#The boys are waiting instructions as usual

[bearlydruid]

The warmth of his chuckle was rich, honey-sweet, as Astarion teased him. "A good boy?" He echoed, tongue teasing against one canine for a moment. "I didn't think I'd done anything too special." What had it been - the last teasing hour as they had traded messages and images. "But I suppose I can be good - when the mood strikes me." Halsin couldn't deny that it was very rare for him to actually have the chance to be sweet to anyone - usually his roles tended to fall more in the realm of mentoring and monitoring, rarely did he have a chance to just indulge anymore.

Already Astarion was giving him something he had sorely missed. It was an indulgence very different, even if he did rise to the role of Daddy Halsin just as easily. With his legs spread, his hand still lingering, as if just waiting for Astarion to settle there. He'd look lovely on a pillow, relaxed with his head just resting against Halsin's warm thigh. "What's your favorite color, Astarion?" He asked curiously. "I typically work with wood, but I can still make sure you're comfortable.....should you care to join me here sometime." Was it forward? yes - but so had their entire back and forth so far. It was just....well. Working for them.

Halsin let out a breath through his teeth, eyes flickering for a moment as he gave himself a slow stroke before following the instructions Astarion had given - even if they hadn't been a blueprint for Halsin's pleasure. He let out a low moan as he worked over his weeping head, twisting the way he would have with Astarion. His other hand finally left his thigh, sliding down to cup his balls and give them a careful roll. "You're a High Elf, right?" He asked. "Have you ever had your ears worked just right while you sucked them off? I wonder if I could get you off just like that...." It was a rumble of a thought, his mouth moving just as quickly as the thought had come to his mind. No one could say he was the type to shy away from his desires.

"If you think the warmth of my hands would feel good, I wonder how they would feel for you as I worked you open...." The sound he made was somewhere between a growl and a purr as he gave himself another slow stroke, the scene in his head - and hopefully in Astarion's too, now that it had been shared.

“Come now, darling, don’t pretend like you aren’t going to love every second of it,” Astarion rumbled, his eyes following every one of Halsin’s moves to get comfortable like the predator that he was. He didn’t want to miss a thing now that he had been gifted with a front row ticket to the best show in the world. He nearly did, when Halsin called him ‘sweet thing’ so teasingly that he sucked in a breath he didn’t even need while his eyes threatened to flutter shut. Hells, torture had never been this sweet, “Only if you keep being a good boy, my sweet.” As far as he could remember, Astarion didn’t have a lot of history with druids. He knew what they had been capable of centuries ago, when the old magic was still pulsating strong through every living thing, but to hear of one still capable of wildshape these days was quite rare. Halsin either had to be incredibly powerful or very old….Perhaps both? Something to bring up on their date, maybe. The snarl that ripped from Astarion’s chest when Halsin gripped one of those impeccable thighs would have been embarrassing if the vampire cared about anything more than the all consuming want burning his typically icy cold interior, “Yes, please,” He gasped, tongue reaching out to lick at his fangs as he imagined lapping up the arousal leaking from the druids cock while he sat kneeling between those gorgeous legs, “Pretty please.”

Thankfully, Halsin didn’t seem put off by his little admission and instead was eager to help him on his journey of self discovery. It was a huge relief and, strangely, touching. His fear of judgment, or ending up in the exact same situation all over again, had both been huge reasons it had taken him so long to ‘put himself back out there’. He didn’t think Halsin would do either of those things, a fact that scared him as much as it comforted him. “I-hells, I like twisting the tip,” Astarion groaned, his cheeks burning with what little blood left that wasn’t already pooling between his legs, “Imagining it’s your hand instead of mine, squeezing hard enough that it almost hurts before trailing down to do the same to my balls. I 'm sure yours are much warmer than my own.”

[backsurasy]

She´s smarting

[kekewrites]

Tw. Bimbo reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, corruption kink, coercion, creampie, size kink, magic sex toy/onahole/fleshlight, loss of virginity, not proof read

***

Thinking about being a childhood friend of a yandere duo.

You were just so friendly and cute, approaching them with candies in your tiny hands and offering it to them. So kind as you always play with them, and sometimes they would argue who'd be your husband when playing house. They often fought whenever they wanted to play with you but in the end, it always results to sharing you.

Middle school was a little different than Kindergarten. They get more protective when boys try to get close to you, painting them as insufferable brats that only want clout. Being neighbors with the wealthy kids, got you too much attention much to their liking, often getting bullied whenever you finally have some alone time, but this didn't get unnoticed as you wonder why that kid who pushed you on your locker, suddenly have bandage wrapped around his head and his reputation down.

Highschool is where the shift started. You wanted to explore more, finding new friends, and hanging out with other people, and they did not like that. You were just too dumb, they said. Too dumb to realize people manipulating you so that they can get close to them. Do you even realize that the girl from your class only talks to you about them? Dumb girl.

Safe to say, you never had a genuine friend in high school, not like you even had chance to form a deep level of friendship (by people who genuinely wanna be friends with you) by the way they hog all your attention and time.

College is where it gets difficult for them to spend time with you. Different schedules, classes, course. They even insisted you go to the same university as them. It's frustrating how little time you spend together, always with your stupid excuse of "working on an assignment".

Without you around, they definitely have a hard time relieving some tension. They couldn't just walt into your room and steal some panties scoot free without getting into trouble, even though they were star students and had plenty influence over the school. No, no, they won't put their reputation to ruin, they're your perfect best friends.

Despite them being a duo, they were quite different in terms of personality. One is patient and mature, thinking logical and more on the rational side. While the other is playful, outgoing and rash. Both have their charms that got everyone around their fingers. However, they wouldn't sleep with just anyone, no. It's hard to get their dick hard, always imagining your cute face whenever they try to fuck a desperate bitch to finally release some tension.

But your impatient friend had enough of some random girl, high pitch moans that's not yours annoying his ears. It's miserable to even hump his own hand, so hard and cold, different to what he imagine your tight warm cunt to be. This just won't cut it. He needs more, to finally feel your wet insides without you knowing.

So what's a good way to relieve tension?

Some good ol' fleshlight.

The moment it arrived at his doorstep, he straight up bolted to his door. Slamming the door close as he finally gets his hands on the toy after days of waiting. Fuck, he can't wait to use this thing.

It's like the half body sex toy he used to watch in porns. He was quite impressed by the details it had, he gotta give props for that, but that's not what he's after for. After reading the instructions, more like skimming and skipping most of the words. He use lubricant, using plenty of it and spreading it around the artificial pussy lips. Rubbing and feeling the flaps, like how he usually does. It's kinda weird that he's doing this for a toy, but he could just imagine it being your cunt, practicing his moves. After a few moments did he slide his thick finger inside the walls of the toy... How weird, the texture was oddly real, like it was alive. Well, that's probably some mechanic shit that the factory put there or something. This is his first time using a fleshlight and it cost a fortune through some sketchy website so it better be worth it.

***

You jolted in your sit in class, listening to your professor's discussion about physics until you suddenly feel something brushing on your thighs. Your head panning around the room before looking ahead, brushing it off. It was probably the wind.

You yelp when something began rubbing your cunt, earning a few concern looks for you and your professor glancing at you before going back to his discussion. You shrink in your sit, head hanging low as you pressed your lips together. Confused and scared by the phantom touch assaulting your nether region. Clutching your skirt, you try to maintain confused whimpers as the touches didn't stop.

You're scared.

The moment something pushed inside you, you stand up and excuse yourself, running to the nearest restroom. Your feet quick as you open a random stall and sit on the toilet. Your breathing heavy as you shakily lifts your skirt, looking at the wet patch on your panty.

What's happening? Why are you wet? How can something touching you there? You're not imagining this, right?

Your mind raced as you become more terrified. Is a ghost haunting you? Tears pool on your eyes, sniffling as the assault become more aggressive.

***

Fuck, this fleshlight was the best thing he ever bought. How was this even made? Whatever. He continues to pump his thick finger, inserting another one and he jump a bit as he felt the walls suck on his fingers. Damn, it can even do that? Just how realistic can this toy be? He's not complaining though.

He decided to touch the clit earning another tight squeeze. What a sensitive toy. He continues to play, eventually adding another finger. It was weird how the warm walls didn't run out of lube, if this were any normal toy it'd need to be lubricated after few minutes but this toy seems to produce it on its on.

He pulls out his fingers as he inspects the inside, it's undeniable that it's fake but the way it pulsates around nothing makes it a bit questionable on how it works.

Would your cunt also look like that? He could imagine your wrecked heaving face after fingering you. Poor little you never had something inside, let alone this thick fingers. He couldn't wait for the moment he'll ruin you.

***

You're straight up crying as an additional thick sensation pumped your insides. Squeezing your thighs shut, like it's gonna do something to stop the phantom. Everything inside you screams to remove the intrusion but you didn't know how. Opening your legs slightly, your shaky fingers removing your panty to see what's happening inside your cunt... but nothing was there. Only a gape.

Your fingers shifts towards the gape, gasping as the invincible touch was able to touch you yet you couldn't even see or feel it. Squirming uncomfortably, as you open your legs more to try and get "it" out with your fingers. Uselessly grabbing air, whimpering and sobbing as you fail to interrupt with its continuous pumping. Your stomach twisting and an unfamiliar coil was starting to unravel, your breath hitching and legs shaking.

But it's abruptly stop as the phantom pulled away.

Finally, relief and a little bit of disappointment fills your chest. Slumping on the toilet, panting like you run a marathon. You shift a bit as you sit upright, freezing as something thick pokes your entrance.

No way...

Your brain panics, your gaze staring at the way your hole widens and your legs subconsciously spreading more to prepare yourself for the inevitable. You clutch the wall of the stall, each hand gripping the surface. Tears streaming down your face and your cheeks getting hot.

This can't be happening.

You felt the thick thing stretch you open.

***

Something about fucking a fleshlight should embarrass him. But nah, with you in his mind there's nothing to be ashamed. This is just practice to him after all, he'll do this things eventually.

With his heavy cock around his fingers, he taps the opening of the fleshlight. His other hand grips the hip. Rubbing along the slit, he collects lube running on the head of his cock, catching the clit in the process. He lets out a breath, as he finally starts pushing his cock inside.

He's quite big, so he's a bit worried if he'll fit in some shady toy but he's sure he'll fit in you just right, even if he had to force himself in your tiny cunt.

But there's no need for consideration when it comes to a toy.

He sheath inside in one thrust.

Hissing at the way the walls clings to him, tightly wrapping around his cock and pulsating as if rejecting a foreign object. Shit, why does it feel like a virgin?

Warm, wet, and tight. The perfect toy pussy for him, this could even rival a real pussy if he were being honest. No time for adjusting as he starts to thrust. Pounding the onahole, roughly gripping the hips and fucking hard. Shit shit shit why does this feel so good? This stupid toy feels a whole lot better compare to a random slut.

His hips going hard and the way he feels the inside pulsating, sucking all his worth making him groan. Such a tight fake cunt.

