#I'm still taking prompts from this list <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[inkedinshadows]

Helloooo hope you’re doing well 💝💗

I was wondering if you can write for azriel ( from the prompt list) 2 and 4? I think it would be such a cute idea, and you would write it so well (love u)

thanks for ur time!! 💝💝

Life's Bright Side

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: I love u too anon, I'm doing well and I hope you are too 🫶🏻 I had so much fun writing this one and it didn't even take me that long bc one thing about me is that I'm a sucker for slice of life 🤭

Prompts: "Baby, I love you, but please go to bed."* + "You're always so cheerful... it's kind of adorable."

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word count: 1.1k

*had to change it to "go to sleep", hope you don't mind <3

Azriel had never understood how you did it.

Your day had been a long one. He hated the Court of Nightmares, but more than that, he loathed seeing you in such a place. His bubbly, chirpy mate didn't belong among those cruel, scheming people.

Yet you never let the occasional visits bother you. While he returned from the Hewn City brooding and in a foul mood, you were the opposite.

He watched as you danced through the room, the dim light catching on the sparkly black dress you were still wearing. You were softly humming a melody to yourself, a simple tune you had picked up yesterday while strolling along the Sidra with him.

A small smile tugged at Azriel’s lips. Even without trying, you always managed to lift his spirits. His shadows were already swaying in time with your song.

He remained silent as he undressed, listening as your humming turned into quiet singing—whispered words he couldn't quite make out, but he was fairly sure you were making them up as you went.

When he looked back up after pulling on his sleeping clothes, your dress had been exchanged for a nightgown and you were perched at the vanity table to remove your makeup. One leg crossed over the other, your foot bounced in time with your tune.

“How do you do that?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, a small smile forming as you wiped the cotton pad over one eye. “Do what?”

Azriel shrugged, stepping up behind you just as you stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re always so cheerful,” he murmured, meeting your gaze in the mirror again. His lips quirked. “It’s kind of adorable.”

You chuckled before turning in his arms. “Life's too short to be grumpy and pessimistic.” Pressing a kiss to his lips, you added, “You should try it sometimes, my love.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He leaned down to stop your teasing with another kiss, but you slipped out of his grasp and padded toward the bathroom.

“Baby, you're immortal,” he pointed out, following you to lean against the doorframe while you washed your face. “How is life too short?”

“Well, it's not,” you conceded, turning off the faucet. Azriel waited patiently as you dried your face before you continued. “But maybe tomorrow a vase will fall from a balcony while I'm walking underneath it, hit me in the head, and kill me instantly.”

Azriel raised a brow.

“What?” you said with a smile. “You never know. Just because it's unlikely doesn't mean it's impossible.”

He shook his head, but he couldn't stop the slow smile forming on his face. “I'm beginning to think you're crazy. Not cheerful, just straight-up crazy.”

“And it took you this long to figure that out?” You grinned, patting his arm as you tried to slip past him.

Tried, because Azriel caught you before you could, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. A sound that was both a laugh and a yelp escaped you as he lifted you without warning.

“Listen,” you tried to defend yourself, though it was hard to speak between fits of laughter. “All I'm saying is that everything has a bright side. We just have to look for it.”

Azriel carried you to the bed, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. Gently, he lowered you onto the mattress and leaned over you.

“Oh yeah?” he mused. “So what's the bright side of a vase falling on your head?”

You shoot him an incredulous look. “It made you laugh,” you said simply. “You picked me up and carried me to bed. And now you're on top of me. It’s my favorite position, I'll remind you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle skittered along your skin. “This is not your favorite position, my love.”

You grinned. “You know me so well.”

With a shake of his head, he shifted off you and lay beside you, pulling the blankets over you both as you reached to turn off the lights.

In the dark, you nestled close to him. Your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you, and you reached down to intertwine your fingers with his. Your thumb traced slow, idle circles over the back of his hand.

“Did it work though?” you whispered into the quiet. “Did I get your mind off the Hewn City?”

Azriel breathed in the delicate scent of your shampoo as he brushed a kiss to your shoulder. “You did. Thank you, my love.”

“I could always give you something else to think about if you need it,” you suggested.

He didn't, actually. But something in your tone—the slight note of amusement, perhaps—made him question what you were up to.

“Is it going to be another one of your ridiculous questions?”

He could picture your smile as you replied, “Maybe. Do you want to hear it?”

Azriel took a deep breath, knowing he would regret it but still curious to find out what you'd come up with this time. “Let's hear it.”

You didn't answer right away. He felt you squirm slightly in his arms and realized you were trying to stifle your giggles. When you finally settled enough to speak, your voice was so pensive that Azriel braced himself.

“If you wake up tomorrow,” you began, “and find out I've been turned into a giant spider, what would you do?”

Azriel sighed. This was his fault, after all. He had encouraged you.

“That's even worse than the last one,” he muttered.

“You said I would make a lovely worm.” You hummed. “But what about a huge spider? Or wait, even better, a Middengard Wyrm?”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. “Baby, I love you, but please go to sleep,” he murmured, though his lips betrayed him with a faint smile.

Your soft laugh echoed in the silence. “Alright, alright,” you conceded. Azriel thought that was it, until you added, “The question is trickier and you need to think about it. I get it. You can tell me the answer in the morning.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his smile was now impossible to hide. You felt it against your skin as he kissed the nape of your neck.

If entertaining your nonsense questions before falling asleep was the price he had to pay to be with you, then he'd gladly endure them again and again just to spend another night by your side.

It was just like you'd said. Everything had a bright side if only he looked for it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Femslash February Day 3! Mountain wingmanning at a lesbian bar (his greenhouse) (Sfw!)

Ok look, I don't know how many consecutive days of writing and posting I have in me. But I'm going to try my hardest to get so much Femslash out this month. I'm not following any set prompt or challenge list. Just my heart. And my pu-

"I need help." Mist says. 

Mountain sets down his carefully trimmed bonsai and looks at her over the rim of his glasses. She's fresh from the lake, with clothes sopping wet from being tugged on right away. Her fingers twist around a tarnished old pendant (skull, eyes set with emeralds). And, most intriguingly, the barest hint of a blush on the apples of her cheeks.

(And slung over her shoulders what is quite possibly the largest pike he's ever seen in an impressive display of prowess but that is neither here nor there. She's not asking for help with the fish.)

"I understand." Mountain replies, having seen that same look on Aether after he met Dew. 

"There was an Air sunning herself on the dock," Mist says. "I've seen her around but I don't know her name."

“What did she look like?” He asks patiently. Cirrus had a fondness for hellebore and datura, but she was usually practicing keyboard with Zephyr this time of day. He glances at a pot of white lilies and nods to himself, even before Mist tells him.

“Big.” Mist says. “Big body, big poofy hair, big sunglasses. I think I splashed her when I jumped out of the water.”

It's the most flustered he’s ever seen her, the way she paces back and forth, trailing her hand in a tub of water lilies.

"I had the fish. In my mouth. When I jumped up on the dock. And I scared her. And I didn't apologize cause my mouth was full of fish. I just walked away and acted like nothing was out of the ordinary."

“Joe cool.” He says suavely and earns a flat glare. He meets it with his own carefully blank face until Mist rolls her eyes and flicks water at him.

“I know her.” He says as an olive branch. “Cumulus. She'll be a backing vocalist and keyboardist on our next tour. Real sweet.”

“Is she the type to be bothered by how I acted?” Is Mist’s next question and Mountain thinks about it. Plenty of ghouls became “domesticated” once they were up top, vastly preferring the convenience of Abbey kitchens and a set menu to a more traditionalist approach like Mist enjoys taking.  From what he's seen, Cumulus had adored the luxuries of the Topside like bubble baths and ice cream. But she still politely asked to have raw meat whenever she ate in the cafeteria. She enjoyed organs and eyeballs, cutting daintily into her meal and chewing methodically before swallowing.

He spares a glance at the pike. It's a decent size, almost as tall as Mist’s scant five feet and from the looks of it, hadn't gone down without a fight. It might be good sliced into fillets with lemon pepper and celery salt. He doesn't think Cumulus has tried raw fish yet.

“You’ll be fine.” He says. “So. Let’s start with the focus of the bouquet.”

“Don’t you start with that flower language.” Mist warns him. “I think it’s ridiculous. I just want something pretty for her to look at without any second meanings for her to guess. I don’t like codes.”

“Alright.” Mountain says, humoring her. “So, lets just start with flowers that remind you of her. Take a look at what calls you.”

Mist beelines for the lilies and Mountain smiles to himself. Mist isn't the type to be sentimental and he hardly expects her to verbalize her thought process. It would be more practical than poetic anyway because that's just how she was. He just guesses and watches and waits while she goes from flower to flower, brow furrowed in thought. 

“I like these.” She says about a pot of bullthistle he’s been nurturing from seed. It's on it's second year and growing tall, fine shoots that promise to bear nasty, thorny leaves. He's got an idea about how the species might be used to strengthen the borders of the abbey but he's worried about how fast it spreads. So it sits, with its purple crowns atop tiny thorny heads. 

“Thank you.” Mountain says. “For the bouquet or just to admire?”

“Just to admire.” Mist admits. Shifting her weight to still keep ahold of the pike, she thrusts her bouquet before him for inspection. Dominated by the lilies, she's added sprigs of lavender and fat peonies. Ferns have been tucked here and there to break up the flowers and Mountain gives her a silent thumbs up. There's no doubt Cumulus will love it.

"Thank you." Mist says gratefully. “I…I really appreciate it, Mountain.”

“Go get’em tiger.” He says as she nods to herself and heads out to find her girl, toting a gorgeous bouquet and her freshly slaughtered kill.

And no sooner do her footsteps fade when Mountain picks up another pair heading to the back of the greenhouse.

"I'm sorry." He says to the bonsai. "We're just doomed to always have interruptions in our alone time, it would seem."

The bonsai forgives him. It was a patient tree. It could wait a little longer.

"Mountain?" Comes Cumulus' frantic voice. "Mountain, you have to help me."

She bursts into the greenhouse, a gorgeous mess of floppy curls and chiffon as she presses her hands to her rosy cheeks. Her sunglasses are askew, her hat is about to fall off and he's never seen her so far from neatly put-together in her entire time with them.

"There was a water Ghoulette." She begins softly. "Caught the biggest fish I've ever seen. So stoic! Such a huntress!  Mountain, I think I'm in love."

"I understand." He says soothingly. "Why don't you take a look at those water lilies while I grab some thistle? Wouldn't want you hurting your hands."

[ravendruid]

hello! Can i please request — playing with the other’s hair while they sleep for vaxleth! thank you!!

HI! Thank you so much for the prompt! Here you go, I hope you like it <3 This drabble is set during the night in C1E42. Playing With The Other's Hair While They Sleep

Keyleth woke up with a start, bolting upright on the bed as her heart raced in her chest. It was just a dream, everything is fine. She told herself, hoping it would help calm her breath. She had dreamed that four dragons had attacked Emon, one of them the largest, most powerful red dragon she had ever seen. In her dream, countless people had died from the attack, some at the gates of Greyskull Keep. It was just a dream. She repeated to herself, but something felt weird. 

The first thing she noticed out of place was that she was not sitting on a comfortable mattress but on an alternative bed made from thin blankets. The second thing, which made her heart race again, was that she was not alone. A lithe half-elf was sprawled out at her side on his stomach, one leg bent upwards, a restful face turned in her direction, and his hair spread out on her pillow. Keyleth’s heart jumped at the sight of his bare back, the burned mark of her hand between his shoulder blades, and tears started falling down her cheeks. It wasn’t a dream.

Sudden bile rose from her stomach, and Keyleth barely had time to get up and reach a wooden bucket that had been forgotten in her bedroom. She wiped the corners of her mouth and crossed the room to peer out the window. Catha was still high in the skies, illuminating the barren fields outside of the keep, the ones that still stood unburned, and, from Emon, she could see a faint glow of red-ish lights that she assumed were fires that hadn’t been put out yet. It wasn’t a dream. Her legs faltered as she looked over her shoulder to the rogue, still sleeping peacefully. Keyleth had half a mind to wake him from his slumber, but Vax had been exhausted – and so had she – and she did not dare to wake him for a stupid reason such as this.

I wish it were a dream. Keyleth hugged her stomach, her gaze still lost in the landscape below. Ire filled her blood, sorrow for the lives she could not protect crushed her heart, and revenge boiled within her as she glared at the hill where once the Palace had been erected, now completely razed. You can’t let them win. This is what they want. Keyleth closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. Turning her back to the window and the desolation outside, her heart warmed again at the sight of Vax, who had crawled closer to the middle of their makeshift bed, no doubt in search of her warmth.

Keyleth laid back down on her side, facing him, she wiggled as close to Vax as she could without waking him up, and when her limbs were decently entangled with his, she brought one hand to his soft, dark hair and tucked a mesh behind his ear. He isn’t a dream. He is real. Keyleth kissed his brow and let her forehead lean against his as her hands combed his hair.

“You okay?” Vax’s rough voice was barely a whisper.

“Mhm. Go back to sleep,” Keyleth replied in an equally hushed tone. Vax gave a soft nod and shifted so his body was pressed against her, laying his head on her chest. Keyleth couldn’t help but smile at how tight he held on to her, at how big his smile was as if there weren’t dragons out there, killing people and destroying cities. She kept playing with his hair – it was the most soothing thing ever – interchanging from combing her fingers to wrapping them in his locks, and, eventually, sleep found her again.

Keyleth didn’t dream of dragons anymore that night. She didn’t dream of fire, death, or pain. Instead, she dreamt of Vax, smiling big at her, holding her in his arms as they sat atop a hill overlooking Zephrah. She dreamed of her village full of color and cheer, of the lives of countless half-elves and halflings she would lead one day. Keyleth dreamed of love and happiness, and when she woke up the next morning, still entangled in Vax’s embrace, the memories of dragons from the day before were the last things on her mind.

[johnslittlespoon]

omg it was so hard to pick butttt could i request 1 and 2 from the smut dialogue list (list 3) with buck and bucky!

prompts | "i want to hear you beg" + "arch your back for me" + playing around with smth a little different for their dynamic <33 ~800 words of filth below the cut >:-) this was so much fun ahh thx sm for the request!!

“Oh, baby,” John rumbles appreciatively, sitting back to get a good look at Gale while he rolls his hips languidly into him. “Look at you.”

Golden hair frames Gale’s head on the pillow like a halo, blue eyes half hidden by heavy eyelids, doll–like lashes fluttering each time John sinks his cock in deeper. Messy love bites mark a trail south, scattered across his chest and stomach and increasing in numbers where angular hip bones and soft thighs had just begged for John’s teeth to make themselves at home.

Gale rocks his hips down, dragging his kiss–bitten bottom lip between his teeth to muffle a needy little noise as John’s eyes rake over him. That just won’t do.

John stills, wrapping firm hands around Gale’s thighs where they drape over his own, squeezing gently.

“Keep going,” Gale breathes out, eyebrows knit together in frustration, still trying to fuck himself on John’s cock.

John purrs out a laugh, heart twisting in his chest at the glare Gale shoots him; it’s hard to look intimidating when he’s laid out pliant and pretty and cock–drunk beneath him, but John doesn’t tell him so. He just snaps his hips forward once, watching with satisfaction when the scowl leaps off of Gale’s face as flushed lips fall open to let out a gasp.

“John,” Gale almost, almost whines when he makes no move to continue, lithe hands coming up to wrap around John’s wrists imploringly, and John hums thoughtfully, stroking his thumbs over Gale’s thighs.

“You need something?” He tilts his head, feeling a little thrill at the huff he gets in return.

Gale levels him with an unimpressed look, but the light flush that creeps over his cheeks betrays him.

“I want you to ask for it,” John murmurs. He grants Gale with the smallest roll of his hips to egg him on when he stays silent, and he feels his hands tighten around his wrists.

“Want you to fuck me, John.” 

And oh, that’s something– his cock twitches at the rare vulgarity, and judging by Gale’s sharp inhale, he feels it. But it’s not quite what John’s looking for.

“That’s good, baby,” he praises him, delighting in the way his flush deepens. He leans down, sliding his hands up Gale’s hips as he goes, settling them on his waist. He brushes his lips against Gale’s in a ghost of a kiss, trailing them along his jaw until he reaches his ear.

“But I wanna hear you beg for me, Gale,” he whispers. 

The immediate pressure around his cock as Gale reflexively clenches down has his head dropping into the crook of Gale’s neck momentarily, cursing under his breath. He can’t help but press his hips forward, needing just a bit of relief, sitting back up once he collects himself, determined to keep the upper hand.

“C’mon,” he rasps out, running his hands up and down Gale’s sides, fingers splaying over his ribcage. “I know you can do it, angel.”

Gale does whine this time, high and desperate in his throat, eyes slipping closed to hide from his own embarrassment. But–

“Please, John,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Need you.”

“Jesus, Gale,” John breathes, head spinning. “Good, so good, baby.”

John’s not going to push– that’s already a lot more than he’s usually able to goad out of Gale, and he’s going to unravel a lot quicker than he intends to if he keeps talking like that.

“Arch your back for me, pretty thing,” John prompts instead, beginning to shallowly fuck into him, and Gale does, tilting his head back on the pillow to bare his neck as his spine curves beneath John’s hands.

The sight nearly knocks the breath out of John, and he groans, sliding one hand under Gale to flatten his palm against the small of his back, feeling the way it flexes as he jerks his hips forward.

Gale cries out so sweetly when he really starts driving his cock into him, grasping desperately at John’s arms, face going slack as he finally gives him what he needs, and it gets to John like nothing else, forever dizzy with the knowledge that he gets to make Gale feel so good.

Dragging those pretty noises out of Gale and feeling him tremble because of him is what really does it for John every time, and it’s what inevitably has him tipping over the edge seconds after Gale spills over his stomach with a broken whimper.

John sinks his teeth into Gale’s collarbone just to feel him squirm beneath him as he fills him up, hands digging into his hips, rutting into him like he can bury his cock impossibly deeper, feeling nails scrabble at his back as the softest mewls escape Gale’s mouth.

He laves his tongue over the fresh indents in apology before lifting his head to capture Gale’s lips in a messy kiss, swallowing his gasps and sighs as he gives him a few more lazy thrusts, chest warm and fuzzy and lovestruck. 

John smiles into the kiss, and Gale laughs softly, and god, he’s going to be the death of him.

[dingoat]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Tagged by @cinlat ! Thank you! Wow it was fun going back on all these bits of writing hahaha, the RP has definitely been going on all this time but to get to ten actual posted pieces I had to travel quite a long way back. Definitely makes me want to actually set down more of the ideas and musings I let float around in my head. @storyknitter @queen-scribbles @mimabeann @vespertine-legacy @tehriel @swtorpadawan @greencrusader13 if any of you folk feel inclined to play along please do!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Void-touched - Five never bothered with mirrors these days.

Five Years - He was as infuriating as he’d ever been.

Prompt: Six Repressed Memories - The night before, they’d stayed up late, conspiring in the fort in whispers that were too loud, overstimulated and giddy for the day to come.

Prompt: Repressed Memory for the Best Girl - The moon was bright and her belly was full, and best of all the pain had stopped, she’d found the source and shut it down and now everything was still and peaceful.

Artificial - Libby had wanted to hike Mount Marvellous for as long as she could remember, and she was beside herself when she finally had the opportunity to book a tour and be guided up the mountainside after years of training and research.

Prompt: Kiss, as a promise - “I don’t want to go.”

Prompt: "You could have died." - The days had been leisurely and indulgent, but with time came room for doubts and misgivings to creep in, giving a sour edge to the otherwise thoroughly pleasant experience of exploring the late Darth Vesstriss’ private estate.

Prompt: Protect - “Fynta. Hey. Hey is that you?”

Epilogue II - His bright blue eyes were the last things she saw before the lake swallowed her.

Prompt: "I'm only here to establish an alibi." - “WHOOOOAAAA–!!” Three voices hollered out in chorus as the out of town competitor, a burly selonian with jagged patterns bleached into her dark fur, was sent skidding across the ring.

