brother was right, you have some crazy friends.” He joked.

-x-

[twitchmattentusiast]

｡°✩ PROVE IT . . . . .ᐟ

── MATTHEW STURNIOLO.

pairings. matthew sturniolo x female reader (mentions of christopher sturniolo)

❝ You know Chris would lose his shit if he saw us out here together, right? ❞

# warnings: drugs, alcohol, toxic chris + toxic matt, mentions of toxic relationship, female + male receiving, doggy style, recording?? dom!matt x switch (mostly sub) reader!

── authors note: matt and chris do NOT get along in this btw they’ve got some sibling rivalry. this is purely fictional so obvs i don’t think this is how they’d act in real life !

The house reeked of alcohol, weed, and sex—a combination that you wouldn't complain about on a normal day, but today wasn't a normal day; it was hell. The speakers blared some type of shitty trap music, and if you hadn't introduced your ex to real music, you would think that he was the one on aux tonight. 

You were pissed off, which wasn't something unusual; you were usually in a bad mood, but tonight one particular person put you in an extra bad mood, ruining your entire night. 

your ex.

 christopher sturniolo.

 Chris Sturniolo walked into your life like a storm that was dying to cause some destruction. and as you look back on your year-and-a-half relationship, you realise that's exactly what he had done. You first met each other at a party in your freshman year of college. your roommate, who had finally decided to sleep in your dorm tonight instead of staying at her boyfriends like she did every. single. night. dragged you to some kind of frat party and then ditched you for her boyfriend. You didn't mind. she actually asked you first if you were cool with her leaving, and at first you thought it was a good idea until you realised you didn't actually know anyone here, so you were left alone on your own devices with a full bottle of tequila.

It took you ten minutes to find your way around the frat, but you finally found the kitchen and found refuge in the fact that it was empty, so you did what any freshmen would do: drown your sorrows in alcohol because you were slightly too socially awkward to make new friends.

You were alone for a full twenty-five minutes until a group of obnoxious guys walked in, all talking loudly and pissing you off instantly. You wanted some alone time, and these stupidly drunk guys were ruining that. Your lips were twitching in a frown until your eye caught onto the last guy who walked into the kitchen, and you were instantly mesmerised. 

It took him a minute, since he was so caught up on talking to his friends and laughing too loudly, but his eyes locked into yours, and they twinkled. There was just something about him that drew you to him, and so with some (a lot) of liquid courage since you had managed to down a large amount of the tequila, you walked over to him in attempts to start a conversation, hoping he'd eagerly respond and not laugh in your face. 

He didn't laugh in your face.

Instead, he smiled at you, instantly sparking a conversation that he wordlessly carried, and to your surprise, your anxiety slipped away. You talked to him so easily. The conversation flowed for hours, with his friends biding him goodbye as they were off to meet some other friends or something.

an hour or something into your conversation, he split some tequila onto your white shirt and apolgosied profusely. It was your favourite shirt, but you were too drunk to care, and he was too cute. You didn't want to act dramatic and scare him away, so you let him grab your hand, trying to ignore the sparks as he dragged you gently up the stairs and towards the bathroom, attempting to get the stain away. He was sure it would work.

 It didn't work.

You couldn't help but laugh at him, at how focused he was on getting the stain away when you didn't even care. The next thing you knew, you were staring at each other, and then your lips were connected, and all of a sudden you were making out, and then you were fucking in some random bathroom for what felt like hours. 

and after that, you and Chris spent all your time together. It was like you were stuck by some kind of glue, as you never left each other's sides. You haven't known each other that long, but it felt like you were meant to be. You weren't officially dating yet; you were scared of commitment, and so was Chris, so you just stuck with having sex, and the sex was fucking amazing. You would go to visit Chris after his practice every day. Once they were all packed up and his friends had left, he'd drag you to his room and serenade you with his guitar, resulting in you two fucking. again.

and you guys would repeat the cycle basically every night.

 You started showing up to his practices, deciding you wanted to actually get to know his friends. Chris would occasionally teach you how to play the guitar, and you started to fall in love with music. So you helped him come up with a band name, book gigs, and budget because, god knows, none of the boys knew how to do that and design their outfits. You went to every gig hiding behind the scenes because you hated being on stage, but they all treated you like you were part of the band because, with how much you did, you were part of them. 

You helped with all of it even before Chris finally managed to lock it down a week later.

 With how much time you spent with Chris, you thought you knew everything about him. After all, you guys would stay up all night just watching the stars as you smoked on his roof and talked. But it turned out that Chris had forgotten to mention one tiny little thing to you.

 or rather three.

 It turned out that Chris had a brother. but not just one of them. No, he had three brothers, and he hadn’t told you about a single one of them. Imagine your surprise when you show up at Chris's doorstep wearing nothing but a long trench coat and Chris's favourite lingerie set when someone who looks similar to your boyfriend but isn't quite your boyfriend opens the door with his own surprise etched on his face until he starts smirking.

 That was the first day that you met Matt, and you quickly learned that the reason Chris never spoke about his brothers, especially Matt, was because he didn't get along with him. at. all. 

Every time you showed up at his house, Chris and Matt would get into some kind of argument that lasted for hours and got way out of hand faster than needed. According to Nick, they had some kind of feud and always had.

 At first, you didn't have a problem with Matt. He was your boyfriend's brother, and even if Chris didn't necessarily get along with him, you didn't want to be rude. but eventually the way he'd always talk down to Chris annoyed you, and the way he'd always smirk at you when he'd see you. at parties, at his house, even at the dinner table! He'd sit opposite you, smirking at you as if he knew some kind of secret that you didn't know, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

 You later found out that Matt was a womaniser, and that was a good reason for you to stay far away from him. You decided that if he wasn't going to be nice to you or your boyfriend, then you'd ignore him too. In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to do, but you didn't have much of a choice considering Chris instantly dragged you away when Matt was in sight. 

but things were different now. Sure, back then Chris could have a say and decide what you could do. He had always been annoyingly controlling, but he had fucked you over so you could speak to whoever you wanted and do whatever the fuck you pleased. It was two days ago when Chris broke up with you, claiming he believed the relationship wasn't working out anymore and that you guys were heading down different paths. He had literally dropped out of college only a week ago, and his band, after a year of being together, had only slightly started to pick up, so you weren't even sure what the fuck he was talking about; you were just pissed off.

 Once again, your roommate had dragged you to this party you didn't want to be at. Only this time you bumped into your ex, who was making out with some blonde girl on a couch. His only response when he noticed you caught him was a shrug.

 a fucking shrug!

 Now listen, you and Chris have broken up multiple times in the past year. Whenever an argument went too far, you'd decide to break up, but you'd always find your way to the other's house an hour later, but this time it was different. It had only been two days, Chris hadn't turned up to your house, and now he was making out with some random girl.

 You were pissed off. 

You usually don't smoke much, mostly because of your stupid ex, who always had to have a say in what you did, and you stupidly let him. had a problem with it. That never stopped him from smoking, though. With how annoyed you are now, though, a smoke seems like the only thing that will stop you from either having a breakdown in front of this whole party or killing Chris, so you quickly make your way outside, pushing the door open as you unzip your bag, beginning to fish through it for a cigarette. 

As you finally pulled the cigarette from your bag, a trail of curses left your mouth. your mind going back to your stupid ex, who had apparently moved on just fine, which just pissed you off more. You wanted to piss Chris off and hurt him just like he had hurt you. You needed to find someone to make out with and maybe do a little something more, but you needed it to seem real. God knows, you couldn't fake anything anymore. but who? Sure, you could walk up to a random guy at a party, it wouldn't take much to convince him to makeout with you. but again, you didn't want to fake it. which left your options very limited. 

so who?

nathan?

nah. he was just like chris.

"Need a lighter sweetheart?"

You didn't even need to turn around; the all-too-familiar cocky smooth tone hit your ears, causing your lips to slightly curve into a smirk.

It looks like you found your guy.

Matt leaned against the railings. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched you with a smirk on his face. It was the same smirk he gave you every time you walked past him. It was the same smirk he gave you when he first caught you checking him out when you first met. and it was the same smirk he gave you and Chris when you were all sitting at the table and he sat opposite you.

Matt was a pain in your ass, a thorn in your side, an annoyance you desperately wished you could flick away, but you couldn't, not when you were with Chris. but maybe you could now.

Chris would freak the fuck out if he knew you were even standing this close to Matt, let alone about to smoke a joint with him, but that made it all the more exciting. All you wanted to do right now was piss off Chris, and you knew that's all Matt ever wanted to do too. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him. He licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

He held the lighter up to the tip of the joint, watching as the flame licked at the dried herb. The smell wafted up, filling the air between them. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening slightly as he took in your appearance. He released the lighter, letting it dangle from its chain around his fingers.

His gaze lingered on your lips, and he wondered how they'd taste. He wondered how they'd feel wrapped around his cock. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. 

Your red dress that hugs your figure so perfectly that it makes Matt internally groan rides up your thighs when you straighten up. Taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He watches each of your movements, the stupid smirk sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

He reached out, grabbing your wrist lightly. He pulled you closer to him until your bodies were just barely touching. He leaned in, whispering in your ear.

He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and he loved every second of it.

"You know Chris would lose his shit if he saw us out here together, right?"

His breath tickled your ear as he whispered the words, sending shivers down your spine. You could practically hear the smugness in his voice. He knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You glared at him, pulling away slightly. You took another drag from the joint, blowing the smoke in his direction again. You wanted to provoke him and see what he'd do next.

"Maybe I want him to see us together," you said, your voice low and sultry.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before a smirk spread across his face. It felt like this was the most important thing that you'd ever said to him. Usually you just glare at him or simply ignore his existence, so to see you like this, smile at him, looking at him all boldly in that slutty red dress. fuck. He stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your hips. He pulled you flush against him, feeling the heat radiating off of you.

"Is that so?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You want to make Chris jealous?"

He leaned in, his lips hovering just barely above yours. He could feel your breath hitching, and he knew he had you where he wanted you.

 Little did he know you had him where you wanted him.

Matt was all about the chase. and you knew how to play that game all too well.

You licked your lips slightly, and Matt smirked as he trailed his hand up your arm. "You know... I always thought that you needed someone better to take care of you.”

You raised your eyebrows. "Someone like you?" You asked sarcastically, provoking him even more, and with the way his eyes darkened, you could tell it was working.

His smirk grew wider, his hand trailing down her arm to rest on your hip. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Exactly like me."

Your eyes twinkled. "prove it."

you challenged him, your eyes locked on his. you could feel the tension building between you, and you knew there was no turning back now. but that's exactly what yoy wanted, not that you would admit that to me out loud ever. you just wanted to push him some more and see how far he would go. Would he really kiss his brother's ex-girlfriend? Would he fuck you? God, would he eat you ou-

He chuckled softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Always such an angel, hm?"

You smiled devilishly. You were starting to get impatient with all this talk. You weren't much for talking, especially when you felt your panties dappen even more, something Chris had never managed to do with some looks and words. You knew what Matt was doing; he wanted you to make the first move to brag that you had given in first, and if that's what it was going to take, you would do it. You're in his hands now. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

He groaned into the kiss, his tongue darting out to tangle with yours. His hands roamed down the sides of your body, moving towards your ass to squeeze it, causing you to moan, leaving Matt to smirk into the kiss.

You pushed Matt against the wall, grinding your hips against his. You could feel his cock throbbing against you, making you moan into the kiss. You broke the kiss only to pant against his lips. "Upstairs," you said breathlessly as Matt reconnected your lips again and again, pulling at them harshly.

Matt pulled away from her lips just enough to say, "Yeah, upstairs." 

He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. He could feel your hips grinding against him, and he found himself getting harder. He wanted you; he always had. But this was different; this was revenge, and that made it all the sweeter.

you purposely grinded against Matt as you felt Chris's eyes on yoy. before you giggled, dragging Matt upstairs and waving to Chris sweetly as you passed him. disappearing out his sight. 

Matt grinned, following you up the stairs. He watched you, admiring your form. He couldn't wait to have you bent over the bed, begging for him to fuck you. He knew it would be good, but he didn't think it would be this good.

His eyes flicked over to Chris, and he gave him a little wave too, copying your actions before disappearing up the stairs with you. He knew Chris would be furious, and that made him even more smug.

Chris had always told him to stay away from you, and now he was going to do the exact opposite. 

You slammed the door shut behind you, locking it, before pushing Matt against the wall. You pinned him there with your body, pressing your breasts against his chest as you kissed him passionately.

Matt groaned into the kiss, his hands roaming over your body. He squeezed your ass, pulling your hips tighter against his. He could feel your hard nipples pressing against his chest, and he found himself getting harder.

"God, I've wanted you for so long," he murmured against her lips before kissing her again.

"Prove it," you teased again.

 Matt growled, his teeth nipping at your neck. He could smell the alcohol on your breath, and he found himself getting more aroused. He wanted you; he wanted to claim you as his.

"I will," he promised. "How about I prove it to you and Chris?"

Confusion appeared on your face until Matt motioned to what was in his hand. a camera. excitement pooled in your stomach. Did he want to film you? Was he going to send it to Chris? You keep her face neutral, trying not to get your hopes up, knowing that if you were wrong, Matt would tease you for it forever.

Matt grinned, holding the camera up to show you. He leaned in, capturing your faces in the lens. He clicked the button, snapping a picture of you and then him. He then moved the camera down, pointing it at your cleavage.

"Trust me, Chris is going to love seeing this."

Chris wasn't going to love this. He was going to hate both of you. you knew that and so did he get that made it more exicitng. the idea of fucking his britter? the one Chris made sure to keep you away from at all costs? It turned you on so much, and Matt is filming you guys? Chris had never done such a thing, which just showed how different they were.

"You look so fucking hot." Matt murmured as he switched the camera to video and pointed at you, telling you to say hi to Chris, which you did, looking at the camera all shyly.

"Don't be shy, baby." Matt tutted as he lifted your chin up with his finger. "Chris brought this upon himself, being such an ass to you." he taunted.

You bit your lip as Matt slowly unzipped your dress, leaving you in your lacy bra and pants, which made him groan. "fuckk"

You reached behind and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, exposing your perky tits. "Now you," you said, tugging at the bottom of his shirt as your other hand trailed towards his budge.

Matt smirked as he faced the camera towards you. "See, Chris, your girl is begging to see my cock, but she never begged for yours like that, did she?"

If you weren't so turned on, you would roll your eyes at all the digs Matt was making. He was clearly doing this for the exact same reason as you to get back at Chris, only wanting to extend their britter rivalry longer, but you were literally dropping, so you ignored his digs, just agreeing to whatever he said so he could hurry up and just do something!

Matt must have sensed your desperation as he chuckled slightly, looking at you expectantly as he harshly pushed you onto the floor, making you moan pathetically. Chris had always been too soft when you fucked, which you didn't mind most of the time, but sometimes you wanted to be treated like a slut, and you knew Matt would do exactly that. "Well, go on then," Matt said. "Suck it."

You grinned wickedly as Matt stripped his shirt off. You kneeled before him, reaching for his belt. You undid it quickly, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock. You looked up at him, your lips wrapping around his length. You began to suck him off, your hand stroking the base of his cock as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

Matt moaned, running his fingers through your hair. He could feel your mouth working on him. "Fuck, you're so good at that," he murmured, thrusting his hips forward harshly.

You continued to suck Matt off, taking his thick cock deeper and deeper into your throat. You gagged slightly as you took every inch of his cock into your throat. Your eyes were glazed over with lust as you sucked him off hungrily.