He wonder if he can break the toy.

***

With a silent scream, your head jerk up as the big stretch was too sudden for your body to take. Legs wide open as you try to create space for the large object. You sob as quiet as possible, as the phantom starts pounding hard at your sensitive cunt. You want to scream but held back, tears blurring your vision as you pray for it to end.

Whimpering and sobbing was the only thing you can do. Waiting for the thrusting to stop, you teeth bite your lip to stop noise from escaping. It doesn't sound like you at all, it's weird, you're scared and confused.

Your mind tries to think of a distraction, to think of anything but the mysterious assault. How is this even happening? What did you do to deserve this? Why you?

Your breath hitched as you feel the tight coil in your stomach again. Moaning a little as you feel pleasure rising though you. Your hands clasp over your mouth, muffling your noise. You shake your head as the coil gets tighter and tighter, your legs shaking as you stutter words of apology to whoever's doing this.

And it snaps.

Your vision going white, body stiffening and eyes going into the back of your head.

Ah. You never felt this... good before.

It takes you a few minutes to recover. Your limbs feel like jelly, your chest rising up and down in a slow manner, and you greedily gulp air.

You were tired and exhausted but you were glad the assault has stop after that. You groggily starts to lift you panty's up however you felt something dripping down your hole.

... you wonder what it was.

***

After that day, the mysterious phantom would touch you at random times, when you're showering, classes, or even in bed late at night. It was torturous, you were becoming paranoid and it didn't go unnoticed by one of your best friend.

He's helping you study in the library as you'd ask him for his guidance in physics. You would've asked your other friend, but you can just imagine him play with your hair or something along of not really helping you study.

You're breathe hitch as you feel the phantom ghost rubbing your cunt. Shrinking on your sit, uncomfortably rubbing your legs.

"Something bothering you?" He ask, looking a bit concern of your shiftiness.

"O-oh, it's nothing. Just a little tired lately," You reassured, smiling as you pretend to be fine.

His sharp gaze examined your face before dropping the subject, deciding to just help you study.

"If you need something to talk to. I'm right here, ok?"

You smiled forcefully, "I-I will... Thank you."

***

You could never bring yourself to tell someone about it. No one would ever believe you.

You're laying in bed waiting for the phantom, already memorizing the way it'll touch you. You brace for the touch as you can't help but feel helpless. Are you going to live like this your entire life? You don't want to...

But would someone be willing to listen to you? To believe you? You don't wanna bother your best friend, you knew how busy he's gotten the recent days and you're doubtful that he'll even listen to your story when he's the rational one. That means...

Your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion as you clutch your pillow and close your eyes. You're panting as the phantom starts its routine.

You're scared... You're scared that it's starting to feel good.

No. You don't want to be alone anymore on this.

You need help. Badly.

You shakily gets up from bed, putting some jacket on as you heads towards someone who can help you... At least you believe who will do.

***

"Oh? What's my little darling doing here at this late of night?" He grins as he opened the door with the sight of you.

You fidget with your jacket as you feel small under his gaze, "P-Please help me."

He raised his eyebrow, his grin replacing with a thin line. Yeah, he's playful but he'll never joke around when you're having a problem, "Come inside, we'll talk there, sweetie."

Sitting on his couch, you took a deep breath as you prepare to tell someone about this problem of yours. He won't make fun of you right? He won't be weirded out, right? He's a reliable person and your best friend.

He sits beside you, a serious and concerned expression on his face. It was rare to see him like this, which encourage you to finally tell him.

By the end, you were crying and hiccuping in your hands about the experiences you encounter with that phantom. Feeling his hand rub your back, cooing at you in comfort. He pulls your head to rest on his chest, telling you that everything's going to be fine.

You sob out a thank you, finding relief to finally get it out of your chest.

Unbeknownst to you, the man was smiling.

***

He didn't know if God was on his side. But, he didn't expect this would happen.

Who would've thought that the toy he was playing with was connected with cute lil you?

He didn't believe it at first but the way you described the timing was too much of a coincidence. Sweet little thing, don't worry you won't experience any scary thing from now on.

"Sweetie, do you want me to chase that scary invisible phantom away?" He cups your cheeks in his hands, locking gaze with you.

You sniffle before nodding, "Y-Yes, please..."

He gave you a toothy smile before gently pushing you down on his couch. His fingers swiping away your tears, "Listen to me, ok? I need you to trust me on this." His nose touching with yours as he leans close.

"O-ok... I trust you."

Dumb little girl.

You shouldn't have said that.

Now you've sealed your fate.

***

He wonders what was going on with you back when he helped you study in the library. Something was very off about you, and you were clearly uncomfortable to brought it up.

He thinks of you very often even when he's busy and swarmed with school works. Sometimes, getting frustrated to even continue and wants to just go to your place. He massages his aching temple, resting on his chair before a box caught his attention.

Oh yeah, that stupid guy gave him that a few weeks ago.

He recalls their conversation about it, saying that it'll help him release some stress. Well, he's plenty stressed now so why don't he test it out now?

He saunters to the box, sitting on the floor to unravel it. Only to be surprised by the object inside it.

An onahole...

If he was his usual self he would've flung this across the room and throw it to the garbage bin. But sometimes he needs to be relieve as well, plus he's a man too,

He's not that picky too.

This'll do for him.

A temporary replacement while thinking of your cunt.

[brokenmenswhore]

I need more stuff with poly!maraudersxreader spicy stuff🤭

i am but your humble servant 🙇‍♀️

mean | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)

summary: the boys get jealous seeing you with a study partner, and you reap the consequences when you tell sirius he was being ‘mean’

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, use of the word daddy twice

a/n: is my sirius favoritism showing too much or no

────── ☾ ──────

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually understand this class,” you said, the library study session beginning to take its toll.

“You’re getting it!” Evan encouraged, “we just need to work on it a little bit more.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I think after four hours, I either get it or I don’t,” you replied.

“I don’t mind the time,” Evan said, “especially when I get to spend it with you.”

Your three boyfriends could hear every single word exchanged between the two of you, being that they were seated only two tables away, and the second they heard Evan’s statement, Sirius jolted upwards from his chair.

“Sit down,” Remus instructed, “what are you gonna do? Kill him in the middle of our entire year?”

“Yeah, Remus, I just might,” Sirius responded, but still sat back down, eyes never leaving the two of you.

“You have to trust her, Sirius,” James scolded.

“It’s not her I don’t trust,” Sirius said, nostrils flaring in a rage.

Evan was sitting much closer to you than the boys were comfortable with, but they had to trust that you would shut him down if he overstepped.

“Yeah, this has at least been fun!” you told Evan, “but I think I’m a lost cause. This library is beginning to feel like an asylum.”

Evan shrugged, “I mean, we could change the scenery if that’s the problem. There’s usually not anyone in the fifth year potions classroom after the midday class. It would be quiet, and we could be alone and really focus.”

Evan shifted his chair even closer to you, placing an arm around the back of your chair, and leaning closer to you.

“That’s it, I’m gonna kill him,” Sirius said, standing up and reaching your table before Remus or James could keep him at bay.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius spat, hands on the table as he leaned in, standing across from you.

“Studying?” you replied as Evan backed off.

“Studying,” he mocked in a high tone, “tell him he better get the fuck away from you if he wants to continue breathing.”

“I’m right here, Black, if you have a problem, say it straight to me,” Evan retorted, standing up to meet Sirius’s eye level.

“Ok, Rosier,” Sirius cleared his throat, “I have a problem with you attempting to feel up my girlfriend and then get her alone. I also have a problem with the lack of bruising on your face.”

“Sirius!” you and Remus scolded in unison, the other two boys now next to Sirius, ready to pull him back if he decided to lunge.

“I didn’t do a single thing,” Evan protested, “but if you’re so insecure that you think studying means she’ll cheat on you, maybe she never really liked you in the first place. She could do better anyway.”

Sirius went to jump over the table, but Remus and James held onto one arm each, holding him back as Evan laughed.

“This is not worth it,” Evan told you, “I’ll see you around.”

“Evan, I’m sorry-“ you tried to say as he walked away, your attention turning to Sirius. You were angry with him for the way he was acting, but his fury far outweighed yours.

Remus and James dropped their grip on Sirius when he calmed down. Sirius glared daggers into you. “Just studying, eh?”

“We were just studying until you tried to attack him,” you retorted.

“Go to the dorm room now before I decide to make you feel sorry right here. We’ll meet you up there.”

“But I still-“

“Now.”

The rage in Sirius’ voice was not something to take lightly. When he was mad, making him angrier often ended badly. You retreated to the dorms, seated cross-legged on your bed with a textbook open as you waited for your boyfriends to arrive.

The door to the dorms swung open so hard that the door slammed open against the wall. All three of your partners entered the room, Sirius stomping straight over to you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Had a fun day toying with other boys, huh?” he asked.

“Sirius, please, I really was just trying to study,” you pleaded, eyes finding Remus and James and searching for help, “you guys should know that I would never do that to you.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius’ voice weakened, his anger breaking at your pleas, “I’m just mad someone else tried to take what’s mine.”

“I think he was trying to make us jealous, too,” Remus added, “and it worked.”

“Is that what the big issue is?” you asked for clarification, “you’re all jealous?”

“He got really close to you,” James responded, the candor in his voice hurting your heart.

“I’m yours,” you said, grabbing the wrist around your throat, “I’m all of yours, and yours only, you know that.”

“We know,” Sirius said, “I’m just so mad. I can’t calm down.”

“You need to release the energy, Sirius,” James said, “you’re never gonna get past this if you don’t.”

Sirius looked into your eyes, and you gave him a slight nod, signaling to him that he could use you to release the energy. He had a lot of pent up rage from the earlier incident that he needed to let out. He needed to remind you, and himself, that you were his.

Sirius crashed his lips onto yours, a hand still on your throat as he pushed you back against the headboard.

Remus threw the textbook in front of you onto the floor, pulling your legs from their position until they were out in front of you. He kissed up your thighs until he was under your skirt, kissing on top your underwear as you let out a small moan into Sirius’s mouth.

Remus moved your underwear to the side, immediately diving in between your folds with his tongue, causing you to gasp. Sirius pulled away from your mouth, allowing him to hear the noises you made. You whined as Remus shoved his tongue into your soaking wet hole, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Shit, Remmy,” you whimpered.

“Gotta remind you who you belong to, dove,” James spoke, taking a seat on the bed next to you, “you remember?”

“I’m y-yours, shit, James, all yours,” you whined as Remus continued to fuck you with his tongue, your hand taking its place on his head, fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place.

“No fair,” Sirius pouted, “why do you get to hear her moan your name when I’m the one who got mad in the first place?”

“Y-ou were mean,” you explained, breathing heavy, making talking difficult as ever, trying to give Sirius the reason you weren’t focusing your attention to him, despite your better judgement.