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[zincbot]

i can't focus on any of the stuff i'm trying to do I NEED TO DO SMTH ACTIVE GRRRR

[novelbear]

"so i celebrate you, all about you"- birthday prompts

a prompt list by @novelbear 🎂

"i heard it was someone's birthday!"

waking up to breakfast in bed

trying to make them a birthday cake from scratch

decorating the house while they're still asleep

"what do you mean you don't want to celebrate?"

spending the first birthday together as a couple

^ therefore they're trying to make it as special as possible

taking a bit of the frosting from the cake and putting it on their nose

^ or spelling their name with it on the birthday person's forehead (i had a friend actually do this to me one year ??)

trying to find the silliest card to gift them

"did you seriously do all of this?" "of course i did!"

not letting them do a single thing that might stress them out that day (no work, no chores, no stressful phone calls, nothing)

getting them a little tiara or ribbon to wear throughout the entire day

organizing a little project or video for them with their friends and family

"happy birthday, my dearest."

setting off confetti poppers at random times of the day, finding their little yelps of surprise adorable

a birthday bear hug at the beginning of the day

staying up until midnight to make sure they're the first one to wish them a happy birthday

"what do you want to do today? name anything, i'm down."

having a number of surprises gifted to them throughout the day that coordinates to their age (turning 21? 21 little gifts and surprises <3)

"god, you're old." "shut up!"

[ariestrxsh]

sub!virgin!matt x experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, mommy kink, handjob, oral (m!receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: matt and his dad get into an argument over dinner when he disagrees with the way you're being spoken to, prompting matt to do something a bit out of character.

Please don't read this series if you're religious because it might really upset you. The whole basis for this story is that Matt is a sweet Christian virgin boy who has his innocence corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, so don't read if you're not into the plot !

me & u

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

(dedicated to the loml Jules aka @submattenthusiast)

me & u part five

You and Matt were sitting side-by-side at his dining room table while his dad was on the other side of the kitchen, cleaning up a few things while the three of you waited for the lasagna to finish baking.

The mouth-watering scent of garlic and oregano drifted through the air accompanied by the smell of the apple cinnamon candle burning a few feet from you. It had been less than a week since they'd moved in, but their house finally looked lived-in, and almost everything that was previously packed away in boxes was now given a place.

"You guys want anything to drink?" His dad asked as he peeked over at the two of you. "You got any beer?" You wondered aloud. "She's kidding, dad!" Matt blurted out, looking at you wide-eyed and gently nudging you with his leg under the table.

His dad let out a laugh. "Sorry, kid. I've only got soda, water, and milk," he relayed, swinging open the door of the fridge as he listed off the options. "I'll have a coke," Matt requested. "I'll have the same," you responded, smiling.

His dad brought over two cans of coke and placed them in front of each of you. "Lasagna's got about ten more minutes, so sit tight," his dad told you. You peered over at the blue-eyed boy next to you, your gaze lingering on his pink, pouty lips.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Matt innocently asked, reaching up to brush away whatever you were gawking at. "No. You're just so pretty. I can't stop looking at you," you whispered in a sultry voice. Your compliment colored his cheeks a shade of rosey pink.

"This shirt looks really good on you, too. It brings out your eyes," you commented, playing with the hem of the blue fabric. His breath hitched as your hand wandered south, slowly caressing his bulge over his pajama pants. His gaze darted over at you with his mouth hung open in shock and his eyebrows pinched together in a concerned expression.

"Please. Not in front of my dad. He'd be so mad if he found out," Matt softly whined. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna let him find out. Just let me make you feel good," you purred into his ear, squeezing his erection through the cotton material.

Your eyes flickered over to Matt's dad, who was still in the kitchen with his back turned to the two of you as he loaded the dishwasher. You smirked back over at Matt as your fingers slithered into his waistband until you wrapped them firmly around his throbbing cock, setting it free from the restrictive fabric.

"Yes, mommy," he submitted to you, the words rolling off his tongue in a breathy moan. "Shhh," you held your finger up to your upturned lips. He nodded, relaxing into the chair and letting his stare drop to the movement of the red table cloth that was concealing your little secret.

"You're a naughty boy, aren't you? Letting me touch you under the table," you cooed, looking into his dreamy, blue eyes and his blissed out expression. He caught his bottom lip between his pearly-white teeth as he bit back a whimper, staring back at you. He weakly nodded, sinking into his pleasure.

His heart raced, worried the two of you would he caught, but a part of him liked the adrenaline rush. He could already feel the knot in his stomach taking form. "Naughty, naughty boy," you repeated softly in his ear as you brought him to the edge, knowing how much he loved being called that.

Just when it looked like he couldn't take much more, you slowed your movements to a stop. His dick throbbed in your grasp, silently begging you to keep going. "Please. So close," he whispered.

"Not yet. I wanna take my time," you cruelly responded, denying him relief. He shot you a desperate look that said, right now? You want to take your time right now? In this situation? But the only words that drifted from his pouty lips was a quiet, "You're crazy." He meant it as a compliment, of course, and you took it as such.

The sound of plates, coffee mugs, and silverware clanking around drowned out the sweet sounds he made. You flashed him a mischevious grin as you circled the sensitive tip with your thumb, intensifying his pleasure. His head gently fell back, and he emitted another soft whine.

"Dinner's ready," Matt's dad's voice broke through the sexual tension as he headed in your direction with two plates. Matt sat up in his chair, straightening his back and clearing his throat. He slowed his breathing, trying to be inconspicuous about what was being done to him under the table.

"Thanks, dad," he managed to squeak out. "Would you like to say the prayer before we dig in?" Matt's dad asked you as he sat across from you two with his own plate. "You know, I'll be honest, I don't pray much," you admitted to his dad.

"Can you show me how to, Matt? I know how hard you pray every night," you smirked over at the sweet, shy boy to your right as the images of him getting down on his knees flickered through your mind. He glanced over at you, wide-eyed while you continued slowly stroking his length beneath the table, every now and again brushing your thumb over his swollen head.

"I-I don't know. Maybe you could say the prayer, dad," Matt stammered, tightly gripping the seat of his chair. "Why don't you wanna say the prayer, Matt?" His father asked, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, what is it, Matt? You feel guilty about something?" You quietly mumbled beside him, only loud enough for him to hear.

"O-okay. I'll say the prayer," Matt agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat, interlocking his fingers, and lowering his gaze to the movement happening underneath the tablecloth. Matt's father lowered his head and closed his eyes, and you followed his lead, periodically peeling open an eye to peek over at Matt and the way he reacted to your touch.

"Lord," Matt said, wetting his lips. "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us," Matt started to pray, but quickly needed to bite back a whine. You watched as his dick print showed through the cloth, precum trickling from his tip and leaving a wet stain on the red fabric.

The sensation of your hand pumping his shaft while his cockhead rubbed against the silky material sent him into a blissful state that nearly made him forget what he was doing, but he quickly directed himself back to his train of thought.

"Thank you for blessing this food. May it s-strengthen and nourish our b-bodies," he managed to get through his sentence without sounding any more nervous than usual. "Thank you. In Jesus' name, amen," he hurried to finish the prayer. "Amen," you and Matt's dad said in unison.

Right as Matt's father was about to start eating, his phone started to ring. "I gotta take this. Excuse me," he apologetically pardoned himself as he picked up. "Hello?" His voice drifted off as he made his way to the other room.

"You almost let me get you off during the prayer, didn't you, naughty boy?" You purred, yanking on Matt's hair with your free hand and burying his face into your chest, his strangled moans dampened by your breasts. "Come on, Matt. You gotta hurry up. Cum for mommy," you whispered, raking through his hair with your fingers.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, looked up at you with his big, blue eyes and nodded, giving himself over to the desire that overtook him. His cock twitched in your grasp as you fervently pumped away, a sticky white fluid erupting from it and dousing your hand.

His whole body shivered, and he buried his face into your bosom like an embarrassed little boy. "That was amazing," you murmured, rustling his brown locks and kissing him on the forehead. "That felt so good," he told you, taking a napkin off the table to wipe himself off with.

"I need to go wash my hands," you chuckled, getting up from your seat and darting off over to the sink to clean off the evidence. You took Matt's dirty napkin with you and chucked it into the trash.

Humiliation tinted his pink cheeks as he called his breath back to him, his chest rising and falling with every labored inhale and exhale. "You're crazy, you know that?" Matt smirked at you, quickly tucking his dick back into his pants. "I know," you flashed him a cheeky smile and washed your hands.

As soon as you sat back down, Matt's dad came back in through the door. "Sorry about that. You guys didn't have to wait for me to start eating," he said, motioning towards your untouched plates. "Oh, we didn't mind," you replied, holding back a giggle, concealing the real reason why you hadn't started digging into your lasagna yet. Matt blushed, biting back a grin as he peered over at you, still trying to catch his breath.

"So, Matt tells me you like classic rock," Matt's dad started off, opening up conversation before taking a bite of his lasagna. "I do. Blue Öyster Cult, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, AC/DC, stuff like that," you responded.

"Is that the stuff your parents listen to?" He asked. "Oh, no. They hate it. That's why I started listening to it," you laughed. Matt's dad cleared his throat, glanced over at Matt, and turned his attention back to you.

"So, do you go to church?" Matt's dad asked, changing the subject and hoping you'd say something he liked. "God no. I don't really believe in that kind of thing, but you know, I'll always go if Matt invites me," you replied, reaching over and giving Matt's hand a comforting squeeze.

"Are you open to converting?" His father casually asked, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly, I couldn't see myself converting, you know? My lifestyle and Christianity don't really agree," you replied with a mouth full of food. "Well, Matt here has always discussed wanting his future wife to be a woman of God," his dad casually mentioned. "Dad," Matt sharply interjected.

"What?" Matt's dad defensively asked. "That's not necessarily what I want. That's w-what y-you want," Matt stuttered, avoiding eye contact with his dad as he stabbed his lasagna with the prongs of his fork. "Where's this coming from, Matt?" His dad asked.

"J-just don't grill her about religion, dad. I like her despite that. D-don't put that kind of pressure on her," Matt said with a shaky voice. Matt's dad was taken aback. Matt wasn't usually the type to dissent from his dad, but he wasn't given much of a reason to until now.

"What's gotten into you, Matt?" His father asked, giving him a disappointed look and crossing his arms over his chest. "N-nothing," Matt replied, shaking his head.

"I think this girl is a bad influence on you," his dad replied, talking about you as if you weren't in the room. Your heart sank. "Ever since the two of you have been hanging out, there's something off about you, Matt. Something different. I don't know if I like it," Matt's dad said. Matt sat in silence, picking at his food but not eating any of it.

"What are your intentions with my son?" His dad asked, peering at you from across the table, setting down his silverware and interlocking his fingers to show you how serious he was.

The truth was, the first day you'd laid eyes on Matt, your intentions were simply to sleep with him, and your thought process didn't go much further than that. However, after getting to know him and spending time with him, the way you felt about him became more convoluted.

"I just want to make him happy," you shrugged, peering over at Matt who smiled back. You weren't sure what answer either of them were looking for, and to be honest, you hadn't pondered that question much yourself, so you were somewhat surprised at your own answer when it fell from your lips. Matt's dad remained unconvinced.

"If you wanna make him happy, maybe you should leave him alone and let him find a good Christian girl," his dad blurted out. You clenched your jaw. You felt a mix of anguish and rage as the words left his mouth.

"Are you serious, dad? You can't just say that to my girlfriend," Matt shot back, getting up from his chair and grabbing your hand. You and Matt hadn't discussed labels or anything, but the way he was standing up for you and referring to you as his girlfriend turned you on a bit.

"C'mon. You don't have to listen to this," Matt said to you as you both started to head towards his front door. "Where do you think you're going?" His dad called out after the two of you. "Out," Matt huffed without looking back, slamming the door shut behind him.

You and Matt stepped outside, feeling the cool air as it rushed over your hot skin. It was a testament to the ever-changing seasons, summer hanging on by a thread as autumn began to take its place. In the same way, the day was fading, the sun sinking low into the evening sky.

"Holy shit," you said in disbelief, completely stunned by the way Matt had spoken to his father. "I've never talked to him like that before," Matt whispered, glancing at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Did it feel good?" You wondered, your lips curling into a smile. "It did," Matt nodded after a long exhale. "C'mon. Let's go hide in my treehouse until he cools down," you suggested, grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into your backyard.

"I'm really sorry he said all of that," Matt apologized to you once the two of you were perched side-by-side in your treehouse as you sprinkled weed into your rolling paper.

"Listen. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I wouldn't want my good little Christian son hanging out with a girl like me either," you snorted, flicking your lighter and feeling the warmth of the fire as you held it up to the end of your joint.

Matt watched as the flame engulfed the paper and lit up your facial features. The scent of marijuana filled the air. You blew out a plume of smoke and watched it dissipate against the pink and orange sky as the sun started to fade out of view.

"I'm scared to go home," Matt whispered, flashing you a look of vulnerability. "We can stay here as long as you want," you assured him, handing him the joint. He leaned his head against your shoulder as he took a puff and slowly exhaled, feeling the anxiety and worry float away with the smoke he blew out into the atmosphere.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered, only realizing after you'd asked how redundant it was to ask if you could ask a question. "Sure," Matt timidly responded, passing the joint back to you.

"Did you mean it back there when you called me your girlfriend?" You asked, aimlessly ashing the joint off to the side. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't talked about it-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "I wanna be your girlfriend," you inserted.

"Y-you do?" Matt stammered, his pretty blue eyes raising to meet yours as a swarm of butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. You nodded and smiled. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth until you felt the tension from earlier in the night leave your body.

"I just want to do something that'll make him mad," Matt told you, shaking his head as he replayed the way his father had spoken so brazenly to you. "How mad?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and handing the joint over again. He took it from you and took a long drag, the chery end crackling as he pulled from it.

"Something that'll really piss him off," Matt confessed to you. He'd never had this urge before, to purposefully do something his dad didn't want him to do out of pure spite. You took the joint back from Matt as your lips shifted into a smug grin.

"I bet it would piss him off if I got his innocent son high and fucked him in my treehouse, wouldn't it?" You cooed, your voice thick with lust. You held intense eye contact as you took one final drag from the joint and put it out.

"Oh, he'd be so mad if I knew I gave it up to a slut like you," he whispered, knowing how much you loved being called that. A flash of desire seeped into his expression. Your panties started to cling to your wet folds as you imagined corrupting the sweet boy beside you.

"Well, then let's make him livid," you seductively whispered, letting your fingertips crawl up his chest. He slowly nodded, his shaky breath growing shallow. You snaked your hand around his neck, firmly grasping it, not enough to choke him - just enough to excite him and test the waters.

You pressed your lips up against his, eliciting a soft moan from Matt as your tongue slipped into his mouth. You grew more aggressive in your touch, slightly squeezing your fingers around the boy's neck in a gesture of dominance as you bit down on his plump lips, leaving them tender and bruised once you were done. He was left with a warm, excited feeling as blood rushed to his cock.

"You know. The way you stood up for me back there? It was super hot. I wanted to knock everything off your kitchen table and fuck you on it," you whispered against his mouth, guiding him to lay back as you pinned him to the floor of your treehouse.

"Yeah? You liked that?" He asked, looking up at you wide-eyed, his chest heaving with every breath as he anticipated your next move. "I fucking loved it," you purred into his ear before you pulled back.

You started tugging down his pajama pants and his boxers, and his cock eagerly sprung out as you set him free. You could see precum was already drooling from his slit, and the cool breeze blowing over his tip made him shudder in delight. You grabbed ahold of it, firmly holding it in your grip, just barely unable to close your fist around its girth. Matt bit his lip as you did this.

"So big," you whispered, licking your lips and staring at it in the glow of the stringed lights that hugged the branches of your treehouse. "Really?" Matt asked, propping himself up on his elbows and peering down at the way your fingers were wrapped around it.

"Yeah, trust me. I've seen a lot. This one is big," you smirked up at him. "I didn't know," Matt replied, trying to hold back a grin, liking the idea that he had a big dick. You started gently working your hand up and down on Matt's length, coaxing a few moans from his lips.

You loved the idea of being the first person to ever touch Matt's most intimate places and to be the first to ever make him sound like that. You lowered your mouth and wrapped your lips around his sensitive head, saltiness filling your taste buds.

"Oh!" Matt softly moaned. His cock jerked at the unexpected sensation of your warm, soft tongue grazing the underside of his tip. You started lightly suckling on it, which drove Matt crazy. "Wow," Matt whispered, completely blown away by the feeling. You went slow and gentle, learning every vein and every ridge with your tongue.

"Your mouth.." Matt started to say, but his voice trailed off. "What is it, baby? Say it," you purred. "It feels sooo good," he whimpered, holding a strand of your hair out of the way. You hummed against his cock, slowly moving your mouth up and down on his length as you circled his tip your tongue.

"Mommy," he squealed, gripping the fabric of the back of your shirt until his fingers started to cramp up. You bobbed your head and up down faster, listening closely to the pretty sounds he made as he discovered for the first time how much he liked getting head.

He laid back and sank into the floorboards beneath him, giving himself over to your soft, velvety mouth. He entangled his fingers into your hair and gently pulled you further down onto his twitching cock. His tip tickled the back of your throat, and he started subtly bucking his hips up to get as much as he could out of the sensation of having his dick buried between your lips.

He curled his toes until they started going numb. A slew of needy moans and soft cries unfurled from his pink lips as he tossed his head back and screwed his eyes shut. You slowly slid back up his shaft, slipping him out of your mouth before he could finish.

"I knew you'd love that," you whispered, smiling up at him as you started undoing the button on your jeans. "I did, but you always stop when I'm so close," he replied, propping himself up on his arms again. That's when he noticed you slipping out of your pants. Then your panties. You took the lace garment and slingshot it in his direction.

"That's because I'm about to make you feel even better than I did with my mouth," you seductively responded, straddling him and hovering right over his pink tip. Matt peered down as you lined him up with your entrance and made his length disappear inside you. His jaw dropped, and his facial expression softened as you lowered yourself onto him.

"You're so wet," he whimpered as he felt you stretch around him. "It's all your fault," you replied, pulling your top off over your head and revealing your perfect tits to him before you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head. "So pretty," he whispered, staring at your breasts in the glow of the fairy lights strewn around the room.

Matt loved the way you took charge. He loved that you knew exactly what you wanted and that you unapologetically took it from him. The sensation of your cunt clenching around his cock as you started bouncing up and down on it had him seeing stars.

He knitted his eyebrows together, pleasure wrinkling his expression as he let his head fall back against the floor with a soft thump. A loud, satisfied "fuuuck," poured from his lips.

"Naughty boy. I've never heard you say that word before," you said in a breathy moan as you smirked. "Can't help it, mommy. Your pussy feels so fucking good," Matt whispered, watching the way your tits jiggled as you picked up speed.

You were shocked but turned on by the foul language he was using as you continued rolling your hips forward, finding your rhythm. "I wonder what your dad would think of you right now. I bet he'd be so mad that you're swearing," you maliciously smiled down at him, knowing that would probably be the least of his concerns.

He struggled against the way you restrained his wrists just to see what would happen, and his cock throbbed inside of you as you tightened your hold on them. "You like that?" You asked, feeling the way the sweet boy squirmed around beneath you. "Yes, mommy," a strangled moan fell from his lips.

"You're such a naughty boy, aren't you?" You asked, arching your back and angling his cock deep inside of you in a way that felt incredible for both of you. You released his wrists, and your hand flew to your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles.

You threw your head back as you approached your orgasm. Matt watched in awe as you fell apart on his cock, your whole body trembling as dopamine and oxytocin flooded your system. Your thighs were burning, and your knees ached from the hard wood beneath you, but you powered through.

You finished yourself off, your walls rhythmically throbbing around Matt's dick and sending him over the edge shortly after. "Oh fuck," he whimpered, feeling his cock tighten and twitch as you rode him wildly. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open as he pumped you full of his cum.

He submitted to the earth-shattering pleasure that rippled through him and overpowered him, like being swallowed by a series of cascading waves, each one topping the last. You slowed the movement of your hips and came to a stop once you were sure you'd both finished.

The two of you gazed longingly into each other's eyes under the blanket of stars as your breaths slowly returned to both of you. Four days. Four days was all it took for him to fall in love with you. He'd known you for four days, and he had just crossed a line with you that he hadn't even crossed in his three-year-long relationship with May.

You leaned down while he was still inside of you, grabbed his jaw, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Matt couldn't get enough of you. He loved your soft lips, your smooth skin, and the way you always tasted a bit like weed. You filled his senses, leaving him feeling almost delirious.

He chuckled against your mouth mid-kiss. "What is it?" You asked, caressing his flushed, pink face that was coated in a light layer of sweat. "I can't believe we just did that. That was the best orgasm I've ever had," Matt admitted.

"Me too," you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. "I thought you said you've had sex with a lot of people before," Matt gave you a skeptical look. "I have, but I don't know. This was just better for some reason," you confessed, shrugging a shoulder. You knew it was because this was the first time such deep feelings were involved, but you didn't want to say it out loud and risk sounding stupid.