Matt was so big. bigger than Chris. You couldn't wait for the moment his cock was inside you. God, you were literally going dumb thinking at that moment. 

Matt angled the camera down at you, chuckling as you moaned as she took more of his cock. "That's it, baby, you're doing so good."

You moaned at his words. Praise had always been one of your biggest kinks, and hearing Matt praise you surprised turned you on even more. 

You continued to suck Matt off, taking his entire cock into your throat over and over. You moaned softly as you felt him throb in your mouth. You continued to stroke the base of his cock as you sucked him off.

Matt groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair. He could feel himself getting close, and he wasn't sure if he could hold back much longer.

"I'm going to cum," he warned, pulling out of your mouth. He aimed his cock at your chest, groaning as he came. He painted your tits with his cum, watching as it dripped down your skin. He groaned as he pointed the camera at your chest, watching as you swiped some with your fingers and sucked on it, moaning in response.

"Your girl is such a slut, Chris. This is why you've been hiding her from me this whole time, huh?"

You licked up the remnants of Matt's cum from your fingers, smacking your lips. You winked at the camera as you did so, looking seductively into the lens before standing up and seductively walking up to the bed, making sure to sway your hips as Matt chuckled, walking behind you and smacking your ass harshly.

 Matt chuckled, slapping your ass again. He could see the red mark left by his hand, and it only made him want to do it again.

"You're such a bad girl, baby," he purred, his hand trailing down to your pussycat. He rubbed your clit through your panties, feeling how wet you was. "You like that, don't you?" He smirked as he saw the wet spot on your panties. You were enjoying this as much as he was.

You shivered as Matt touched your pussy through your panties. You nodded, biting your lip as you tried to suppress a moan.

Matt chuckled, pulling your panties aside. He slipped two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out slowly. He curled them, finding your g-spot and rubbing it, still receiving no response as gasps left your mouth. 

"You like that?" he taunted. 

You cried out in pleasure as he rubbed your g-spot. You arched your back, pressing yourself further onto his fingers. You could feel the cold metal of his rings against your clit, and it was driving you insane. 

"words sweetheart." Matt threatened as his pace slowed down.

You whimpered as Matt slowed his pace. You hated that he did that, especially now that you were so close to cumming. You were so desperate for release. "Please... please don't stop," you whined. 

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. You had never been this horny in your life. All you could think about was how badly you needed to cum.

Matt chuckled, speeding up his pace. He could hear the desperation in your voice, and it only spurred him on more.

"That's it; just beg for it," he teased, adding a third finger to stretch your pussy out even more.

you screamed as matt added another finger to your pussy. you couldn't believe how full you were right now. you didn't know whether to be embarrassed or turned on by how loud she was being.

"Oh god! oh fuck!" matt smirked and leaned down licking her pussy.

Matt smiled, licking your pussy again. He could taste how wet you were, and it only made him want to eat you out more. He buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking on your clit.

"You're so fucking tasty," he murmured against your pussy, continuing to lick and suck on your clit.

You screamed out in ecstasy as Matt ate you out. You had never felt anything quite like this before. Even when Chris used to eat you out, it was never anything like this. You could feel an intense wave of pleasure building up inside of you. "oh fuck! i'm gonna-"

Matt kept eating you out. ignoring how you attempted to push him away. "Cum for me, baby," he said.

As Matt told you to, you lost control. You screamed out as your body tensed up. Your pussycat clenched tightly around nothing as you rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

Matt watched as you came, your body trembling with pleasure. He could see how much you enjoyed it, and it only made it harder.

"Such a good girl for me, hm?" He smirked as he positioned the camera on the table.

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath after the intense orgasm. You hated to admit it, but you don't think Chris ever made you come that hard. Before you can reply, Matt suddenly flips you over.

Your eyes widen. "Matt, I don't think I can take it." You shake your head. Your legs were already shaking. Fuck that. your entire body was already shaking simply from Matt eating you out. You're far too sensitive. You don't think you can survive anything else anymore.

 Matt chuckled darkly. "What happened to me proving it to you, baby?" he asked.

Your lips clamp shut as Matt repeats your earlier words back to you. As sensitive as you are, you unfortunately never back down from a. Challenge aside, if Matt is that good at giving an orgasm from that alone, surely getting fucked will be a million times better, so you whine as he smacks your ass again.

Matt smirked as he saw your wetness drop down your thighs. Seeing you on all fours like this made you a million times hotter. Hell, the way you were moaning and whining for him, you were slowly becoming a hot mess for him. The lipstick smudged all over your face, showing that. 

"You're such a dirty little slut," he murmured, sliding his cock into you from behind. He gripped your hips tightly, pounding into you hard.

"And you love every second of it."

You didn't have the energy to argue; you were still trying to catch your breath after your last orgasm, but even if you could argue, you wouldn't deny it; you were loving every second of this.

You gasped as Matt slid his cock into you even deeper. You loved how deep he went inside of you. You could feel every single inch of him filling you up. "Fuck Matt, yes!" you moaned out in pleasure as he pounded into you.

Matt slapped your ass again, figuring out that the last time he did it, you liked it. He smirked as you moaned loudly as the sound echoed through the room. "You love my cock, don't you, baby?" he asked. 

You whined about the pleasure being too much; you couldn't reply until Matt slammed into you even harder, causing you to fall into the mattress. 

"I said, Do you love my cock?" Matt repeated grabbing onto your hair as your ass was in the air and your head was buried in the pillow. tears pooled in your eyes;; thepleasure wase was too much.

"yes matt! yes! I love your cock!" you moaned. 

Matt smirked and reached around, pinching your nipples as he fucked you.

"such a fucking whore loving mine and my brothers cock hm?"

His words made you feel even dirtier. Chris was never that good at small talk, but the filth that was leaving Matt's mouth made you go insane.

You could feel your body responding to each of his movements. You were so turned on right now that you could hardly reply. "Yes!  Fuck yes, Matt!"

Matt chuckled. He loved how fucked up you looked, and he loved even more how fast you were becoming a mess for him. He gripped onto your waist, fucking you even faster from behind if that's even possible, loving the loud moans that leave your mouth. He can't believe his brother was the lucky guy able to fuck you. Chris; he didn't even do it right. You were probably left unsatisfied, and that just made Matt want to make you even more of a mess for him. 

You let out a loud cry as Matt pulled your hair even harder. You could feel your body shaking as he continued to fuck you. You were so close to losing it again. "Matt!" you gasped, whine falling from your lips as you couldn't even form a sentence correctly. "i’m gonna cum aga-"

Matt chuckled upon hearing you say you were going to cum again. He loved seeing you lose control like this. He quickened his pace, thrusting into you hard.

"Then do it, cum for me."

You screamed out as Matt thrust into you hard. You could feel your entire body tensing up as you got closer and closer to cumming. Finally, you couldn't hold back anymore, and you came. hard.

"oh fuck! i'm cumming!"

Matt could feel your pussy clenching around his cock, and it pushed him over the edge. He groaned loudly, filling you up with his cum.

"That's it; take my cum." He praised as you moaned loudly, begging for him to come inside him.

Matt chuckled, thrusting into you one last time. He filled you up with his hot cum, painting your insides white, and then pulled out, watching as their cum that was mixed together dropped out of her. 

"There's a good girl," he praised, kissing your back softly.

You were far too out of it to even reply. You just bummed softly as Matt trailed kisses on your collarbone, softly rubbing your sides as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You nodded your head. "Yeah, that was just." You trailed off, hoping he got the hint, and of course the cocky fucker did.

"amazing? the best you ever had? magical?" 

You laughed and pushed him away from you. "Shut the fuck, you freak," you said. You were still trying to catch your breath, so you flopped back onto the bed, lying on the mattress, as Matt chuckled before disappearing somewhere. 

You didn't question him; he was too tired to even ask where he was going, but he returned moments later with a bottle of tequila, a rag to clean you up, and a spare t-shirt of his. 

He smirked up at you as he locked the door and pulled out a joint. "You want to dedicate a joint to that special somebody or what?" 

You rolled your eyes at the boy but let him clean you up, put his t-shirt on you, and the pair of you spent the rest of the night drinking tequila, sharing the joint, and ignoring any calls Chris left either of you. 

｡°✩

BYEE was this too much? i feel like i lowk went overboard but i also feel like this kinda sucks idk but let me know if you guys want a pt 2 or not cause i had an idea of some jealous chris sex☺️

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren’t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

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[drivestraight]

wildcard!!! I know that you are more focused on writing works centering max, lando and oscar. I wonder if there is any chance you will write about lestappen again in near future. I just love your lestappen works so much and I'm sorry if this question makes you feel uncomfortable 🥺🥺

from here

near future no, but here’s about 5k of my abandoned (little brother of the) prince of monaco charles x driver max wip ❤️ as a gift

The Guardian is first in the round of interviews. A woman named Marie sits across from the sofa, beside cameras, light panels, and mics.

“To start,” Marie says, donning a sympathetic smile. Max struggles to take her at face value. “I want to acknowledge that I’m sure this isn’t how either of you would have liked your relationship to come out. How are you two doing?”

Max tries his hardest to keep a neutral expression. He scowled his way through the hours of media prep yesterday and got scolded each time.

He shifts on the sofa. For a couch made for royalty, it is not very comfortable.

Of course, it comes much easier to Charles, who returns a warm smile. He keeps his eyes on Marie, but places a hand on Max’s thigh, to comfort him. God, everyone’s going to love this, aren’t they?

Horribly, the physicality does help. Max takes a deep breath.

“You’re right,” Charles responds. “It is not at all ideal, but we are thankful for all of the grace that has been extended to us these past few days.”

Max purses his mouth.

Marie glances at him, waiting for agreement. Instead, Max busies himself with studying the details of the room they’re in. The Salle Des Gardes: cobalt walls, beautiful flower bouquets, and centuries-old portraits framed with gold. It’s so beautiful it makes Max uncomfortable.

At his silence, Marie moves on, smiles, and says, “Well, it’s great to have you both here.”

“Yes,” Charles says, “it is. Right Max?” he probes, squeezing Max’s thigh.

Somehow, Max manages not to glare. He clears his throat and manages to hum in concurrence.

“So,” Marie says, “I guess we can start from the beginning. I’m sure everyone would like to know how you two met.”

Max is grateful at how quickly Charles jumps to respond, “I have been a big fan of F1 ever since I was a child,” he replies, “but I did not meet Max personally until the Monaco Grand Prix in 2021.”

“On the podium?”

It was collateral damage, really, Max’s champagne spray getting all over Charles during the celebration. Max hadn’t even known, until Charles told him many months later.

Charles nods. “Yes, on the podium. A little after the race, he was invited to dine with my family, as the winners always are, and we… liked each other. We got on very well that night.”

Yes, Max thinks. We talked, we ate, we drank, we got into a huge fight about Ferrari, we got kicked out of the venue hall, then we hooked up in the toilets upstairs.

Sure, they got on well that night.

“We started seeing each other quite a bit, after,” Charles finishes.

They saved each other’s numbers, and every now and then, between Max’s races and between Charles’ royal obligations, they’d meet up in Monaco.

“Who asked who out?”

Charles turns his head and looks at Max, expectantly.

Max glares, but Charles only lifts a brow, unwavering. “I did, I guess,” Max concedes, trying not to roll his eyes at the way Charles glows, dimples pressed deep into his cheeks.

In a way it’s true. Max had been the one to shove Charles up against a wall and kiss him, drunkenly and furiously.

For the next two years, it was easy, despite who they were, perhaps because of who they were. They were on the same page about what it was they had: purely an arrangement of convenience. Entirely physical, no-strings attached. They’d meet in Max’s flat, maybe have a drink and talk about the most recent race, and get to it. After, Max would let Charles use his shower, then Charles would leave. Not once would Charles ever sleep over.

Still, they were exclusive, in a way. Max found something good, something safe, something easy, with someone who was on the same page as him. They were physically compatible. They wanted the same things from each other. Max didn’t see a need to look elsewhere, and neither did Charles.

Max had no interest in making it any more than it was. Neither did Charles.

For two years, it was simple like that. Max bribed his doorman, and Charles swore his security detail to secrecy. Charles hadn’t told anyone about Max. Max hadn’t told anyone about Charles. No one needed to know. What was there to tell? The F1 world champion and the Prince of Monaco’s little brother were friends with benefits? They were barely friends.

“Yeah?” Marie asks, looking surprised. “What was it about Charles that interested you?”

Charles’ expression is rapt and curious, his focus singularly on Max now.

Well, Max thinks. If they want him to speak from his heart, that’s what he’ll do.

“Of course,” Max says, smiling for the first time since the news broke, “it was not his personality.”

Marie laughs, amused. Charles makes an unbecoming noise, his entire face scrunching up.

“Max!” he squawks, outraged.

“What?” Max asks innocently, tipping his head to the side. He is starting to have a little fun. He finds Charles’ hand on his thigh, lays his over his knuckles, his thumb brushing at his wrist. “I thought we were of course wanting to be honest today. Your personality is not the first thing people notice about you.”

Annoyed, Charles purses his lips. “And what is?”

Max hums in faux contemplation. “Your face, of course.”

Charles’ brows knit together. Max relishes in the fact that Charles is the one on his toes this time. “You only like me for my face?”

Rolling his eyes, Max says, “It is the only good part about you.”

Charles squints, licks his lips, and levels Max with a look. Max knows that look: he is thinking, planning. 

It is pin-drop silent for a short moment. Suddenly, the room feels very small.

Charles leans in closer, marginally, but enough that Max’s breath hitches, and slides his hand higher up, his fingers firm against the inside of Max’s thigh. “Really? None of the other parts you like?” 

Max lets his eyes wander: from the mole on Charles’ cheek to the one on his neck, from the dip of his Cupid’s bow to the stubble on his chin. It is distracting and it is unfair, how beautiful Charles is.

“Really,” Max says, gaze returning to Charles’ eyes. He will hold his ground, even if he doesn’t mean it. “None of it.”

/

Thirty minutes later, Marie and all the cameramen leave. They are given half an hour in private to rest before their next interview. Le Parisien this time. At least then, he thinks, they’ll be more significantly more interested in Charles than they will be for him.

Even though they’re technically free now, the palace made it clear that they are not to leave this room until they’ve finished the last interview.

Once the doors shut and they are alone, Charles turns and glares at him.

Since the news broke yesterday morning, this is the first time they’ve truly been alone.

“Your team will not be happy with that. You saying you like me only for my face.”

Of course that’s what Charles will take from the interview. After Marie asked all her questions about the genesis of their relationship, her questions pivoted to Max, about what it means for him to be the first openly gay Formula 1 driver in decades.

Each time he was asked a question, Charles squeezed his knee, running circles with his thumb. 

Max hadn’t met with his PR team beforehand—Monaco’s royalty took priority, monopolized him and all of yesterday. He had no idea what Red Bull wanted him to say, what the optics were, so he spoke from the heart.

His answers were simple: it means nothing to him. It means nothing to what he has achieved. He never wanted to be an inspiration. An icon. An idol. If he is, then he is, but that was never his intention, that was never his goal.

Nothing changes.

“Obviously, I was joking,” Max mumbles, standing up and pacing around in front of the sofa. There’s a whole table filled with refreshments, and Max is hungry—he’s always hungry—but the season is in full swing, and he needs to keep his weight down. He wishes they had Red Bull or something, but they only have tea and coffee. He settles for shoving his hands into the dress slacks he was forced into, pressing the tip of his Oxford shoe against the border of the carpet. “And I do not think your team will be very happy with you feeling me up on camera.”