Remus heard you and immediately stopped his assault on your core. You tried to push his head back down in desperation, but he took your hands off of his head, pinning them to your sides.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Sirius questioned, tone low and dark.

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping they would let it go but knowing better.

“I was mean, huh? I don’t deserve to hear you moan my name then, is that it? You think you’re so big and powerful, punishing me because I was mean?” Sirius was growing angrier and angrier, his rage overtaking him again.

“I- I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack.

“No, no, it’s too late for that now. If you think I don’t deserve to hear you, then I won’t do anything that constitutes a noise. You don’t want me, then so be it.”

“No, please, I do, I want you, please-“

“Tell it to James,” Sirius cut you off. He was mad at you for talking back to him, and mad about earlier, but he was strictly doing this to punish you. He knew you loved how he fucked you when he was mad, and he was threatening to deny you what you wanted.

“Jamesie, please, tell him that I w-“

“Uh uh,” James tutted, “you’re with me now, not Sirius. You don’t get to have him now.”

You pouted, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at James. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead before your lips, distracting you with his mouth before a hand lifted up your skirt and traveled beneath the waistband of your underwear, finding its home on your pearl.

James began to rub in circles, eliciting a moan in the kiss.

“Remus, I think you can go back now,” James spoke.

Remus kept your hands pinned at your sides but shifted downward, tongue reentering you as James rubbed you off, the feeling of two different men on your core driving you insane.

Sirius slumped down on a chair a few feet away, lighting a cigarette as he watched Remus and James overstimulate you as they held you down.

“Jamie, please,” you moaned.

“Please what, dove?” James asked, beginning to touch any part of your core he could, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

“Please let me come,” you begged.

James looked at Remus, who made eye contact with him, but never left you alone. He shoved his tongue in and out of you, curling it upwards once inside, eyes focused on James as he waited for any signal to stop.

James, however, was always the nicest to you in the bedroom. Though he knew Sirius and Remus would usually stop now, he was making the call, and he hated denying you your pleasure, even if you were being punished.

He leaned in and kissed you, his touch quickening and hardening as Remus continued to taste as much of you as he could, causing your climax to hit you without warning. You squealed and moaned into James’s mouth, legs shaking as Remus licked up any remnants of your high before pulling away from you and standing up.

You attempted to catch your breath as Sirius took one last drag of his cigarette, extinguishing the flame and walking over to you, your cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm down.

“See, you didn’t need me, did you?” Sirius taunted.

“I-“

“Still don’t want me?”

You furiously shook your head no. “No, nonono, I want you, please, I need you,” you begged.

“Even though I’m so fucking mean?” he spat, intentionally working himself up to an angry place again.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you replied, using the name for him that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Sirius growled, tugging on his jeans and crawling over you, lightly kissing your neck before meeting your gaze.

“Beg for me,” he demanded.

Your heart was beating so hard it made your chest sore. “Please, daddy, I want you.”

“I think he’s earned hearing his name, sweetheart,” Remus spoke from beside you.

“Please, I need you so bad, Siri, I-“

The second you spoke his name, Sirius pushed your skirt up to your waist and your underwear to the side, inserting his entire length into you in one quick motion, a move he loved to use when he was punishing you for something. Though he had been inside of you plenty of times, he was too large to simply just start fucking you without a warm up, unless, that is, he was purposefully being mean.

You let out a high pitched moan at the intrusion, always forgetting just how deep his cock hits within you.

He then pulled almost his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, your body jolting upwards at the feeling of his hips snapping against yours. He started to fuck you, fast and hard, leaving no time for you to adjust to him or his size.

“Siri, fuck,” you moaned.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “you’re all mine. You fucking belong to me.”

All three boys were possessive of you, but knew you ‘belonged’ to all three of them, not just one. However, when Sirius was mad, the other boys didn’t matter. They knew he needed to feel like you were his and only his. All the boys needed that one-on-one intimacy at times, but Sirius craved it all the time, and sometimes Remus suspected that he really did wish you were all his.

“It’s too much, can’t- I c-“ you started to plead, but Sirius didn’t care, continuing his ruthless pace that nearly had your head slamming upwards into the headboard with each thrust.

“You can, and you will,” Sirius spoke, “you’re all fucking mine. I don’t even want anyone else near you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl so that everyone can hear who you belong to, understood?”

You nodded, taking a moment to process that you had to speak. “Yes, Siri.”

“Good girl,” he said, one of his hands grabbing your throat as he snapped his hips at an almost violent pace.

“Siri, please, I’m gonna c-“

“You know you’re supposed to wait until he comes,” Remus reminded you, “or else it just isn’t fair.”

“B- but- I-“

“No buts,” Remus said, running a thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that were now falling, “you wait until Siri is ready, and then you come with him. He deserves at least that much.”

Your walls were clenching around his cock, and you fought desperately not to come. You knew you were supposed to wait and come in unison with whoever was fucking you, but you were overstimulated, and Sirius’s possessiveness was hot.

“That’s right, baby, you gotta wait,” Sirius cooed, “my girl only comes when I say she can. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Siri, I’m yours,” you responded, your hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders to steady yourself, “all yours.”

Sirius ran a hand over your body, scanning every inch of you as he fucked you. “All mine,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you.

Sirius’s thrusts began to become erratic and sloppy, his high approaching as his clock twitched inside of you.

“You gonna come with me, love?” Sirius asked, and you whined in response, signaling that you were ready.

Sirius tightened his grip around your throat. “Come for me,” he commanded, “for me and only me.”

Your walls clenched around Sirius one last time as you came around him, one final “Sirius!” leaving your lips as you did.

The feeling of you coming around him caused Sirius to reach his high, his final few thrusts sharp and deep inside of you.

He took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath before pulling out of you.

“You remember who you belong to now?” James asked, sweetly repositioning your skirt over you to allow you modesty as you calmed down.

“Mhm,” you began to feel tired, “I’m all of yours.”

[theostrophywife]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Starry Eyes

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

“Starry eyes

What can I do for your attention.”

Summary: Theodore’s late to class but Snape blessed him with the opportunity of sitting next to a cute Ravenclaw who’s no help at all.

1 >

--------------------

Clockwise or counterclockwise? 

You honestly didn’t even know anymore. No matter how many hours you spent on reading the thick potions textbook or wasting bottles after bottles of ink on notes you still barely passed the class. 

You were starting to get a headache from trying to picture the text in your head. Everything was starting to become foggy. You sat down, defeated, and began doodling on the parchment instead of writing detailed instructions on how to make the stupid potion. So much for a Ravenclaw. 

Hmm off shoulder or puffed sleeves?

 You bit your lip trying to decide which option would look better on the dress you sketched out. The classroom was calming with little chattering among your classmates in the back allowing you to work easier. You could never work or do anything in silence, it drove you crazy. 

Suddenly the door slammed open causing you to jump a bit in your seat. 

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Nott, although your presence was expected half an hour ago,” Snape drawled out in his infamous monotone voice. 

“Sorry I overslept,” he shrugged while adjusting his tie. Some students who were listening in laughed. With his messed up tie and ‘burn marks’ on his neck, it was clear that he was definitely doing more than just sleeping. 

Snape nodded and pointed at the empty seat next to you, not surprising anyone that he didn’t take away any house points from his house. 

Theodore eyed you as he walked towards your table. He would’ve preferred sitting with his house, but he could never pass up the chance to sit next to a pretty girl. White blouse with a lace neckline and sleeves, black plaid skirt, Ravenclaw tie, black sleek hair, and a white headband. You didn’t fit into the usual type of girls he went for, but you were cute. 

Theodore took the seat next to you before tapping on your shoulder. 

You turned to him and almost jumped when you found his eyes on you. Gorgeous blueish grayish eyes. 

So pretty, this might be my new favorite color. 

“So uh,” Theo cleared his throat ignoring the fact that he swore he just saw your eyes sparkle, “what are we doing?” 

You blinked. Under the pressure of a somewhat attractive boy it made your memory much worse. 

“Umm, we’re brewing a potion and writing?” 

You had hoped that didn’t come out as a question and hoped that he’d just nod and ask someone else. 

Theodore raised an eyebrow and glanced at your blue tie again. 

“Which potion exactly?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you as if you were lying to him. 

“Antidote to potions. Wait, no poisons. The common one. Wait, maybe the uncommon ones. Well I don’t think there’s a big difference. I mean, shouldn’t the uncommon ones be stronger and still fix the common ones?” You rambled on, looking off to the side lost in your own thoughts. 

Theodore blinked. The sorting hat rarely makes errors, maybe you were high but then again Lovegood’s also a Ravenclaw. The looney population in Ravenclaw must be high. 

“Why can’t they just make a super strong potion that fixes every poison? That’d make our jobs easier and we wouldn’t have to memorize so many potions,” you giggled as you turned back to your sketches. 

Theodore looked over your shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of your paper but instead your sketches caught his eye. You may be no help in potions, but you sure can draw. 

“Are you going to make that?” He asked while you squirmed at the close proximity of his face to yours. 

“Yes,” you mumbled shyly, scared of the criticism that might follow. You loved designing and fashion. It was one of the only things that came naturally to you, but coming from a family of doctors you were vulnerable to criticism for not following in their path. 

“Cute,” he said before his eyes found your potions paper. 

Common poisons. Theodore noticed that you only had half the page completed and chuckled. 

He got up towards the ingredients cabinet and grabbed his ingredients and the ones you were missing. 

Potions came easy to him. Not only did the teacher bias his house, but his mother was a skilled potions maker as well. Matter of fact her entire side of the family were. He had spent most of his summers in his manor reading journals of potion experiments and advanced information that weren’t even in his school textbooks. 

He quickly prepared his ingredients and started on his potion while continuing yours on the side. Luckily you were both in the back and Snape couldn’t catch him. He wrote down his notes and instructions making a mental note to tell you to copy them down later. You’d need it. 

Maybe he was also placed in the wrong house. Today, Hufflepuff seemed more fitting. You were lucky that you’re cute. 

[hanbinics]

a/n. the female pictured above does not represent !crybaby reader in any way. that is solely up to you. ღ

!crybaby reader hates when !dealer chris isn't giving her enough attention.

“are we goin’ home soon?”

chris should have taken that initial whine as his warning as to the fit you were soon to throw.

you’re currently sat on his knee, doe eyes flitting around the room with a mixture of irritation and boredom in their reflection. you’ve been at this party for about an hour and a half now, which is nothing compared to how long you’re usually at these things, but tonight your patience is wearing thin. you’ve been busy over the last few weeks, swamped with the start of a new semester, and it hasn’t given you much time to spend with chris lately. on top of the fact that he’s been bitching about these new freshman not wanting to buy any drugs under the excuse that they’d like to stay sober during their college years—fuckin’ dumbass kids, chris had said—well, he's not exactly been in the mood to entertain your need for his attention. throw in a couple of failed attempts at phone sex, and you’re completely over the brunette not catching wind of your attitude in the moment.

still, you sit perched on his knee like the prettiest decoration on a shelf, a pout pulling at your mouth while chris busies himself with pulling a couple of prerolls out of his pocket, blue eyes lazily glancing up at the freshman currently standing in front of you.