You didn't have to say it. Matt understood. He bit back a smile. You peppered his face in light kisses, whispering praises to him about how good he felt and how much you loved him. He stared back at you with his glossy, bedroom eyes and his fucked out expression.

"If I ever have to move away again, I'm taking you with me."

Matt walked home late that night, the thirty feet from your treehouse to his front door, his mind flooded with thoughts of you, hoping he could just sneak in without alerting his dad. He quietly turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut it, making sure not to trigger the sound of the latch.

When Matt spun around, his dad was sitting at the kitchen table in the soft glow of the candle that was burning down to the wick. It was like he hadn't moved since Matt had left, as if he had been waiting for him to come home and scold him.

Matt swallowed the knot in his throat, his palms beginning to sweat. He was certain if his dad turned on a main light, he'd see his bloodshot eyes and his dilated pupils. Thankfully, he didn't. He kept it short and sweet. He let out a defeated sigh before he spoke.

"Son. I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to your friend that way," he started off. "Girlfriend," Matt corrected him. "I didn't even know you guys had made anything official yet. I feel like you don't tell me things anymore," his dad said in response.

"We just decided tonight," Matt muttered, avoiding direct eye contact with his dad. "Well, either way. I'm sorry. I understand if you're upset with me. Your girlfriend is welcome over whenever, and I'll apologize to her, too the next time I see her."

Matt narrowed his eyes and glanced over at his dad, wondering where the sudden change of heart had come from. "Just promise me, son, that you'll keep God at the forefront of your relationship and that you won't give into temptation," his dad asked of him.

Matt half-heartedly shrugged and hesitantly nodded. Matt's dad could see the resistance in his response, but he didn't want to pry. "Goodnight, dad," Matt replied before carrying his heavy feet across the kitchen and trudging up the stairs.

He didn't have the heart to tell his dad that he had been questioning things.

taglist: @gabri3la-sturns @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @starzinasblog @mattsturns09 @sluttt4matt @heartsforsturniolo567 @nomusic-nodreams @bilssturns @valkatriee @lyla-rose05 @savannah00 @shadowthesim @clara-sangster @slimshiesty @mattybearskitten @chrissturns-wife @sturnl0ve @poolover123 @sturnarry @secretfangirly @chrattlover123 @sturnslutz @strniloslvts @yourmother29 @sturniqlo @thepubeburgler @saturns0rb1t @gregs-child @hoeformatt @purelydove @sturniolos-manslut19 @robins-scoop @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @jaysturniolo @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Wedding Night

In which you and Max spend your first night together as newlyweds.

Warnings: smut. this is all smut, minimal plot. talk of babies, breeding kink, birth control, lots of 'my wife' and 'my husband' use. i'm feral tbh Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.6k

- The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 3 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 4 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Bonus Sessions - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Royal Wedding - Master List

“Let’s get you out of this dress. I want to see what’s been under it all day.” Max whispers against your shoulder later that night when you’re alone in the villa. His fingers trail up your bare arm, igniting sparks of heat in their wake.  

You take Max’s hand, leading him towards the bedroom of your sprawling villa, eyes dark with need. As you walk, you let one of the thin straps fall away before slipping out of the second one. “I need help with the zipper, Max.” You say, voice a husky whisper in the quiet room. 

Behind you, Max is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, the hunger in his eyes near feral. He reaches for the back of your dress without any more prompting, shaking hands dragging the zipper down painfully slow. Reaching up, you tug the bun out of your hair, enjoying the sound that Max makes when your hair tumbles down over your shoulders in a cascade of waves. 

Your wedding dress pools at your feet, a pile of lace and satin that you step out of, making your way towards the bed. Max just stands there, watching you go, hungry look on his face. 

Outside, the sun has fully disappeared below the horizon, leaving the villa bathed in the golden yellow glow of the interior lights. The salty air flutters through the open back doors, the crash of the ocean creating a soft soundtrack to your first night as a married couple. 

You crawl onto the bed wearing only the white bits of lace lingerie that you’d bought specifically for tonight and when you turn back to face Max, you’re struck by the look of sheer lust on your husband’s face. Husband. You still were getting used to working your tongue around that word. It was wild, how strange but natural the word felt falling from your lips. 

“Are you going to leave me here alone, husband?” Gazing up at Max through thick lashes, you smirk before catching your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Max seems to snap into action then, stalking towards you as he unbuttons his linen shirt that suddenly feels to constricting. “Open those legs for me, lifeje. I want to see how good my wife tastes.” 

A thrill zings through you at being called his wife and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips in response. 

Max joins you on the bed, kneeling before you between your open legs. He bites his lip as he reaches down to slip his fingers under the band of the bits of lace that covers you. “So pretty.” He murmurs before he shifts his weight forward, leaning in for a kiss. 

“Max.” You sigh against his lips when he kisses you, whining a bit when he licks into your mouth. 

“Yes, wife?” He mumbles, mouth not daring to leave yours as his fingers dip beneath the fabric at your hips. He chuckles darkly when his fingers reach their destination, finding you soaking wet for him already. 

You arch against him, pleasure already burning deep in your core at just his touch. “Can’t believe I’m your wife.” 

“Fuck, that sounds so good.” The rasp of his voice sends goosebumps skittering down your spine, despite the room being warm from the day’s sun and heat. “I’m so lucky you chose me to be your husband, schatje. Let me show you how lucky I am.” 

“Please.” You beg against him, hips rocking up against his body in an attempt to get some relief from the aching need that has been thrumming inside you since you said your vows earlier in the evening. 

“Lay back and let your husband do all the work tonight, okay love? Can you do that for me?” Max trails open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, stopping to suck little reminders of your wedding night into your skin so you remember tonight for days to come. 

“Anything for you, baby.” You manage, the sensations of Max’s lips on your skin and fingers working over your clit almost too much to take already. 

He trails more kisses down your body, sucking purple bruises into your skin as he makes his way to his destination, enjoying your sharp intake of breath every time he nips at you. “You like watching me with my head between her thighs, don’t you?” He asks when his head dips between your legs, hands finally pulling off the lace covering your pussy. 

The pleasure of having his hands and mouth on your body sends the buzzing in your head to another level, so loud you can’t focus on anything beyond Max’s touch and voice. You idly wonder if it’s possible to come from just hearing Max call you his wife over and over. It’s an experiment you’re willing to run. 

When his tongue splits you open for him for the first time, your hips snap up off the bed in a needy reaction. He slings one of his arms over your hips, pinning you to the down comforter. Your hands sift through his thick hair, tugging on it when he dives in. Long, languid licks lap up the mess you’ve already made for him and the way Max works you over with his mouth nearly sends you into another universe. 

“I can’t believe I get to eat you out for the rest of my fucking life.” He muses, barely coming up for air.  The only response you can muster in your haze of lust is a choked sound of surrender, a sigh of relief when his tongue finally presses against your clit for the first time. “Oh, my good girl. My pretty little wife. Do you like that?” 

“Yes.” You hiss, back arching even more into his waiting mouth. 

Stars explode behind your eyelids when he pulls your clit between his teeth, the sharp bite drawing the most erotic moan that Max has ever heard out of you. From his spot between your legs, Max slips first one and then two fingers into your wet little cunt as you continue your grind against his mouth. “That’s it, use me to get yourself off.” His voice is muffled by his refusal to remove his head from between your legs but you hear him well enough. 

You feel that telltale sign of liquid fire pouring down your spine as Max works you over with both his mouth and fingers. Your entire consciousness eddies down to this one single place, all that matters is that Max never stops and you never have to go another day without his mouth on you or fingers inside you. “Don’t stop.” You beg, blindly reaching for anything to hold onto, eventually landing one hand in his hair and the other fisting the white sheets beneath you. “I love you so much baby, fuck. Holy fuck.” You sob, hips grinding up into his mouth in a desperate search for relief. 

You tumble over the crest of your orgasm so quickly it hits you like a freight train, your hands fisting Max’s hair so tightly the pain mixes with his pleasure delightfully. His name tumbles out of your mouth so quickly it’s unintelligible babble. All Max does is hold his tongue against your clit and fingers deep inside you as you spasm against him. “That’s it, baby. Look at my sweet wife coming all over me. You look so pretty coming around my fingers, schatje.” 

He talks you through the rest of your orgasm until you’re quiet beneath him, breath coming in short spurts as you try to recover. “Max.” Seems to be the only word you can find in your vocabulary, which suits your husband just fine. If that’s the only word you can say, he’s glad it’s his name and nothing else. 

Max crawls up your body when your climax finally subsides, face glistening with your slick mess. He licks his lips, all swollen and red after licking you so good. You look so effortlessly gorgeous beneath him, he has to take a moment before he do anything else. 

“I have another present for you.” You whisper when you regain the ability to speak. 

Max cocks a brow at you. “I thought we weren’t doing any more gifts, little miss ‘I hate when you spoil me’.” He teases, biting at your neck. 

You roll your eyes while lifting your hands to frame his face. “Remember when I went to see the doctor a last week?” 

Max nods, remembering how you came home in a significant amount of pain afterwards. You had refused to give you any details behind the appointment though, just saying that you were due to get your period soon and it was all hormones. “Yeah, and I’m still annoyed you wouldn’t tell me why you went.” 

“I had my IUD removed.” You murmur, eyes searching his for his immediate reaction. 

“You…what?” Max’s heart stalls as he draws back to get a better look at your face. 

This had been a topic of discussion between you two before, of course. Trying to decide if and when to start a family was a huge decision and both you and Max had decided that you wanted to start trying sooner rather than later ages ago but this? This was a complete surprise. 

You worry at your lip, wondering if you went too far without consulting him. “I had my doctor take out my IUD.” 

Something feral and animalistic snaps in Max at the thought of tonight being the night he finally puts a baby in you. If he had had his way, you’d be round with his baby ages ago but you had insisted on wanting to do it the ‘right’ way by waiting until after you had been married for a bit before even trying. “That is the best wedding present you could have ever gotten me, schat.” 

Relief washes over you in waves when his words register. “Yeah?” 

Max grabs at your hips, tugging  you closer to him before kissing you with an intensity that sends your head spinning.

“Now, turn over.” You do as he orders, a shiver of anticipation shooting up through your spine. “Ass up. Yeah, just like that baby. Ass in the air so I can fuck a baby deep into you.” He growls. 

If removing your IUD was all that it took to get Max to absolutely manhandle you like this, you would have gotten it removed sooner, you decide as he gives your bare ass a few short slaps while you wriggle back against him. Max pumps his aching cock with his hand a few times as you prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“You look so pretty like this, just waiting for me to take you from behind. You like this don’t you? Want me to fill you up, baby?” He leans forward, whispering the filthy words in your ear, causing you to whimper in response. 

You should be embarrassed by the needy, high pitched whine that tumbles from your throat when the tip of his cock finds your aching entrance, anticipation twisting deep in your stomach. Max latches onto your hips with both hands, letting out a guttural moan when he sinks into you, the slick wetness from your cunt practically swallowing him whole. “Fuck.” He shudders, fingertips digging bruises into your hips. 

For a few moments, Max has to steady himself or this entire thing is going to be over in 2 strokes. The blinding tightness of your pussy distracts him from all other sensation and thought as he focuses on how warm you are around him. You struggle against his size, the stretch from him filling you up burning in the most satisfying way possible. From his position behind you, Max is able to hit that spot deep inside your walls that sends all coherent thought out of your head. “Max.” You whine, wiggling your hips back and forth in a desperate plea for movement. “Max, please. Please fuck me.” 

“Fuck I love it when you beg for my cock.” He grunts while pulling out of you before thrusting deeper again. Max’s eyes drop down to where you’re joined together in the most intimate way and the sight he sees nearly sends him over the edge. “We look so good together, shatje. Look so good gripping me like that.” 

Max slides in and out of you, hands gripping your hips to control the pace as he settles into filling you up over and over. 

You pant beneath him, back arching up in sheer bliss as you push your ass back against him so he’s forced to plunge even deeper inside you. “God, you’re so deep Max. So big, filling me up.” 

“My wife likes being all messy for me, doesn’t she? Wants me to fuck a baby into her the first night we’re married, huh?” 

Just the thought of you walking around, belly swollen with his baby has Max’s hips snapping even quicker against you. For several moments the sounds of wet flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, interrupted only by your needy moans and Max’s grunts. He desperately ruts into you as he leans forward, draping his large frame over yours. Max wraps his fist around your long hair, creating a ponytail with his hands and yanks so hard your vision blurs from the delicious blur of pleasure colliding with pain. 

White hot heat pours down Max’s spine and he knows he’s not going to last much longer like this. The way your silky soft hair wraps around his calloused hands, the sounds that you’re making under him, the scent of your arousal wafting through the air, all of those sensations combine to create an overwhelming sensory overload. 

“Oh my God. Max. Cum in me, please.” You beg, sending your husband hurtling even closer the edge of his own release as he feels you spasm around him, velvet vice like grip clamping down on his cock. “Fuck a baby into me, please, Max.” You’re babbling now, a melty mess of need and desire to feel your husband’s cum dripping down your thigh. 

Something fractures in Max at how utterly fucked out you sound and everything goes white behind his shuttered eyes. The moan that rumbles through him sends you over the edge for a third time that night and you’re so exhausted and overstimulated having not nearly enough time to recover from the second one Max fucked you to. When he spills into you, the white hot ropes coating your walls, you let you the neediest whimpers of the night. The way he feels buried deep inside you combined with the open mouthed kisses he’s showering on your back and shoulders sends you off into an exhausted space that you hope you never return from. 

With Max done and still draped over you, body heavy on top of yours, your elbows finally give out and you collapse into the mattress, body sprawling beneath Max’s. Neither of you can move for several moments, the heat of what just happened has exhaustion seeping into your bones. 

The catastrophic emptiness that you feel when Max does pull out of you has you near tears it’s so unnerving. When you flip over, tired sighs falling from your lips, Max immediately pulls you into him, fingers dancing down between your legs. You jolt when he stuffs three of his fingers into your overly sensitive pussy. “Don’t want any of that to go to waste, now do we.” He chuckles as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. 

A sore sort of pleasant exhaustion takes over your body as you wriggle back against the warmth of your husband’s body. “I love you.” You sigh, eyes drooping heavily as Max reaches behind him to switch the bedside light off, plunging the entire bedroom into darkness. 

“I love you too, wife. Always.” Max’s response is the last thing you hear before drifting off into a deep fucked out sleep that has you passed out until late the next morning. 

tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @samantha-chicago @chlmtfilms

[pedroscurls]

letters across time (one-shot)

summary: after having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

pairing: marcus acacius x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with a happy ending), strangers-to-lovers trope (?), mutual pining, mentions of war and death, sorry - i've got a lack of historical ancient roman knowledge but trying my best lol, deviation from the film (lucilla dies before marcus - sorry, wanted marcus to be single / widowed which only fuels his hatred for the emperors), reader has a nickname (rose), excuse my poor attempt at speaking italian, no use of y/n. word count: 9.4k a/n: so i'm really stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, but i've been obsessed with marcus a since gladiator 2 came out (and honestly who else hasn't lol). also a bit of a tidbit - my first ever tattoo is with the latin saying ad maiora so i had to fit it into this story hehe. if the characterization seems off or if the historical aspect of ancient rome / dialogue is inaccurate, please bear with me - it's my first ever marcus a fic and first time writing in that time period... anyway, huge thank you to @jolapeno for hosting this "dear-uary" challenge <3. my epistolary is letters and my prompt is here. hope you all enjoyed this!

Finally settled in, you walk out to your small balcony and take a seat. It overlooks the famous Colosseum and despite the sounds of chatter coming from nearby, you have to wonder how this place looked centuries ago. Rome had always been a place you wanted to visit, but never did you think that you’d move here. 

You don’t speak the language (yet), and the apartment you moved into was surprisingly affordable given the location. An elderly couple owns the small building and when you had approached them about a vacant apartment listing, they were more than eager to have you move in. It wasn’t at all luxurious–the apartment building. It was very dated, remnants of ancient Rome decorated throughout the building. It almost felt like you were transported back to that time period, given the decoration that filled not only your apartment but the entire building itself. 

The couple could speak a little English, asking plenty of questions that a usual landlord wouldn’t ask. 

American? Yes, you answered.

Married? No, you replied with a heavy sigh–memories of your last relationship flickering in your mind. 

A beautiful girl like you, not married? No, you repeated–now trying to end the conversation in hopes that you don’t have to go into detail why you uprooted your entire life into one suitcase. 

You had noticed the way the older woman’s smile drops, can see her eyes softening at the sight of you. It’s almost like she knows, like she can understand why you’re here. She’s the first one to say that you got the apartment–the brief meeting lasting only twenty minutes. 

It’s yours, she said. 

You had told them you weren’t sure you could afford it, given how close it was to the Colosseum and knowing that it was one of the hottest tourist spots. There’s a lot of foot traffic that surrounds this area and you’d be lucky to have found an apartment this fast. 

Whatever you can pay, the husband had chimed in. We will accept.

Then, the woman had touched your arm–gentle, light, almost feather-like and you could have sworn the warmth radiated throughout your entire body. This place, this couple–it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

You nodded in agreement and you shook hands with the husband before the woman hugged you gently. 

And now, sitting in your new apartment, this didn’t feel real. You still feel like you’re running, like you’re looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the sun begins to set, the sky soon turns a shade of orange and you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

A flood of relief washes over you.

You’re safe. 

This is your fresh start. 

And you remember what the woman had told you when they had given you the keys to your new apartment: Ad Maiora, cara mia, she whispered, eyes staring into your own. A fleeting gaze of understanding. You asked her what that meant and she smiled, patted your hand and answered, Towards greater things, my dear. 

After finding luck with your apartment, you doubt that your luck would continue. But now, a month later, you have a steady job at a coffee shop that’s within walking distance and the elderly couple–Giovanni and Antonia–have begun teaching you Italian. Most nights, they invite you to their apartment for dinner where they ask you about your day along with a detailed lesson in learning Italian. Some nights, though, they ask you to teach them English–living so close to a famous tourist area, they encounter plenty of Americans and they believe it’d be good for business if they learned how to speak the language. 

Rome starts to feel more like home as the days pass. Giovanni and Antonia have welcomed you with such warmth that they soon find out the reason for you moving here. You told them you left America for a fresh start–having just gotten out of a very toxic relationship and a very meaningless job. You wanted more for yourself and you knew that staying in America was only going to keep you complacent, stagnant. 

Antonia had given you a hug at the end of that night–a hug that you had gotten so used to receiving, a hug that you found so much comfort in. They reminded you so much of your grandparents that had raised you–those were the only good memories that you dreamt of, a time where you could be a young girl again, running around in your grandparents’ home. 

You feel much freer, more at ease, safe now that you feel fully settled in here. And one day after work, you walk up the two flights of stairs to your apartment and unlock your door. There’s an envelope on the hardwood floor–almost like someone had slipped it underneath your door. There’s no writing on it, no name addressed on it, but you pick it up anyway and notice that it isn’t sealed. You set it on your small rounded table and walk to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine–this is routine for nights when you don’t have dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. 

You take a quick sip of your red wine and then move to your bedroom, removing your clothes to change into much more comfortable clothing–shorts and an oversized crewneck, your hair now pulled into a messy bun. You’re barefoot when you walk back into the kitchen to retrieve your wine glass. As you pass the rounded dining table, you notice the envelope. Someone must have had to slide it underneath your door on purpose, right? 

You take the envelope and then walk out to your balcony, sitting on one of the seats as you set the glass on the small table. Slowly, you pull the letter out of the envelope and open it, the writing in neat cursive. You shouldn’t be reading it, especially if this was meant for someone else. 

Confused but intrigued, you continue to read. 

Lucilla died today. I was not there to bid her goodbye. I had given her a promise–that this campaign will be my last. All of Numidia–for the glory of Rome… all for nothing. Writing this journal entry surely is treacherous–I could be punished for it, but what is the point of it all? This is not Rome. This is not the Rome I had promised to fight for.  Lucilla–I am sorry, my lady. I will love you for the rest of my days and cannot wait until we meet again. Your blue eyes, your smile… Your laugh and your voice–I will carry it with me, my love. I will speak with the Senate. I will–I will do what is right, what must be done.  For you. For Rome.  Acacius

You’re unsure of what you just read. Lucilla. Numidia. Acacius. Rome. It almost seems like this is a journal entry–the feel of the paper, the cursive writing. Maybe you shouldn’t have read it, but you’re curious. Something inside you tells you to write back–almost like a tug, a pull that you feel in the pit of your stomach. So, you grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing–not in cursive, though.