Charles huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. “I had to make it seem like we like each other, after what you said.”

Max scoffs and sits back down on the couch, toying with the seam of the green plush pillow beside him. “I think everyone is pretty convinced that we like each other,” he mutters, and then, mortifyingly, his stomach growls. Loudly. It’s the afternoon now, and he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

And Charles stands all of a sudden. Max watches, confused, as Charles makes a beeline to the table of refreshments, shoes clacking against the hardwood until he reaches carpet. There is a way about how Charles moves, magnetic to the eyes. He grabs a small scone, then heads back to Max.

Closer and closer, until he’s settled between Max’s spread thighs, towering over him.

Bossily, he shoves the scone in front of Max’s face. “Eat. We have a long day.”

Max sighs. He’s explained this to Charles before, his diet. “Charles,” he says, hoping that’s enough, not wanting to give the whole spiel again.

“It is a royal order,” Charles says seriously. He presses the scone against Max’s mouth.

Max angles his head away. “I am Dutch, if you didn’t know.”

“You live in Monaco,” Charles insists, “and I am the Prince.”

Max snorts. “You are the little brother of the Prince.”

In lieu of a verbal response, Charles sighs and places his hand on Max’s cheek, leveling Max with a look, that same one from before. His palm is soft, smooth, but his thumb is firm where it presses against the seam of Max’s lips, coaxing his mouth open. The ball drops; the rally ends. At the end of the day, Max is starving. He cuts his losses and bites, gaze fixed on Charles as he chews on the stupid scone. Once he’s swallowed, he expects Charles to let up, but Charles raises a brow, pressing the scone against Max’s lips again. Max groans, understanding, and takes another bite, and another, and just as he’s about to finish the scone, Charles quickly pulls it back, and eats the last bite himself.

Max rolls his eyes. Of course. Charles giggles, and wipes off a crumb from the corner of Max’s lip. Even when Max’s face is clean, Charles keeps his hand on Max’s cheek, smoothing out his frown.

They linger like this for a few moments, and Max feels the anxiety leftover from the interview start to dissipate, his shoulders laxing.

“I know you did not want this,” Charles says quietly. “I did not want it either.” Max swallows, his chest feeling tight. “But it’s like this, and we have to do it together. If it is to work, we have to make it look real.”

“I know,” Max says, starting to feel bad. Charles got fucked over with all of this too. Today, Charles is more calm, more—present, than he was yesterday, a quiet wreck in the briefing. His mental resiliance really is something. He places a hand on Charles’ waist, pulling him in closer. “I was of course there in the briefings.”

Charles pokes harshly at Max’s cheek, like he is trying to sculpt an artificial dimple. “I do not think you were listening.”

Max closes his thighs around Charles’ legs. He is very warm, and they have half an hour before the next interview. Hm. They might as well spend it wisely.

“Can you read my mind now? Is that another one of Prince Charles’ royal powers?”

Before Charles can respond, Max tightens his grip on his waist, before sliding his hand lower, to grab at Charles’ ass. Charles’ eyes widen, his mouth parts in surprise, and he sucks in a gasp.

“Max,” he whispers, blushing a soft pink. His hand drops to Max’s shoulder to steady himself.

“We of course have time,” Max points out, bringing his other hand to Charles’ other cheek, tugging him closer through the fabric of his slacks. “And we have a long day.”

It’s been months since the last time they did this. Not since before winter testing.

Max only now realizes how much he’s missed it.

“Not here,” Charles mumbles shyly, looking around, as if there’s anyone else here. Despite his protests, he doesn’t make any effort to fight Max’s hold.

Maybe, Max thinks, Charles misses it too.

“Why not?” Max asks. “Do you not like being watched by the portraits? They are your ancestors, right? I don’t think they’d mind.”

Charles sighs, but Max catches a small smile on his face. Regardless, Charles shakes his head, stubborn. “It is not the portraits I am worried about. What if someone comes in?”

“It will be their fault for not knocking,” Max snorts. At Charles’ withering glare, he sighs and says, “No one’s going to come in. There are guards outside.”

“Still,” Charles argues, pink all the way up to his ears now. His eyes drop to Max’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “We will be… messy for our interview.”

“But it will seem like we really like each other a lot,” Max jokes, grinning.

Charles doesn’t take the joke well. He pouts and pinches Max’s ear with his fingernails. Max laughs and releases Charles’ ass. “Fine, fine,” he concedes. “At least come here?”

Charles pulls his mouth to the side. “Will you behave?”

Max shows Charles his palms, hands positioned before his chest. “I will behave,” he assures.

Charles shoots him one last look, before sighing and climbing up onto the sofa, knees on either side of Max’s lap, and sitting. Immediately, he buries his face in the side of Max’s neck, his hair tickling Max’s ear, and lets out a contented noise.

Max barely got any sleep last night, all wired up, and from how exhausted Charles looks—feels, melting into him, breathing softly, maybe the first moment of silence he’s had all day—he can tell it must have been the same for him.

For a few minutes, they stay like that. Max closes his eyes, stroking Charles’ back. There are too many layers between them. Max kind of wishes he took his suit jacket off, or at least his tie, before he asked Charles to sit on his lap. Too late now, Max thinks, nosing at the spot below Charles’ ear. He notices, in this time, that Charles must be wearing a new cologne. It is nice; he smells nice. Charles always smells nice.

Max presses a harmless kiss on the side of Charles’ neck. Then another and another, until no space is left unkissed. He moves to the center of Charles’ throat, and Charles lets it happen, lets Max pepper small kisses along the ridges, his mouth closing, softly, over his carotid, Charles’ heart pulsing like a rabbit between Max’s lips. Charles likes that: the little kisses. When Max reaches the cut of his jaw, he starts to be a bit more bold with it—licking and biting gently, Charles’ stubble rough against his tongue, tracing the contours of him.

Charles starts to let out little pants, his hips starting to roll ever-so-slightly. Max slides a hand between their chests, what little space is left between them, and finds Charles’ crotch, gently palming over the bulge. He’s half-hard already. Max hums, pleased.

Finally, he makes the move and makes it stick: firmly, he kisses Charles, right on the lips. It is a tender kiss, but deep and filled with intent. No more pretense.

Breathily, Charles mumbles against his mouth, “This is not behaving.” He sounds annoyed, but he keeps kissing Max back, keeps grinding his ass on top of Max’s crotch.

Max pulls away, laughing when Charles immediately chases his mouth and makes an unhappy, surprised noise, laughing when he opens his eyes and sees Charles’ eyes: dark, pupils wide and wanting.

“Okay,” he says, voice a little raspy, even to his own ears. “We can stop.”

Charles’ jaw drops. Outrage is a cute look on him. “Oh,” he says, brows furrowing, exhaling through his nose, “you are—”

He doesn’t finish. He only shakes his head, grabs Max’s face with both his hands, firmly, and kisses him, furiously.

Charles’ mouth is soft and plush, but his kiss has a fire to them, an intensity; this part has always been the easiest, with him. The physicality. Everything else, that’s the difficulty.

Their noses brush, and Max pivots away, only slightly, to kiss at the corner of Charles’ mouth, light and teasing. “Yeah? What am I?”

Charles finds his lips again, positions Max’s head right back where it was, and plants a kiss square on his mouth. “Horrible,” Charles says, and kisses Max again. “Annoying,” he says, and kisses Max again. “The worst,” he says, and kisses Max again.

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that, of course,” Max says, helping Charles take his suit jacket off. “We have to seem like we like each other.”

Charles doesn’t deign him with a response, merely rolls his eyes and tosses the jacket to the side. He is gorgeous like this: eyes blown and glossy, his mouth parted, wet, begging to be kissed.

So Max kisses him again, his hands rucking Charles’ button-up from his slacks, until he can slip his hands under the fabric, finding his waist. He uses this newfound leverage to flip their positions, to maneuver Charles so that he’s on his back and horizontal on the ugly, uncomfortable sofa. Charles yelps; his chest heaves, and his throat bobs. He is so pretty like this: in the painfully bright light of this room, it is even more vivid, and for the first time since the news broke yesterday, Max thinks, maybe this will be worth it.

Max takes the moment to burn the sight of him into his retinas: his mousy hair messy around his head like a halo, his kiss-swollen lips parted and wanting, his clothes, even, rumpled and wrinkled in a way that Max knows he hates, in a way that he never lets anyone see.

Half an hour. Half of that is probably gone by now, Max reckons. They’ll have to hurry. He can take his time, another time.

He forces himself to focus. He takes off his own jacket before he forgets, shoves Charles’ thighs apart so that one leg is splayed off the couch, then he drives his knee between them. He swoops down once again, and Charles sighs dreamily into his mouth. Max slides his hands down Charles’ chest until he’s found the buttons of Charles’ slacks, undoing them with deft fingers.

“This is—” Charles starts, lifting his hips, helping Max pull his bottoms to his thighs. Multi-tasking, Max kisses down his throat, skips down to his stomach, and kisses at the happy trail leading from below his belly-button. Distracted, Charles moans and writhes beneath him, throwing his forearm over his eyes. Cute.

“What was that?” Max asks, amused. He kisses Charles’ hip bone lightly, and wraps his fingers around the base of Charles’ length, adoring the way Charles’ hips buck at the touch. He traces a vein with his thumb, his precum making the slide easy, then spits into his hand—not like they need it—and starts to jerk him off. Brows knitted together, Charles squirms, so Max keeps his body steady with a hand on his stomach, feeling the flutter of muscle there. 

Charles tries again, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can meet Max’s eyes. His face is pink, and his breaths come squeaky. He scrunches his nose, prissy and aristocratic, and says, “This is a very old couch. And my suit is very expensive.”

Max sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll keep you clean,” he promises, and takes Charles into his mouth, hollows his cheeks, and sinks as far down as he can go.

/

Against all odds, they have some time to spare. They spend it fixing each other’s clothes and sex hair, making each other look at least somewhat presentable. Unfortunately, while Max had kept his promise and kept Charles clean, Charles hadn’t returned the favor; now there’s a probably irreparable stain on the antique couch. Oops, Max thinks, and he makes Charles sit on it for their next round of interviews.

It isn’t so bad.

Thankfully, F1 was the only one they’d been on video for. Charles, for the rest of the day, is hazy-eyed and loose-limbed. Max capitalizes on his distraction, teases Charles as much as he can and knows how to—Charles lets it all happen.

And he seems, almost, as if to enjoy it.

But maybe Max is projecting.

/

By dinnertime, Max is finally released. Charles is whisked away by his brother before Max even tries to get a word in, so he doesn’t try. He gets driven home, orders Brad-approved takeout, and calls his dad. Lets him know how the day went. After, he calls his mum, then his sister, and then Raymond. At 8 PM, Brad comes over for training. They talk about things that don’t matter. At 10 PM, Max showers, brushes his teeth, turns off the lights, and crawls into bed. He checks his messages. He frowns when he notices that Charles hasn’t texted. Max isn’t sure why he was expecting him to.

He checks his other texts. He sees that Gemma has texted him his media schedule for the weekend. He doesn’t bother reading it, leaves it for tomorrow. He puts his phone down on the table, closes his eyes, and thinks.

In all this time, the world hadn’t stopped spinning. Even now, it doesn’t stop spinning. Media day is in three days. Infinitely worse: it’s Monaco. Charles will be there; for all of it, he will be there. Normally, WAGs and—now, Max guesses—BAHs are off-limit topics, but there’s no guarantee his sexuality will be. They will want to prep him. Make sure he doesn’t say anything stupid. Charles will be there, and they will have to act in love. Max will have to dodge cameras and avoid journalists the entire weekend. He will have to make statements. He will have to respond. Charles will be there.

On Sunday, Charles will be on the podium.

On Sunday, Max wants to win.

Too much to think about. Too much to worry about.

One day at a time, Max thinks. One day at a time.

/

Voici got a hold of the story first. Apparently, evidence had been slowly building up for months—quotes from Max’s building neighbors and a now-fired member of Charles’ security detail.

The most incriminating evidence, however, were the pap photos taken of them kissing in Max’s car.

They’d been so careful—but maybe, over the last few months, they’d grown complacent.

The story broke the day of the cancelled race in Imola, first thing in the morning. Four hours later, Le Parisien got a hold of it, and that’s when shit started to really hit the fan.

Red Bull was blindsided.

So was the Crown.

/

Max had been blissfully unaware until around noon when he woke up. For many hours, quieted by Do Not Disturb, his phone had been blowing up with calls from Raymond, from Christian, from his father. Everyone important in his life. Before he got a chance to call any of them back, he spotted the ESPN notification at the top of his screen:

Max Verstappen: Formula 1’s reigning world champion and first gay driver in decades?

Below that, an Apple News notification:

Monaco’s Sweetheart breaks hearts worldwide? The inside scoop of Prince Charles of Monaco and Max Verstappen’s 2-year long affair.

In a way, nothing in any of the reports had exactly been false.

/

Max was driven to the palace, silently escorted to a meeting room, and he was seated next to Charles, who was quiet and playing with his hands in his lap and looked like he might throw up. In that moment, Charles looked—small. Charles looked—afraid. Max had never seen him like that before. Max wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was okay, but the meeting was in full swing; they hadn’t even paused for Max’s entrance. He settled with placing a hand on Charles’ thigh, his heart rabbiting in his chest. Charles laid his hand over Max’s. It was all Max could do. Max was afraid too.

Once he arrived, however, they switched to English, and explained the plan they came up with while he was sleeping: to confirm the status of their relationship, and run a full press tour. Immediately, without coordinating with Red Bull. That the Prince’s little brother was not only dating a man, but dating the F1 world champion, needed an immediate response, and Charles’ image takes priority over Max’s.

They needed to take control of the narrative, spin it in the right way: They’re in love.

Max didn’t understand. He interrupted halfway, “But we’re—” He glanced at Charles, silent beside him. “We’re not actually—”

Finally, Charles spoke up. He lifted his head, turned to Max, and said, “It does not matter.”

“But—”

“Max,” Charles said, with finality. His eyes were shaking. He looked more upset than Max had ever seen him. “It does not matter.”

And that was that.

/

Tuesday morning, Red Bull post official statements on all their social media platforms, and Max’s social media manager posts a statement from him that he didn’t write. He doesn’t see any of it himself. He stays offline.

That afternoon, he’s in a few virtual meetings with marketing, and they confirm with him the schedule Gemma sent, that they’ve canceled the shootings he had with Checo, and that they want him to focus on keeping a low profile.

He has done more than they needed him to, thanks to the insistence of the Crown.

The interview with Marie won’t be released until Thursday, but Red Bull had received an early preview from the Guardian. To his surprise, the team is satisfied with it. They of course aren’t exactly pleased with some of his responses, and they request that he answer differently and less abrasively next time, but Max is guessing that their expectations were so low that he managed to exceed them, somehow.

They hadn’t even wanted him to speak to any press in the first place. Neither had Max, obviously, but Charles—it would have been silly if Charles had done the interviews alone. Charles needed him there. So.

Wednesday, he streams on Twitch with RedLine. It wasn’t exactly news to them or anyone close to him, the gay thing, but the Charles thing, well—it was a surprise to everyone. Even Max. The boys ask him if he wants them to steer clear from making any jokes about it, and Max says he doesn’t care either way. The last thing Max wants is for his friends to walk on eggshells around him; the last thing Max wants is for things to change any more than they already have. So Crane jokes about it, Bennett jokes about it, and Max also jokes about it. They permaban anyone in chat who jokes about it.