“look, kid, you either buy ‘em now or not at all—i don’t really give a fuck.” he shrugs his shoulders, his nonchalance even convincing to you, but when the timid-looking boy in front of you doesn’t answer right away, you find yourself heaving a sigh.

“make him go away, he’s not gonna buy nothin’.” your whine vibrates against chris’s skin where you bury your face into his neck, bored of the interaction and desperate for your boyfriend’s attention. you can feel his long fingers wrap around your hip, squeezing the flesh there in a silent warning—cut it out—but you can’t help yourself.

the freshman before you glances nervously from chris to you before his mouth parts. “actually, she’s, um.. she’s right. i don’t think i wanna get into that stuff yet,” he admits with a sheepish expression, one hand reaching up to rub at his nape.

he looks like he might shit his pants by the look chris shoots him, taking that as his sign to walk away before anything else can ensue, finally leaving you alone with your boyfriend—only, he’s not exactly happy.

chris’s fingers tangle themselves into your hair, creating enough of a fistful that he can pull your pretty face from his neck, forcing you to meet his dark eyes and tense jaw. “go get your coat. now,” he tells you, waiting for you to nod as best as you can in his tight grip before you’re finally getting up from his lap, letting out a soft yelp when he delivers a sharp slap to the spot where your ass meets your thigh.

chris doesn’t speak a single word to you on the way back to his apartment. you have half a mind to tell him you’re sorry, that you didn’t mean to run off any clients, but the other part of you—the brattier one—wants to return that same silent treatment. after all, he’s the one that’s been neglecting you.

it’s clear he doesn’t see it that way though, the brunette still physically tense as he leads you up to his apartment and inside, still completely silent. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you whirl around to beg him to say something, but he speaks before you can.

“go to my room,” he instructs, ignoring the way you’re looking up at him from beneath long, thick lashes. “now. you know how i want you.”

you open your mouth to protest, but when chris shoots you a look that leaves no room for it, you furrow your brow and turn on your heel to follow his instructions, pout deepening on your lips. you still listen though, socks shuffling quietly against the wooden floor as you make your way to his bedroom where you immediately climb onto his bed, lifting the fabric of your plaid skirt until it’s bunched up around your hips, leaving your bare ass exposed—chris prefers when you don’t wear panties.

about ten minutes pass before you ever hear another noise in the apartment, there being no indication of your boyfriend even making his way to you. every passing minute causes something tight to twist within your tummy, the only sound in the room being your quiet sniffles, until, finally, you hear the door open behind you.

you so badly want to look over your shoulder, maybe see if the brunette’s mood has changed any, but you don’t. you know it might only make your punishment worse. so instead, you wait with baited breath at the sound of chris undoing his belt and pulling it from the loops of his jeans, fear striking you from the tips of your toes to your increasingly sticky cunt.

“you wanna say somethin’ t’me?” chris asks from behind you, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you on all fours for him, the cute shape of your ass on display and your slick causing your pussy to glisten for him; he’s spoiled, really.

when you take a second to answer, a soft sniffle greeting chris’s ears, he raises an eyebrow at the little no you offer before he nods his head once and then lets the leather of his belt crack against the bare skin of your ass.

you flinch in surprise, sucking in a sharp breath, but you don’t make any noise otherwise. maybe that’s your first mistake, as it only leads to two more strikes of chris’s belt against your reddening skin, those ones finally evoking a yelp from your parted lips and a choked sob following it despite your inner thighs getting slick with your arousal as a result.

chris pauses then, raising an eyebrow. “talk to me, petal,” he tells you, waiting for your sniffling to calm down before you’re finally turning to look at him over your shoulder, cheeks wet with pretty tears.

“’m sorry,” you finally sob, and while the apology has relief flooding through him, his chest tightens at the sight of your pathetic state.

his face remains mostly impassive as he finally lays his belt onto the bed, that being your indicator that your punishment is over with. almost immediately, you shuffle onto your knees, tears still rolling down your cheeks as you take your spot on his lap, wincing softly at the contact of your sensitive skin against his jeans.

chris wraps an arm around your waist, one hand coming up to press his thumb into your cheek so that he can brush away a few tears making a path down your face. “you gonna tell me what was goin’ on back there tonight? because that wasn’t my girl out there,” he insists quietly, watching the way you have to fight from pouting at his accusation despite the truth to it.

he has to bite back a smile at the sight, grateful for the way you bury your face into his neck, too busy seeking comfort from him to notice his amusement.

“jus’ wanted you to pay attention t’me tonight,” you finally whine quietly into his neck, breath soft against his skin as he holds you close, soothing the soft hiccups leaving your mouth. “felt like you didn’t want me around lately..”

at that, chris furrows his eyebrows, leaning back slightly so that he can better see your face. he’s about to insist that isn’t true, ask where you got that idea from, but upon seeing the way you blink up at him and sniffle softly, he chooses not to. whatever your reason for feeling this way doesn’t matter; he never wants to make you feel that way.

“’m sorry, petal,” chris coos softly, his lips brushing against your hairline as he holds you closer to his chest. “my pretty girl.. never wanna make you feel like that.”

when you finally pull your face from his neck, he smiles softly. “i love havin’ you around, kid. yeah?” he insists, waiting for you to nod your head in agreement before he’s leaning down to press a wet kiss to your soft lips.

“’m sorry, baby. never gonna make my girl feel like that again.”

©hanbinics

ღ divider by @/kyejiz ღ

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Pretty naughty boy

pairing: boypussy!hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: smut

warnings: gn!reader but he calls them mommy, sub!hyunjin, fingering, mirror sex kinda, squirting, pussy slap

a/n: boypussy!skz is something i wanted to write for such a long time so this is just a lil drabble while i work on my hyune series (and lose my mind)🫶🏻

~ Masterlist

"Hyune, I'm home!"- you yell out to your boyfriend as you walk into the apartment, closing the door with a quiet click.

Usually, he's quick to greet you and give you a kiss unless he's concentrated on painting so you assume he must be working on his art.

You take your shoes off, feet padding on the floor quietly as you make your way to your room.

Swinging open the door, you stop in your tracks when you take in the sight.

It's your pretty boyfriend dressed in a cute baby pink top, a white skirt and white knee socks with bows, even wearing matching ones in his hair.

He turns around to look at you with his eyes wide and his plump lips shiny with your lipgloss as he was in the middle of applying it.

"Baby, what is this?"- you smirk, folding your hands and leaning on the door frame.

"Y-you're home early."- he gulps and you chuckle as you make your way towards him.

"Are you making yourself pretty for mommy?"- you coo, leaning over him.

"Mhm."- he nods and you smile, reaching out to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"You're already really pretty, baby boy. But you look even more delicious now. I really like these."- your hand is placed on his thigh as you gently caress his soft skin and play with the bows adorning it.

"I bought them just for you, mommy."- he looks at you with glassy eyes.

You chuckle as you take the applicator he forgot he had from his hands and tell him to pucker his lips up even more.

You finish applying the lipgloss and then lean in pressing your lips against his.

The kiss is wet and slow, your tongue licking at his plump lips, sucking them in between your teeth and making him whimper.

You notice him squirming on the chair pretty quickly as you keep swiping your tongue against his, tasting the strawberry lipgloss you love to wear.

"Come here."- you beckon your sweet boyfriend, leading him to the big mirror in the corner.

He looks at himself shyly, his cheeks rosy as you stand behind him, your hands firm on his waist.

"So pretty."- you whisper in his ear, before you start leaving kisses on his neck.

Hyunjin quietly whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut and you stop kissing him, hands still squeezing his waist.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look the whole time."- you smirk, licking a stripe on his neck.

"Yes, mommy."- he whines quietly and your hands roam under his skirt, grabbing at his ass.

"Oh you're a naughty baby, aren't you? Not even decent enough to wear any panties?"- you keep smirking as you knead his flesh.

"Mhm, I'm naughty."- he taunts a little, pushing back into your hands.

"Is that so? I happen to love naughty boys."- you say, hand between his legs as you gently touch his wetness.

He shivers instantly and you instruct him to sit down, as you take your place behind him and let him lean his back on you.

"Let me see."- you grip his thighs and he moans lifting them up over yours as you spread his legs.

His skirt rides up and you pull it up even more, revealing his glistening pink pussy.

"All wet for me, hm?"- you smirk into his neck, fingertips teasing as you run them around his cunt, avoiding the places he needs you the most.

"Mommy, please touch me! I waited all day!"- he whines.

"Tsk."- you land a slap on his wet cunt and he whines, his head falling back on your shoulder.

"Don't lie to me. I know you stuff this pussy with your fingers all day, it's always so fucking greedy."- you pinch his clit and he whimpers again.

"I'm sorry but I'm just so horny for you that I can't help it."- he smirks a little.

"Show me."- you say and he whines in protest.

"But I want mommy to touch me!"

"The more you misbehave the closer you get to your punishment. You don't want that, hm?"- you say it quietly, lowering his top down to play with his cute nipples.

"Mm... no, I don't."- he moans, bringing his hand to his clit and pressing his fingers into it.

"Good boy. Look at yourself."- you order as you pinch his nipples and he lifts his head up a little, hazy eyes staring at the sinful reflection in the mirror.

He circles his fingers on his clit, dipping them between his wet folds and teasing himself.

You grab his wrist and moves his hand away making him whine once again.

Pressing your fingers around his folds, you open his pretty cunt up and he moans as he looks at it.

"Does this place belong to mommy's cock?"- you smirk and see it clench around nothing.

"Yes, belongs to you mommy."- he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes and trying to get you to touch him.

It works because you're hungry for him so you slowly push two fingers in his cunt, immediately looking for the special spot.

He writhes in your hold as you bring your other hand down too, fingers playing with his puffy clit.

"Mm, so good!"- he whimpers when you find his spot.

"Better than your own fingers, huh?"- you chuckle, kissing his neck as you start fucking into him faster.

"So much better mommy!"- his hips keep lifting up to meet your hand, getting more desperate as he comes closer to his high.

The wet sounds of his pussy are nothing but sinful as arousal keeps gushing out of it, coating your fingers and driving you wild as you add a third finger in.

"Fuck, look at your pussy baby. So fucking greedy for me."- you push in deeper, your fingers slipping in easily.

Hyunjin's legs jerk up for a moment and then his thighs start shaking as he stares intently at his pussy getting ravaged with your fingers.

"Already close, huh?"- you ask mockingly. "Mommy fills you up so good, hm?"

"Yes, fill me up so good! Please, can I cum?"- he whines and you bite down on his neck, your fingers fucking into him with force, other hand still working on his little nub.

He takes that as a sign, moaning loudly as he gives into the pleasure completely, eyes glued to your fingers disappearing inside him and he cums.

He cums hard, squirting on himself, the carpet and the mirror in front as you pull your fingers out and keep torturing his clit.