Dear Acacius,  I’m so very sorry for your loss. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to make things better and I’m not even sure if time helps either… Shit happens. It sucks, and I want to say that life goes on, but it doesn’t. At least not for the person who lives.  I lost my grandparents when I was eighteen–it crushed my entire world and set me on a path that I’m still trying to fix. I know this isn’t the same as losing a wife or a partner and I’m not even sure if I’m making any sense. I just–I know what loss feels like and it fucking sucks.  Anyway, I think this might have been sent to me by accident and I’m sorry that I opened it and read it. It wasn’t my intention. So, I’m just gonna send it back to you–somehow–but… I hope things get better for you, Acacius (really cool name, by the way!).  Best wishes,  A stranger

You fold your letter and place it into the envelope with Acacius’s original piece of paper. You then close the envelope, grab your glass of wine and walk back into your apartment, setting the envelope onto your dining table so that it’s visible for you tomorrow morning to ask Antonia about. 

The following morning after getting ready for work, you notice that the envelope is gone. You furrow a brow in confusion, beginning to turn over your entire apartment to find the envelope–contents of your letter along with Acacius’s journal entry inside of it. When you realize that you’re late for work, you decide to call in sick and quickly leave your apartment to descend the stairs to speak with Antonia. 

She’s in the community garden, tending to the roses and when she sees you, a bright grin lines her lips. She stands and pulls you into a hug without hesitation. 

“Cara mia, no work today?” 

You shake your head and ask, “Antonia, there was an envelope in my apartment last night. Do you know who might have slid it under my door?” 

“Envelope?” she shakes her head, confusion written across her features. “Like a letter?” 

“Well, not really?” you answer. “It seemed like a journal entry. They talked about Lucilla, about Numidia–”

“Lucilla? My dear, she was the daughter of Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”

“Wait, that was centuries ago.” 

Antonia nods. “And Numidia,” she sighs. “So very tragic.”

“Antonia, who’s Acacius?” 

“General Acacius?”

“G–General?”

“Cara mia, cosa sta succedendo?” asks Antonia. My dear, what’s going on?

You shake your head. “Nothing. Um, I’ll have to skip tonight’s dinner with you and Giovanni. Mi dispiace.” 

“Cara mia–”

You give her a hug and walk back inside your apartment, determined to find out more about Acacius. 

Marcus returns to his chambers, distraught and overcome with grief. His bed–once shared with Lucilla–now remains cold and empty. He can’t bring himself to lie in bed, yearning for his wife who is no longer alive. After Numidia, he was more than ready to return home–returning home meant returning to Lucilla, but when news of her death finally reached him, he no longer found the need to go back to Rome, despite the emperors’ orders. 

But Marcus was a man of honor. He would ask Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla for a period of rest from war, to fully grieve the loss of Lucilla. He can’t even think about attending the emperors’ ceremony that’s dedicated to his success in Numidia–how can he when Lucilla is no longer here? 

He hears a knock on the door and he walks–barefoot–to open it. He sees a chambermaid on the other side–she has a look of sympathy across her features with a hint of fear. 

“G–General,” she mutters. “There is a letter for you.” 

“A letter?” he asks, confused.

She nods and extends her hand. Marcus takes the envelope from her and gives her a single nod, dismissing her silently. She turns on her heel and Marcus shuts the door, walking towards the candle that illuminates a small table. He takes a seat, pours himself a cup of wine before he begins to open it. He holds two pieces of a paper–one he’s familiar with and when he opens it, he realizes it’s the journal entry that he had written–and the other, much more smooth, less texture, more white in color. When he opens it, his eyes widen at the writing–all capitalized, not written in cursive. 

He reads the first line and realizes that this is a letter to him. He reads it with interest, eyes still slightly widened at the choice of words that he’s not used to. 

Shit sucks. 

Cool name.

It’s signed A Stranger and he isn’t sure how his journal entry even got into the hands of someone else. He doesn’t have any information aside from the fact that your writing is unusual and the words you use are out of the ordinary. 

But, he finds comfort in your letter. He’s known loss before–plenty of his men understand what he’s going through–but somehow talking to a stranger who doesn’t truly know who he is provides a sense of relief. He doesn’t have to be General Acacius in his response to you–he can just be Marcus. 

So, he grabs a piece of paper and his quill and begins writing to you. 

Dear Stranger,  Thank you for returning my journal entry. I am not sure how that fell into your hands and it is quite alright that you read it. However, for some reason, I feel some relief knowing that I am not alone. Maybe my journal entry was meant to find you… Do you believe in that? In fate?  Anyway, I am sorry for your loss as well. Loss is… Well, it is a part of life but that does not mean that it is pleasant either. I am sure the path that you are on now will lead you to greater things. There is a saying–if you are familiar–Ad Maiora. It means towards greater things.  Also, what do you mean by ‘cool name’? It is quite interesting that my name is associated with some kind of temperature… unless I am misunderstanding.  In any case, you may call me Marcus. If you are comfortable, may I ask what your name is?  I hope this letter finds you well, stranger. And I hope I get to talk to you again.  Best wishes,  Marcus

He re-reads his letter, furrows a brow and sighs. It sounds desperate–a plea to get you to talk to him again because he feels less alone when he’s writing to you. He isn’t sure how this letter will get to you, but he keeps his journal entry and your letter and places his reply back into the envelope. 

Marcus spends the better part of his night drinking, having ended up falling asleep at his desk and the envelope magically disappearing by the time he awakes the following morning. 

You awake the following morning, having fallen asleep on your couch with your laptop and notebook scattered on the coffee table. You had spent the entire night researching Acacius. Antonia was right–Marcus Acacius was a General for the Roman empire, serving under the rule of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. Empress Lucilla was his wife, but had died while he was on his way back from Numidia. But all of this–it happened centuries ago. 211 AD. And Acacius ended up dying–right in the center of the Colosseum after he was forced to fight in the arena after the emperors found out his plan of treachery. 

There’s no way that the person you had written to the other day was the same man you had researched–he was dead. Surely, you can’t be writing to someone from a different time period and to someone who is no longer alive. Right? 

You sit up from your couch and notice the same envelope magically resting on your coffee table. Quickly, you grab it and pull the letter out. Same paper, same writing. 

It’s from Acacius. 

You read it quickly, a small smile lining your lips and a quiet giggle escaping you. You feel a wave of emotion when you read his reply; it’s obvious this man is clearly still alive but how could it be possible that you’re communicating with someone who lives in an entirely different time period? And how come the envelope is your only string tying you to him? 

After you finish reading his letter, you grab your notebook and pen and begin writing your reply. 

Dear Marcus,  You can call me Rose. It’s my favorite flower and I grew up helping my grandma with her garden, which was filled with roses.  You’re cute, Marcus. Cool name meaning… You have a nice name. I think that translates the same?  Ironically enough, Ad Maiora is something I’m trying to remind myself when I have tough days. A good friend of mine mentioned it to me when I moved here. It’s been something that keeps me going every day… the hope that I’m moving in the right direction.  And fate… I don’t think I believe in it. We all have free will and everything we do in life is a choice we make… like my choice in getting into a relationship with a really bad man. Would you call that fate?  I like talking to you too… and I feel less alone too. Can I ask a question, by the way? What year is it?  Best wishes,  Rose

You take Marcus’s letter and set it aside, folding your reply and placing it back into the envelope. You’re sure that it’s going to disappear during the night and you hope that you can wake up the next day with a response from Marcus. 

Marcus attends his ceremony, dressed in white and gold as he feigns a look of pride, a forced smile when he’s standing in front of Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. It makes his blood boil–the fact that these two young men are parading him around like he’s done something so great, so grand. All he can see is the unnecessary bloodshed, the bodies burning in that pit. All he can feel is the emptiness in his soul–Marcus doesn’t want to be here. 

And not once did they give their condolences over the loss of Lucilla. Marcus asks for a respite from this war, but they don’t grant him that luxury. He has a cut along the side of his neck due to Emperor Geta placing a sharp blade along his skin. As soon as the ceremony is over, Marcus retreats to his chamber where the envelope that disappeared that morning magically appears on his desk. 

Still in his white and gold attire, he quickly opens the envelope and reads your letter. He lets out a breath of relief as he sits down and reads your words over and over again. It gives him comfort–something he desperately needs right now. 

There’s something in the way your words put him at ease. He still has to put Lucilla to rest and he isn’t looking forward to it–that the next time he sees his wife will be in a coffin. 

He grabs a piece of paper and begins writing to you. 

Dear Rose,  That is a beautiful name and a beautiful flower. There are gardens filled with them here. Now, when I see a rose, I will think of you.  Cute–I have never been called cute before. That is certainly a first, thank you.  I believe in fate, Rose. I believe that everything happens for a reason… But I am sorry to hear that you had to endure a difficult relationship. It pains me to hear that you were mistreated and I surely hope that you are far from him now.  I believe that we have crossed paths for a reason. Maybe we will never know why, but I am surely glad that we did.  You can ask me any question you like and I will be more than happy to answer. It is 211 AD–do you not know the year? Also, I assume that you live in Rome since these letters are coming rather quickly.  The next few days will be… rather difficult. I am planned to bury my wife and I am not sure if I will be available to reply, but if you send me a response… I will do my best to write to you when I can.  I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to Lucilla. She was an amazing woman. She had to sacrifice a lot in her life–she was very brave, strong, resilient… I should have been there at her bedside. I should have held her hand when she took her last breath…  I failed Lucilla.  What kind of man does that make me?  If you choose to never respond after this letter, I understand. I just–there’s something in the way your words bring me comfort, puts me at ease, gives me a sense of relief… Anyway, I must go now. Until we speak again, Rose.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his letter and puts it back in the envelope, ensuring this time that he passes it along to the chambermaid. 

Later that night, you come home after having spent dinner with Antonia and Giovanni. You’re welcomed with the sight of the envelope sitting neatly on your dining table. You set your things down immediately and grab the envelope, taking the letter out and sitting down on the couch. 

Your heart breaks slowly as you read Marcus’s letter. You can feel his guilt through the words on the page and when he confirms the year he’s living in, it all but crushes you. This is a man that you’re slowly developing a friendship with and you know that it isn’t going to last long. 

As you continue to read his letter, you feel tears sting your eyes. So, you don’t hesitate to begin writing your response back to him. 

Dear Marcus,  With you, I’m starting to believe in fate. Would you believe me if I said the year I live in is 2025? I’m not sure how to explain how we’re able to exchange letters from different time periods, but… here we are. It’s possible. I just don’t have an explanation for it.  I can assure you that I am no longer in a relationship with that man and I am very much far from him. I moved to Rome about a month ago and I love it here. I can see the Colosseum from my balcony.  I’m sorry that the next few days will be difficult. I can’t imagine the pain that you’re feeling–losing the one person you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. Lucilla sounded like a great woman, Marcus. I know saying sorry doesn’t change anything, but I don’t know if there’s even anything I can say to make things better.  I’m sure Lucilla knew… I’m sure she knew that you did your best to get to her. I’m sure she knew that you wanted to be there with her…  And you know, maybe you don’t have to say goodbye. The ones we love don’t ever really leave us, do they? We continue living to keep their memory alive.  You didn’t fail, Marcus. Sometimes, things happen out of our control. Not being there for her at the end isn’t a reflection of who you are as a person, or as a husband. I’m willing to bet that if you had it your way, you’d have been there for her. Maybe wherever you were… you wouldn’t have gone if you had a choice.  Finally, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, sorry.  I hope the next few days give you some closure, Marcus, and when you’re ready, I’ll be right here waiting.  Best wishes,  Rose 

You take his letter and put it on the pile you’ve collected before you place your reply back into the envelope. You turn your back for a moment to grab a glass of water and when you turn back around, the envelope is gone. 

Marcus awakes that morning to the sight of the envelope. He can’t explain how it just vanishes and reappears out of thin air on his desk. He pulls your letter out of the envelope and reads what you have written. 

2025? Surely, that’s a lie. There is no way he’s exchanging letters with someone centuries into the future. He has to wonder if this is some sort of joke, if maybe the emperors put someone up to this. As he continues reading though, he feels tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over. Your words–it provides a sensation of warmth that blossoms in his chest. He wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s a good man. 

Marcus rereads your last sentence repeatedly, commits it to memory as he begins thinking of what he has to do today. 

I’ll be right here waiting. 

He doesn’t have time at the moment to write you back, so he keeps the envelope and letter separate from each other. He takes one last look at your letter before he leaves his chamber. 

The next few days, you’re anticipating a response from Marcus. He did warn you that he wouldn’t write back until he’s able, but you still can’t help the disappointment you feel when the envelope doesn’t appear for the next few days. Antonia and Giovanni notice a change in your demeanor since you’ve been receiving the letters–they notice the excitement in your eyes, a much freer spirit, but you tell them it’s because you’re finally feeling more and more comfortable here in Rome. 

You learn more about Marcus through your research and you try to find someone who can explain the phenomenon that you’re experiencing. How is it possible that you’re communicating with a man from a different time period? Sure, there are theories about time travel but that never felt real to you. 

At the end of the week, you’re already getting anxious. It’s been four days since Marcus’s letter. You have to wonder what he’s doing, how he’s doing. You know how his life ends, and you have to wonder what would happen if you told him. That would change so many things, right? It would not only change history, but it would ultimately change the trajectory of how the world is now. 

On the fifth day, Marcus is exhausted. Saying goodbye to Lucilla had only fueled his anger for the emperors. He has a plan in place and he knows what end he will meet if he gets caught, but at this point, he has nothing else to lose. 

After he buries Lucilla, he finds some time to ask around if anyone knew a woman named Rose. When someone would respond with a nod, there’s a flutter of excitement that he feels in the pit of his stomach but he’s left disappointed every time. Every Rose he’s met so far has no idea of the letters and he’s starting to believe that maybe you do live in the future–centuries into the future. It leaves him with an unsettling sensation in his chest, a sad reality that there’s a likely possibility that Marcus will never get to meet you. 

Now, he finally has some time alone. So, Marcus sits at his desk, rereads your letter once more before he takes his usual paper and quill out to begin writing a response to you. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry for the delay in my response. The last five days have been very difficult for me, but every time I saw a rose… I thought of you and it brought me a lot of comfort that I did not realize I needed.  I want to express my gratitude to you, Rose. Your last letter–I kept it close to me at all times during the last few days here. Somehow, knowing that you’re waiting for me helped me get through each day… and knowing that I get to write to you again helped me through the difficult moments I endured. Ad Maiora, I suppose. Towards greater things… and I think that greater thing is you.  I buried Lucilla yesterday. She still looked so beautiful, but she looked… peaceful. She endured a lot of hardship in her life and there is some comfort that I feel knowing she’s no longer in pain. She no longer needs to fight… and I believe you are right. The ones we love do not ever leave us. We keep their memory alive and Lucilla will always hold a special place in my heart.  I must be completely honest with you, Rose. I am the General of the Roman army. I have a lot of blood on my hands… all for the glory of Rome, but you are right. If I had a choice, I would have been by Lucilla’s side from the start. I am conflicted… It is difficult to fight for this version of Rome. So much bloodshed, so many lives lost… all for nothing. I should not be writing this–it is certainly punishable, but I am exhausted, Rose.  If you do live in 2025–which does not seem possible–how does Rome look like then? You say you moved to Rome. Are you happy here? I also tried to look for you. Asked around about you, but I did not get anywhere. There isn’t anyone by the name of Rose that knows about these letters. Do you really live in 2025?  Lastly, tell me more about you. I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. I hope that is okay.  Best wishes,  Marcus 

He folds his response and places it into the envelope. Right before his eyes, it suddenly vanishes and Marcus is sure that he must be hallucinating. He’s exhausted and hasn’t had much sleep since he’s gotten back, but he has no other explanation for it. 

You awake the following morning to see the envelope on your coffee table. Excitement fills your veins and you quickly walk over to the envelope, carefully taking the familiar piece of a paper out. You begin to realize the letters you have begun exchanging with Marcus are becoming longer and longer–it brings a smile to your face and heat rising in your cheeks. 

You sit on the couch, pull your legs underneath you and grab the blanket to drape over your lap as you finally read Marcus’s letter. He thought of you–the last five days and he thought of you. When he finally tells you the truth about who he is, you feel a sense of relief. You had been afraid that you’d accidentally let it slip that you know who he is, despite already telling him that you live in the future. 

The last sentence in his letter brings you back to reality. You feel the pit in your stomach drop at the realization that this is as far as you’ll ever get with him. Sooner or later, this letters will end but you can’t help the feelings you’ve begun to develop for a man you will never meet. 

I want to spend as much time as I have getting to know you, Rose. 

It’s almost like he knows what will happen to himself–maybe he knows that the plan he eventually comes up with is a death sentence once the emperors find out. 

You know you shouldn’t get attached, but you get your notebook and pen and write back to him anyway. 

Dear Marcus,  I must say, it’s such a relief to hear from you. I wish I could have been there for you, with you… supporting you. If I’m being honest, it’s hard to hear that you’re going through a difficult time. Makes me want to go back into time and pull you into a hug. Do you think that’s possible? Time travel?  You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you? You make me blush sometimes with the things you say. Are you sure you’re real? A lot of the men here certainly don’t talk like you do–you can definitely teach them a thing or two.  I'm starting to think our saying is Ad Maiora, isn’t it? Moving to Rome led me toward a greater thing… one after the other, and it finally led me to you. I’d say that’s fate, wouldn’t you?  And General Marcus Acacius–sounds so formal, so official. You must be very important, aren’t you? Like I said, I wish I could pull you into a hug. I hope, at least, knowing that I’m here to listen is enough though. Also, if talking about this is punishable, then maybe we should be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you… Yes, I live in the year 2025. I’d be surprised if someone lied to you and said they knew about the letters we’ve been exchanging. Rome is… different than what you’re used to. There are no emperors. The colosseum is no longer in use–there aren’t anymore gladiators. I’ll attach a photograph of me and my balcony, maybe it’ll help you believe me.  Well, what do you want to know? I’m an open book, Marcus. Ask away.  Can’t wait to hear from you again. I have missed you.  Love,  Rose 

You sign the letter without thinking, but you don’t bother to change it or rewrite it after you realize the word you used. You hope it isn’t too forward or too insensitive. You grab your Polaroid camera and quickly walk out to your balcony. You face the camera to yourself and smile, pressing the button to take the picture. Once it develops, you go back inside and fold your letter. After a few minutes, the Polaroid develops and you look down. It’s a good picture and gives a good view of the colosseum in the background. 

Placing the letter and the Polaroid into the envelope, you close it and surprisingly see the envelope disappear. 

“So it is real,” you whisper to yourself, a smile lining your lips as you already begin counting down the time before you receive a reply from Marcus. 

Later that same night, Marcus sees the envelope on his desk as he gets ready for bed. He sits down instantly at his desk and uses his candle to illuminate your writing. 

But he sees the Polaroid and takes it out of the envelope. Marcus lets out a quiet breath when he sees you. He isn’t sure what exactly he’s holding or how this managed to capture a realistic photograph of you but he’s distracted by your beauty to even notice the colosseum in the back. He’s still reeling over Lucilla’s death, but there’s something in the way your smile and your bright eyes somehow puts him at ease. 

“My lady,” he mumbles. “Lucilla, if you can hear me, please forgive me. This woman–She is helping me through this, through your loss.” Marcus shuts his eyes, guilt and desire mixing together. Guilt because he’s still dealing with the grief of losing Lucilla, and desire because you are absolutely stunning. Marcus isn’t even surprised–this is exactly how he pictured you when you began exchanging letters with him. 

Marcus turns his gaze to your letter, but his eyes flicker to your picture repeatedly. You really do live in the future and you will always be so out of reach. 

Then, he sees the word you sign your letter with. A warmth washes over him. His lips curl upwards just slightly and he begins to write. 