 And that’s Wednesday.

/

Thursday isn’t the hell he was expecting it to be.

Red Bull managed to pull strings and get Max out of the press conference and TV pen appearances, and Checo’s been left to handle the fanzone all on his own, so Max stays inside the Red Bull Energy Station, keeps his head down as much as possible, ignoring the roars of reporters outside, only speaking with his engineers and mechanics.

Tomorrow, though, he won’t be able to get around media.

Don’t worry about the press, GP tells him in the paddock, clasping a hand on his shoulder. It’s all noise. Just focus on driving. Nothing changes, at least from our end.

Max tries his hardest to believe it.

[aireia]

holy shit. they're both hopeless. — satoru and shoko suspect that you and suguru have feelings for each other.

tw/cw: gn! reader, a tiny bit angst at the end but overall fluff + crack. angel used as a petname. not proofread + rushed.

note: school sucks, i'm half awake as of typing this, have mercy on my rusty ass writing skills —masterlist

“so. you like them, don’t you?”

it’s too early in the morning for this. suguru had just stepped foot into the classroom, and he was already being interrogated by his friends. they were eyeing him up and down with suspicion in their eyes, as if it would provide them with an answer.

“who?” the raven haired male feigned innocence. he knew damn well who the duo were talking about, from their not very secret gossiping to spying on him when he spoke to you. suguru was still kind of offended that they thought he didn’t notice them there. just because he didn’t have six eyes didn’t mean he didn’t have good eyesight! he could clearly see satoru’s head peeking out from behind a tree and shoko in the bushes.

“you’re not serious, are you?” satoru asked in disbelief, exchanging a few glances with shoko as if to say, “this guy is actually hopeless.” 

they couldn’t have mistaken the soft glances he shot your way whenever you walked by them, or him lightly brushing his fingers against yours, or the very obvious tint of red on his face whenever he spoke to you for something else right? satoru swore on his six eyes that he wasn’t mistaken.

they decided to drop the topic after a while. if he wasn’t going to give them an answer, they’d just have to ask you instead.

they found you talking to suguru after class, laughing with him over small talk before you waved him goodbye. there it was again, that genuine smile he rarely showed. they approached you to tell you about needing to speak to you, then dragged you somewhere more private to speak. 

“you like suguru right?” wow. direct. that wasn’t a question you expected today. 

“we’re just friends,” you replied them. you could feel the heat rising on your cheeks. you had to change the topic, fast. “don’t you have a mission to get to, gojo? geto left earlier because he thought you were already waiting on him.”

“...” 

he whispered something in shoko’s ear before darting off somewhere. well, whisper isn’t really the word. you clearly heard him telling shoko to “carry on with their mission and get you to admit you liked him,” and telling him all about it later. now you’re wondering if they secretly have nights where they just spill everyone’s secrets to each other late at night when everyone else is asleep.

shoko eventually turned back to face you after watching gojo run away. she placed both her hands on your shoulders and looked at you dead in your eyes. “are you sure you don’t like him? not even a little bit?” you shook your head, and she sighed. both of you are hopeless. 

-

“so, what should we do?” shoko asked satoru as she painted his nails. “they’re beyond saving,” she continued.

the snowy haired male thought for a while before responding. “we set them up on a date.” shoko perked up at this. “you think?” “definitely.”

they lowered their voices after that, discussing how they would somehow drag the both of you to a location and ensure that you’d have a nice date and be together by the end of the day. with occasional breaks to gossip about random things and pairing teachers with shitty attitudes together, they finally came up with a plan. 

-

now, you should have noticed the signs earlier. satoru and shoko were acting weird earlier. not only had they been whispering the entire day, acting like ninjas, but they also completely dropped the topic of you and suguru liking each other, and invited the both of you to a restaurant. satoru’s treat. 

and now, you were standing in front of a restaurant waiting for all three of them. sure, you were a little early, but you didn’t expect no one else to be here. you stared at the group chat, waiting for possibly any type of text to indicate they had arrived, but nothing. 

“y/n? you’re here early.” you could have recognised that smooth voice anywhere. suguru was the second to arrive after you, and the both of you exchanged some small talk before a notification popped up on your phone.

“we’re running a little late! you two go ahead inside!” we? were they together? and they knew the both of you had arrived? suguru sighed at the message. “let’s head inside. it’s hot out here anyway.” suguru ended by extending his hand out for you to take it, and you smiled before slotting your fingers in between his. 

after the both of you were seated, you noticed something. satoru reserved a table for two people. of course he did. somehow, you’re convinced they’re both somewhere in the restaurant, disguised with newspapers and wigs (possibly contact lenses), spying on you and suguru.

another message was sent, this time to suguru. he sweatdropped as he read the message. there was an image attachment of a money transaction to his online banking account, captioned with “go get them!!”

he was going to slap satoru when he got back. 

suguru deeply sighed before putting his phone back into his pocket. “they aren’t coming. i’m guessing they’re trying to set us up.” “obviously. well, since we’re already here, might as well make the best of it?” you suggested, and he agreed. 

maybe dates set up by your friends were better. you ended up laughing with suguru, having a nice dinner… it was quite late when you left the restaurant, but you still ended up walking around with him and exchanging even more words. the walk back to your dorm rooms was mostly silent, though. walking hand in hand while the moon shone upon you, and his thumb lightly brushing over your hand, almost as if he were trying to remember the feeling of your skin because one of you would have to let go eventually. you tightened your grip on him at the thought. 

-

“y/n, angel, you aren’t usually this clingy,” suguru chuckled when you nuzzled your face into his chest. he wrapped his arms around your body, bringing you closer to him and running his hand through your hair. “everything alright?” you nodded, but your lover knew you better than that. he’d have to ask you about it again later.

“do you wanna tell them we’ve already been dating for a few months?” you asked. the both of you had decided to keep your relationship secret early on, and your friends were starting to catch up on it. you think. 

a brief moment of silence followed your question before he answered. 

“nah. they’ll figure it out eventually.”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[chuunai]

Can we get Dazai, Chuya and Fyodor with scenario 19 and prompt 13? (drabbles)

hey did you know I LOVE Chuuya Nakahara?

✧˚ · . drunken confessions - dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya, fyodor dostoevsky

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, SFW. also clingy insecure chuuya. fyodor also kinda takes advantage of you mentally/emotionally while drunk

Dazai Osamu

He somewhat planned it all out. The invitation sent to you to watch movies with him at his dorm, right next to yours. The drinks, too. Cheap cans of beer and sake that are lazily passed to you. The futon too that you two are situated on is more neat and tidy than usual with no forgotten crab legs or alcohol stains in sight. It’d be easier to confess if he had liquid courage, right? Dazai didn’t want to fuck it all up.

When he confesses this way, it’s because he can’t think of anything better. Dinner at a restaurant is nice and dandy, sure, but it’s not quite intimate enough. A letter doesn’t express the tone of how serious he is with his love for you. You’ve been with him since his days in the Mafia. You saw him at his worst, and so he wishes to give you the best.

So when you’re both slightly tipsy and giggly at the sights on the TV, he tugged at your clothes and brought you in closer, pretending to shiver and whine about the cold. Unsurprisingly, you had snuggled into him back—such an affectionate drunkard. What Dazai did next was probably purely driven by intoxication and the need to confess. Jokingly (not really), he asked if you could be with him every night to warm him up just like you did already with his heart.

Dazai nearly had a heart attack when you took so long to ultimately respond with a yes. He doesn’t waste time, already carefully maneuvering you on top of him as a pretty body pillow while he sleepily mumbled that he loved his pillow. Loves you. Sure, it was all planned out, but it worked. He’d keep you forever by his side.

Nakahara Chuuya

It’s such a total fucking accident. The whole thing was never intended to happen when Chuuya took you out for a drink after a successful mission. You were his subordinate—albeit a close one of his—and it’d be wrong to act on his feelings for you. Death is a common and accepted daily occurrence of the Port Mafia, and he doesn’t want to accidentally get you hurt or even killed because you were his partner. Even if it hurts, he doesn’t want to confess. For your safety.

Although two glasses of wine later and a guy hitting on you stirs jealousy in his mind, and the fact that you seem uncomfortable increases it by tenfold. He didn’t hesitate to walk over with a thin smile on his face, wrapping an arm around your waist and cooing in your ear that he missed his baby and if you could please dance with him—your fake boyfriend. That’s how he ended up dancing with you to the beat of the music. His eyes were glued to your lips, admiring the shape as he wished they’d cover his body in rouge lipstick.

But Chuuya Nakahara lost everyone he ever cared about. Kouyou was still here, but he doubted the world would let her stay by his side for long. The drunken urge to kiss you was pushed back by the logical side of his mind, screaming out the fact that he’d be a creep if he did that. And he didn’t want you to think he was a sleazy guy. You were his muse from afar, and he wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you.

So instead the wine in his veins opts to merely drop his head onto your shoulder and hesitantly intertwine his fingers with you. Next? He mumbles in your neck that he loves you. Loves you to the point where he’d kill everyone in the world if they dared to cross you—his heart. All he wanted was your heart, your undying love. But at the end of the day, you’re too good for him. He’s not even human, after all.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He wasn’t drunk whatsoever and capitalized on your inebriation. Fyodor was a smart man, able to read moves of his opponents and acquaintances alike. This included you, of course. He knew absolutely everything about his little mouse, from your family to your darkest secrets. It was no surprise that he discovered your deep admiration of him as well.

What was supposed to be a meeting between the two of you discussing the DoA’s plans, instead ended up into him gently coaxing you to sip at the wine he had given you. He didn’t drink himself—a man as great as himself would not taint his mind with such a poison—but merely watched as your cheeks flushed with the telltale sign of tipsiness. The scenario would’ve been baffling for any outsider. Two terrorists in a room that both have a crush on each other. How utterly perplexing and unsettling!

Once he was certain you were to be easily manipulated to whatever he wanted, he began asking more personal questions and other matters. Coyly asking if you needed to visit a doctor with how red your face was whenever you two spoke. Or when he began to poke fun at your habit of stammering when he’d appear behind you and give your head that small condescending tap. Poor, poor you who didn’t stand a chance. You were so easy to crack. The seed at the middle of it all was your confession and the way he invited you onto his lap and began stroking your hair like one might do with a beloved pet.

While he’s not entirely sure what love truly is other than the definition, Fyodor felt a deep sense of affection and responsibility for you. Nearly every ruler in history had a beloved at their side to witness the fruits of their goals, so naturally he should as well. It wasn’t like you’d leave either. He’d make sure of it and keep you with him forever until he decided to end it.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

[azrielsdove]

Just Friends: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+

***

You looked over at your friend, watching the way he threw his head back in laughter. You couldn’t help the way your gaze traveled down his face, focusing on his exposed neck. A large vein rolled up the side, teasing you to come taste. The long strands of his hair brushed over his skin and you imagined how they’d feel wrapped around your fingers. What kind of noises would he make with your lips wrapped—

He turned to you, smile wide. “Distracted by my beauty, are we?” The words were teasing, an innocent joke. You gave him a laugh in response, shaking your head at his antics. At your friend. You dug your nails into your exposed thigh, grounding yourself. Cassian was a friend. Nothing more. No matter how many nights you spent with your hands between your thighs, moaning his name.

You took a quick shot of whatever alcohol was in front of you. These thoughts needed to stop. This was just a simple night with your friends, not the time or place to allow your dirty thoughts about Cass run wild. Even if he looked particularly delectable with his shirt half unbuttoned, pants tight against his legs. You had finished to the idea of riding those thick thighs more than once, the thought causing you to take another shot.

What was wrong with you tonight?

It wasn’t smart to keep pounding alcohol, not when you were already struggling to keep your hands to yourself. It only got worse as the night began to wear down, the others retiring to bed. Cass pulled you into his side for a cuddle as he typically does, is arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on your thigh. You burned where he touched you, mindlessly drawing little circles on your skin. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. You should be embarrassed to fall apart at the barest of touches, but the overwhelming desire for your friend overshadowed all emotion.

You were too drunk for this.

You could blame exhaustion and alcohol for leaning on him, your breathing a tad too heavy. A laugh sounded next to your ear, warm breath fanning over it. “Tired, dove?”

Gods. His voice was deep, a laugh hidden in his words. You pried your eyes open and looked over at him. “Drunk, more like,” you teased back, forcing your eyes to not dip to his lips. He gave a knowing smile as he leaned in closer, nose brushing your neck. You bit your tongue to keep from moaning at the contact. Ridiculous.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked, worry written on his face. You nodded, leaning your head back against him and closing your eyes.

“That last shot was a bit too much. Trying to make the room stop spinning.” You laughed, hoping he would buy the excuse. You certainly couldn’t say ‘No Cass, I need you to fuck me right here before I combust.’ Friends don’t do things like that. Especially friends you’ve known for a few hundred years, silently lusting after for a humiliating amount of those. His fingers ceased their little circles on your thigh, hand moving to lay flat against your skin. You tried, and failed, to ignore the way his hand burned against your leg.

You sucked in a few deep breaths, calming your heated skin and racing heart. You felt like the excuse of too much drink would cover up the real meaning behind your actions. Cassian was distracted once again, conversing with Rhys about something you didn’t care to listen to. No, instead you were focused on every part of him that was touching you. Imagining his hand sliding between your thighs, his lips hot on your neck, the way he would encourage you to find your release….

Stop, you chided yourself, sitting upright and opening your eyes. This wasn’t working. You stood rather abruptly, grabbing whichever open bottle of alcohol was closest. You were aware of Cassian and Rhys staring at you, confused by your sudden movement. “I’m going to go outside, it’s a bit too warm in here,” was your mumbled excuse, darting from the room before either could respond. You rubbed your head furiously, cursing yourself as you walked to the closest balcony. Hopefully the cool night air could calm your body down, could force these thoughts out of your head.

You leaned against the railing and looked out over Velaris, drinking slowly from the bottle you had grabbed. If the cooler air wouldn’t help you, maybe drinking until you blacked out would. You stared at the sky, remembering how it feels to be flown around up there, wind whipping your hair. What would it be like if Cassian decided to take you while flying high above?

You groaned, turning and throwing the bottle at the wall behind you. Why won’t these thoughts go? You ran a shaky hand through your hair, willing your mind to relax. “Everything okay?” The voice startled you, eyes jerking up to see…Cassian. Great.

“Yea, yea everything’s fine. Sorry, the bottle uh, slipped.” You were going to jump over the balcony. He stepped closer, looking between the shattered glass and you.

“You’ve been on edge all night. Can I help?” He asked, genuine concern in his eyes. Yea, you were definitely going to jump.

“Oh no, just…thinking.” Every excuse was worse than the last. You couldn’t think straight around him normally, and whatever had come over you tonight was only making it worse. So much worse. He came right next to you, leaning against the balcony as well.

“Okay,” he said, sensing that you didn’t want to talk about what was bothering you. Fine, you could handle him standing next to you. There was nothing sensual about that, just two friends watching the stars.

His arm brushed yours.

You looked down, gauging the distance to the ground.

“Stop,” Cassian whispered, grabbing your arms and turning you to face him. “Please, talk to me.” His hands fell to your waist, tugging you closer. Fuck me, you thought, mind hazy at the simplest touch. This was a nightmare.