You chuckle and grip his hair, bringing your fingers to his lips.

"Open."- you say and his lips part, letting you push your fingers in. He licks and sucks on them, cleaning them up and moaning at the taste of his own release.

Still holding his hair, and lifting up behind him so you can bend him over until his nose almost touches the mirror, you smirk.

"Now clean the mirror up."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger

[nsharks]

can we see more of dad ghost ♥︎ im obsessedLMAO

“soft around the edges”

aka when ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team (a little part 2 to this fic. part 3 here.)

Soap doesn't share the Lieutenant's secret with the rest of the force.

Things go back to normal after that brief, bizarre encounter with you. When their break is over, Ghost carries on the typical dry humor and sharp orders, pretending that Soap never had dinner at his cozy home and met his pregnant wife.

Though, MacTavish does notice little differences in his stoic superior turned new dad. Ghost is shockingly, and ever-so-slightly, nicer. His language is still foul. But he's a little less rough around the edges: compliments Soap a bit more, tells him to shut the fuck up a little bit less.

It's not something that any of the others notice, of course, which is why they are all so baffled when they finally do figure out about Ghost's secret family.

It's two years later when they are disbanding at a base in the UK that you accidentally reveal yourself.

It's truly an accident.

Whenever you pick him up from the military base, Simon instructs you to wait outside. Says he doesn't want to put you at any risk. But you have a knack for not listening to him. You missed him so much during the past four months, and the two-year-old in your arms was old enough to start asking where his dad was, so you figured you could wait for him inside this time, hidden away in a corner.

Your plan might have worked if it weren't for the swell of your belly making it difficult for you to hold the squirming toddler.

He recognizes his dad even with the skull mask on.

Immediately starts to yelp for him, kicking his little feet around, and giving you no choice but to set the toddler down for a second. But your son is growing so much, and he's got his father's determination.

It's definitely riveting for Soap and the team to witness the whole thing unfold.

At first sight, the waddling two-year-old boy doesn't faze them. There were usually family members and little ones waiting at the gate. Gaz and Price are saying their goodbyes when they both notice that the toddler running around is coming in their direction. Or more specifically, in Ghost's direction.

Soap knows right away what's happening.

Watches with raised brows.

For the rest of the team, this is the first time they witness Ghost's demeanor shift to something so soft and peculiar. His mannerisms give everything away before the kid even reaches him: a typically-unfazed Ghost looks around frantically, probably wondering how the hell his son even got here, until he spots you waddling sheepishly after him.

Oh, fuckin' hell.

You give your husband an apologetic look that says I'm sorry and help me at the same time.

“Can’t believe what I’m seeing," Gaz mutters, watching as Ghost bends down to pick up the small child.

Tell me 'bout it, Soap wants to say. But he's already gone through the initial disbelief two years ago, so now, he simply watches with knowing eyes.

He can't say he didn't spend some time the past two years wondering what kind of parents you and Ghost had become. He knew bits and pieces of his past and hesitantly wondered if Ghost had carried on that behavior.

But now he witnesses the Lieutenant scoop the toddler in his arms, making him look so small against his broad chest. “I’ve got ya, kid.” And he is tucking the boy's head underneath his chin and pressing his masked nose to the top of his hair.

Then, the toddler reaches a small hand to his mask and pats it, perhaps harder than he realizes, but Ghost simply shakes his head and patiently wraps his much larger hand around the curious little one’s.

Ghost is soft and gentle and anything but angry, even though you worried that he might have been.

Everything seems to sink in for the team when they see you finally reach your husband. Your mouth moving to rush out apologies:

"I'm sorry, Simon, I know you said to wait outside. We just really wanted to see you and I tried to hold him and-"

And Ghost might have been frustrated on another day. But on this day, he’s just relieved to see you again. It's apparent to all of the eyes watching that this brooding man, with his deadpan eyes and a trademark mask, is utterly and unabashedly in love with you and the little family you have gifted him. Finally able to fully relax as he wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles your neck, something you could never imagine him doing in public like this a few years ago.

“S’okay, love,” he tells you. “Can’t be mad, can I? Not when I get to see you two.”

You’re carrying his second child and he hasn't seen you in months and he simply doesn't give a fuck at the moment.

To his team watching, the Lieutenant seems like another person.

They're watching Simon, not Ghost.

"That's his girl, then?" Alejandro finally asks, as they have been frozen in place. Watching in curiosity and bewilderment.

“Wife seems like,” Gaz says. Shooting Soap a curious look, he adds, “Did you know anything about this?”

“Hell,” Soap shrugs to feign innocence. “Didn’t know a thing-“

But, of course, you’re soon waving over at him and smiling before your husband can stop you. “Hi, Johnny!”

Guilty and caught, Soap offers a small wave in return before shaking his head. “Christ, alright. May have ran into them awhile back.”

“And you didn’t tell us, MacTavish?” Gaz scoffs.

“Not my secret to tell,” Soap shrugs again and watches as Ghost caresses your pregnant stomach. He leans down to whisper something in your ear and you smile coyly at him, planting a little kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. Ghost is somehow able to hold you and your son firmly against his chest and still have more room. Must be what had the two of you realizing that a fourth family member was needed.

Soap hears the snide remarks as your family leaves and is out of earshot.

Looks like Ghost keeps himself busy on leave.

You think he helps with the diapers?

The kid’s even got his eyes.

Reckon he takes the mask off during sex?

Finally, Soap groans out, “Haud yer wheesht. That’s enough.”

“Sergeant’s right,” Price, whose own surprise has faded into something more stern, quiets the members of the team who are still lingering. “That’s your superior you’re gosspin’ about. Show some respect and bugger off.”

But once the Captain is gone, Soap allows himself this one quip (because, he’d been so good at not sharing what he’d seen for two years).

It’s a quiet one that he mentions only to Kyle.

“He takes her shopping an’ carries all the bags. Saw it myself.”

[lilacs-stars]

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt. 

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it. 

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side. 

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more. 

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him. 

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers. 

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions. 

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate. 

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either. 

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you. 

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions. 

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath. 

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out. 

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve. 

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face. 

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor. 

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides. 

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him. 

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze. 

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back. 

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face. 

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm. 

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising. 

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there. 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems. 

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours. 

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan. 

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you. 

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it. 

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself. 

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right. 

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him. 

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run. 

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James. 

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. 

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response. 

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. 

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall. 

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal. 

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm. 

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight. 

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on. 

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide. 

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him. 

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “Let’s just say, a little birdie told me of how he harassed you in class earlier today. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @maggiecc

just leave a comment if you want to join the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[starkwlkr]

monster mash | oscar piastri

summerween masterlist

Oscar didn’t think he would be babysitting on Halloween night, but then again he didn’t have plans. He was stuck babysitting his mom’s friend’s kid, Luke. The parents were going to a Halloween party so Oscar’s mom volunteered her son to babysit.

“Why would you do that? I’ve never even met the kid!” Oscar groaned as Nicole Piastri closed the front door after giving candy to trick or treaters.

“Laurie is a good woman and she even babysat you so please just look after Luke for one night.” Nicole replied.

“Mum, it’s Halloween.” Oscar frowned.

“And you’re babysitting.”

So Oscar got ready and drove to Laurie’s house that was decorated with skulls, pumpkins and fake spiderwebs. It was clear that this family took the holiday seriously. After ringing the doorbell, the door opened revealing a kid with a pirate costume.

“What are you supposed to be?” The boy asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Your babysitter for the next three hours.”

“Lame.”

“Luke! Be nice to Oscar!” The boy’s mother said as she walked to the door to greet Oscar. She was dressed as Dorothy from the wizard of oz while her husband was dressed as the scarecrow. “Hi, thanks for coming. Our numbers are on a sticky note on the fridge, he is not allowed to watch any scary movie no matter what he says and no more eating candy.”

“But it’s Halloween!” Luke whined.

“Listen to your mother, Luke, no more candy.” His father stated. “There’s money on the kitchen counter if you want to order some pizza. We should be home by 12.”

Oscar nodded at all their instructions. How was he supposed to keep a kid entertained? Legos? He didn’t know the first rule to entertain kids.

After Luke’s mom and dad left, the seven year old immediately ran to the living room and grabbed the landline. Oscar wasn’t sure if what to do. It’s not everyday that a little kid uses a landline. After dialing a number and waiting a few seconds, Luke spoke into the phone.

“They’re gone. My dad left money for pizza. Bring your candy too.” He said then hung up.

Oscar stood in the living room confused. “Who were you talking to?”

“Sarah.” Luke replied casually. He then walked to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning on the tv and clicking netflix. “Can you order cheese pizza?”

Oscar didn’t think much of it so he walked to the kitchen to grab the money. His heart stopped when he noticed the back door was wide open. Was this some kind of prank? Surely it was. Before he could do anything, a loud yell startled him from behind him.

“Fuck!” Oscar yelled out as he turned around and saw a random girl laughing along with Luke and another little girl in a Wednesday Addams costume. “That’s not funny.”

“You scream like a girl!” Luke laughed, but stopped when the little girl punched his arm. “Ow!”

“Sorry, it’s Halloween, everyone’s entitled to one good scare.” The random girl said then extended her hand towards Oscar. “I’m Y/n. I’m Luke’s neighbor and this is my sister, Sarah.”

“Oscar, I’m Luke’s babysitter, but only for today.” He made sure to include the last part. He stared at the girl, captivated by her beauty. He figured he must’ve stared at Y/n for a while because Luke was complaining that he was hungry for pizza. “Oh, pizza, yeah right.”

While Sarah and Luke went back to the living room, Y/n hung out with Oscar in the kitchen. He dialed the pizza place. As he ordered, he started stuttering. That’s when Y/n offered to order instead.

“Hey, Tommy! Can we get our usual? And throw in those lava cakes too and a coke. Yeah, thanks. See ya.” Y/n spoke with confidence then hung up and gave Oscar his phone back.

“You know the pizza guy?” Oscar questioned.

“Yeah. He’s my ex, but it all ended on good terms.” Y/n said. “So Freddy, Michael or Jason?”

“What?”

“Do you have a preference? I’m more of a Michael Myers kind of girl, but we can watch Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street or if you’re into something else, that’s cool too.” She smiled at Oscar as they walked back to the living room where the kids were trying to find a movie to watch.

“But he’s not—” Oscar pointed to Luke.

“Supposed to watch scary movies? We do this every year! My mom gets a babysitter on Halloween, Sarah and Y/n come over and we eat pizza and watch scary movies!” Luke interrupted. “My mom doesn’t know so don’t tell!”

“Yeah, don’t be lame!” Sarah added.

“Sarah! Be nice or we’re leaving.” Y/n warned. “It’s cool, they won’t get scared.”

“What about the other babysitter? Did they know about this too?” Oscar questioned. He really wasn’t in the mood to get in trouble.