Dear Rose,  This–This picture, it is you, yes? I cannot explain how something like this exists, so it must be true that you do live in the future. So far into the future.  But you are breathtaking, Rose. Absolutely beautiful. Your smile and your eyes… there’s a kindness and warmth to them. The man you had been in a relationship with before truly did not realize what he had because any man would be lucky to have you.  The colosseum in your photograph–it looks old. If what you say is true, no gladiators and no emperors, then can I ask… is your world a better place than what it is here? I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. This is not to say the life I currently have or have led is not great, but a man can still dream, right?  A hug from you sounds very nice. I imagine that I would feel even more at peace with my arms around you. I am not too sure about time travel, but if these letters are any proof of what’s possible, then maybe time traveling is too. Though, if anyone is doing the time traveling, I would rather it be me. I do not want you to be in this time period here, Rose. I do not want you to be around such men because there are bad men here too. Maybe more worse here than there.  If I may be honest… I cannot stop looking at you. I believe I’m going to keep this very close to me from now on. I am sorry that I cannot provide the same type of picture of myself–we do not have this here… but maybe I can think of something else…  An open book, hm? Well, I know your favorite flower. I know that you are starting fresh here in Rome… I suppose I should ask what do you like to do then? If you are living in the future, what is there to do?  I am unsure if you have experienced this yet, but this envelope… it seems to be the reason why we are able to exchange letters. It vanished before my eyes the other day, Rose. I cannot explain how or why that happened, but maybe this is fate. Exchanging letters across time sounds impossible, but for some reason, the Gods wanted us to meet. That sounds like fate to me.  I will wait for your next letter, Rose, and I have missed you too.  Until then.  Love,  Marcus

He quickly folds the piece of paper and gently slides it into the envelope, not bothering to wait for it to disappear because his attention is pulled to your photograph. He brushes his thumb across it gently–wishing you were here. 

The following morning, you’re awake far too early but excitement fills your entire body when you see the envelope sitting on your dining table. You make a cup of coffee and open it, having grown accustomed to Marcus’s neat cursive. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when he compliments you, can feel the butterflies in your tummy. 

I think I will dream of this, of you, of a different life. 

You feel your heart tug just a little–the harsh truth that you will never get to meet him becomes more and more real as you continue to exchange letters with him. 

He’s seen it too–the envelope disappearing without a trace. You can’t explain how it’s possible and there is a part of you that no longer wants one. Time travel–there isn’t a way that’s possible and even if it was, how would it even work? 

You grab your notebook and quickly begin writing to him, setting your cup of coffee down. You lift the cup away from the paper, taking note that it left a coffee-stained circle at the top corner of the page. 

Dear Marcus,  You are very sweet… I’m sure there are more pretty women there. I’m just… me.  But Rome… it’s beautiful here. It’s always been a place I wanted to visit. I never did think I would end up moving here and now, I can’t even imagine ever leaving.  Considering your time period, I would say the world now is much better. I think you would like it… it might take some getting used to–it’s so very crowded here, but I think you would like it. I suppose that’s all we will have, isn’t it? Dreaming of a different life… Or maybe I’ll learn how to time travel and bring you here.  I love the beach. I love the water, the sunsets… It’s calming, almost peaceful to me. There’s just something about the sounds of the waves, the feel of the water, the sight of the sky that just puts me at ease. The beach was the one place that I felt like I could get away from everything. It became my safe haven, my safe place…  What about you? General Marcus Acacius–what do you like to do? I have also seen this envelope just disappear. I don’t have an explanation for it either, but maybe you’re right. Maybe there is a reason why we’re able to communicate across time. Do you think we’ll ever get the chance to meet face to face? You know, if I learn time travel…  Sometimes, when I go to bed, I pray that I dream of you. I think it’s the closest I can get to ever meeting you. I imagine what you would look like, what your voice would sound like… How it would feel like to be in your arms. I would assume I’d feel like how I would if I were at the beach–safe, calm, peaceful.  If by some miracle I’m able to time travel, may I come visit you instead? I think it would be much easier for me to go back in time rather than you come here. Some things might change if you were to leave your time period and come to mine… Looking forward to your next letter, Marcus. Love,  Rose

You fold your letter and place it in the envelope, already counting down the hours until you receive Marcus’s reply.

Marcus finally sits at his table after an exhausting day at the colosseum. He doesn’t find the violence entertaining like everyone else. It’s unnecessary and he wants no part of it, but he has to put on a facade for the emperors. He still plans on speaking with the senate, to conjure up a plan to somehow overthrow Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla. 

However, he’s conflicted with so many emotions. The grief and loss he feels over Lucilla lingers in his chest, but he feels hopeful���excited whenever he sees the envelope on his desk. If he goes through with his plan and he ends up getting caught, Marcus knows what the consequence will be. He knows that it’s ultimately a death sentence if the emperors find out, but his mind drifts to you whenever he thinks about what his end might be. 

His eyes drift to your picture on his desk, a small smile curling his lips. He dreamt of you last night, after he had written his response to you. He dreamt that he was in your world, somehow lying in a bed with you in his arms. It was the first time since losing Lucilla that he had woken up with a feeling of ease–just dreaming about you brought him that sense of peace. 

Marcus takes your letter out and reads it with a smile. Once he finishes reading, he begins writing back to you. 

Dear Rose,  I dreamt of you last night. The Gods answered me and I dreamt of you. I dreamt that I was in your world, sitting on that balcony in the picture I received from you. I have this image of you–smiling and laughing–ingrained in my mind. It puts me at ease. Talking with you has been my safe haven, I suppose. Things have been difficult here ever since I got back and it’s lonely without Lucilla. I am sorry to bring her up.  These letters have been able to get me through each day. Your picture, too. Lately, I have been dreaming of a different life than the one I am living. I have been a soldier for most of my life, Rose. I do not think there’s a day that has gone by where I have not fought… And it is tiring. The beach sounds like a great place to just get away from it all, I agree. Here, though, I like to go to the gardens. More so now than before. I am usually surrounded by roses and it makes me feel closer to you.  I am ready to retire, Rose. I am ready to spend the rest of my days in quiet–possibly far, far away from Rome. Maybe near a beach, hm? That would certainly be another place where I can be reminded of you.  I will pray to the Gods for a miracle that we get to meet one day. I didn’t think it would be possible to exchange letters with someone from a different time, so maybe being able to meet face to face may not seem so out of reach… I imagine that I would feel safe and calm with you near too.  Your beauty, your words… The way you have made me feel… It all reminds me of Lucilla, but in your own way. I am a man of honor, Rose, and Lucilla will always have a piece of my heart, but… you have become the reason why I am able to get up every morning. I look forward to the next time I see this envelope because it means I get to talk with you.  Maybe tonight, we can meet in each other’s dreams, Rose.  Until then, my lady.  Love,  Marcus

Days turn into weeks and your letters with Marcus become more and more frequent. You’ve tried to teach yourself the theories of time travel, but you’re just as confused as when you first started. The more you talk with Marcus, the more you begin to realize the magnitude of your feelings for him. You try to tell yourself that developing feelings for a man you won’t ever meet–a man who’s already dead–is only going to set you up for heartbreak. 

But despite knowing how this might end, you still exchange letters with him anyway. 

Marcus is set to meet with the Senate tomorrow and he knows that if he gets caught, it will be his death sentence. There won’t be any way that he will be able to get out of it. He holds onto your letters–and especially your picture–when the days and weeks become more difficult for him. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla require his presence at the colosseum and Marcus finds it increasingly exhausting to sit there and feign interest. 

When he gets back to his chambers every day, the envelope is there waiting for him. He reads your letters repeatedly before he can even write a response. The way you talk about your world–it helps him escape his reality. He begins to realize just how deeply he feels for you and it saddens him because despite how strongly he feels, Marcus knows that you two may never get the chance to meet. 

Later that night, you see the envelope and feel the excitement rush through you. However, once you open the letter and begin reading the words on the page, you feel your heart drop–tears building at the corners of your eyes. This feels almost like a goodbye…

Dear Rose,  I am set to meet with the Senate tomorrow. In secret. I realize that this might be the last letter I will ever write to you, but I will be praying to the Gods that it won’t be, but if it is… I wanted to write to you one last time.  You have given me hope, have made me feel alive when I had lost everything. Coming back to Rome after Numidia, after losing Lucilla–I could not find the will to live, but then I received your first letter. It was fate. You saved me, Rose. You continue to save me.  I wish I could see you. I wish I could touch you. I wish I could hold you. I know I said in a previous letter that I would want to spend the rest of my days in quiet… but I think that has changed.  If I had it my way, I would spend the rest of my days with you. I imagine what my life would be like with you. I imagine a lot of laughter. I imagine that we would be at the beach or maybe at the garden and we would have plenty of meaningful conversations. I imagine my mornings would be one of my favorite times of the day because I would get to wake up every morning with you by my side.  If this is the last time I get to speak with you, just know that you now also have a piece of my heart, Rose. I will carry your photograph with me forever. I will hold onto the conversations we’ve had and the letters we’ve exchanged.  If I do not make it… please remember that you deserve all of the good things in the world. You deserve to always be happy. You deserve to live your life the way you want. You deserve to be with someone who will cherish the very ground you walk on because you deserve nothing less.  When I sleep tonight, I will dream of you… like I always do, Rose.  Yours forever,  Marcus

You know what he means when he says he’s going to speak with the Senate tomorrow. You’ve read what will happen–after all, you know exactly how history plays out after having researched the history of Ancient Rome and Marcus. 

You can feel your heart breaking–the ache in your chest beginning to throb almost painfully. You know how Marcus’s story ends, but you can’t let him go. You had been hesitant before–altering history–but you have to tell him. You may never get to meet him, but you don’t want this to be the end. 

Grabbing your notebook, you begin to write your response. Almost fifteen minutes later, you fold it in half and place it inside the envelope, watching it disappear yet again before your eyes. 

Marcus awakes that morning with a knot in his stomach–his eyes glance over at your photo before he catches the envelope. He sits up from bed and walks towards his desk, pulling out your letter and reading it carefully.

Dear Marcus,  Don’t. Your last letter feels like a goodbye, and I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to say goodbye, not yet… Not ever. I shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m sure it’s going to alter my own reality, but I don’t care. I don’t want to let you go.  You’re going to get caught. No matter how many times you’ve rehearsed it in your mind, you will be caught. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla will find out and they–they will not take it lightly. They will make you fight in the colosseum and that is where you will die. I know how your story ends and yet, I made a choice to continue exchanging letters with you. I knew that our story would only end in heartbreak, but maybe… Maybe there’s still a chance for us.  I am begging you, Marcus… Please do not do it. Don’t go to the Senate. Just–Just leave Rome. Live the rest of your days in quiet–away from war, away from the bloodshed, away from the emperors. You no longer need to fight and I understand… I understand that you made a promise to Lucilla, to yourself, but I cannot lose you and maybe this makes me selfish, but– You saved me too, Marcus.  I will spend the rest of my days figuring out how to transcend time… to find a way where you and I can finally meet. Fate brought us together, right? We will figure this out. I will figure this out.  This is not the end of your story, Marcus Acacius. Do you understand me? And this certainly isn’t the end of ours. At the end of the day, we still have a choice… If you decide to still go through with it, then I will understand. I know you are a man of honor, Marcus. And if you do decide that you will go to the Senate tonight, then I hope you know how deeply I feel for you too. I didn’t think I would ever love again, but you… You nestled your way into my heart and made a home there. I go to sleep dreaming of you. When I wake up, you are the first person I think of.  I love you, Marcus.  Yours forever,  Rose

He sits at the edge of his bed, rereading your letter over and over and over again. You know how his story ends and you know exactly what will happen when he goes to meet with the Senate tonight. He should have known that you’d be aware of his history–you live in the future after all. 

Marcus isn’t afraid to die–in fact, it’s something that he’s come to terms with a long time ago, but for once, he doesn’t want this to end yet. He doesn’t want to let you go either and maybe, maybe you two will never meet, but he would rather die an old man exchanging letters with you. 

He reads the last sentence repeatedly and he can’t help the way the words stir something in him–the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating faster–you love him. 

Marcus knows what he needs to do now. 

The rest of the day seems to drag on–the minutes trickling by ever so slowly. Even at work, you can’t concentrate. Antonia and Giovanni pick up on your distraction, but you reassure them with a fake smile and tell them that you’d just rather spend the night alone. 

You know it was selfish to tell Marcus the truth, to practically beg him to stay, but you couldn’t imagine continuing to live your life with the possibility that you could save his life. You had only been exchanging letters with him for a little over a month, but you couldn’t help the feelings that you had begun to develop for him. The way your heart races faster when you see the envelope, or the way your stomach flips when you read his letters. 

In your free time, you had been trying to learn how to time travel. It seemed almost impossible, but you didn’t want to quit. You couldn’t explain how you’re able to exchange letters with someone who lives centuries in the past–and if that was possible, then surely it was possible to time travel. 

Somehow. 

You enter your apartment later that night–you can feel the nerves settle in the pit of your stomach when you slowly open the door. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, heart rate slowly picking up when your eyes scan the dining table.

No letter. 

Your stomach drops, so you close the door and then move your gaze to the coffee table. 

Nothing.

Tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes and you realize that Marcus had made his choice. You sit on your couch, bring your legs to your chest and cry into it. The sob builds and builds until you let out a quiet whimper, tears now streaming down your face. 

He was gone. 

Forever.

A week later and you finally get the courage to go back to work. When at work, you fake a smile–feign happiness, but when you get back home, you cry yourself to sleep. 

Antonia and Giovanni leave you dinner at your front door, but you don’t bother to open it. You aren’t hungry–you haven’t had an appetite since Marcus’s last letter. You wonder if he ever received your letter and if he did, did he read it? 

And if he did read it, what went through his mind? 

And when you admitted that you loved him, did that scare him away? 

When you open your front door later that night, you set your things down and begin walking into the living room until you finally see it.

The envelope. 

Your heart leaps out of your chest. 

You waste no time in opening the envelope, quickly taking out the letter and breathing out a sigh of relief when you see his familiar cursive writing. 

Dear Rose,  I am sorry that I have not written back to you. I had a change of plans after your last letter and had to strategically plan how I would be able to execute it.  I am no longer in Rome. You were right–I no longer need to fight. I faked my death–with the help of some trusting men of mine–and am far away from that place.  I am living the rest of my days in the quiet–I now live in a small village where no one is familiar with who I am or what I have done. It is almost like a fresh start–a chance for me to live a different life… a life that I might have chosen from the beginning if I had the choice.  I want to thank you, Rose. For telling me the truth, for warning me. I am much happier now than I have ever been, and I am more than ready to spend the rest of my days with you. Traveling to this village was not easy, but you gave me the strength–like you always do–to keep going.  I love you, Rose. I wanted to tell you that once I was safe–once I was finally settled in. Ad Maiora, right? Towards greater things... So, my lady, what do you say? Shall we continue our story together and maybe–one day–finally meet? Yours forever, Marcus

the end...?

[wheeboo]

glowing | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which waking up with your husband in the mornings is still something you will never get used to. PAIRING. husband!choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, suggestive undertones WARNINGS. vague mentions of sex, kissing, terms of endearment, cheol is shirtless sorry not sorry :') WORD COUNT. 1.02k

requested from anon: Congratulations on reaching 2k followers rania!! for the event I’d like to request a scoups 42 & 49 from the 1st list!! - #42: "You just have this glow about you." - #49: "Come back to bed."

notes: first fic of the event!! anon knew what they were doing selecting these prompts istg hehe i hope u all enjoy <3

join the 2k celebration!

The rays of the late morning cower over your eyelids, slowly but surely nudging you out of your slumber. Somehow, you manage to peek open one reluctant eye, a sliver at first, then wider as you take in the sight around you. The bedroom is bathed in a beautiful golden glow. Shadows of the trees outside dance playfully across the ceiling and walls. All of this is enough to coax the smallest of smiles on your face𑁋the first of many today, you think.

You attempt to move, but you don't get very far. And instead, your eyes trail over to the body right next to you, taking sight of your sleepy husband buried in deep within the sheets, an arm draped loosely over your body underneath the duvet. He's still shirtless. You notice from the way the morning light gently kisses the bare skin of his shoulders where the blanket has ridden down.

The room is quiet, except for the soft rhythm of Seungcheol's deep breathing and quiet snores, and it grants you all the opportunity to be able to admire how peaceful he looks right now. It gives you the urge to fall back to sleep as well, but honestly, you're really damn hungry, and someone needs to make breakfast, or brunch, or whatever time it is right now.

With a reluctant sigh, you carefully untangle yourself from the comfort of the covers and Seungcheol's warmth, the cool air of the room sending a shiver down your spine when you sit up in bed. You take a minute to stretch out the certain soreness to your limbs, a small tug at your lips when a remnant of the night before flashes through your mind, but you try to brush it off as you stand up to walk out of the bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice is deep and thick with sleep, and you freeze up just before reaching for the door. You turn to see Seungcheol propping himself up on one elbow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, peering at you with half-lidded, sleepy eyes. His hair falls across his forehead both messily and endearingly, and you feel a particular warmth bloom in your chest.

"I was just, uh..." You don't know why you suddenly feel so self-conscious under his gaze, even after he kissed, touched, and whispered praises against every inch of you last night. "...going to make some breakfast for us."

Seungcheol just chuckles, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the way the covers slip down a little more. "I'm not letting you get away so easily, you know."

"But Cheol𑁋"

"Come back to bed," he pleads calmly, simply, softly. "Please."

There's something about the way he's looking at you right now that makes your heart stammer in your chest. It's a look you know well. A look of fondness. A look that holds itself comfortably in the space between your ribs.

You wake up together literally every single day, but you don't know if you could ever get used to this overwhelming feeling of being adored. It's like being wrapped in a warm, secure, fuzzy blanket, yet it's not just around your body; it's around your heart too.

"Okay," You finally relent quietly, and you let out a hearty squeal the second you walk back to the bed and he tugs you by the hands to pull you back into bed, back into his arms. It feels like coming home, every time.

You find yourself on top of him when his lips meet yours in a soft, slow kiss that has those flutters erupting wildly in your stomach once again. You feel the way his hand comes to cradle the base of your neck to pull you closer as the kiss deepens ever so slightly.

Even when you pull away, he doesn't hesitate to litter a few small, appreciative kisses down to your neck and exposed collarbones, the low hums leaving his lips caressing over your skin so tenderly and affectionately. You sigh out his name again, and Seungcheol draws back to look at you.

He's staring at you again. Not that you don't mind, of course, but the heat growing in your face is practically impossible to ignore.

You let out a breathless exhale, biting down at your bottom lip sheepishly. "What?"

Seungcheol lets his eyes flicker over you once more, before a small smile spreads across his features. His hands trail down to plant themselves firmly at your waist, letting his thumbs gently tracing shapes at the skin there.

"You just have this glow about you," he points out. "It's ridiculously attractive."

You glance down at yourself for a second as if you're actually glowing, before back up at him even more shyly than before. "Stop it."

"I'm serious, sweetheart," Seungcheol just insists and leans in back close to your face, his words melting away the last of your defenses. "You're absolutely beautiful, and it's an honour to be able to tell you that every single morning for as long as I breathe. It's an honour to love you."

His words momentarily snap you back to all the times he's whispered those same words to you during the moments between the sheets, or in the light of day when you're out on a date or basking in the familiarity of staying home, and the world seems to brighten a little more each time.

And maybe, yes, it's just the sunlight shining on you that has you 'glowing', but that's not exactly the case in Seungcheol's eyes, and it's hard to put to words.

Everything about you𑁋from the tiniest hint of a lift to your lips, to the dilation and sparkle in your pupils, to just you and your presence altogether𑁋just seems to radiate across every corner and crevice of the room. And Seungcheol can feel it seep within his own bones and warm him from the inside out. It's a feeling he finds himself wanting to chase after every single day; just a feeling he finds only in you.

You're glowing because you're in love, to simply put.

I'm in love. You're in love.

This is love.

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[legalmente-loca]

23 with Dean plss!!! 🫦

Oh, I know what you are looking for and I will give it to you😏

Prompts: “Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, Dean being a menace, sex in the bathtub.

You were sitting in the bathtub, eyes closed. Dean had gone on a hunt and this was your only way to relax and not think about his well-being. That's why you always said goodbye to him with a kiss and a hug, wishing him luck and asking him to return safely. You knew he was a professional and knew how to handle himself, but the fear was still there.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't hear Dean open the bathroom door. The first thing he had done when he arrived was look for you and when he didn't find you, he went to the room you both shared. He saw the closed bathroom door and the light peeking out from underneath and a mischievous smile spread across his face. He placed his bag at the foot of the bed before walking to the door.

Your body was so relaxed that your sixth sense failed when Dean approached.

“Enjoying your time alone?”

You jumped, opening your eyes in surprise. The water in the tub swayed, some falling to the bathroom floor. You put a hand to your chest, feeling your heart racing.

“God, Dean! Why do you have to be so quiet? You almost gave me cardiac arrest.”