A delicious nightmare.

He took a deep breath and stilled. His hands on your waist tightened, pressing you flush against him. His head ducked to your neck, nose brushing your skin as he inhaled. “Oh,” he murmured, “oh.” You were frozen in place, trying desperately to not start begging him to touch you. His lips pressed against your heated skin, your eyes closing at the feeling. An embarrassingly needy noice came from you as he kissed up and down your neck, his fingers digging into your waist. This wasn’t happening.

Cassian pushed you backwards until you hit the stone wall of the balcony, his body pressing fully against you. You squirmed under his touch, gasping as you felt his hardness against you. Is this happening? He bit under your ear, a deep groan coming from him. “I have waited too long to do this.” Your mind went blank, your body arching against him. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, leaning your head back against the wall behind you.

“Cass…” you breathed out, lost in the feeling of him. He hummed against your skin, pulling away to cup your face and look into your eyes. A jolt went through you at his blown out pupils, the desire so clearly written on his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Is this okay?” He asked, tongue dipping out to trace his lips. You almost forgot to answer, too busy thinking of how that tongue would feel against your-calm yourself. You nodded, unable to get a single word out. Cassian chuckled, brining his head down to meet yours. Electricity flowed through you as his mouth connected to yours, signaling that everything was about to change.

Cassian kissed you like it was his sworn duty to worship your lips. The hand on your face slid down to your neck, angling your head up to him. His body pressed tight against you, the stone wall cool against your back. You moaned helplessly as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, biting it teasingly. Your need for his touch was growing heavier and heavier, nearly bad enough that you were ready to beg for him. His hand on your waist dipped down, fingers tracing over your bare thigh as he made his way between your legs. You pushed your hips against him, a silent plea for him to touch you. You felt him smile against your lips, fingers ghosting over your soaked underwear. “Fuck, fuck,” he cursed into your mouth, growing harder at how turned on you were. You begrudgingly pulled your lips off his, opening your mouth to beg for him when he dropped to his knees.

Oh, Mother. The sight of Cassian kneeling in front of you, his hands gripping tight to your thighs, was an image you wanted to remember forever. You had a fleeting thought of if you could get Feyre to paint this for you, or if that would be too intimate. You wanted the look on his face as he gazed up at you immortalized, blown up and hung above your bed. All thoughts eddied away as Cassian slid his fingers under the ruined lace covering you, pulling down so hard it ripped off your body. “Remind me to thank Rhys for these.” He traced the thigh-high slits that were common in Night Court fashion, moving the piece of fabric that hung between your legs to the side. You went to shoot back a witty retort about how the High Lord doesn’t pick out your clothes, cut off by Cassian sucking your clit into his mouth. You cried out, head falling back against the stone as your hands went to tangle in his hair. He groaned against you, pleased at your taste and the sounds you were making as he feasted upon you.

His fingers teased your entrance, sliding slowly inside as he continued his attack. He pulled one of your legs up and over his shoulder, allowing a deeper angle to feel you. His name fell from your lips like a sinful prayer. Cassian touched you in a way that no one else ever had. He worked you like it was his greatest honor to do so, and he would do anything to satisfy you. His fingers curled deep inside you, broken cries spilling from your lips. His teeth grazed your clit, tongue circling you in a heated dance. “Oh, Cass, i’m-“ you gasped out, feeling that familiar fire grow inside of you.

“Let go for me, please,” he said against you, keeping his movements steady. The desperation in his voice was your tipping point, the need exuding from him to see you pleasured. You gripped tightly onto the hair you had gathered in your fingers, body arching against his face and hands as your orgasm washed over you. You shook against him, mouth open in a silent scream as he continued pushing you through it, prolonging the pleasure you were feeling. He went until your body went lax, loud cries of his name like music to his ears. He pushed you a little farther, enjoying the way he had to hold your body up. He finally stopped, pulling his fingers out of you and standing back up. Your jaw dropped as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. He smirked at your blissed-out and shocked expression, leaning down to kiss you again.

“I want to fuck you, right here, right now,” he murmured against your lips, turning you around and pushing you to the balcony railing. He kissed down your neck, hands wrapping tight around your waist as he pushed against you from behind. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for far too long.” You groaned at his words, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he continued kissing your exposed skin. “I want to hear your screams echoing off the mountains around us.” His fingers dipped under your skirt again, circling your sensitive clit. You whined at his touch, desire already building in you again. “Is that okay with you?”

You pushed down against his teasing fingers, need obliterating any rational thought. “I don’t care where or how you do it, as long as you fuck me now, Cassian.” He laughed against your skin, hand dropping from between your legs. You didn’t have time to complain about the loss of his touch before his cock took over, sliding teasingly against you. Fuck, he’s huge. His tip nudged your entrance, a silent question. You shoved yourself back and down against him, a loud cry ripping from you as he plunged all the way in.

Cassian felt perfect inside of you, pausing to allow you to adjust to the sudden intrusion. Your nails dug into the railing in front of you, body pulsing around him. You pushed against him, begging him to move. He slid almost all the way out before pushing deep again, tears pricking at your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. He started up a rhythm, one hand flat against your stomach as he fucked you. “I can feel myself, fucking into you, right here,” he moaned into your ear, flexing the fingers splayed across you. You cried out his name in response, unable to form a coherent sentence. “You feel better than I ever imagined,” he groaned out, biting hard onto your shoulder as his pleasure grew.

You screamed his name as he began pounding hard into you, the echo of it playing around the mountains just as he wanted. Cassian showed no mercy in fucking you, thrusting in and out so hard you felt like you would be bruised tomorrow. His other hand wrapped around one of yours on the railing, a loving gesture that contrasted the way he was moving inside you. Your breathing grew staggered as you neared another orgasm, Cassians bites on your shoulder encouraging you. A strangled cry was all you could give as that fire-like pleasure surged through you, squeezing tight around him. Cassian came with you a moment later, spilling deep inside you like you had imagined so many times before.

He continued to push into you as you both rode out your joint pleasure, thrusts slowing to prolong the feeling. You wanted to stay here forever, Cassian deep inside of you. He pressed gentle kisses to the bite marks he left on your neck and shoulder, soothing the sting to them. “You were perfect,” he whispered, pulling out of you. You slumped against him, the arm around your waist all that kept you from falling to the ground. You heard him button his pants back up before pulling the fabric of your dress back down around you. You turned towards him, clutching onto him tightly.

“Was it real?” You asked, suddenly nervous in the wake of the moment.

He cocked his head, looking down at you. “Real?”

“Was it just a drunken fling or…is it more?” You clarified, hands nervously playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh,” he said, a smile ghosting across his lips. “What would you rather it be?”

Your fingers stilled against him, eyes looking over his face cautiously. You sucked in a deep breath, deciding it was best to be honest in this moment. “I want it to have been real. I want you to want me the same way i’ve longed for you all these years. I want to be yours, and only yours, for the rest of our days.” The words came out a rushed jumble, and you feared you said too much as Cassian just stared down at you.

His arms wrapped tight around your waist and you were spinning around the balcony before you had time to think, Cassians laughter music to the dance he was leading. “I’ve dreamed of you saying that for so long,” he said as he put you down, pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s always been you.”

You smiled up at him, pulling him down to kiss him for the hundredth time that night. Finally, after years of mutual pining, Cassian was yours.

***

Feyre and Rhys clinked their champagne glasses together, observing the scene on the balcony below them. The mutual profession of love, finally. “Do you think they will be mad when they find out?” Feyre asked nervously, eyes darting between the new couple and her mate. Rhys laughed, tucking her close to his side.

“That we slipped a rather strong aphrodisiac into their drinks? Oh, most definitely.” He smiled down at his friends again. “But something tells me they’ll be over it rather quickly.”

***

I haven’t written any Cassian smut soooooo here we go 🫣. as always let me know your thoughts and feelings <3

[jjkeremika]

AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

[aliaology]

ANYTHING || 800 followers special! <3

SUMMARY: its all just you and jack — 1.3k words

WARNINGS: slight fighting

PAIRING: jack hughes x fem hughes!

you started dating jack when you were seventeen. it was nerve racking for your teen self— especially since he was your first real relationship. not any situationship or incredibly long talking stage, but a full on labeled relationship. boyfriend and girlfriend.

no one truly believed you two would make it, not at first at least. you were the shy girl at school, the cliche smart student who sat in class and didn’t talk much, but got perfect grades. jack was the cliche jock, known for how incredibly good he was at hockey, and the fact his brother was in the NHL.

seriously, the thought of the shy girl, and athletic popular boy was one no one thought of. it really never would have happened if it wasn’t for the fact some of jack’s teammates wanted to go watch the girls volleyball game. you were in the stands, watching your best friend play; excited for spring because it would be you playing a game and her watching.

the stands were full of students, parents and staff. the game was a big one; senior night. the only open area was the row behind you in the student section. you adorned your best friends away jersey, and even had cute face paint dots of your school colors. thats when jack saw you. as he stepped up onto the stands with his team to get to the open spot, he saw your pretty smile and glasses.

of course, jack stared. he thought you were really pretty, and you looked nice as well. you didn’t have a resting bitch face, but instead a resting smile. you looked sweet. so, he took the opportunity when it arrived and moved to the (now) open seat next to you. from there, he got your number and your name.

after that small interaction, and the moment he got home, he texted you. his teeth showing as he smiled looking down at his phone, seeing the chat bubble pop up. the light illuminated his face, the texts reflecting in his eyes. you practically had him twirling his hair. he found you to be incredibly funny— and really pretty.

he found himself texting you every night, every day. and you found yourself responding each and every time. after an awfully long while of talking, you took the next step and asked him out to the movies. you bit your thumb as you texted him— worried about rejection. but the worry was wiped away when he immediately responded with a yes. he found it very attractive you made the first move.

the day of the first date was the day you had your first ever make out. sitting in his car, leaning over the center console. your hand on his neck, his hand on your cheek. you grew scared he’d stop talking to you after that night, but instead it drew him closer. he wouldn’t let you be— and you liked that.

meeting his parents was scary— especially on christmas. he met your parents on thanksgiving, that was three months after you made it official. now it was four months and it was christmas eve. you were on his porch with a few gifts in your hand— you got one for everyone in his family even after he assured you that you didn’t need to.

the door opened and jacks smiling face was the first thing you saw. you loved his smile so much— it made your lips twitched upwards. he pulled you inside and quickly introduced you to his entire family, even quinn who came back from vancouver.

you believed you won them over as soon as you handed them your gifts for them. they were small things, but ones you believed they’d like after talking long and hard to jack about it. you got fifteen year old luke the new nhl game for his xbox— one he’d been whining about wanting. you gave jim a signed bruins puck— one bobby orr signed. you wouldn’t tell him how it ruined your bank account to get.

quinn definitely liked you when he saw how you were with his brother, but he liked you more when he opened his gift to find a small golden bracelet with the number fourty three on it. ellen opened her gift to see a pretty gold necklace, with a locket. you had jack send you baby pictures, so you put one of the three boys on it. to say you made a good impression was an understatement.

they all definitely liked you then, but they really liked you when they saw the way jack looked at you. the way he looked at you as he opened his gift— eyes wide in excitement as he jumped up before hugging you— lifting you in the air. you knew he was a leafs fan, but you didn’t expect that for his reaction. you should’ve, knowing how expensive front row tickets were to these games.

when you tried to get home, jack tried to get you to stay. you were going to fight his words, but his mother insisted, so you did. you stayed for dinner. you talked to everyone, and slowly you became apart of their family. their big and happy family.

you and jack had your first major disagreement when you were both twenty. you went to school in boston, aiming to get your bachelors in physical therapy. jack was all the way in new jersey, and though not too far, you still didn’t get to see him as often.

you guys called every night, but they were becoming less frequent as he began going out with his teammates more. more clubs, more bars. you worried. so you communicated with him, you told him your worries. thats where the fighting started. after three days of no contact, you somehow found yourself in his car.

all of your stuff was in the back and you were on your way back to newark. your head was propped against the door, eyes shut. you two hadn’t truly made up, but he came and got you anyways. his hand was on your thigh, his eyes were on the road. you slept, and it stayed silent.

you officially made up when you made it to his place safely. him apologizing in more ways than one to do his best to show you there truly was no one else. you cried a lot during the talk, your head in his lap as your tears fell onto his pants. but he didn’t care, he just let you rest there, and he let you let it all out.

your favorite part of the apology was when you lied in bed with him. your bodies entwined and tangled in the sheets. your head on his chest, listening to him breathe, to his heart beating. listening to him move. his hands rubbed up and down slowly on your sides.

you didn’t want to talk. you didn’t want to talk about anyone, or anything. you just wanted to lay here.

you finally moved in with him when you were twenty-two. somehow— fifteen year old luke turned to twenty year old luke and he was there as well. you living with jack turned into your favorite thing ever. you were awoken with small kisses to your lips— and if he was one a roadie, you were awoke to kisses on the cheek by the dog you adopted with him.

you got to kiss him whenever and wherever you wanted. you got to kiss his forehead, his temple, his cheek, his lips, all of him. you got to have him. small delicate kisses to his eyes were his favorite.

his favorite thing about you living with him was also how easily you made it all feel like home. even with just the sound of your footsteps.

i love happy cute fics

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking a friend to leave because they were dysphoric?

I (34m, he/him) have been with my partner (30ftm, he/him) for 6 years, married for 4 years, and in love with him for literally as long as I can remember. We had a pretty idyllic childhood friends to lovers relationship, honestly - I grew up with him. He’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and after a lot of talking, we both decided we’re in a good enough spot now to have kids. We talked about surrogacy but my husband ultimately told me he wanted to carry our kids himself.

That was a couple of months ago. We recently found out he’s pregnant and we’ve both been over the moon. Partially to celebrate and partially just for fun, we decided to have a get together at our house and invite a bunch of our friends, and make the announcement there. Neither of us are in contact with our family so this group was the only people we planned to tell. For context, basically all our friends are also queer.

The night was great at first, we played some games and etc. When everyone sat down for dinner is when we announced the pregnancy and for the most part everyone seemed happy, but one of our friends (28nb, they/them) got up a few minutes after and excused themselves, and they seemed pretty visibly upset. My husband goes to check on them and then he comes back upset, so I go see what’s up.

Basically, they told me they “weren’t happy to have the topic of pregnancy sprung on them like that out of no where”, and the idea of another transmasc person being pregnant was making them heavily dysphoric. I’ve known this person for years and I’ve never heard them talk negatively about pregnancy, and when I asked they said something to the effect of “I don’t mind pregnancy in women, but I don’t like thinking about men being pregnant”. They’d said something similar to my husband which is why he came back upset.

I will admit, it made me kind of angry, though thinking back on it I’m not sure why. This was a big moment for my and my husband and it felt frustrating that they were making it about how they felt instead of trying to be happy for us. So I told them, pretty firmly, that if they didn’t want to hear about it then they needed to leave now, because we were going to continue to talk about it. They seemed pretty upset but they did leave and we tried to carry on the night like we planned. The next day they sent me a long text about how hurt they were being made to leave and how they felt like I “didn’t respect their boundaries regarding their dysphoria”, since we could’ve just stopped talking about pregnancy after the announcement instead of making them leave, and they apparently spent the rest of that night feeling horribly uncomfortable.

I haven’t responded and I don’t know if I plan to. I don’t want my husband to feel like him being pregnant is a taboo, and I also don’t know how we’re going to stay in contact with this friend if they’re so distraught at the concept because pregnancy is a pretty hard topic to avoid when you’re pregnant. I think asking them to leave was the right move but my husband is pretty torn up about it and wonders if maybe the whole announcement was just a bad idea. AITA?