“Yeah, but she was going to tell Luke’s mom and now she’s missing.” Sarah said with no emotion. Oscar nervously laughed, but stopped when no one around him was laughing.

“She’s joking. The last babysitter left because of college and yes she knew about this so come sit so we can watch a movie.” Y/n patted the seat next to her.

Oscar had to come clean at some point. He hated scary movies. He would rather sit through a romance movie than watch some person getting killed by a slasher. So instead of suggesting a more family friendly Halloween movie like Hotel Transylvania, he blurted out two words. Just Dance.

“You mean the game?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, the second one has Monster Mash. It could be . . . fun.” Oscar shyly said.

“Oh god, I haven’t played Just Dance in forever! I say let’s do it.” Y/n agreed and stood up from the couch. Since Luke didn’t have the game, Oscar put the dance on YouTube.

“Wanna try?” Oscar asked Y/n. He looked at the kids. “They don’t look too convinced.”

“Eh, they’ll just have to watch us dance horribly.” Y/n chuckled.

“Speak for yourself! I am a Just Dance champion.”

The kids watched as Oscar and Y/n danced like a zombie while the iconic Halloween song played. They didn’t even notice when Y/n’s ex aka the pizza guy knocked on the door ready to deliver the cheese pizza and lava cake and soda.

Luke opened the door and gave him the money. “Thanks. Keep the change.” He handed Sarah the bottle of soda.

“A dollar?” Before Tommy the pizza guy could get another word in, Luke slammed the door shut.

The kids watched as Oscar picked another song to dance to. Luke shook his head in disappointment. Even he could tell that Oscar had developed a crush on his neighbor.

“Do you know your sister’s number?” Luke asked Sarah.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Luke replied. “Want to share a lava cake?”

Eventually, Y/n and Sarah had to leave since Luke’s parents were coming back. As Oscar was putting Luke to bed, the boy gave him a piece of paper with a number on it.

“What’s that?” Oscar asked.

“Y/n’s number. She likes the color red, Agatha Christie books and scary movies.” Luke replied. “It looked like you needed help.”

Oscar couldn’t believe it. Was he that bad that a seven year old had to help him get a cute girl’s number?

“Uh, thanks?” He took the small slip of paper. “Get some sleep, Luke.” He smiled at the boy.

“Oscar? If you and Y/n get married—”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.” Not yet at least.

TAGLIST

@yannew @annieoncrack @stinkyjax

[nottsangel]

I NEED sub!ron to try fingering y/n for the first time 😭🙏

“i—“ “you what, ron? you’re nervous, baby? because i can tell.” you murmur softly as ron shakily rubs your clit after finally finding it with a bit of your help. but you couldn’t blame him— this was all new to him, as you’re usually the one that’s pleasuring him. but now he told you he was ready to pleasure you— he insisted, telling you that he felt bad, despite your constant reassurance that you love making him feel good.

“a bit more pressure, love” you guide him as he gradually applies more pressure on your aching clit, eliciting a soft moan from you. his sparkling eyes are closely observing your facial expressions, watching your reactions to his touch. “good. now move a bit lower.” his fingers trail down your core until they reach your dripping hole, aching to feel his fingers deep inside of you.

“bloody hell, you’re— you’re so wet.”

“all because of you, sweet boy.”

a shy smile creeps onto his face, his cheeks turning bright red at your words as his fingers aimlessly wander over your cunt, patiently waiting for your next instructions, still unable to meet your gaze. “push two fingers in, love. don’t be scared.” you instruct and he hesitates briefly, worried about hurting you, but he complies and gently slips two digits into your wet hole, causing you to let out a shattered breath at the sudden pleasure.

“is— is this good? does this feel good?”

“perfect, baby. you’re doing so well.”

lost in the sensation, you slowly shut your eyes, savouring the moment and trusting ron to continue on his own, as you have complete faith in him. he picks up quickly and curls his fingers, easily finding your g-spot, leaving you curious about where he learned these skills.

“oh, fuck, ron! just like that, baby, keep going” you cry out, sensing your orgasm nearing as he continues rubbing his digits against your sweet spot. before you realise it, your orgasm is already washing over you, causing you to arch your back and grip the sheets tightly. “ron…” you breathe out, chest heaving up and down as he nervously eyes you. “uh— yes? did i do bad…?” “you’re a fuckin’ natural.”

ੈ♡˳

[always-just-red]

I loved the Drunked Call with Sylus scenario you made! I like the way you write it and I see you accepting request hehe. Can I request about... Sylus, Zayne and Caleb reaction meeting fem!reader, dates or accidentally met (you name it) and they noticed her long hair has been attached with chewed bubblegum? some kid pulled a prank on her before and she didn't even aware of it

Aw thank you so much!! 💕 I did different pranks for each of the boys just to keep things interesting- I hope you don't mind! They're all equally silly haha, and I had SO much fun writing them. Added Xavier and Raf for good measure, too!

It's Just Not Your Day...

L&DS Boys (& Caleb!) x Reader

Summary: It's you against the kids of Linkon City, and guess what? The kids are winning.

Genre: Humour + fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, reader gets a little stressed (and with some of these boys you can understand why 🙃)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

One of the perks of being a Deepspace Hunter is the way people look at you. You’re used to respect: appreciative nods and gestures, wide-eyed admiration. You’re out in Linkon almost every day, putting your life on the line for everyone in the city. You’re a hero, right?

So why is everyone looking at you so… funny?

“Xavier,” you speak in a hushed whisper, tugging at the sleeve of your partner’s uniform. ���I don’t like this. Something weird is going on.”

He yawns. “What do you mean?”

Can he really not see it? Sure enough, a businessman strolls past you, his eyes locked on you as he frowns, mid-telephone call. You think he even stumbles on his words. “Just look around,” you whisper again. Someone is watching you from across the street, their head cocked.   

Xavier is already looking around. You’re on patrol; that’s sort of the point. But he trusts you, so he follows your instruction: casting his sky-blue eyes around a little more carefully. They narrow. “Sorry,” he says, because you’re usually on the same page, “what are you talking about exactly?”

You fold your arms impatiently. “People are looking at us, Xavier.”

“Oh, I…” he seems to hesitate, “I think they’re just looking at you.”

The words could be romantic, but you don’t get the impression they’re intended to be. He’s implying something. He’s uncertain. “What makes you say that?” you ask, hands moving to your hips.

He shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I think it’s your, you know—” his finger waggles in front of his mouth.

You don’t know. “My what?”

“Your moustache.”

“What?”

Your hand shoots to your upper lip, but you don’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Xavier is staring, though, so you reach for your phone and turn the camera on yourself.

A black, cartoon-villain moustache has been sketched onto your face.

You gape at your reflection. “H— how…?” you stutter, tracing your new feature. Then a memory of this morning flashes through your mind: how you’d fallen asleep on the train to work. How there were those two schoolkids, sniggering, when you’d woken up just in time for your stop. Ugh. Really?

Wait— this morning?!

“Xavier!” you exclaim, turning to him like you’d just found his sword in your back. “Why didn’t you say something?”

It’s just gone three in the afternoon, and he’s been with you for hours. “I thought you knew,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck gingerly.

“You thought I…” You’re too bewildered, too betrayed to repeat it fully. Worst of all you feel guilty; how the hell can he look so freaking innocent? You turn back to your phone, desperately trying to rub the ink from your skin. It doesn’t budge. It doesn’t fade.

“Are you ok?” Xavier asks.

Of course you’re not ok, you feel like an idiot. Your cheeks are hot and the redness is spreading to the rest of your face as you fail to reclaim any of your dignity. “No,” you spit back, “honestly, Xavier, how could you just let me walk around like I’m some kind of—”

You glance up to discover he’s no longer listening. He’s not even here; he’s over there, talking to an old man who’s sat completing a sudoku. Great. Wonderful. Why not? At least one of you is making a good impression on the citizens of Linkon City.

With your eyes close to watering, you have one last, futile attempt at wiping the moustache from your upper lip. It’s not working. Gods, you’re gonna be stuck like this, aren’t you?

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up to see Xavier, back at your side. He smiles reassuringly, sporting a drawn-on moustache of his own. The ends of it are curled even more theatrically than yours.

“Xavier…” you half-laugh in surprise, your eyes watering even more. “Why would you—? Now we both look stupid.”

“I look stupid,” he corrects, running a thumb over your wet cheek. “You look really pretty, moustache or not.”

Zayne ❄

“What… happened?”

You sit across from Zayne on a picturesque park bench, like something from a postcard: blue sky stretched above, wildflowers sprouting from the grass below. Birds are singing, butterflies are flittering about, and even the doctor looks perfect— unmarred by the first half of his work day, no matter how stressful it’s been.

It’s a fairy tale you covet: a little reunion with the man you love, on the odd occasion where your lunchbreaks match up and he isn’t drowning in paperwork. And it would be a fairy tale, if it wasn’t for you. You— your uniform soaked and your hair dripping wet. The wooden bench has gone damp beneath you; you’ve literally only just sat down.

“Gee, I don’t know, Zayne,” you hiss, face almost buried in your phone, “what do you think?”

Not too far away from you, some kids are locked in a water-gun battle, their shrieks of laughter loud and infuriating. Zayne glances between you and them, making his deductions. “Why—” he starts.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniff, wiping your forehead with the back of your sleeve. “They messed with the wrong person, and we’re gonna make sure they know it.”

“We’re going to?”  

“Yeah. Me and you. That a problem?”

You shoot him a glare that sends a shiver down even his spine. “No,” he answers quickly— a survival instinct, uncharacteristically submissive— but his composure returns as you turn back to your phone. “Haven’t you got—”

Another dark look.

“Haven’t we got better things to do than start a war with some children in the park?”

“Not really. Justice is justice.” You shrug before pointing a finger at yourself. “Deepspace hunter.” Then at him. “Cardiac surgeon. Precision is kind of our thing, right? They really don’t stand a chance.” You’re laughing, now: “Gods, I almost feel sorry for them.”

Zayne has been watching your descent into madness with a calmness that does him credit. When he interrupts, it’s gentle. “I don’t think—”

Too gentle; you don’t hear him. “Pick your poison, Dr. Zayne!” Your phone is angled at him to reveal the all-too accessible armoury of an online store. “You’ve got your standard water pistols. Your water blasters.” You’re scrolling and indicating his choices as though you’re the salesman. “This one has two options, single shot or power shot, and— ooh! Look at this one! The AquaJet3000!”

With a soft laugh, Zayne pushes your phone out of his face. He would buy anything you’re selling, although— having seen the prices on your screen— he knows he’d be bankrupt within a week. “Linkon City is fortunate to have you defending it, and whilst I would be honoured, as always, to fight at your side, I was hoping we could… relax. You’re on a break, remember?”

You pout as he peels a wet strand of hair from your cheek. “Justice doesn’t take breaks.”

“Well, justice is going to have to on this occasion, because I said so.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Besides, you shouldn’t fight fire with fire, or water with water. A lot of people look up to you, you know. Me included. So, set a better example. Save violence for the Wanderers.”  