Dean just laughed and raised both hands in peace.

“I'm sorry, honey, didn't mean to.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, drawing Dean's gaze to that spot.

“So…” He looked over your body.

"So?"

You exchanged glances and he ran a hand over his mouth.

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

You smiled sideways and shrugged.

“I don't know, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe...”

He nodded and placed his hands on his hips.

“Well… We better find out.” He said before taking off his shoes along with his socks.

You laughed as he stepped into the tub still dressed, standing in front of you as the water rippled back and forth.

“What are you doin’?”

He took off his shirt and lowered himself until he was close to your face, keeping his balance by gripping the edges of the tub.

“You look beautiful like this, doll.”

He closed the short distance and kissed you, his tongue immediately intertwining with yours. You didn't waste your time, not after having him away. You ran your hands over his hard chest and lowered them to his belt, taking it off before unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down as far as you could.

Seconds later, he was inside you, water spilling around you as you moaned. Your nails scratching his back as his cock hit the inside of your pussy again and again, rubbing against your walls wonderfully.

“You feel so good, doll.” He rested his forehead on yours as he watched your expressions.

“I missed you.” You muttered.

“I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

And as it all built you felt comforted beneath him, most of your body submerged in the water, your legs around his hips and his breath on your face.

You wished it would last forever.

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[ravendruid]

"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"

Kiss Prompts I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me.

When Will wakes up, he immediately feels the exhaustion on his body. His muscles are sore, and his brain is fuzzy after tossing and turning in bed all night. He couldn’t fall asleep until the inky black sky started gaining some color. So when the singing birds wake him from his slumber, Will immediately knows he has a long, long day ahead of him. But the half-elf man was already expecting it, which is exactly why he had so much difficulty getting some rest the night before. 

Today is a special day. After years of knowing his friend, after months of assessing his interest, and after days of intense back-and-forth flirting, Will is finally confident enough in his feelings, and more importantly, he is sure that they will be reciprocated. So he dons his armor and does his hair in the usual ponytail – as a Tempest Blade, it’s important for him not to get distracted by falling locks in his eyes – and gives his mother a quick kiss before he runs out the door, a jammy toast halfway in his mouth and a steamy thermos of coffee in his hands. 

The morning sun is already warm on his skin, and the birds sing louder as summer approaches. There is a sweet smell of cherries and blooming flowers in the air, and Will cannot count the days until he has a moment of respite. The Blades don’t get much time off – a con that comes with the honor of being the guardians of the Voice of the Tempest – or at least many of them at the same time, so Will was ecstatic when he learned that both he and Orym were allowed to enjoy a week away from work together. 

It’s with the plans they made together in mind that Will turns a corner, wiping the crumbs on his face with the back of his hand, and sees his Halfling friend already leaning against a tree, one leg bent back to rest on the thick trunk. Will’s breath catches in his throat. Orym’s looks could easily deceive anyone – except for Will, who has known him since they were children – just from his size alone. At barely taller than three feet, Orym could pass as an adorable boy, and if it wasn’t for his armor and the sword strapped to his hip, Will is sure that people would try to take advantage of his friend more often. 

Will knows how strong Orym is. They trained together for years, even before they joined the Blades, and he has seen the Halfling in many situations that could have gotten the better of him, yet he persevered. His perseverance made Will fall deeper and deeper in love with Orym each passing day as they grew up until, finally, his feelings became so overwhelming that Will was afraid he would go insane.

“Mornin’,” Orym greets him with a smile brighter than a guiding beacon. Will’s legs falter, and he almost topples onto the Halfling, but he plays it off a flirting move by holding himself upright with an arm right above Orym’s head against the trunk.

“Morning,” Will replies teasingly, already feeling his cheeks burn. If Orym noticed his faltering step, he didn’t show it.

“So, why did you want to meet so early?” 

“Oh,” Will stands upright as his heart hammers in his chest. It’s now or never. “I-uh… I wanted to talk to you.”

“Alright,” Orym’s kind smile warms the Half-Elven man’s heart. His eyes are soft and patient, with a hint of mischief that Will knows so well. 

“Well, we have known each other for a long time, right?” He asks, more rhetorically than in search of an actual answer. Even still, Orym nods. “And I would like to think that we are very close friends, and–”

“Will,” Orym interrupts him pulling on the man’s arm. “Please sit down. My neck is hurting from looking up at you.”

Oh, how Orym knows him so well. Whenever there are matters of great concern in Will’s mind, his friend always knows what to do and say, cracking jokes – some of them at the expense of his short height – and reminding Will to take slow and steady steps. So he obeys because he cannot deny the man anything, and he sits at the base of the tree, his sword resting on his side and the now almost empty thermos between his legs. And Orym sits, too, not that he needs to, but he still does, so close to Will that he can smell the scent of soap on his short brown hair.

“Go on.”

“Well, I was saying… we have been friends for a while, and I–” Will pauses to rub the back of his head, noticing a glint in Orym’s eyes that he can’t decipher. “I think that I–”

“You think? Or are you sure?” Orym interrupts him again with a smug look. 

“I’m sure,” Will replies, looking away. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you, Orym.” 

There. He said it, and now his entire life is in the hands of the Halfling at his side. Will doesn’t dare look at the bright green eyes he knows so well for fear of seeing in them the rejection that looms deep down in the back of his mind. But the rejection doesn’t come. Instead, Orym, so very quietly, finds his way to Will’s lap – carefully setting the thermos aside so it doesn’t spill over their laps – and holds his calloused hands on each side of his face, bringing his eyes to meet Orym’s.

If the Halfling’s rosy cheeks and shiny eyes are an indication of what is happening inside his brain, then Will can easily relax into his touch and allow the other man to do or say anything. 

“I love you too,” Orym says with the softest voice Will has ever heard. Gods above, he never felt more relieved in his entire life, not even when he got accepted into the Tempest Blades. 

“Okay,” His breath is shaky, coming out in quick gushes, and Orym smiles kindly at him. His mind is empty and quiet. At this moment, all he can focus on is Orym’s warm touch on his cheeks, his smile, and his eyes full of mischief.

“I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.”

Oh, right. That is something Will wanted to do for a long time. Something he had dreamt for months – if not years – and this is his chance, all the permission he needs. So Will leans in, one hand on the back of Orym’s head, pulling him close as their lips touch. The kiss is soft and sweet, and long. So long that they only break apart when a bell rings in the distance, signaling the start of the school day. And when they do break apart, both men are breathless, cheeks flushed, and with big smiles. 

Will knows that no matter what happens, he wants to dedicate the rest of his days to the man on his lap. He will cherish him, care for him like no one else, and, above all, he will love Orym until his last dying breath.

[echoes-of-hee]

— Off My Face LHS

PAIRING ; crush!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE ; high school romance, angst, fluff!

TAGLIST ; @honeyybbuubblleess @heeverseblog @aubaee @hveanlyanqelic @rayofsunshineeee @honeychocos @skzenhalove

Wc ; 8.5k+

Warning(s) ; Mild language and emotional themes, including heartbreak and unrequited love.

SYNOPSIS ; You never thought sitting next to Lee Heeseung, the school’s golden boy, would change your world. The moment your teacher paired you with him for the year, a mix of excitement and nerves hit you—who wouldn’t feel that way sitting next to the most popular guy in school? Heeseung was the definition of charming: good looks, top of the class, and basically every girl's heartthrob. But you? You never really saw yourself falling for him—love just wasn’t your thing, or so you thought.

That changed real quick.

Notes. This story is based on a real experience I went through. But don’t worry though, unlike mine, this one will have a happy ending. (AHH IT'S FINALLY HERE, I COULDN'T HELP BUT TO POST IT EARLIER 😭.. ANYWAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BAMBI BOY!! HE'S GROWN SO MUCH 🥹, and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do <3

The sun streamed through the window, casting a soft golden light into the room, as laughter and chatter filled the air. The midterm exams had just ended, and all the students, still buzzing with energy, were busy talking about the exam answers. You were in the middle of chatting with your friends when the classroom door swung open, and the teacher walked in.

Immediately, the class president stood up, prompting the rest of the students to follow with a chorus of greetings. The teacher gave a brief nod, signaling for everyone to sit down, and the room fell into a hushed silence. She glanced around, her eyes settling on the group of eager faces.

"I would like to make new seat arrangements based on your grades," she began, her voice firm but calm. "And before any of you start, I'm not accepting any complaints or 'no's' from you. This is final."

A collective groan rippled through the class. You exchanged glances with your friends, rolling your eyes along with them as the usual grumbling started. "This is so unfair," someone whispered behind you. Another student muttered, "I was finally sitting next to my best friend."

The teacher started calling out names based on the new seating chart. One by one, your classmates were assigned their new spots. When it was your friend's turn, you were practically begging, whispering “Nooo,” while fake crying dramatically as she laughed along with you, both dreading the separation.

Then, it was finally your turn.

"Y/N," the teacher said, scanning her list, "you'll be sitting next to... Lee Heeseung."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your mind went blank for a second. Lee Heeseung? Of all people? You glanced over at him, sitting casually in his seat, completely unbothered. Meanwhile, your friend shot you a wide-eyed look, biting back a grin as if this were some huge inside joke.

You tried to play it cool, but inside, your stomach was doing flips. Heeseung was the guy everyone liked—smart, good-looking, and effortlessly charming. You, on the other hand, were just… you. Sitting next to him was going to be interesting, to say the least.

As students began moving to their new seats, you grabbed your stuff, your nerves creeping in. "Good luck," your friend whispered with a teasing smirk, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, forcing a smile. "Thanks, I'll need it."

Taking a deep breath, you made your way to your new seat next to Heeseung. He looked up as you approached, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Looks like we’re seatmates," he said casually, shifting to make room for you.

"Yeah, lucky me," you mumbled, trying not to sound too awkward as you sat down. You could feel the curious glances from your classmates, and your friend was definitely still staring from across the room.

This was going to be an interesting year.

The lesson started, and the awkward tension between you and Heeseung was palpable. You could feel it hanging in the air like an invisible wall, both of you too polite to acknowledge it. As usual, the teacher began calling out names to read from the textbook, and you silently prayed yours wouldn’t be next. The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself in front of him.

Your heart raced as the teacher continued down the list, getting closer and closer. You could feel the nervousness creeping in, and the fact that Heeseung was sitting right next to you only made it worse. What if you stuttered? What if you sounded dumb? What if Heeseung thought you were weird or—

“Y/N!” the teacher’s voice cut through your anxious thoughts.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes widening in panic. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fumbled to find the right page, the sound of your heartbeat almost deafening. You could feel Heeseung glance at you, probably sensing your nerves.

Taking a shaky breath, you started reading, praying your voice wouldn’t betray you.

Luckily, you didn’t stumble over the words, but your voice was practically shaking as you read aloud. Each sentence felt like it dragged on forever, and you were hyper-aware of every small mistake you thought you made. You could feel your face getting warmer, but you powered through, forcing yourself to stay calm.

When you finally finished, the teacher nodded and moved on to the next student. Relief washed over you, but not before you snuck a quick glance at Heeseung. He wasn’t laughing or smirking like you feared—he was just listening, completely unfazed.

"Not bad," he whispered quietly enough so only you could hear, a small smile playing on his lips.

You blinked, surprised. "Uh, thanks," you mumbled back, feeling your face heat up even more. Was that… a compliment?

As the lesson continued, you couldn’t help but feel slightly more relaxed. Maybe sitting next to Heeseung wasn’t going to be as terrifying as you thought.

The bell rang, signaling the start of recess, and the classroom immediately buzzed with movement. Everyone was quick to get up from their seats, excited to escape the lesson and catch up with their friends. You didn’t even spare a glance at Heeseung as you hurried out of the room, spotting your friends waiting for you just outside.

You all made your way to your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria, chatting and laughing as you settled in. It was your routine—your little spot, away from the chaos of the rest of the school.

"Oh my god," one of your friends groaned, breaking the flow of conversation. "Why does it have to be a boy sitting next to me? I hate this so much!"

"For real!" another friend chimed in, nodding along. "But I’m lucky. My seatmate’s someone I actually know, so I’m good."

Then, your friend turned to you, a teasing smirk already forming on her face. "What about you, Y/N? How do you feel about your new seatmate?"

You felt all eyes on you, and you immediately knew they were about to make this a big deal. With a small shrug, you tried to play it cool. "It’s… fine, I guess?"

But your friend wasn’t letting you off that easily. "C’mon," she leaned in, her grin widening. "You’re sitting next to Lee Heeseung. You can’t tell me that’s just ‘fine.’ What’s it like being next to Mr. Perfect?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. "It’s not that deep," you said, but deep down, you knew this was only the beginning of their teasing.

Your friend wasn’t buying it, and the teasing only intensified. “Not that deep?” she repeated with a laugh, giving you a playful nudge. “Girl, please. You’ve got front-row seats to the Lee Heeseung every single day.”

Another one of your friends joined in, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yeah, don’t act like you don’t notice the way the girls practically swoon over him. He’s like the school’s It boy.”

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to escape this. “Okay, yeah, he’s popular and all, but it’s not like I’m gonna suddenly fall for him just because we’re seatmates.”

Your friends exchanged knowing glances, and you could tell they were holding back smirks. “Sure, sure,” one of them said, drawing out the words. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before you could protest, another one added, “Just don’t fall too hard when he starts helping you with math or something. I can already picture the movie moment where he leans over your desk, all close and—”

You covered your face, groaning. “Can we not do this?”

But they were having too much fun now. “We’re just looking out for you,” your friend teased. “You know, so when the romance sparks start flying, you’re not totally caught off guard.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, their teasing left a slight flutter in your chest. Sure, Heeseung was charming and popular, but that didn’t mean anything would actually happen between you two… right?

Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The following weeks felt like a blur, almost like you were floating through a dream. You and Heeseung were still awkward around each other, but somehow, he always found a way to make things less tense. He’d casually help you out during class or lean over to ask for answers to questions he didn’t know, and you’d try to keep your cool, even though your heart raced every time.

Each time he spoke to you, you felt your nerves spike. Eye contact? That was a whole other challenge. Sure, you managed to look him in the eye once or twice, but it was always for a brief moment before you quickly glanced away, pretending to be focused on something else.

You played it cool, or at least you hoped you did. On the outside, you kept your composure, nodding along and responding like it was no big deal. But inside, your thoughts were a whirlwind. How was he so effortlessly charming, and why was it so hard for you to act normal around him?

Heeseung, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed at all. He would flash his easy-going smile whenever he helped you, and if he noticed your awkwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he’d just laugh lightly and say something like, "Don't worry, I get it," making you wonder if he somehow knew you were struggling to keep it together.

Despite the awkwardness, there was something about those moments that made you look forward to seeing him each day. But you weren’t about to let yourself get carried away—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was science class, and you found yourself once again partnered with Heeseung, this time in a group of five. The group quickly arranged the tasks, deciding who would handle each part of the experiment. You were assigned the responsibility of writing the experimental notes—the detailed steps and observations that had to be recorded.

While the others were busy with the actual hands-on part of the experiment, you sat quietly, jotting down what you could. The room was filled with the sounds of bubbling chemicals, clinking glassware, and quiet murmurs from other groups. You were focused on your writing when you heard someone approach.

"Y/n?" It was Heeseung’s voice.

You glanced up, heart skipping slightly. "Yeah?" you responded, trying to sound casual.

Heeseung leaned over slightly, pointing at the notes. "The next step for the experiment involves using the eraser. It’s to demonstrate static charge. You know, like in the second part of the list.”

You paused, staring at him for a moment, feeling a wave of confusion wash over you. Wait, what? You glanced down at your notes, feeling a bit lost. How did you miss that? Your eyes flickered with nervousness, and you looked back up at him, biting your lip. "Uh... could you repeat that again?"

You felt a pang of embarrassment, wondering how such a simple thing slipped past you. Before you could spiral into overthinking, Heeseung chuckled lightly, his expression softening. He leaned in just slightly closer and started explaining again, this time slower and more patiently.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said calmly, as if sensing your nerves. “We just need to use the eraser to create static for the next part of the experiment. It’s basically to show how the charge affects the materials. Simple stuff.”

You blinked, finally grasping what he was saying. "Ahh, okay, I get it now," you said, nodding along, relieved that he explained it in such a kind way without making you feel dumb.

Heeseung gave you a reassuring smile before going back to the group. For a brief moment, you let out a breath, thankful that he didn’t make a big deal out of it.

You watched as Heeseung returned to the group, his presence effortlessly drawing everyone's attention. It amazed you how naturally he navigated through the chaos of the experiment, guiding the others and laughing at the little mishaps along the way. You couldn’t help but admire how he managed to make even the most mundane tasks seem fun.

With newfound focus, you returned to your notes, writing down the steps as clearly as you could. The warmth from Heeseung’s smile lingered in your mind, and you felt a little more confident. Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the experiment continued, you occasionally glanced at Heeseung. He was genuinely engaged, explaining concepts to his teammates while effortlessly keeping the atmosphere light. You found yourself smiling at how he could turn the stress of science class into something enjoyable.

“Y/N, can you hand me that beaker?” one of your group members called out, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Sure!” you replied, grabbing the beaker and passing it over. But as you did, you caught Heeseung’s eye again. He gave you a small thumbs-up, as if acknowledging your contribution. Your heart fluttered, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your notes.

As the class went on, Heeseung began to engage with you more. “Hey, what’s the next step?” he asked, leaning over slightly to peek at your notes.

You pointed to the relevant section, trying to sound confident. “We just need to record the results from the static charge experiment. Then we’ll analyze the data.”

He nodded, and as he leaned in closer, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re really good at this, you know,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You felt a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Thanks, but I’m just following the instructions,” you replied, trying to brush it off.

Heeseung shrugged, his gaze steady. “Still, it takes a lot to keep everything organized like this. You’re doing great.”

His compliment caught you off guard, and you found yourself unable to respond immediately. Instead, you just nodded, a smile creeping onto your face despite your attempts to play it cool.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, you felt a sense of reluctance wash over you. You packed your things, glancing at Heeseung one last time as he gathered his own materials. He caught your eye and smiled again, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart race.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” he said, his voice light.

“Yeah, see you,” you replied, trying to sound casual, even as you walked out of the classroom feeling giddy. Maybe, just maybe, this partnership was turning into something more than you ever expected.

It was PE time, and you and your friends lounged in the garden, talking and laughing like typical teenagers. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground, creating a perfect backdrop for your carefree moments together. Yet, despite the joy around you, your thoughts kept drifting back to Heeseung. Each day, it felt like you were falling deeper for him, and the realization was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t really a match for you. You and Heeseung felt like the skies and the ground—so different in every way. He was the charming, good-looking star everyone adored, while you were just... well, average. You were pretty enough, sure, but he was on a whole different level. It felt hopeless to even think about the possibility of something between you.

Just as you were lost in these thoughts, your friend interrupted you. "baby girl, you good?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, a little weirded out by the sudden nickname. “Yeah, I’m good,” you replied, trying to brush off your inner turmoil.

But your friend wasn’t convinced. She stared at you, a knowing look in her eyes that made you squirm. “Oh yeah? You sure it wasn’t about Heeseung you were thinking about?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know...?”

She laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Girl, please. It’s written all over your face! You’re practically glowing at the mention of his name. You’re like a total lovesick puppy.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Okay, okay! Maybe I was thinking about him. But it’s not like it matters, He’s out of my league..”

Your friend waved her hands dismissively. “Stop with that nonsense! You never know what could happen. Besides, you guys are paired up for the whole year. That’s practically fate!”

“Fate?” you echoed, trying to suppress a laugh. “That sounds way too dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” she declared, striking a pose that made you giggle. “But seriously, you need to at least admit you have a crush on him.”

You shook your head, though you couldn’t suppress the smile forming on your lips. “Fine, maybe I have a little crush. But that doesn’t change anything. He’s still Heeseung, and I’m still… well, me.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. “Stop doubting yourself y/n, you’re amazing just the way you are. Just remember, confidence is key. If you like him, you should just go for it!”

You couldn’t help but think about what she said. Maybe there was a chance, however slim, that things could change. With that thought lingering in your mind, you looked up to see Heeseung walking across the field, laughing with his friends. Your heart raced, and you quickly turned away, trying to mask the flutter of excitement.

Your friend nudged you, her voice low and teasing. “Look! There he is. Are you going to keep pretending you don’t like him huh?”

You let out a laugh, a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. “Shut up! Just let me think for a second.”

But as you watched him from a distance, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for you after all.