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: none Prompt: What about the rest of the school. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Not proofread

Chapter 59: Break On Through

You stayed like that, being cuddled by your boys for some more time, just basking in the reassurance of their warmth. No one said anything for a while, but the silence seemed to be the perfect way of wrapping up the previous conversation. Eventually, you sighed and looked at the clock.x

“Do you guys think we can still make it to dinner?” 

“We can bring you some food from the kitchen,” Sirius offered. 

“You can also take my chocolate,” added Remus. “I’ve got some in my pocket.” 

“I think I’d rather have dinner at the great hall,” you said. “Besides… we still have some planning to do.” 

“What do you mean, Étoile? What planning?”

“Well, didn’t you say we would infest the school with toads back at Prong’s house?” You asked with a smirk.

Dinner went all right, the entire school knew about the fire at Rosier’s Christmas Party, but they had covered their –and in turn your– tracks very well. It was as if only a few people knew about the Dark Wizard convention that it had actually been. 

They had published a whole article about the fire, about it being caused by unforeseen causes, and about it being fierce and of dark nature, which was why they couldn’t control it. Your father took back the mention of your implication and ended up saying you ran away because you were upset over your mother’s passing, and that he would give you space. 

They’d added an “in memoriam” section in which they remembered all the deceased on the fire, which included the honourable Cygnus Black of the Noble House of Black, your mother Avis, some other wizards that you didn’t recognise but that you were pretty certain had also been dark wizards, and, of course, near the end, there was Frey and Nina Blythe. In the paper, they claimed they had both been invited to the party and that, unfortunately, they had been way too close to the origin of the fire. There was no mention of the other pile of bodies that you’d seen, but if they had all been muggles, it was no surprise. 

At the end of the paper, there was a small caption that said: The Daily Prophet sends their gratitude to Arkalis, Orion and Silas for sharing the facts with us, without them we wouldn’t have been able to tell the story of The Great Fire Of Christmas. You took the newspaper, bunched it up in a ball and threw it on the floor, you would have burned it if you didn’t hate the idea of the few eyes that weren’t on you to turn your way.

News really did fly in the wizarding world, the Slytherin table was crowded with students; everyone was trying to talk to the few who had been invited to the party, but none of them seemed to want to speak much about it. Barty was talking about his amazing vacation in Thailand, and Evan was sitting next to him with his mouth completely shut. 

Regulus, had almost jumped out of his seat when he spotted you but figured he would have instantly diverted all of the attention on his table towards you and he knew that would be a terrible idea, so instead he sent you a look, you gave him a short nod in response and he turned back to respond a question from a Hufflepuff girl that you recognised as the same who had tried to flirt with Sirius back when you were James, Zia. She wanted to know if he had seen how the fire started, and if you had actually had anything to do with it. 

“I was with her most of the night. She wasn’t even close to the ignition point,” he retorted, loud enough for her and about the other half of people loitering next to them to hear. Reggie knew there wasn’t much he could do, but making sure your name stayed out of the school gossip was something that he could manage. 

“But why did her father mention that she might have been–” the girl insisted with a pout and a rather petulant tone. 

“Don’t you think Chancellor Silas was affected by the passing of his wife while he gave that first interview?” Regulus retorted before she could even finish her sentence. “She’s my friend, and I won’t tolerate people bad-mouthing her for the words of a grief-stricken man.” 

“You’re friends with that Gryffindor?” an older Slytherin boy asked. 

“And he’s not the only one!” intervened Dorcas, her imposing glare was enough to shut him up. Solacis sent a wink her way and then turned back to the conversation he had been having with Nox. 

When Reggie joined the conversation of the two boys (that was thankfully focused on Quidditch since the Cannons were close to winning the championship) the Hufflepuff girl huffed and walked towards Evan and Barty, to see if she could get information from either of them.

You used Remus and Sirius as a shield from prying eyes until you reached your table. “Pete,” you said extending your hands when you spotted the blond and leaned in to give him a tight hug. Peter had read about Christmas in the papers and while he had been queasy, James ’ letters had been enough reassurance, (he had no idea about your fight with Sirius since eveyone had been too wrapped up in themselves to worry about the news, last thing Peter knew was that you were at the Potter’s. “How was your vacation?” 

“It was fun,” he said with a smile and leaned in to give a short hug to the two boys flaking you. “I heard you’re in on the prank now?” 

You smiled, “I’m always in on the prank. Did you finish your quest?” 

He nodded as he patted his bag, “And you two?” he asked as he nodded towards Remus and you. 

You both had a good idea of the combination of spells that you wanted to use, you had talked about it, but you had never gotten to the creating/testing part.

“Kind of,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Where are the girls?” You asked as you realized none of your other friends were there.

“They had dinner at the Three Broomsticks,” James said, they said they would stay and unpack, but Wormmy wanted dinner.” 

“I was starving!” Peter responded. “My mum wanted to put me on a stupid diet and when I got here, I was–” he looked at you and cut himself off as if what he was about to say was not apt for your ears. If only he knew you’d seen him inside the broom closet in the map, “–active, and then the elves said there would be meat pies.” 

“I guess it gives us time to plan things out,” you said as you took some bread from the table and added some butter to it. 

“We’re setting it at night, right?” James asked, looking pleased with the fact that you had walked in with Remus and Sirius, with that smile of his that screamed “I know something that the rest don’t”.

“I guess I could come over after unpacking,” you shrugged. 

“You can take my cloak,” James said with a nod, he was making himself a very thick sandwich with roast beef, lettuce, tomato and… bacon? 

Your mouth watered at the idea of that sandwich, but decided not to go ham with the meat yet (pun intended), not when you hadn’t eaten it in days, it seemed like it could make your stomach upset. You did add a few stripes of bacon to your cheese and veggie sandwich thought. You were looking for something to add as a dressing when you saw Sirius’ hand sneakily cross over to your plate and take a piece of bacon from your sandwich.

“Sirius!” you complained as he plopped the piece onto his mouth. 

“Sorry luv, there wasn’t any left on the table.” 

You scoffed, and you were about to argue again when Remus took a piece from his plate and placed it over your sandwich, you turned to him with a surprised gaze. “Rem, you don’t have to do that, Sirius and I were just–” 

“But I wanted to,” he retorted with a sneaky smile and then gave Sirius a bit of a challenging look, which had the other boy scoff. This was not a contest, but if it had been one, then Sirius was determined to win it. You were eating your sandwich when the main dish turned into dessert, and the table was filled with all sorts of cakes, muffins, scones, meringues, pies and cookies. Sirius grabbed a few of your favourite cookies and dropped them on your plate, about at the same time, Remus had seen your favourite pie, pulled it from the bunch, and placed it on your plate. 

They threw each other a look, and in between bites of your sandwich, your plate started to –rather quickly– get filled with all of the desserts you normally enjoyed (not that you ever enjoyed them all at once!).

“What’s with those two?” Peter asked as he leaned closer to James, who just shrugged. 

“Haven’t they always been a little crackers?” 

You gave James a look and he winked your way. You were on the last bite of your sandwich when Sirius added another cookie to the pile and caused it to collapse over your clothes. Your top getting filled with merengue and bits of lemon curd while Sirius looked at you in shock and Remus threw him a murderous gaze. You picked up some of the merengue and brought it to your mouth, “Whichever of you fools picked the lemon tart was actually brilliant,” you said as you savoured it. Sirius threw a satisfied “I won” sort of look at Remus who just narrowed his eyes even further. “Shame it got all over their face,” you added with a shrug, you got a confused look from Sirius before you took your already messy hand and spread its lemon curd and meringue all over his face. 

“Starshine!” he complained with a gasp, which had your smile widening. He brought his hands to his face to wipe some of the meringue from his eyes. “Ugh! You’ve even gotten it on my hair!” 

“You got it on my jumper,” you retorted diverted while you took a piece of the cookie stuck in the sleeve and plopped it to your mouth. 

“Yours? Since when?” Remus complained. He’d given it to you before you came for dinner since he noticed you were a little cold. 

“Well,” you said as you brought your hand back into the mess in the sweater, “I think it was since…” You picked up some of the meringue with your finger and then drew it towards him, but he was quicker than Sirius and grabbed your wrist in the air before it hit his face. 

“You were saying?” He asked with an amused face.

You didn’t miss the teasing “Ufffff…” that Sirius emitted from the background. 

“I was saying that,” you said as you pulled your free hand towards the dessert pile and tried to dig it into some more pie. 

“Careful, little fox,” Sirius intervened as he pulled your hand from the pile before you even managed, you huffed in response. 

“You’re no fun,” you added with a pout.

“Oh, we’re plenty fun,” Sirius said as he eyed Remus, silently communicating something. “Aren’t we Moony?” 

“Delightfully so,” the latter confirmed. 

“We’ll show you just how much,” Sirius added with a confident smile and leaned over to kiss you, making sure to have his face so close to yours that he was basically transferring your previous mischief back at you, all the while he cornered you against Remus. You were laughing and trying to push Sirius away as he kissed you. 

“Rem,” you said in between kisses, “help, I’m being attacked,” you joked. 

“But you were going to attack me, sweetheart,” he retorted, leaning to the side enough so you wouldn’t actually have an escape route. He then took a napkin and carefully wiped your finger, he had thought of licking the stuff away, and he knew that he’d fluster you if he did, but Peter was already looking at the three of you with a rather shrewd gaze, and he didn’t want to make it too obvious before either of you were ready to tell him about it. Regardless, he did lean over a little closer and whispered, just loud enough for the two of you to hear, “Besides I’m rather enjoying the view…” 

You had gotten so flustered after he said it, that you were glad Sirius had spread meringue all over your face, and was still all over you, meaning his hair was covering most of your reaction. Eventually, you gave in and kissed Sirius back, ignoring the sticky meringue and the getting lost on his lips. You were both almost propped on Remus’ lap, and you could feel his hand on your neck, a soft pressure, as it to let you know he too was there, and he was enjoying it almost as much as Sirius was. 

James, who knew about the entire drama, was actually pretty happy with the fact that you and Sirius were back together, and while he would have been the first one to complain in a normal situation, this time around he was just sneakily looking at Remus, who was trying really hard not to blush under his friend’s suggestive gaze. 

“Get a room,” Peter said after clearing his throat for the fourth time. You and Sirius burst out laughing, and he dug his head into your nack, getting even more meringue all over you. 

“Such an asshole,” you said as you pushed him off, and he just kept on laughing. 

“As if you didn’t snog Annie Doxon like that,” Remus retorted with a wink. 

“Or worse,” you muttered as you looked for a napkin. Remus heard it, and had to hold back a laugh, masking it with a short cough. He took his handkerchief and started wiping away some of the pie from your face. 

“But not in public!” Pete retorted with a scandalized tone. 

“Remus was shielding us from the public,” Sirius said with a shrug. “And the table, I mean did you see anything other than my hair?” 

Remus gave you a teasing look, a small raise of his eyebrows as the two listened to their bittering. He had his hand on your chin and was now cleaning some of the lemon curd on your left cheek. He was clearly enjoying himself.

“But we still knew!” Wormmy argued.

Their little discussion went on for a while. Remus had even finished with his –actually quite slow– wiping off your face and you were both already eating some of the treats while Sirius and Peter kept going on about the do’s and don’ts of PDA. James had actually started paying closer attention to the conversation and sometimes added points for and against their arguments.

“But listen, a small peck is fine, straight-up snogging makes it awkward!” 

“Well you could just not watch,” Sirius argued. “You couldn’t even see it.” 

“But I could hear it! I cannot imagine how awkward it must have been for poor Moony.” 

“Mmmm, yeah, totally awkward,” Remus said with a small smirk, his sole purpose was to piss Sirius off slightly.

“Shut up Moony, you enjoyed it,” Sirius said before turning back to Peter. “I mean, you could just cover your ears.” 

Remus leaned closer to you and whispered, “And he doesn’t even know how much.” You turned to him as you almost choked with your own spit. He just gave you a pleased smirk in retort.

“Or use a spell,” James suggested, oblivious to Remus’ teasing, thankfully.

“No. But you don’t get it–” Pete started, clearly exasperated. At this point, you weren’t sure if Sirius was actually in on his point, or he was just getting a kick from getting a rise out of Wormmy. 

By the time the dishes disappeared, Sirius and Peter had agreed to disagree. Sirius insisted that PDA shouldn’t be vetoed, while Peter claimed that it wasn’t about vetos, but rather about being empathic of other people. 

“They don’t want to see you snogging Vixen, it makes it awkward.” 

“Well I think they kind of enjoy it,” Sirius said with a shrug. “No one complains when people snog in movies.” 

“For Godric’s sake, this is never gonna end, is it?” Remus said. 

You grabbed a piece of chocolate and started munching on it casually as he joined the conversation. “We need to unpack, how about you continue your little snogging or not quarrel in our room.” 

“Moony that’s a terrible idea, we won’t sleep if they do,” James intervened. 

“The reason we’re not going to sleep, is actually quite different,” you added with a smile. 

“That’s what she said!” Sirius teased, you threw him a look and he returned it with a wink. 

“Perv,” you joked.

“But Vix is right, if we want our little stunt to be ready by tomorrow, we better get moving.” 

You sighed, letting your head lean on Remus’ shoulder. “I should probably unpack too.” 

“And see Lily, she was worried,” James intervened.

You picked some of the desserts that had not been squashed and placed them on a napkin so you could snack while preparing the prank (although Peter had also veered off from the rest when he claimed he’d get some more sugar from the elves). 

“See you in a bit,” you said as you stepped out of the great hall. 

James waited just until Pete was out of earshot before he spoke, “Will you tell him about your thing?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said. 

“We’re not sure when, thought,” Remus chimed. 

“We’re still figuring our thing out,�� you added.

“Yeah? And what is it?” 

“Ménage a trois,” you responded James question. “James, don’t you dare laugh!” 

“I’m sorry,” he retorted with a smirk, “It’s just, I mean, it works.” 

“Indeed,” Sirius said with a proud sort of expression. By then you had already reached the the end of the stairs. 

“Password,” the lady in the portrait sang.

“Doodledeefondling,” Remus said confidently and the lady smiled.

“Mr. Lupin. Always knowledgable.” She smiled and opened the door. “It’s nice to see the rest of you troublemakers.” 

“Troublemaker?” you said with a scoff as you turned to look at her and got softly pushed by Sirius to walk inside. “I’m not a troublemaker!” 

“You kind of are,” James said with a shrug. “You wouldn’t be a Marauder if you weren’t.” 

“But Remus gets to be–” you changed your pitch into a higher mocking one– “Always knowledgable”  –your tone went back to normal– “And I’m troublemaker?!?” 

“To me, you’re a doll,” Remus said with a shrug. You turned to him with shock for like the fifth time that night. You were not used to his flirting, even if you quite enjoyed the flips in your stomach it caused. 

James groaned. “Will I now have to deal with the three of you flirting with each other all the time?” 

“Suck it up Prongs, it’s better than when we were fighting,” you retorted. 

“Yeah, and nous sommes amoureux.” 

“That’s ‘we’re in love’,” you said as you leaned closer to Remus since you’d noticed he often felt left out when Sirius did the french thing. 

“Yeah, I got that one,” Remus said with a sneaky smile and passed his arm over your shoulder. “Seadh, tha sinn gu cinnteach ann an gaol.” 