It ought to be patronising: him, lecturing you on right and wrong when you’ve already added three types of water-gun to your virtual cart. He’s always so righteous. So collected. So moral. You want to be mad at him, but how can you be when he’s looking at you like that? Like he thinks the world of you, even when you’re plotting revenge against ten-year-olds.

You have a point to make, so you fold your arms and turn your back on him, even though he’s making your heart feel so frustratingly warm and fuzzy.

“I have something for you,” he says quietly.

To hell with the point. “What is it?” you ask, spinning eagerly around.

He smiles as he retrieves something he’d concealed behind him. It’s a small-ish box, pale pink, with patterns printed to emulate white lace. There’s a logo in the centre and you recognise it at once. “No way,” you enthuse, “that new bakery finally opened?”

You’ve both been waiting for months. “I couldn’t resist when I saw it,” he confirms, lifting the lid. Inside sit two unbelievably pretty cupcakes, buttercream icing spiralled high and adorned with sprinkles of gold leaf. Zayne plucks one from the box. “Perhaps—” he offers it to you— “perhaps this can make you feel better? Without us needing to, well… attack children.”

You giggle; it does sound pretty stupid when he puts it like that. “Thanks, Zayne,” you grin, reaching out for your reward. You’re glad one of you is vaguely sensible— those water-guns were expensive.

The cake is an inch from your fingers when a jet of water sends it flying from Zayne’s hand. It lands at your feet with an unceremonious splat, and from somewhere behind you, laughter roars.

The doctor blinks down at it in disbelief, his hand still hovering beside yours. He grieves for a long moment, then looks to you solemnly like you’re a colleague and he’s about to ask for a scalpel:

“The AquaJet3000,” he says.  

Rafayel 🎨

“Rafayel, call me stupid one more time, and I’ll—”

You’ll… you’ll… what? He’s looking back at you with wide eyes, his hands frozen when they had just a moment ago been drying the plate you’d handed him. He has some nerve, pretending he’s the victim when he’s spent the entire evening insulting you. This is supposed to be a wholesome moment of domesticity— doing the dishes together before he has to disappear to a late-night gala— so why is he ruining it? Ever since you got home, it’s been: so how was your day, stupid? Hey, stupid, want a hand washing up?

He said he was fine with you sitting out the gala tonight, but maybe he’s not.

“I’ll do this,” you finish, lifting a palmful of suds from the sink and raising them to your lips, ready to blow.

“Puh-lease, you bought me this suit. You really think I can’t tell when you’re bluff— hey, wait! Stop!”

You do blow the bubbles at him, and he recoils, holding the plate and dishcloth up to defend himself. He blocks some of them, but not all of them. “Honestly, Raf, if you’re not ok with me skipping out on tonight then you can just say so.”  

He puts the plate gently aside. “I mean, of course I’m sad you’re not coming,” he thinks aloud as he sets about sweeping bubbles from his suit, “but I’m ok with it, really. You’ve had, like, a crazy week at work. You deserve a quiet night in.”

Compassion? Really? After you just—? Ugh. “So why were you being so mean, then?” you sigh, taking the cloth from him and dabbing away the bubbles he’s missed.

“Mean?”

“You’ve called me ‘stupid’ like fifty times in the span of, what— three hours?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs innocently. “Because you told me to.”

Huh? You stop what you’re doing. “Since when did I—”

He reaches over your shoulder and you feel fingers on your back. “See?” he answers, bringing a piece of paper in front of you. It looks like it’s been torn hastily from a notebook, and it says, in bold, capital letters: ‘CALL ME STUPID!!’

You take the note from Rafayel sheepishly, your lips parted in surprise. How did it—? Wait. “Those kids!” you exclaim, thinking back on your walk home from work. “Oh I knew they were spouting bullshit when they said they saw a Wanderer!”

Your dish-washing companion doesn’t seem impressed by your lightbulb moment. He’s watching you, confusion etched across his face, but you can see right through it. “Rafayel!” you slap a soapy hand to his chest, “you had to call me stupid that many times before telling me?”

“I thought you wrote it. Pet names can be weird sometimes— I don’t know what you’re into.”

He’s still acting. Still lying. Fine, two can play at that game.  

You fall deathly silent, turning back to the sink to retrieve the bowl you’d dropped in there the last time he’d called you your new ‘pet name’. “I guess it suits me,” you mumble, half to yourself.

“What d’you mean, cutie?”

He can call you cutie as many times as he wants; you’re out for blood. You give the bowl another once-over with a sponge. “Some hunter I am. Can’t even tell when some kids are messing with me.”

Rafayel frowns. “Hey, it’s been a long week, yeah? You’re just tired.”

“Tired,” you echo, and you drop the bowl back into the water with a dramatic plop. “Tired? No. I’m exhausted. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, there’s always… something. To make me feel like an idiot. To make me feel… stupid.”

“Hey,” Rafayel tries again, and his voice is fraught with worry. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re not stupid. I’m stupid. I’m supposed to make you feel better and instead I was just screwing around. I’m sorry, ok? Don’t be sad. Please?”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. You don’t give in, not at first, but then you hug him back. “Thanks, Raf. I’m ok— really.” You hear his phone buzz from where he’s left it on the counter. “You should go. Thomas will kill you if you’re late.”

“Nah, he needs me,” the artist chuckles. “You get first dibs, though. You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” you laugh quietly back; your heart not quite in it. “Quiet night in, remember? Go on. Go.”

He steps away from you, though not before planting a light kiss on your cheek. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home,” he says, collecting his phone and the rest of his things. He gives you another kiss when he’s done, dodging your efforts to shoo him away. “Miss you already, cutie.”

“Go!”

And he does as he’s told this time, no matter how listlessly. It’s sweet he wants to stay and make things better, but he already has— he just doesn’t know it yet. It wasn’t the hug. It wasn’t the apology. You lean back against the counter with a smirk, savouring the view as he leaves.

It might have something to do with the note you’ve stuck on his back.

…

Rafayel retrieves the note the moment he closes the door behind him, stuffing it smugly into his pocket. He’ll have a story ready for you, by the time he gets home, about just how much you humiliated him. About how he walked around for a good hour before Thomas spotted the note and gave him a lecture about his ‘image’.

He smiles to himself; he’s a really good boyfriend.

Sylus 🩸

“You should know better than to keep me waiting, sweetie.”

Oh, great. This is just what you need.

You peek over the saddle of your motorcycle from where you’re crouched behind it. “Hey, Sylus,” you greet. The man is watching you, his arms folded. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, an eyebrow raised sceptically. “What— no ‘patience is a virtue, Sylus,’ no ‘oh please, Sylus, we both know you’ve nothing better to do?’”

You had disappeared behind your bike again, but you steal another glance at him. “Wow,” you marvel, “is this what you did before we met? Have arguments with yourself?”

“More or less,” he smiles dryly, then shrugs: “I’m not bad, as far as sparring partners go. You of all people can vouch for that. Besides, what were my other options? Mephisto?” He laughs. “Luke and Kieran?” He laughs harder.

“I’d rate Mephisto above you,” you add distractedly, no longer looking at him.

“Is that right?” he purrs, and it’s very obvious he doesn’t believe you.

He sounds close— too close— so you stand, re-entering his eyeline so he doesn’t come closer. Gods, this is embarrassing. Those stupid kids; he’s gonna have a field day if he finds out. “Yeah.” You wipe your hands slowly with a cloth, disguising the fact that your mind is scrambling. “The things that bird comes up with, just… scathing, honestly. Emotionally devastating.”

“Oh really?” Sylus tuts. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine where he gets it from.”

You smile back at him, resting your hands on your hips. You do feel bad, actually; you’d completely forgotten you were supposed to meet him this morning for breakfast before work. He’d received no texts to cancel. No calls. How long was he waiting at that sweet little café you’d picked out?

Then again, this morning isn’t really going to your plan, either.

“Something wrong with your bike?” he asks, because he’s already figured out that much. “Besides the usual, I mean.”

Your smile drops. Your whole act drops. “It’s nothing, Sylus.”

“You’ve already stood me up this morning, sweetie. Are you really going to lie to me, too?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Fine. “Some kids graffitied it, ok?”

“This piece of junk? Really?” He toes the front wheel of it, then catches onto the withering look you’re sending him. “Oh no,” he tries again, with absolutely no enthusiasm, “what a dreadful crime against such an advanced, state-of-the-art vehicle.”

Prick. You keep the label behind tight lips as he wanders around the motorcycle to join you, assessing the damage. You’re stood by a bucket of water and the litany of rags you’ve used to try to scrub it clean— each one a testament to your failure. The sight alone makes you want to burst into tears. The skin of your hands is pink. Raw.

You feel cheated; you wish you were at that café right now.

Sylus taps a finger against his cheek, eyes narrowed pensively. They’re spoiled for choice of what to look at: misspelt obscenities, a generous number of crude symbols. All in permanent marker, naturally. “An improvement, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say. No.”

“Art is subjective.”

“Yeah? So is your face.” Not your best effort. Sylus glances up at you, amused. “Shut up,” you dismiss proactively. “Besides, this is my work vehicle. I can’t ride around Linkon on this. It would be—”

“Too staggering a blow to your professional reputation,” he finishes like he’s bored.

“This isn’t funny, Sylus.”

He points at a particularly chaotic drawing of a penis. “It is.”

You smack his hand away. “It’s not.” Your voice wobbles, ever so slightly betraying you. This is serious; you could get in trouble. You stare down at the graffiti, despair setting in.

Keys dangle in front of your eyes. “Here. Borrow my bike.”

“You’re joking, right?” You swat at them. “You really think that’s gonna help? Me— rolling up to work on a bike that costs twice my annual salary?”

“Twice? That’s cute, kitten.”

You glare at him, any guilt you felt about standing him up long gone. “Can you just stop? Being you? For like, two seconds? Please? This is the last thing I need today, Sylus. I’m gonna be late. I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of everyone. And worst of all? I was actually looking forward to seeing you this morning. Before all of this—” you gesture dejectedly at your bike— “all of this shit happened.”

Sylus is looking back at you, his arms crossed again. He does nothing for a few, slow seconds, and it’s just long enough to make you feel like you’re overreacting. Then he leans over, running a hand across your bike, and you watch as the graffiti flakes and lifts, turning to ash under the influence of his Evol.

He brushes his hands together when he’s done, straightening with a hmph and a self-satisfied smirk. Content (more than content— thoroughly impressed with himself) he turns back to you. Your bottom lip has dropped in surprise and he chuckles, reaching a finger to lift your chin. “You can thank me later, sweetie, and I intend to spend the entire day thinking about how you might. Don’t disappoint me, hmm?”  

You’re still silent, and it takes him a moment to realise you’re bristling with something other than awe and adoration. He frowns. “Sweetie?”

The second ‘sweetie’ breaks you, and not in the way he wants. You slap his chest, hard; he doesn’t really feel it.