One week later, your teacher announced that you guys would be having a practice speaking test.

The day finally came, and it was your group’s turn for the test. You had spent the previous night practicing in front of the mirror, trying to perfect your pronunciation, gestures, and confidence. You told yourself over and over that everything would be fine, that you’d get through this without any issues. You were sure of it. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

As the test began, you watched Heeseung go first, his delivery smooth and effortless. He spoke with such ease, barely pausing for breath, his voice calm and composed. Every word was clear, and you couldn’t help but admire how flawless he was under pressure. Of course, Heeseung would ace this, like he did with everything else.

When he finished, the teacher nodded in approval, and your heart sank. Now it was your turn.

You took a deep breath and stood up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Just relax, you got this, you thought, trying to calm your racing heart. But the moment you opened your mouth to speak, your mind went blank.

For a split second, you stood there frozen, staring at the paper in front of you. No, no, no. Not now, you panicked internally. You had practiced this a hundred times last night, and now the words seemed to have disappeared completely.

Glancing over at Heeseung, you saw him looking at you with a reassuring smile, as if silently telling you that you could do this. His confidence somehow made you feel even more nervous. What if you failed? What if he thought you were a complete mess?

You cleared your throat and started speaking, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your nerves. You tried to push through, but the pressure was overwhelming. Halfway through, you stumbled over your words, losing your train of thought completely.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you could feel your palms getting sweaty. The silence in the room was deafening, and you desperately wished you could disappear. But then, you heard a soft whisper next to you.

“Talk about the part where…” Heeseung whispered quietly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. His words nudged you in the right direction, reminding you of the next point you needed to make. You picked up where you left off, feeling a bit more grounded thanks to his subtle help.

You managed to finish your part, though not as smoothly as you had hoped, but it was done. The teacher gave a nod of approval, and you finally sat back down, letting out a sigh of relief.

Heeseung glanced at you with a knowing smile, and you mouthed a quick “thank you” to him. He just winked, his expression relaxed and calm, as if what he did was no big deal.

And maybe to him it wasn’t, but to you, it meant everything.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you gathered your things, still feeling the rush of relief from having survived the speaking test. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since you sat back down. Heeseung’s small act of kindness played over and over in your head, and you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered.

As you were putting your books into your bag, Heeseung casually leaned over. "You did fine, you know?" he said with a small smile, his voice gentle.

You blinked, looking up at him. "I don’t know about that… but thanks. I almost messed it up completely."

He shrugged, still smiling. "Everyone gets nervous. Besides, you recovered. That’s what matters."

You felt your face heat up again, the nerves from earlier creeping back in but for a different reason. There was something about the way he spoke so casually to you, like it was the easiest thing in the world, that made you feel... seen. And not in a bad way, but in a way that made you want to hide and smile at the same time.

"Thanks," you said again, your voice softer this time.

He nodded, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said before walking out of the classroom, his steps unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

You stood there for a moment, watching him leave, the small interaction replaying in your mind. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was enough to leave you standing there, your heart doing flips.

As you met up with your friends in the hallway, they immediately bombarded you with questions. "How was the test? Did you survive?" one of them asked, clearly joking but knowing full well how nervous you’d been.

You laughed, though it was a little shaky. "Barely. I messed up, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be."

Your friend smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. "And how was Heeseung? You guys were partnered up again, right?"

At the mention of his name, your heart did a weird little jump. "Yeah, he was fine. Helped me out a bit, actually," you admitted, trying to keep your voice nonchalant.

Your friends exchanged looks, their smirks growing wider. "Oh, really? He helped you out? How sweet," they teased, clearly enjoying the flustered look on your face.

"Shut up," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "It wasn’t a big deal."

But deep down, you knew it was a big deal to you. Every small moment with Heeseung felt significant, like they were adding up to something bigger, something you weren’t quite ready to admit.

As you walked through the hallways with your friends, laughing and joking like you always did, you couldn’t help but think back to the way Heeseung had smiled at you after the test. Maybe it was nothing, just him being nice, but maybe—just maybe—it was something more.

And that thought stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind long after the school day ended.

Weeks had passed, turning into months, and the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore began to grow stronger. You had fallen for Heeseung. It was impossible not to—the way he always approached you with that warm, easy smile, how he helped you with subjects you struggled with, and those fleeting glances he’d give you whenever you bumped into each other in the halls. You started to believe that maybe—just maybe—he was interested in you, too.

You found yourself talking about him with your friends every day, the smallest interactions suddenly feeling like monumental moments. You would gush over the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to make everything around him brighter. Your friends teased you, calling it a classic high school crush, but to you, it felt like something more. Something real.

But one day, everything came crashing down.

You were absent from school on Monday, feeling under the weather, but by Tuesday, you were back. As usual, you arrived late, sneaking into class and slipping into your seat quietly. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for him like you always did. When you found him, he was sitting with his friends, talking and laughing as usual. For a brief moment, your heart warmed at the sight, the same butterflies fluttering inside you.

But then, you saw her.

Aera, one of your classmates, walked into the classroom, and you noticed how Heeseung’s friends immediately nudged him, teasing smiles on their faces as she passed by them. Heeseung’s face lit up, his eyes following her for a second too long. It was subtle, but you caught it.

That pang in your chest hit you like a ton of bricks.

You stared, frozen in your seat, watching as the scene unfolded in front of you. Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair as his friends continued to nudge him, clearly teasing him about Aera. You didn’t need to hear what they were saying to know what it was about.

It was so obvious.

The way his friends teased him when she walked by, the way Heeseung didn’t deny it but instead just laughed along—it all made sense now. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. The occasional glances, the small smiles, the casual conversations… they weren’t special, at least not the way you thought they were. They were just… normal.

You felt your stomach twist, a wave of nausea washing over you as the truth settled in. He wasn’t interested in you. He was interested in her.

For the rest of the day, that pang in your chest refused to go away. You tried to focus on class, on anything but him, but it was impossible. Every time you glanced in his direction, you saw him laughing with his friends, glancing at Aera when he thought no one was looking.

And just like that, the small world you had built in your head—where maybe Heeseung liked you back—came crashing down.

You plopped onto your bed, your heart aching as tears began to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming emotions you’d been bottling up finally spilled over. “Why does this hurt so much?” you sobbed, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. Each sob seemed to echo the ache deep in your chest, and you couldn’t stop the flood of tears that followed.

You tilted your head to the side, staring blankly at the wall as the pieces fell into place. So this is why… you thought bitterly. This is why Heeseung always teased Aera, why he would borrow her school supplies when he could’ve easily asked you. You replayed the small moments in your head, moments where you thought he was being distant, but now you realized it wasn’t distance—it was focus. Focus on her, not you.

Every little thing made sense now, and with that realization came an even deeper sense of pain. He wasn’t shy around you; he simply didn’t feel anything special toward you. He wasn’t nervous when you caught him glancing your way; he was probably looking past you to catch a glimpse of her.

You chuckled bitterly, the sound hollow and broken. “How pathetic…” you whispered, wiping away another tear. You had been so naive, thinking that he was interested in you. You convinced yourself that his little acts of kindness meant more than they did. The way he helped you during the speaking test, the fleeting eye contact, the small smiles—they were nothing but common decency.

Your tears blurred your vision as you thought back to every moment you’d replayed in your head over the past months, building it up into something that it never was. You were just a hopeless romantic, falling for someone who was never meant to fall for you.

The next day, you barely dragged yourself out of bed. The thought of going to school, facing Heeseung and Aera, felt unbearable. You were emotionally drained from staying up all night, crying over him—how stupid it seemed in hindsight. But feelings couldn’t be forced, and your heart ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

When you finally made it to school, you kept your head down, blending into the background as much as possible. The day went by in a blur, each lesson blending into the next. Every time the teacher left the classroom, you could hear Heeseung’s friends snickering and teasing him whenever Aera was nearby. It stung, and only God knew how much you wanted to disappear every time they talked. The painful reality was right in front of you, and there was no escaping it.

You weren’t sure how you managed to hold it together. You felt like a mess, like you were barely keeping it together. And it must have shown, because at some point, Heeseung glanced at you, concern flickering across his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

Is it that obvious? you thought. You didn’t trust yourself to speak much, so you just nodded, not even sparing him a glance. You couldn’t.

Math class rolled around, and as usual, you were struggling. Numbers and formulas swam before your tired eyes, but today, you didn’t even consider asking for Heeseung’s help like you usually did. There was no way you could face him, not after everything. Instead, you kept your head down, trying to make sense of the problem in front of you, even though it felt like trying to read a foreign language.

"You need help with that?" His voice broke through the silence, and for a split second, your heart twinged at the familiarity of it.

But you shook your head quickly, keeping your eyes glued to the textbook. "No, I can manage," you muttered, even though you knew you couldn’t.

There was a pause, and you could feel him watching you. "Alright," he said, sounding slightly hesitant, "just tell me if you need help. I'm always here."

You didn't respond. You didn’t have the energy to. All you could do was nod, your eyes still fixed on the page in front of you. His words echoed in your head—I'm always here—but they felt hollow now. It was like the safety net you once felt around him had disappeared, replaced by the reality that his attention was somewhere else, on someone else.

You bit your lip, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You were going to get through this. You had to. But right now, everything still hurt.

The rest of the day dragged on painfully. You went through the motions—attending classes, taking notes, and exchanging small talk with your friends—but your mind was elsewhere, fixated on the ache in your chest. Every time Heeseung laughed with his friends or shared a casual smile with Aera, it felt like a fresh stab to your heart.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you were more than ready to leave. You packed your things quickly, avoiding any lingering glances in Heeseung’s direction. Your friends noticed your quieter-than-usual demeanor, but they didn’t press you too much. You gave them a half-hearted smile and told them you were just tired.

As you walked home, the familiar streets blurred in your peripheral vision. The conversations and laughter from your classmates echoed in your mind, but you felt distant from it all. You replayed Heeseung’s words in math class, the way he had offered to help like he always did. It was almost painful how effortlessly kind he was, even when you were trying to distance yourself.

By the time you reached your house, the emotional exhaustion had fully set in. You threw your bag onto the floor, kicked off your shoes, and collapsed onto your bed once more. The quiet of your room wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, but it didn’t erase the feelings bubbling just beneath the surface.

You stared at the ceiling, thoughts spinning. Why did I have to fall for him? you wondered for what felt like the hundredth time. Heeseung was everything you could’ve asked for in a person—kind, smart, charming. But the reality was, you were just a background character in his story. No matter how much you wished it were different, Aera was the one who held his attention.

You rolled onto your side, hugging your pillow tightly as a fresh wave of sadness washed over you. It wasn’t fair, but you knew life wasn’t about fairness. You’d get over this, eventually, but right now, it just hurt.

Before you could sink further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed beside you. You reached over to check it, blinking at the screen. It was a message from one of your friends.

Bestiee<3: “Are you okay? You seemed kinda off today. Let’s hang out this weekend, okay? We can binge some shows and forget about school for a while. 🫶”

You smiled weakly at the text, appreciating the gesture. Maybe you did need a break, a chance to step away from everything and focus on yourself for a bit.

You: “Yeah, sounds good. Thanks for checking in.”

You put your phone down and sighed. Maybe hanging out with your friends could help distract you from the mess of feelings swirling inside. Maybe you just needed time, a reminder that your world wasn’t falling apart—at least not completely.

But for now, you let the quiet fill the room again, allowing yourself to feel whatever it was you needed to feel. Tomorrow was another day and maybe, it would hurt a little less.

You had fun hanging out with your friends over the week, trying to distract yourself from the lingering hurt in your heart. After all, you were just a human with feelings, and it was hard to shake off the emotional weight that Heeseung’s unexpected interest in Aera had brought.

As Heeseung's birthday approached, he invited you to his party. You wavered, unsure if you should go, especially since Aera would likely be there. But in the end, you forced yourself to attend, not wanting to let your own insecurities ruin a chance to celebrate someone you cared about.

You decided to buy him a beanie—something he had once casually mentioned loving during a conversation.

“What’s your favorite stuff?” you had asked, genuinely curious.

“Why do you ask?” He had chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Just curious,” you replied, keeping it light.

“Hmmm, I like stuff like beanies?” he said with a smile.

“A beanie lover, I see?” you teased back.

“You could say that,” he laughed, and in that moment, you felt a warmth inside, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he noticed you too.

The day of the party arrived, and you found yourself standing in front of his house, heart racing. His maid greeted you at the door, a welcoming smile on her face.

“Mr. Lee is currently with his friends. You can go around the house and have fun,” she said.

“Okay, thank you!” you replied, trying to sound upbeat while gripping the gift a little tighter.

Just then, someone touched your shoulder, making you jump slightly. You turned to see one of Heeseung's friends, a friendly smile on his face.

“Hey, y/n, right?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, and… you are?” you replied, forcing a smile that felt a little shaky.

“I’m Jake, Heeseung’s friend. C’mon, let’s go upstairs. Heeseung and the others are there too.”

“Alright!” you nodded, following him as you tried to suppress your nerves.

As you both ascended the staircase, the sound of laughter and chatter grew louder. Jake opened the door, revealing Heeseung surrounded by his friends, and—your stomach dropped—Aera was there too.

You gulped, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you as you gripped the gift tighter, your heart racing.

“Heeseung!” Jake called, and your gaze met Heeseung’s.

His face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his features. “Y/n! You made it!”

“Hey,” you said, forcing a smile, though your heart felt heavy.

“Come in! We’re just about to start the games!” he said, motioning for you to enter.

You stepped inside, trying to shake off the nerves. The atmosphere was lively, filled with excitement and laughter, but as you caught sight of Aera leaning closer to Heeseung, the pang in your heart returned. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to enjoy the night, even if it was bittersweet.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, watching the group play games, trying to force a smile as laughter filled the room. But each joyful sound felt like a dagger in your heart. Your gaze drifted to Heeseung, who was seated next to Aera. The sight of them together was almost unbearable. They leaned into each other, sharing jokes and secrets that felt intimate.

Heeseung leaned closer to Aera, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh—a sound so light and carefree, it sent a pang of longing through you. As she playfully touched his arm, you noticed a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. That was the final straw. You had thought you could handle this, that you had moved on at least a little, but it was clear you hadn’t.

With a heavy heart, you got up from the couch, the laughter around you fading into a dull hum. You left his gift on the table, a beanie wrapped neatly in colorful paper, and turned to leave.

“Y/N?” you heard Heeseung call out, but the sound felt distant as you stepped out of the room. You staggered down the stairs, your heart racing, desperate to escape the painful scene.

Once outside, you reached for your phone, your fingers shaking as you called an Uber. As you waited, you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined to hold it together.

The car pulled up, and you quickly climbed in, giving the driver your address in a barely audible whisper. As the car drove away, you stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur together. The ache in your chest was unbearable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever really be able to move on from Heeseung.

You were absent for the whole week, locking yourself in your room and feeling like you were rotting away. Your parents were worried, knocking on your door to encourage you to eat breakfast and dinner, but you kept silent, too engulfed in your own thoughts to respond. You ignored all your friends' calls and messages, including Heeseung's. His voice echoed in your mind—concerned, maybe even a little confused—but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

After days of isolation, you finally decided to return to school. You knew this wasn’t right; losing yourself over a boy wasn’t okay. You shouldn’t let your feelings for Heeseung consume you like this. So, with a heavy heart and a resolve to reclaim your life, you reluctantly headed to school.

The moment you stepped inside, you could feel Heeseung's gaze on you. Your heart raced as you glanced his way, and for a moment, everything felt overwhelming again. He furrowed his brows in concern, looking back at you with an intensity that made you want to look away.

You had told your teacher that you wanted to change seats because you couldn’t focus being so close to him. You had begged her over and over until she finally relented, and now you were grateful for that distance.

You settled into your new seat, avoiding his eyes as you rested your head on your arms, trying to shield yourself from the onslaught of emotions. The classroom felt different, quieter somehow, as if the air had thickened with the unspoken tension between you. Despite the chatter of your classmates, all you could think about was how much you missed the comfort of Heeseung's presence—yet how painful it had become to be near him.

As the lesson began, you could feel Heeseung's eyes occasionally flickering towards you, a subtle reminder that he was still there, still worried. But you kept your gaze fixed on the teacher, focusing on the words spilling from her mouth, willing yourself to forget everything else, if only for a moment.

The lesson droned on, but you struggled to concentrate. Your mind kept wandering back to Heeseung—the way he smiled, the sound of his laughter, and the warmth of his presence. Each fleeting memory felt like a double-edged sword, cutting deeper into your resolve to move on.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students started to gather their things, but you remained still, unwilling to face the inevitable rush of conversations and glances. You heard Heeseung’s voice, low and tentative, cutting through the chatter.

“Y/N,” he called softly, his tone filled with concern. You could feel his eyes on you, and the warmth of his gaze was both comforting and painful.

You took a deep breath, pretending to rummage through your backpack as if you hadn’t heard him. You didn’t want to face him—not yet. But as you stood up to leave, you felt a presence beside you. It was Heeseung, standing a mere foot away, his expression serious.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, heart racing. Part of you wanted to say yes, to hear what he had to say, but another part feared that it would only lead to more heartache.

“Y/N, please,” he pressed, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of acknowledgment. You finally met his gaze and saw the worry etched on his face.

“Fine.” you replied, your heart pounding in your chest. You followed him out of the classroom and into the hallway, where the noise of students chatting and laughing surrounded you like a whirlwind.

He led you to a quieter corner, away from prying eyes. The air felt thick with tension as you both stood there, unsure of how to start.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Heeseung said, breaking the silence. “You disappeared for a week. I tried to reach you, but… you didn’t answer.”

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “I just needed some time to myself.”

“Is it about Aera?”

Your eyes flickered with a mix of shock and frustration. “No.”

Heeseung stepped closer, concern deepening in his eyes. “Y/N, it’s not what you think. Aera and I… we’re just friends. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“Look, Heeseung, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just leave me alone. Please.”

His expression shifted, confusion and hurt crossing his features. “Y/N, I—”

“I said I need space!” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended.

Heeseung paused, taking a step back as if your words had struck him. “Okay, I get it. Just… know that I care about you.”

With that, he turned away, leaving you in the quiet corner, your heart racing from the confrontation. You felt a mix of anger and sadness wash over you, but deep down, you knew that you needed to process your feelings on your own.

As you walked away, you could still feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you, but you steeled yourself, determined to navigate through this turmoil alone, at least for now.

A month later, graduation was approaching, and you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung since that fateful day. You did your best to ignore him, avoiding him at all costs. But if you were honest with yourself, you missed his presence. The vibrant energy he brought into your life felt absent, leaving a void that you couldn’t quite fill.

You had blocked him on all social media, determined to cut ties and free yourself from any concern about him. Yet, as days passed, you noticed something strange: Heeseung and Aera were no longer seen together. You wondered what had happened between them but quickly brushed it off as not being your problem. They were probably just busy or having private conversations.

As graduation day approached, your class decided to throw a party to celebrate. You wore a simple yet elegant dress that made you feel confident and beautiful. The fabric flowed with each movement, accentuating your figure while remaining understated. Laughter filled the room as you and your friends joked around, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You decided to excuse yourself, needing some fresh air away from the noise.

Stepping onto the balcony, you took a deep breath, letting the cool night air wash over you. The stars twinkled brightly above, reminding you of countless moments spent with Heeseung, those late-night conversations filled with dreams and laughter. You gazed up at the endless sky, pondering what the future held—what your job would be and who your soulmate might turn out to be.

Your moment of tranquility was suddenly disrupted when the door swung open, and someone stepped outside. You turned to see who it was, and your breath caught in your throat. It was Heeseung, the very person you had been avoiding for months.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to react. “What are you doing here, Heeseung?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tremor betrayed your nerves.

He stepped closer, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, a nervous habit you had come to recognize. “I’ve been thinking a lot since we last talked. I wanted to talk to you… I-i need to get something off my chest.”

You folded your arms, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I liked Aera at one point. Sure she was fun, and I thought I could see a future with her. But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized… she wasn’t the one I truly wanted.”

Your heart raced, unsure where this was going. You could feel the tension in the air, thick with unspoken words.

He continued, glancing down as if searching for courage. “I thought maybe it was just a crush, but then I realized I was just trying to fill a void. It was you I missed, Y/N. Your laughter, your kindness, the way you make everything feel brighter. You’ve been the one on my mind all along, and it’s time I finally admit it.”

He shifted on his feet, his cheeks slightly flushed as he caught your gaze. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. “I fell in love with you, Y/N. I didn’t understand it at first, but now I can’t ignore it anymore. I’ve realized that you’re the one I’ve been longing for.”