“I’m going to convince Hope to get me a copy of that fancy dictionary of hers,” you said with a sigh. 

“Faodaidh tu feuchainn,” he retorted with a shrug.

You had promised to write Hope, and you had exchanged a few letters while you were at the Potters’, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea to actually ask her for a copy of her dictionary –you were sure Lyall would be able to make a copy of it using a simple gemino, although books were a lot harder to duplicate than most things, sometimes the text got messed up and resulted in hilarious (mostly non-sensical) text. 

“We’re going to our room,” James said as you reached the stairs, “See you later?” 

You nodded. “Try and collect all the s-bombs in one place, I’ll bring the books we talked about,” you said as you looked at Rem. He nodded in return, he was biting his bottom lip as he tried to hold back a smile. 

“We really should have seen it earlier,” Sirius said as he looked at the two of you interact. 

James, who was looking at Sirius pretty much gawking at you both nodded, “And I’m the extra blind one… Hey Vix,” he called your way, as he pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag and threw it your way, “don’t get yourself in more trouble.” 

“Can’t help it,” you said with a smirk as you caught the cloak. “Didn’t you hear Lady MacDougal? She said I’m a troublemaker…” 

“Lady McDougal?” Sirius asked with a frown.

“The Fat Lady,” Remus said as he threw him a side glance.

“She has a name?” he asked shocked.

“You thought she was Fat Lady?” you asked with a frown. 

James gulped, “Where did you two even learn that? Is it on a book?” 

“It’s not on a book,” you said with a frown. Both boys looked pretty shocked still. “Are you telling me, you’ve been living here for almost seven years and you never once thought of asking her name?”

“You did?” Sirius asked.

“Of course I did! I was not going to say ‘Good evening Fat Lady, could you please let me in?’ She would have left me outside!” 

“I just say the password,” James said with a shrug. 

“And that’s why you’re troublemakers and I’m Always knowledgable,” Remus said with a smile.

You laughed and shook your head as you started to walk up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories. Just before you lost sight of them, you turned around, “I’ll bring the Instant Darkness Powder.” 

Sirius gave you a suggestive wink and you were tempted to throw the cloak at his face, but Remus was quick to turn him around and pull him to walk the other way. At least one person has common sense in this relationship, you thought. Huh, turns out we really did need a third one in the end…

By the way, you reached your room, you hesitated at the door for a few seconds. Last time you’d seen –and talked– to any of the girls had been at the party. And while most of them believed you had been “sick” as Effie told everyone, Lily knew –thanks to James not keeping his mouth shut– that you had left his house.

 James had sent her a letter asking if you were staying with her or any of the girls (which would have been a way better idea than staying alone in Diagon, you should have thought of that before casting yourself out like you had been exiled from their lives all together). Again, James proved to have way more common sense than any of you did, surprisingly.

You took a deep breath and walked inside. “Hey, Luv!” Marlene said when she spotted you, “Was hoping to see you on the train, everything all right?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a little shocked by her casual tone, but at the same time immensely thankful. Mary came up to hug you after Marlene did. Lily was the last, a little hesitant as she looked at you and then pulled you into a very tight hug. 

“We need to talk,” she said sternly as she pulled you to her. You swallowed thickly at her words. There was a lot you had to tell her, and you were immensely glad that you still had friends who cared about you as much as James and Lily did, even if both wanted to murder you for being so stupid. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was scared.” 

“I went through a lot,” you whispered back. “But as many sad news I have to tell, there are good ones too.” 

Lily pulled back with an arched eyebrow and a hint of a smile. You nodded, and as you looked at your beautiful friend, you noticed that just behind her fiery hair there was something that you had not expected to ever see again. Sirius’ portrait of you.

Lily noticed your lost gaze and turned around, instantly seeing the picture, and then your gaze roaming all over your bed. Your things, everything you had left at your apartment (including the snake plushie from the Slytherins) were neatly placed on your bed, along with a currant-coloured envelope. 

“It was there when we got here,” Lily said. “When Marlene saw it was from Silas she was pissed, she almost burst it into flames.” 

“From Silas…” you repeated as you looked. Not quite daring to approach it just yet. “He sent my stuff back?” 

“And a gift too,” Marlene said with a rather angry tone. “If he really thinks a little something is going to atone for telling the press that you started the fire then he better–”

“Marlene–” Mary said a little sternly. “It’s not your fight.” 

“It is! It’s OUR fight, she’s our friend and if you won’t say anything against her piece of shit father then I will!” 

You smiled, you saw where both girls were coming from, their personalities shining through their thoughts almost perfectly, and you were glad to have them in your life, “It’s all right,” you said with a small smile. “I understand.” 

“Will you read it?” Mary asked as you approached the bed and took the envelope in your hands. 

Truthfully, your first thought upon seeing the envelope and the shiny red box behind it was to burn them as well –so much for not being deemed an arsonist– but you had done that to a letter before, and it had only brought you heartache. And while you didn’t expect whatever was in Silas’ letter to be nearly as revealing as Regulus’, something told you it wouldn’t be clever to get rid of it, at least not until you were ready to read it. 

“Not yet,” you said as you picked the envelope from the bed. It felt heavy in your hands, even if it wasn’t physically so, it was as if you were holding some type of weapon. You opened a drawer and shoved it to the end of it before closing it with colloportus. Not because you didn’t trust your friends, but rather because you didn’t want to accidentally open it yourself, see the letter and ruin your day. You then looked at the box, and pushed it under the bed before you allowed yourself to fall on the it with a small frown. 

“I’ll help you unpack,” Lily said as she opened your suitcase. 

“You don’t have to,” you said as you sat on the bed rather quickly. “I was just going to leave it there until I–” 

“I’m already done with my stuff, and I think the girls were going down for some refreshments.” 

“Tell me if you want it gone,” Marlene said nodding to the drawer you’d placed the letter in. “I won’t hesitate.” 

“I know,” you told her. You truly appreciated her support. 

“Good,” she said with a smile while Mary sighed. 

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “We’re going to see if Ackley has something good. I heard he brought muggle snacks.”

“Can you get us some Oreos?” Lily asked turning to Mary. “Have you tried them?” She added while turning to look at you and Marlene. Neither of you had. “Let’s hope he has some. And milk, we should get our hands on some milk.” 

“I think we can transfigure that one.” 

“We can?” Lily asked as if surprised by your suggestion. 

“I mean, I have the book, you have the expertise.” The three girls laughed after that, and Marlene and Mary left the room shortly after. 

Lily’s face quickly turned into one of concern. “What happened?” 

You took a deep breath. You weren’t sure you were ready to tell the story yet again, but you thought that perhaps skipping past the worst thing and focusing on the positive side would be a good idea, so you went with that. 

“...and now we’re all dating,” you said in the end. 

Lily was completely dumbfounded, you had sped through telling the story (especially the part in Gringotts) and she had listened to you quietly, not wanting to interrupt you at all since she was scared you’d just stop talking altogether. So she didn’t say a thing when you told her about running away from the Potters, or when you told her about the chair almost attacking you in the room. She was quiet as you mentioned Gringotts and the mirror, and she seemed truly happy when you told her you’d resolved things with the boys.

When she was sure you wouldn’t be speaking again, she pulled you into a tight hug, “My God, I’m glad you’re okay!” She said as she pulled you closer. “James said he was scared, I read about the party through your letters, and I’ve been keeping up with the newspaper, and I thought– well James was quick to reassure me, I was so happy you were staying with Remus, and then with the Potters but when you left his house, and there were news of other attacks on the Quibbler –that’s a new magazine they’re publishing, the creator graduated last year, and I knew him– I was even more scared for you! You should have sent me a letter or something you idiot!” 

“I didn’t want anybody to know where I was,” you said, “I thought I didn’t deserve it.” 

Lily sighed closing her eyes and biting her lip at your words, “Nina would have never wanted that.” 

Tears prickled your eyes after she said that. “I’m aware,” you said as you looked to the side and tried to blink them away. “She was always there, some part of her at least, and it was… protecting me, in the snow and in the mirror, she–” you bit your lip, and took in a ragged breath. 

Lily brought you back into the hug, “If I were her…” Lily started. And the worst part was, that she really could have been. She might have been older, but she was as much a muggle-born as Nina. “If I had been her, I wouldn’t blame you, I’d be protecting you too. And I think you should really continue using her wand.” 

You turned to look at it, now lying on the bed, long, thin, and certainly powerful. You would, the painful reminder of her every time you saw it would become the fuel to keep you going and to protect your friends above everything, just like she’d done.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. 

“Now, on the other subject…” she said as she pulled back while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Godcric heavens, please no,” you said as you hid your head between your hands. 

“Why not? I think it’s nice,” she said with a smile. “I mean as long as you’re actually happy with the result,” she added, looking at you attentively. 

You turned to look at her, you’d had plenty of friends before, but never someone as sweet and caring as Evans (unless you counted Remus, but he was your boyfriend now). “Trust me,” you said with as you took a deep breath. “I’m more than happy with the result.” 

“Oh, there’s a story behind that,” she said with a smile, shaking your shoulder for you to continue talking. 

“Well remember Marlene’s party? The dare?” 

Lily thought about it for a second and then straight up gasped. “Oh shut the fuck up, Sirius was into it, wasn’t he? How didn’t we figure this out sooner? We’re supposed to be the clever ones!” 

“Blinded by love,” you said with a shrug. “It’s the only way I can explain my stupidity.” 

She laughed at your words, mostly because she realised how true it was. The entire thing had started around the same time her relationship with James took off and she had been a little distracted by and with him. Not to mention he was almost always around the other marauders, which meant if everyone was interacting together, Lily wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to the rest of the boys as she would have. 

Lily helped you place some of the books from your bag in your desk (as neatly as she had accommodated hers) while you focused on putting all of your clothes back in your trunk and on some of the drawers in the wardrobe you shared with her. She was rather curious about your new relationship and she kept asking you questions about it, a few that you hadn’t even known how to respond, which had made both of you laugh merrily. 

Marlene and Mary came back while you were finishing up, their hands filled with all kinds of treats, both muggle and wizard by the looks of it. “They had Oreos!” Mary said excitedly.

“What’s that book you mentioned?” Lily asked while checking the shelf over your desk. “Is it The Transfiguration Tome: From Basics to Brilliance?” 

“No, I think it’s on Mastering... ugh…” 

“Mastering Metamorphosis: An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration?” 

“Yes! That one,” you said excitedly, and took the book when she passed it over, flipping through the pages until you found the right spell, “All we need is a jar of water…” 

On it, Marlene said as she brought it over from her bedside table. “Relashio scatere,” she whispered, and a stream of water left her wand, quickly filling the jar. She then turned to Lily with a smile, “Your turn.” 

She was reading through the spell with a small frown, “I wonder if an alteration to this one could give us something like chocolate or strawberry milk.” 

“I mean if not, we could probably figure out a spell that could.” 

Lily did the wand movements without casting the spells a couple of times before she approached the jar “Aqua vertere Lactos,” she said. The water quickly turned into white liquid. The four of you stared at it expectantly. 

“Think it worked?” Mary asked.

Lily frowned, “I’m not entirely sure, I fear I might have said something–” Marlene had already taken a gulp, and the expression she made was priceless.

“Sour milk,” she said with that same disgusted frown as she tried to shake away the taste from her tongue. “We made sour milk.” 

“Let me check,” Mary said as she pulled the book from Lily’s lap. “I think I known the problem, It’s lactis, not Lactos.” 

Marlene gave a look at the two girls, and stood up, taking the jar with sour milk and bringing it along to the bathroom. 

“It sounds the same, though,” Lily replied with a frown. 

“Is it an i or an e?” You asked.

“An I,” Mary retorted, showing you the page. 

“In Spanish, the I sounds like e, maybe it should sound like lact-es? Spanish and Latin are pretty much cousins, right?”

“Well, technically…” Lily started, Latin would be more like the mother of Spanish, but the information felt almost irrelevant at that point. “Actually, never mind, let’s try it that way,” she said in the end. 

Marlene had already returned from the bathroom, jar freshly filled and mouth still tasting slightly of that sour flavour that she found particularly distasteful. “Quick, I want to get this flavour off my mouth.” 

“Don’t pressure genius,”  Mary said as she lightly hit Marlene on the arm.

Marlene was about to retort, when Lily did the spell again “Aqua vertere Lactes.” 

The liquid, once again, turned white. Marlene looked at it, but this time she did not go straight to drink it. “Well then, try it,” Mary said as she motioned towards the jar with her head. 

“I tried it last time, it’s your turn.” 

“But I’m showing you the Oreos, it can’t be my turn!” Mary reasoned. The two girls turned to look at Lily, who seemed mortified at the idea of trying the milk. 

“I’ll do it,” you said as you took a small teacup and served yourself some of it. 

“So brave,” Marlene said dramatically as you brought the tea to your lips. 

“And?” Mary asked as you took the first gulp. 

You kept a serious face for a second, and then smiled, “Milk!” 

“Yeah?” Lily asked with a satisfied smile.

“I mean, it might be a little watered down, like Low Fat Milk, I think.” 

“Wait, really?” Marlene asked and served some herself. “Also a little like Mooncalf milk,” she added.

“Shit, that’s right!” you retorted after taking another sip. “It’s pretty much like Mooncalf milk.” 

“Mooncalf milk?” Mary asked with a small frown, “Those things have milk?” 

“Yeah,” you responded. “Pretty delicious, it’s good on potions too, though a little expensive since they aren’t all that easy to milk.”

“I’ve heard they use it on sleeping draughts and a Valerian Spring tea with some of that will for sure knock you out. My nan used to make it for me and Margo when we had nightmares.” 

“Right, mine did that too, although she never used Valerian Spring, she used Lavender,” you retorted. 

“Weirdos,” Mary said as she looked at Lily, they had both also served themselves a cup and were hesitant to taste it. Lily was the first one, and nodded, it did taste like low-fat milk, and she assumed the “mooncalf” taste that you and Marlene found had to do with the tinge of sweetness near the end.

“It’s good, try it,” Lily said as she nodded towards Marlene who was still looking at the milk like it had come from outer space. She eventually did take a sip and seemed pretty satisfied with the taste as well. 

“It’s like the milk left after you’ve eaten all the Frosties,” she said towards Lily who nodded.

“What’s that?” Marlene asked.

“Muggle cereal,” you retorted. You had tried it on a muggle hotel once. Silas had encouraged you to try all the interesting muggle food in the buffet. He’d mentioned something about broadening your horizons outside of the Wizarding World. You wondered how someone like him could be both open to the world and a complete bastard at the same time. “So what’s with the Oris?” 

“Oreos,” Mary corrected and pulled out a white and blue box with a little yellow “One Pound Size” label at the top, and the name OREO in capital letters with a small dot at the end. 

“Oh, they look like Bourbon Biscuits.” 

“They don’t have bourbon,” Mary said as she opened the box and laid them out in front of you. 

“Well that makes them less cool than Bourbon biscuits,” Marlene said with a pout. 

“Shut it,” Mary said and handed over a small plastic bag with round sandwich cookies on the inside, “Only they could compare Oreos to Burbon Biscuits,” Mary said almost exasperated. 

Marlene pouted playfully and opened the bag. Lily took a cookie and held it in her hands. “Okay, hear me out, this is how you eat them,” she said before splitting the cookie, licking the inside, putting it back together and dipping it in the milk. 

“Why?” asked Marlene with a frown. 