You stood there, taken aback by his confession. The mix of feelings you had buried came rushing back, a wave of confusion, hope, and the remnants of your heartache.

“I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that,” he added, taking a small step forward, his gaze locking onto yours. “You mean more to me than I realized. I just… I really love you, Y/N.”

You took a breath, feeling the weight of his words settle in your heart. Memories flooded your mind: the way he made you laugh, how he always knew what to say to brighten your day, and the comfort of his presence. You remembered the late-night study sessions, the deep conversations about dreams and fears, and how easy it was to be around him.

“Honestly, Heeseung,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I’ve missed you too. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I tried to push you out of my mind, but it just didn’t work. I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

Heeseung’s expression softened, relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “I thought I could just move on, but it hasn’t been the same without you. I guess… I was scared.”

Heeseung took another step closer, hope shining in his gaze. “Scared of what?”

“Scared that I’d let myself feel something for you again, and then it would hurt even more if it didn’t work out,” you confessed, vulnerability pouring from you.

Heeseung’s gaze deepened as he listened intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and longing. “I get it. I’ve felt the same way. But I’m here now, and I want to try. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the familiar warmth spreading through you. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

In that moment, the distance that had felt insurmountable shrank, leaving only the two of you in a world filled with possibilities. Heeseung’s fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity through you.

“Can we start over?” he asked, his voice low and sincere. “Take it slow this time?”

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As the night sky stretched above you, you both stood together, the weight of unspoken words finally lifted. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves around you, a soothing reminder of the passage of time. Heeseung shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, and the warmth of his presence enveloped you.

“Remember when we used to talk about our dreams?” he asked, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his lips. “I used to think about how nice it would be to share those moments with someone special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, recalling the late-night conversations that had felt so effortless. “Yeah, I remember. We talked about traveling, our goals, and even silly things like our favorite ice cream flavors.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I still stand by my favorite being mint chocolate chip.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst flavor,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“Hey!” Heeseung laughed, the sound light and carefree, like music to your ears. “You just don’t appreciate the refreshing taste!”

The playful banter felt familiar and comforting, a reminder of the bond you shared. You both leaned against the balcony railing, looking out at the shimmering lights of the city below, the vibrant energy reflecting the emotions swirling within you.

“I’ve missed this,” Heeseung admitted, his voice turning softer. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at his honesty. “I’ve missed you too. It’s hard to explain, but life felt dull without you around.”

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, the weight of his words resonating in the air. “I promise to be here for you this time. I won’t take our moments for granted again.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “I believe you.”

As you stood there, side by side, the world around you faded into the background. It was just you and Heeseung, two hearts that had weathered a storm, ready to embrace whatever the future held.

The air was charged with a mix of nervous energy and undeniable chemistry, and you felt a shift—a spark that ignited the promise of something more. You turned to him, your pulse racing.

“So, what’s next?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung smiled, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Well, first, I think I need to make it up to you for being such an idiot.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. “Oh really? And how do you plan to do that?”

He stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. “How about I take you out for ice cream? You can choose the flavor, even if it’s the ‘worst’ one.”

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “Deal. But you might regret it when I choose something crazy.”

“I can handle it,” he replied confidently, his smile infectious. “Just don’t be too mean to my mint chocolate chip.”

As you shared a laugh, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the warmth of rekindled feelings. The future was uncertain, but with Heeseung by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

As you both made plans for ice cream and more late-night talks, you realized that love wasn’t just a feeling—it was a journey. And together, you were ready to explore every twist and turn, hand in hand.

...

[themultifanshipper]

hiii! i was thinking maybe 🟠 from your prompt list with lando, oscar and logan if you’re up for it

like maybe reader’s oscar’s partner and since he’s a great friend and logan has a bad race, he invites logan to his driver’s room to let the frustration out on reader <33

but lando ends up coming in in the middle of it (cause we all know that mf doesn’t knock) and eventually joins?

you can change anything you want!! please and thank you!! <3

Logan had lost the will to live it seemed. Not only was he officially out of the seat, but he had crashed in FP3, not taken part in qualifying, and started from the back row. And sue him, a p16 finish wasn't making him any happier.

Oscar knew just how to cheer his friend up, though.

Warnings: smut, threesome, foursome, PinV, PinA, gay shit, sub Logan, cock warming but with your mouth? Is that a thing?, subspace?, spanking, pain kink, dacryphilia, manhandling?, degradation?, spit, praise, overstimulation, Lando comes in (pun intended) at the very end.

Edit: I only just fucking realised I forgot to put the prompt in the fic.... oops :3

Requested from my prompt list

When Oscar had approached you during the aftermath of Zandvoort, you expected him to need cheering up. But what he was offering was much better: Logan Sargeant.

When he asked you about it you were skeptical, whoring you out to the other drivers wasn't really Oscar's style. But when he explained how down Logan was feeling you readily agreed, after all you were also good friends with the American.

Logan turned out to be more of a handful than you'd anticipated.

You expected him to let you take the reigns after being so depressed and mopey, you and Oscar had discussed possible outcomes and mindsets beforehand, agreeing to be whatever Logan needed.

But what you had in front of you now was so much more pathetic, and you were instantly wet at the sight that greeted you as you opened the door to Oscar's bedroom in his Monaco apartment.

You'd been caught up in a meeting so Oscar and Logan had started without you.

And Jesus Fucking Christ what a sight.

Logan was on his knees, drooling over Oscar's cock which was sitting on his tongue. His eyes were closed and his head was being held in place by Oscar's vice grip on his blonde hair. His hips were desperately grinding against Oscar's shin as he chased his release.

You just stared at the scene, eyebrows raised in question at Oscar, who just shrugged and motioned you over.

“Logan seems to be in a very particular mood so I've instructed him to make himself come without touching before he's allowed to suck my cock, isn't that right baby?”

His hand went to cup Logan's jaw as the green eyed man looked up and nodded, Oscar's unmoving cock still nestled in his mouth.

Oscar slapped his cheek “Words, Logan”

Logan hissed and his hips stuttered as he let out a muffled “yes sir”, which made more drool pool out of his mouth and down his chin.

It was disgusting.

It was fucking hot.

“Are you close, baby?” Oscar cooed.

“Yes, sir” Logan slobbered like a dog with a bone as the rhythm of his hips sped up and he almost choked.

“Good boy” you said out of nowhere and that was it for Logan.

He spilled into his jeans as his body went lax and his eyes clouded over.

Oscar pulled his cock out of Logan’s mouth and tilted his head upwards.

“You okay to carry on, baby or do you need a break?”

Logan whined at the emptiness in his mouth and slurred out “carry on, please… I'm green, please fuck my mouth. I need it so bad”

You almost felt sorry for the man as Oscar groaned and gripped his hair before sliding his cock all the way in to the base. Logan was breathing hard through his nose and his body was trembling, and you felt like you were going to combust watching them.

Oscar pulled out and immediately went back in, not giving Logan any time to breathe. But that was obviously what he wanted if the way his eyes rolled back was any indication.

He wanted to be used, so be it. That was something you and Oscar could do for him.

Once Oscar had come down his throat, he pulled out and picked the exhausted man up, carrying him to the bed.

His jeans were damp, but already tented again, evidence of the enjoyment he was getting out of this, and Oscar chuckled.

“Already hard again just from me using your filthy mouth… what a whore”

Logan blushed and tried to hide himself out of embarrassment, but you took his hands and pinned them above his head while Oscar busied himself getting Logan's clothes off.

“Oh no, baby you can't hide from us, we want to see you while we take turns using you. Can you be a good boy and keep your hands there for me?”

Logan agreed and you smiled at him sweetly before sliding your pants and underwear off.

“I'm going to sit on your face baby, is that okay?”

Logan looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.

“Yes please, oh my god…”

You chuckled as you saw his cock twitch where it was laying on his stomach, red and already leaking.

You didn't waste any time getting on the bed and straddling his face, head trapped between your thighs.

You held his hands in place with one of your own as you slowly put a bit of your weight down on to his waiting mouth.

You'd been so turned on, the shock of his tongue running across your clit made a high pitched moan come out of you, and Oscar laughed from where he was sat next to you.

“Is his mouth that good, baby?” he teased and you flipped him off with your unoccupied hand.

“Fuck off I'm just really horny, plus you should know, you’re the one who fucked it earlier”

“Touché, it is a really good mouth, you can put more weight on him, he is an F1 driver after all”

“Oh yeah, like you didn't almost suffocate last time I sat on your face!”

“Hey! If that's how I go out, I'll die a happy man!”

Logan tended to agree with that sentiment, but the two of you bickering like he wasn't even there was turning him on more than he'd like to admit. In fact the only sign that you were affected at all was the trembling of your thighs around his head as he licked and sucked all of your juices like a man starved.

When your voice cracked and you looked back down at him, he knew you were close by the way your eyes were lidded and you bit your lip in concentration.

“Fuck you're such a good boy Logan, you're gonna make me come.”

Logan doubled his efforts and you threw your head back as tremors wracked through your body and you came with a cry while he lapped up everything you had to give.

Oscar had been sitting patiently on the side but as soon as you'd ridden out the after shocks you were lifted up and thrown over the other side of the bed.

“My turn” Oscar growled and straddled Logan’s thighs before leaning down to kiss him and taste you on Logan's tongue.

Both men groaned into the kiss as it got hungrier and sloppier the longer you watched them.

You'd discussed beforehand the formalities and whether Oscar was cool with kissing Logan, but you certainly weren't expecting this level of depravity as you watched Oscar's left hand slither down to grip Logan's cock, and his right go up to wrap around the man's throat and squeeze making Logan gasp and his hips buck up into his hold.

“Open” Oscar rasped and Logan stuck his tongue out, mouth wide.

The sight of Oscar spitting into Logan's waiting mouth, ordering him to swallow, and Logan complying, was seared into your brain forever.

But the next thing out of Logan's mouth made you throb.

“Need you to fuck me now, sir”

He sounded so fucked out, Oscar grinned wolfishly at him and squeezed his hip affectionately.

“I was planning to leave that for later, but since you asked so nicely” he looked over to you, where you were already couple of fingers deep in yourself, and he raised an eyebrow before asking “Would you fetch me the lube, my love?”

You smirked at him at reached into the nightstand drawer to grab it and toss it to him, without stopping the movement of your fingers, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Since my girlfriend is feeling a bit lonely over there, I’m going to prep you while you're inside her, that okay with you?” he looked down at Logan in question and the other man groaned.

“You two are going to kill me”

You and Oscar laughed before springing to action. You shimmied down the bed and Oscar helped Logan get knees between your legs.

He just stared at your puffy cunt before lifting a hand to slide a finger inside you, and he groaned at the tight heat.

You just wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him towards you.

“ Want to feel your cock, Logan. Gonna be a good boy and put it in me?”

Logan let out a sharp breath at your crude words and shuffled forward to line himself up.

You groaned as he bottomed out completely and bent over you to mouth at your neck and give Oscar better access.

He was anything but small, and the pressure inside you was perfect as he started grinding his hips in small circles to help you adjust.

But he halted his movements when a smack resounded and he let out a strangled moan into your neck.

“You need to stay still while I prep you, can you do that Logan?”

He whimpered and nodded, but Oscar just smacked the other cheek, much harder.

“Yes, sir” Logan yelped before going back to sucking and biting along your collarbones.

As Oscar opened him up on his fingers, he started babbling into your skin, mind obviously getting fuzzy at the double stimulation on his cock and prostate, that Oscar was taking great pleasure in abusing with his talented fingers.

“You feel so good around me… so tight I'm leaking inside you… m'not gonna last long… Oscar's fingers… fuck, so good… wanna be good for you… want you to come on my cock… wanna make you feel good”

He was almost slurring at this point and Oscar chuckled before pulling his fingers out and lubing himself up.

“Don't you dare come before she does or I'll spank you until you come again on my cock…”

Logan's whole body shuddered and you wondered exactly how likely it was that that was going to happen.

Oscar slid inside in one go and Logan keened at the intrusion, hips bucking into yours and accidentally nailing your g spot.

Oscar grabbed Logan’s hips and started a rapid pace, pounding into Logan so hard that his cock was forced into your depths each time and you eyes rolled back as your sweet spots were abused by Oscar's forceful thrusts.

You closed your eyes, getting lost in the pleasure of your three bodies moving in tandem.

Oscar leaned forward, changing the angle to nail Logan's prostate dead on, and wrapped one hand around Logan's throat as leverage to pull him onto his cock, and the other went to your throat and squeezed, cutting off your breathing for a second.

Logan looked utterly debauched and Oscar could tell he wasn't going to last so he whispered into his ear.

“why don't you help her along, hmm? Make her come before you do”

Logan didn't even utter a word as his fingers went straight to your clit, rubbing light circles into the bundle of nerves which made you throw your head back and let out a porn worthy moan.

You came after only a couple more strong thrusts of Oscar's hips, and the feeling of your cunt throbbing around Logan's cock made him come with you as you both rode out your highs together.

Oscar pulled out gently and held Logan up to let you get out of the pile before turning him over and laying him on his back.

Logan’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and Oscar’s heart broke. He wiped a stray tear away with his thumb.

“What's the matter baby? Was that too much?” he asked, worried that he'd gone too far.

Logan let out a wet sob and huffed.

“No, no it's… it's the opposite. I'm…”

He looked away as another tear rolled down his cheek. “It's stupid…”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to your needs Logan” Oscar chastised “Come on use your words baby, what’s wrong?”

Logan's green eyes snapped back to Oscar and he looked down to where he was still hard.

“Want you to fuck me more… I'm still thinking about my shitty weekend and I need to get out of my head but I just can't, and I’m not fragile I can take everything you want to give me and you're still hard and I reaaally want you to come inside me and I want you to really use me until I can't even think…”

He heaved in a breath after rambling and Oscar held his face tenderly, pressing their foreheads together.

“Logan, jesus, I would be happy to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name. All you have to do is ask”

He gave him a sweet peck on the lips before sitting up and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Now then, I think that should be ten spanks for not expressing your needs…” he gave you a pointed look “you think that's reasonable my love?”

“Yes” “Yes, sir” you and Logan replied at the same time, pulling a giggle from you.

In no time Logan was over Oscar's knee counting down each spank, ass quickly reddening as he leaked precome all over Oscar's thigh.

“What number are we on Logan?” he asked after Logan failed to count.

Logan just moaned in response as you reached over and slid a finger down his perineum and over his balls, you couldn't help teasing him a bit.

“Logan?” you prompted.

“I- I don't know…” his words were slurred and you couldn't help share a triumphant smirk with Oscar, you'd found what Logan needed to get out of his head.

“seven?” he tried without much conviction.

Oscar made a face “Lucky guess, baby. But I think we'll go up to twelve for that lapse in concentration.

His hand came down on Logan's flesh harder than before and Logan cried out, cock dribbling a little bit more.

“eight”

Another smack, and his body tensed but he didn't make a sound. He was on fire, in a good way.

“nine”

Once more, Oscar aimed at the other cheek and brought his hand down even harder.

“ten”

Oscar could feel the tears streaming down his left thigh, and Logan's hardness pressing into his right. He motioned for you to touch him while his hand soothed over the harsh redness.

You slid a finger into his still loose hole, down to the knuckle, as Oscar spoke to him in a calming voice.

“Only two left baby. You going to take them like a good boy?”

“Mhhm… yesssir” Logan slurred and Oscar nodded at you.

You slid a second finger in and started rubbing circles into his prostate with the pads of your fingers.

The reaction was immediate. Logan’s hips bucked involuntarily, a soft cry pushing past his lips.

Oscar spanked him for the penultimate time.

“eleven” he wailed, wet sobs wracking over his body.

And the last one.

“twelve” he gasped and his cock visibly jumped as he bit into Oscar's thigh lightly.

“m'so close… please, I need you to fuck me, please I need to come, need it so bad”

Before anyone could move though, a voice sounded from the corridor.

“Oscar why the hell aren't you-”

Lando stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway.

From his vantage point there was nothing that you were doing that was hidden from his view.

Oscar, ever the pragmatic one, pulled your hand away and placed Logan on his back, on the bed, before turning around to face Lando.

“We’re taking turns helping Logan forget about his shit weekend, so either come help us or fuck off.”

He turned back around and lined himself up with Logan's hole, pushing in slightly.

“You okay to continue, baby?”

Logan shuddered at the intrusion and whimpered. “Yes, please, please fuck me”

“Please fuck me what?” Oscar chided, unmoving.

“Please fuck me sir!” Logan was getting antsy again and he squirmed, trying to get more of Oscar inside him.

“Such a good boy for us” Oscar leaned down to kiss him tenderly “I'm going to fuck you now, like you deserve”

He slammed his hips forward and Logan yelped, back arching as the breath was knocked from his lungs.

“Yes! Fuck! I'm so close, don't stop!”

Oscar chuckled and wrapped a hand around Logan's throat to keep him in place.

“I’m not going to stop, baby. We're going to keep making you come until you can't speak. Isn't that what you wanted?”

“yes! Thank you, sir!”

Oscar groaned “Good boy”

He was getting close after being on edge for so long and he could tell Logan was getting there as well.

He beckoned you over and you knew what he wanted you to do.

You took Logan's leaking cock into your mouth, and it only took a couple of bobs of your head before he was coming down your throat with a high-pitched wail, Oscar shooting his own cum deep inside him. He quickly pulled out and turned back to where Lando hadn't moved an inch, but was very visibly hard in his pants.

.

“Your turn” Oscar said and Lando caught a glimpse of Oscar's cum leaking out of Logan’s hole and down his crack.

He licked his lips and cleared his suddenly raw throat.

“Fuck, okay yeah…”

He unbuckled his pants in record time, pushing his underwear down and taking himself in his hand, giving his cock a couple of tugs before shuffling over.

“Turn over for Lando, baby”

And Logan didn't disappoint, he turned over onto his knees and arched his back like cat, fucking presenting himself to Lando.

“Jesus Christ Osc” one of Lando's hands went to touch the bruises on Logan's flesh “Logan you okay?”

“Yes, now fuck me, please, I need your cock sir” he said, goading the man behind him.

Lando's eyes closed in concentration, willing himself not to come on the spot, before lining himself up and pressing into him slowly.

The wet heat was heaven, and Lando aimed for Logan's prostate, making the younger man gasp and jolt.

“Ah! Too much- it's too much I can't-“ he panted into his arm as Lando bottomed out, but Oscar tutted.

“You're talking way too much for someone who ‘can't’. You wanted to be fucked until you can't think, so that's what we’re going to do.” He turned to Lando “Carry on”

So Lando did, he gripped Logan's hips hard, nails digging into the sensitive skin as he started a rough pace, effectively shutting Logan up for good as his prostate was abused over and over.

You and Oscar climbed up the bed to the headboard, hands and mouths wandering to distract yourselves, having a sweet moment for yourselves. His mouth made its way down to your poor neglected cunt, making you whine immediately after not getting any stimulation for a while.

You looked at Logan and gasped. He was being held up by his hair and his eyes were rolled back as drool dripped down his chin onto the sheets.

He was letting little punched out moans on every one of Lando's thrusts, and was obviously getting close again already.

Oscar slid a couple of fingers inside you and you yanked him up by his hair to kiss him senseless.

This was the most fun you'd had in a long time and you wanted to convey that through the kiss.

His fingers continued their assault on your g-spot and he leaned in close “Come for me baby, show Lando how good you are when you come” his lips went to your tits, biting and sucking and when your eyes found Lando's you came, thighs trying to close around Oscar's hand at the overstimulation.

You didn't register Lando speaking, but a bone-rattling cry came from next to you as Logan obviously came around him, making the older man smirk in victory.

But Oscar's attention was on Logan.

“Holy shit Logan, you came dry”

Logan sounded like he was having an asthma attack, despite not having asthma, and it took him a moment to respond.

When he did, you all raised your eyebrows at him.

“Is that all you've got?”

Lando took that personally, and he lifted the younger man and pressed him to his chest, changing the angle and grinding his cock in deeper as Logan groaned weakly.

“Still talking, huh? Sounds like a challenge to me”

Oscar hummed in agreement and slid his cock into you at the same moment he leaned down and took Logan's cock in his mouth.

The sight of your boyfriend eagerly sucking down his (and your) friend’s cock was a lot to process. Not to mention Lando's presence, who now had something to prove as he pistonned his hips at an inhuman pace.

Three world class athletes competing in sex.

This was going to be a long fucking night.