“Why?” asked Mary, almost scandalised. “Have I ever asked you why you always put on your left sock before the right one? It’s just because!” 

“But is it a rule? Like on the package or something?” You asked next. 

“It’s in the commercials!” Lily said, taking the cookie out of her milk, shaking it a little and bringing it to her mouth. Once she swallowed her first bite she seemed genuinely satisfied. “You gotta savour it.” 

You shrugged, and muttered a small “well then,” before you took a cookie from the bag and followed Lily’s instructions. The filling didn’t taste like much, but the cookie did become pretty soft once you dipped it in the milk, which you thought was nice. Even after you accidentally left it on the milk for too long and it got so soft that it broke inside your cup. 

“What the–” you said. Marlene seemed just as puzzled when hers did the same.

“What?” Asked Mary.

“It broke,” Marlene retorted, trying to fish hers out with her wand.

“Ah, right,” Lily said right after swallowing her cookie. “They are not charmed against getting soggy like wizard biscuits.” 

“That’s so weird,” Marlene said as she managed to levitate the soggy cookie and brought it to her mouth, “and mushy,” she added with her mouth full.

Both Lily and Mary laughed, while you attempted to fish the cookie with a small teaspoon. 

Mary had also brought some other snacks and you all enjoyed a pretty delicious and fun “Welcome Back” feast of sweets. They had brought other muggle stuff like Walkers Crisps, Flying Saucers, Nice Biscuits and Jammie Doggers. The latter of  whichLily seemed to like a lot and neither of you skipped the chance to tease her about. See, Jammie, was just a letter away from Jamie, and when Marlene said: “Don’t eat James yet!” you all bursted out into a laugh.

Lily froze as you said that, completely confused by her words when Marlene pointed at the packaging of the cookies. She did say it was Jammie as in Jam, not as in Jamie, but not even Mary cared about the technicalities and continued teasing her about it.

 They had also gotten a few Aero bars, and you asked to keep one after tasting them. You weren’t sure if Remus had tired them but you thought they were pretty interesting with their bubbly texture and whatnot, and since Rem had always been a fan of chocolate –or chocolate connoisseur, as Sirius called him–  you thought it would be nice to take some for him. 

“I’m so full,” Marlene said as she allowed herself to fall back on the floor. “I might not sleep today.” 

“As if,” Mary laughed. “You sleep like a log!” Marlene just answered with a disgruntled groan. 

“Shall we fix this up?” Lily asked as she waved her wand over it. The wrappers went straight to the trash while the leftover treats neatly accommodated themselves in a box that Marlene kept under her bed.

“So talented,” you said with a yawn as you looked at her dreamily, she pushed you by the shoulder playfully after that. 

“I swear, you two would make a fantastic couple,” Mary said. “If only you weren’t dating two idiots.” 

You were about to defend both of your boys when Lily answered for you, “But they’re lovely!” You ended up laughing after that. Not because you didn’t think they were, but because she didn’t even bother to correct her. “Besides, like Holden is any better!” Marlene gasped at that and threw a small cushion on Lily’s face. “Oi,” the latter complained.

Mary yawned after that, “Let’s just sleep!” She said, almost a little petulantly, her yawn had been so contagious you followed right up –not that you could actually sleep.

Marlene pulled the box from the floor as she stood up and left it under her bed before walking to the bathroom, washing her teeth and dropping on the bed. “Are you sleeping here?” Lily asked, almost in a whisper.

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight,” you replied honestly. She gasped, eyes wide at the implication that. “It’s not like that!” you rushed out. “We’re planning something.” 

“Is it like… Marauders' business?” 

“I’ll absolve you of blame by keeping you in the dark,” you retorted. Mary was still in the bathroom, wrapping her hair carefully like she did all the time before bed. It was the only way in which her curls would look as wonderful as always in the morning. Not to mention the potion she had already become a master at brewing. 

Lily sighed, “I think Severus is on perfect duty tonight, you should be careful.”  

You smiled, “Thank you,” you said. “Not just for this. For everything.” 

“It’s what friends are for,” she replied with a smile and a small shrug. “Anything I should know? Things like bringing an umbrella, making sure my clock is set at the right time, staying away from a certain classroom–” 

“You like toads?” you asked.

“Only the chocolate ones,” she replied. 

You nodded, “Then maybe… don’t leave the room at all,” you responded with a mischievous air and she gasped. 

Your full name was uttered in the most cheerful tone you had ever heard, followed by a simple “...what the hell are you planning?” 

“Shhhh!” you retorted. “Marlene is asleep.” 

“Marlene’s asleep my ass,” she retorted in a hushed tone. “How could you even consider–” 

“Evans, stay out of it or I’ll tell James about your dream with him,” you said while raising an eyebrow. 

She gasped, “You wouldn’t dare.” 

You really wouldn’t dare. But instead, you leaned your head down and narrowed your eyes, “Wouldn’t I?” 

She huffed in return, and stood up, walking towards her bed. “Hope you get caught.” 

“You don’t, not really,” you retorted with a teasing smile when you noticed the little shake of her shoulders, she was laughing. 

“You better keep them away from me,” she retorted. 

“I’ll try,” you said after she walked into the bathroom. 

“Keep what away from her?” Mary asked as she stepped out and walked inside the room.

“You’ll see tomorrow,” you retorted with a mischief-filled smile.

Glossarie: Seadh, tha sinn gu cinnteach ann an gaol - Yeah, we’re definitely in love nous sommes amoureux - we’re in love Faodaidh tu feuchainn - you can try

BONUS CONTENT

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[moonlightisdancing]

Grapefruit Juice/j.m.k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ jealousy, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom josh/sub reader, food play, a little bit of discipline & cockwarming if you squint, mocking/teasing, praisepraisepraise

as always pls lmk if any tags are missed

a/n: this one’s been brewing since this picture dropped… sorry to keep it for so long…

——————🧡——————

“I don’t like that you do that.” You huff, throwing yourself into a chair opposite of where Josh’s sitting.

“What’s the matter? Jealous?” He smirks, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

“No! Just- what if you get sick or something? It’s not always about jealousy, Josh.”

“Seems to me like you’re pretty jealous. Maybe I should bring one of those girls back here instead.”

“What do you mean?” You know what he means, you were more giving him a chance to fix his statement than you were asking for clarification.

“I mean I came back here, ready to fuck my girl after a long show, and she’s bitching because I kissed a couple fans. But those fans,” He leans forward while waving his hand towards the door of the green room. “They’d be glad to watch me touch myself, let alone be the one doing it.”

“Then do it.” If he wants to play games, you’ll play, too. You knew he wouldn’t actually bring someone backstage, especially for sex, it was more risky than a kiss. Josh sighs and stands from the couch before making his way to the door.

“Yeah? And make you watch?” A tinge of jealousy resurfaces as you watch him slowly wrap his fingers around the door handle. He looks back at you, almost waiting for you to protest his actions, but you don’t. No matter how much jealousy boils inside, you won’t let him win. Gripping the arm rests with your hands, you begin pushing yourself out of the chair.

“Aht, sit and stay.” Josh glares at you with a hint of annoyance, his coffee brown eyes warning you to obey him.

The worst part is you did obey him.

Sitting and wallowing in your shame, you wait for what feels like forever before Josh returns. His presence lingers behind the door, his voice low as he speaks to someone. When a female voice responds, all sense of security is ripped from you. The door handle rustles before finally opening, Josh peeking his head through the gap.

“Look at you, all obedient and shit,” He quips, staring deep into your soul as he brings the rest of his body inside the room, shutting the door behind him. He changed and returned with… A grapefruit? Josh is wearing his usual outfit, those damned khaki pants and a white t-shirt he somehow always kept white. He barely removed his makeup, remnants of black eyeliner smeared across his lower lash line. Your eyes can’t stop watching as he tosses the grapefruit in his hand, effortlessly catching it each time.

Josh makes his way to the couch in silence, leaning back into the cushions as he continues staring at you. He was playing a game, granted you weren’t sure what kind. Josh digs his thumbs into the top of the grapefruit, and just when you think he’d start peeling it, he turns it around and presses his thumbs into the other side. You inch yourself forward on the chair, trying your best to understand what the hell he’s doing. While he continues with the silence, working his fingers into the fruit, you decide to keep the game going.

“So where’s the lucky girl?” You chide, and disregarding the length of your skirt you cross one leg over the other. Josh’s eyes can’t help but meet your lace covered core as you catch him biting his lip.

“Oh, she’s right in front of me,” He sighs, licking the grapefruit juice off his thumbs before adjusting himself on the couch. “Except I wouldn’t call her lucky.”

The sight of his thumbs tucked between his pretty lips drives you mad. Oh how you wish it was your mouth he shoved his fingers into until you gagged on the flavor.

“Yeah? And why is that?”

“Because you’re not allowed to touch me, only watch.” His free hand reaches down and begins undoing the zipper and button to his pants, he isn’t wearing underwear allowing his thick cock to be instantly on display. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, and quickly fall at the remembrance of his words.

Not allowed to touch.

But you were instructed to watch, so you do. Your eyes fix on his hands fiddling the grapefruit and only then did you put the pieces together. Josh’s left hand slowly inches down his torso until his cock is settled in his palm, his right hand bringing the grapefruit to his tip. Josh winces at the feeling of the cold citrusy juice dripping down his length onto his pelvis. All you want is to lick him clean as the juice continues spilling onto his tan skin. Each painfully slow flick of his wrist makes more of a mess both of him and you, a warm slick pooling at your core. Desperate for any sort of contact, you squeeze your crossed legs tighter together and roll your hips.

“Shame you’ve been such a brat, wish your pussy was making a mess instead…” Josh furrows his brows as he works the deep pink fruity flesh over his shaft, careful not to make too much of a mess on the white couch below him.

“Please?” You desperately whine at the thought of him inside of you.

“I don’t think so. Sit back for me, mamas.” He gestures with his left hand, his right still slowly working the grapefruit over his cock. You follow his instructions, uncrossing your legs to sit back against the chair.

“Go ahead, touch yourself for me.” Josh instructs, his pace growing slower.

You reach your hands down and pull your panties to the side, running your fingers through your velvety folds. He hums in approval as you begin working your fingers over your bud. Having him so close yet so far away is punishment in and of itself, but your inability to get off on your own is just as bad. You watch his cock stretch the grapefruit, fucking the insides into a pulpy mess only wishing that were you. In a desperate attempt to feel any semblance of him inside, you dip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, trying to curl them the way he does. Josh raises his eyebrows and watches you in amusement, shaking his head back and forth.

“Josh…” You mewled, eyes silently begging him for more.

“You make it so hard to be mad at you,” He sighs again and stops jerking himself off, calling you over with two fingers.

You lower your legs to the ground before bringing yourself to the edge of the chair and ultimately to your knees, crawling across the floor until you kneeled between his legs. Waiting for instructions, your eyes remain fixed on the grapefruit resting at the base of his cock. Josh slowly works the citrus up his length again, hissing at the feeling as it engulfed his tip, popping off the top with a lewd sound that echoes against the walls.

“See that?” He asks in a deep, sultry voice, gesturing to the fruit induced mess at the base of his cock.

“Mhm...” You hum and nod.

“Clean it up.”

You begin reaching your hand up, and when your fingers barely wrap around his shaft, he slaps your hand and grabs your wrist.

“Did I tell you to touch me?” He scoffs, tossing your arm to the ground.

“Well, how am I-”

“How am I?” He mocks, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips. “You’re allowed to use your tongue, that’s it. Now clean it up.”

With the sting of his touch fresh on your hand, you’re much more mindful of where your hands rest as you begin licking his skin clean. You aren’t typically one for grapefruit, but Josh makes it your favorite flavor. You lap at and slurp the tangy juice and pulp, dragging your tongue across every inch of his pelvis and cock until nothing remains on his skin. Josh nods as you hover your mouth over his leaking tip, giving you permission to feed his shaft into your mouth.

You are careful, mindful and gentle with each passing of your tongue over his delicate skin, grateful he’s allowing you to touch him so much. Hesitantly, you bring one hand up and press it against his balls, softly rolling them in your palm. It’s not long before precum leaks from his tip, quickly followed by his hot release as he begins fucking your throat. Stinging in the back of your throat is present accompanied by tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as his cum spills down your throat.

“Such a good girl, swallow for me.” He encourages.

At the conclusion of your task, Josh brings his hand to cradle your face, wiping your tears before trailing his thumb down to trace your bottom lip.

“You want a treat?” Josh asks almost condescendingly, but you know he means well.

You nod your head yes and his other hand meets your lips with a wedge of grapefruit tucked between his thumb and index, gently pushing the sticky fruit into your mouth. Josh continues pushing pieces of tangy goodness onto your tongue, praising you when each piece was swallowed.

“So pretty when your mouth’s full, mamas.”

“Thank you,” You blush, turning into his palm. It’s amazing how even in these moments he remains sweet as can be.

“C’mere,” Josh helps you to your feet, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to guide you over his waist. His fingertips knead your skin, lips working over the bit of cleavage your tank top allows. Josh’s hands inch up until they meet your panties, tugging them to the side with fervor. He reaches his hand further between your thighs until ultimately giving you what you want, his fingers buried deep inside. You fight the urge to grasp onto his shoulders as you follow his instructions, instead digging your nails into your own thighs.

Not allowed to touch.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” Josh’s breath hitches in his throat as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. The only thing you want more in this moment is to sink down onto his length and feel him the closest way you can. Sensing your desire, he removes his fingers and places his hands on your hips, pushing you down onto his cock. Still unsure if you can touch him, you grip the edges of your skirt instead, your knuckles turning white with pleasure.

Josh holds you down on his cock as he begins kissing up your neck, sending chill bumps across your skin and drawing a whine from your lips. You could feel the heat creeping across your chest and cheeks as his teeth grazed your earlobe.

“You can touch me now,” Josh mumbled into your skin. It’s a matter of seconds before your fingers find themselves tangled in his hair, tugging handfuls at the base as he gently starts to fuck into your aching pussy.

Josh’s hands travel from your hips to laying flat across your back before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. Each thrust is intentional and melodic in its own way, the unusual angle hitting new spots neither of you knew about. Josh’s forehead becomes coated in a thin sheen of sweat pressed against your chest as his lips leave marks across your breasts.

Your head falls forward, cheek resting against Josh’s curly mess of hair as your arms wrap around his head and neck. The two of you find a rhythm that works, switching between lifting your hips and slamming them down to match his movements and grinding your clit against his pelvis. You pull his hair enough to bring his head back, exposing his lips to the cool air of the room. His chin is wet in a delicious combination of sweat and saliva from the open mouth kissing across your breasts, but that doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his to taste him. He tastes sweet, salty and desperate in all of the right ways.

Passion and pleasure washes the two of you as you both come undone in one anothers grasp, the unraveling threads intertwining and sewing you together. Soft uh’s and both your names fill the air as you tighten around Josh’s length, ultimately aiding in his warm release pouring into you. You think of the way his pretty pink cock looked tearing through the grapefruit, thankful that you got to feel the stretch he previously only let you watch from across the room.

The two of you lay together, Josh’s softening dick still buried inside your throbbing cunt. Even without being hard, he fills you perfectly. Tired kisses are exchanged alongside a mumbled mix of I love you’s and other domestic thoughts before he clears his throat and speaks.

“You done being jealous now?” Josh chides, smirking against your lips.

“M’not jealous.” You groaned.

“S’okay if you are, you’re still my baby.”