“Sylus! You could have done that the whole time?!”

Caleb 🍎

“Sit still, dear.”

Sit still? How are you supposed to sit still when you’re brimming with rage? Every inch of your body is tense, waiting, yearning for you to spring into action. It wants you to retaliate. It wants revenge.

“I can’t, Grandma,” you whine, crossing your arms as if to hold yourself back. You’re still fidgeting on the chair as she navigates your hair with her scissors. “This sucks. Everything sucks. The only thing that could make this worse is if—”

You hear the front door swing open, then closed. Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

Sure enough, Caleb strolls into the kitchen mere moments later. “What’s happenin’ here?” he asks, dropping a bag of groceries onto the countertop.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Grandma’s giving me a haircut, that’s all.”

“Ok. So what’s actually happening here?” he tries again. He’s known you forever, after all; he can tell when you’re lying.

You swing a foot out at his shin as he tries to step closer. Nuh-uh. No investigating. No sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. “Nothing,” you hiss again. “Gods, Caleb. What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem, pipsqueak.” He uses his foot to push yours away. “At least Gran’s on my side—” his amethyst eyes seek her— “can you tell me what’s going on? Please? Pretty please?”

A hand breaks their eye contact. “You don’t have to answer that, Grandma.” You glare Caleb down. “The DAA has no authority here.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

Grandma sighs; she’s had far too many years of this. “You know Mr and Mrs. Lee’s children? Down the road? Well, they—”

“Grandma!” You round on her. How long did she last— all of three seconds? You bitterly regard Caleb, your voice dark with resentment: “They put gum in my hair, ok?”

“Really?”

“Yeah." He wanted the truth, didn’t he? “They lured me in with some nonsense about a Wanderer. I didn’t realise until, well, until…” You wave at your hair. “Too late.”

He considers the story, then shrugs. It’s clearly not as thrilling as he was anticipating, because he disappears from the kitchen, leaving you and Grandma in peace once more. The silence is as uncomfortable as it is sudden. You’d expected laughter— a lot of laughter. Teasing. Maybe even a shot at how gullible you are.

You release an uneasy breath, resting your head back on the chair.

“Sit still,” Grandma repeats, nudging you, prompting you to sit up straight. “I’ve almost got it. Just one more… here!” There’s a decisive snip.

“Thanks, Grandma.” You slump again, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re not sure what you’re waiting for. Maybe for the blush of your cheeks to cool, or for a Wanderer to spring out of the floor, killing you, so you can be dead and not so embarrassed. You hear heavy footsteps— Caleb returning— and you really wish the Wanderer would hurry up.

“Caleb…” Grandma’s tone is wary. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”  

You readjust your head so you can look at him. He’s clutching what must be a dozen rolls of toilet paper; they’re piled up to just below his chin, almost spilling out over his arms. “How about it, pipsqueak?” he asks as he struggles to balance them. “A little team-up between the DAA and The Association— wanna do your part in reclaiming your neighbourhood?”

Now that’s more like it. “Fuck yes! Sorry, Grandma.”

You’re really as bad as each-other. She tuts reproachfully as you leap out of your chair, and she's disappointed, but not surprised.

[f1tales]

now he's thinking about me, every night - mv1

that's that me espresso || part one

next part

pairing: max verstappen x ofc!piastri

summary: oscar's older sister is a singer, who's taylor swift's opening act for the eras tour. she goes to a few races on her break. she meets max; who thinks about her every night now. much to oscar's annoyance.

author's note: this is my first time posting on tumblr, so still figuring stuff out. no use of y/n.

face claim: sabrina carpenter

liked by ivypiastri, maxverstappen1 and others

oscarpiastri: Got to see my sister perform in our hometown in front of 96,000 people over the weekend. So proud of you!

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ivypiastri: thank you thank you thank you for coming!! ily 🩷

formuladr: that's oscar's sister?!

landonorris: an introduction is overdue, mate!

oscarpiastri: not a chance.

ivypiastri: oscar, you should totally introduce me to lando!!

oscarpiastri: like i said, not a chance

ivysgarden: omg oscar what did you think of the nonsense outro?

oscarpiastri: she's done worse tbh, glad she kept it somewhat pg. didn't need to know the size was underwhelming, tho

ivypiastri: omg oscar! 😐

ivypiastri_fan: is anyone else noticing max in the likes cause like...

ivysgarden: he's literally on the grid with max, it's not that deep

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

ivypiastri: melbourne 🩷 thank you, thank you, thank you. this was by far the most incredible experience of my life. thank you so much to @/taylorswift for making this happen, ilysm. i will never forget this. 🩷🩷

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ivypiastriy_style: ivyyyyyy you killed it! ❤❤❤

piastrisupremacy: uhhh max verstappen in the likes?

oscpastry81: i know he's on the grid with oscar, but like??? i'm sure him and ivy have never met...

oscarpiastri: you were amazing! making melbourne proud.

ivysgarden: omg our girl is so happy, look at that first picture! 💖

liked by ivypiastri

hattiepiastri: i wish you could've seen oscar during the nonsense outro. highlight of the night. ily 💘

formulaop81: don't be shy, drop the video

liked by ivypiastri

landonorris: the coolest piastri for real

oscarpiastri: ouch?

ivypiastri: hihi thank you 🤭

ln1999: lando flirting with ivy on main?

Oscar groaned from where he was sitting next to his sister. She giggled as she typed away on her phone. He gave her his deadliest glare.

"Please stop flirting with Lando."

Ivy looked up from her phone. She locked in and then put in down in the seat next to her. "I can do whatever I want." Her phone made a beeping noise again, indicating another message coming through.

"Vee, seriously."

Ivy ignored him as she opened her phone again. She could barely contain her laughter as she watched the video on her phone. Hattie had just sent her the video she took of Oscar during the outro she did for her song Nonsense.

It's a thing she started on her previous tour. She usually tried to make them as dirty as possible, but with her family in the crowd the other night she tried to keep it as PG as possible.

Look, she tried okay?

Oscar appeared very uncomfortable throughout the whole video. The outro wasn't too bad, in Ivy's opinion: broke up cause the size was underwhelming. Tried to give him pointers, wasn't helping. Maybe I just need a boy from Melbourne.

"Delete that."

"Introduce me to Lando."

"No."

Melbourne, March 23rd 2024

Ivy grinned as she entered the paddock alongside Lily and her mum. Oscar had instructed her to stay far, far away from any of the drivers.

She followed her mother towards the McLaren hospitality. Her mother seemed to be some kind of local celebrity here as she was greeted by the many people in orange- sorry papaya, shirts.

They soon found her sisters Hattie, Edie and Mae sat in a corner with their step-father, Chris. She greeted them all with hugs and kisses on the cheek.

Ivy settled next to Hattie as she looked around the hospitality. She opened her phone to scroll through Instagram to kill some time whilst she waited for Oscar to come and say hello.

liked by ivysgarden, maxverstappen1 and others

op81updates: @/ivypiastri has been spotted entering the paddock for the first ever at Oscar's home GP. She arrived alongside Nicole and Lily.

She's currently on a break from touring. She will return to The Eras Tour for the London shows in June and August.

View all comments

ivysgarden: so do we think she's finally been introduced to lando?

oscarspastry: uhhh max in the likes again? hello???

oscpastry81: it's getting low key suspicious 🤨

oscarspastry: on a different note, love your username 😜

verstappennation: aaaaaah f1 and ivy piastri! my two worlds colliding

Ivy and Hattie giggled as they read through the many comments underneath the post on Instagram that informed the world of Ivy's F1 Paddock debut.

Oscar joined his family soon after. Ivy smiled at the man standing next to him. Dark, curly hair; tanned skin and a boyish grin on his lips. This could only be Lando Norris. Oscar made the introductions between the F1 driver and the singer.

"I love your album, it's on in the garage a lot to annoy good ol' Osc over here."

Ivy grinned as she looked at the flustered expression on her brother's face. Lando quickly put an arm around Ivy's shoulder and pulled her in close. "Maybe your next album could include a couple of songs about me."

"Right," Oscar clapped his hand as he broke the laughing duo up. "That's enough."

Ivy and Lando looked at each other, both of their faces red with laughter.

Melbourne, March 24rd 2024

Ivy walked around the paddock on the Sunday after the race. Her family had gone back to the McLaren hosiptality to wait for Oscar to come back from his post race interviews. She opted to have a look around. She hadn't had the time yet.

He had just missed out on the podium. P4. Ivy was still immensly proud of him.

She stopped in her tracks to look around. She squinted her eyes, the orange papaya of McLaren catching her eye in the distance. As she turned around to walk back, she collided with something hard.

Someone. Someone's toned chest.

She looked up, "I'm sorry I-," her words got lost in mouth somewhere. Her green eyes were met with the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"It's okay."

Ivy quickly took a step back. "I'm Ivy, O-,"

"Oscar's sister. I know, I like your music." The man shook her hand. "Max. Nice to meet you."

part two coming soon.

[messylustt]

heyy can i req teaching ethan how to pleasure women? and he’s veeeery good at it i think he would come just at the sight

omg omg omg omg

good boy — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : showing ethan how to pleasure woman

contents : pussy drunk ethan. female oral. fingering. slight overstimulation. wc 1.0k

You grab Ethan’s hair, tilting his head up. He’s kneeled in front, his hands either side of your legs. His eyes are big as he stares at you, his breathing heavy and waiting.

You spread your legs wider making Ethan’s gaze shoot down. His breathing picks up as he stares at your pussy. You tilt his chin up getting his attention again. “I’ll tell you how, okay?” You ask, slightly massaging his scalp.

His eyes slightly flutter at the feeling before he nods. “You can touch me.” You say as his hand slides across your thigh. “Just run your fingers over it.”

You run your fingers through his hair as his finger reaches your soaked pussy. “That’s it.” You praise, as Ethan experimentally spreads your wetness around. He switches between watching your pussy and your face.

He begins to grow a fraction bolder as your breathing stutters everytime he drags his finger over your clit. Catching the small sounds leaving your lips he repeatedly goes over it, watching your expression.

Your grip has tightened around his curls as he now switches to his thumb, just flicking and playing with your clit. A smile has edged his lips as the sounds of your pleasure fills his ears. "Then..." you breathe, gulping. "Then you can push a finger in." You say just as his thumb grazes over your hole.

Ethan spreads your lips wider to allow him a better veiw, making the cold air hit your hot pussy. You shiver, your stomach slightly contracting as Ethan's warm breath fans over you. "Ethan?" You ask in reference to your instruction.

"I just wanted to see." Ethan replies, his tone dazed. You watch as he licks his lips, before he inserts one finger. You clench around him, making him glance in at your face. "You feel so tight." He breathes. A breathy noise escapes you at his unintentional compliment.

"Like this?" Ethan asks, beginning to pull his finger in and out of you.

"Y-yes. Very good." You say, as he watches his finger dissapear inside you. His cock is rock hard in his pants, but he refrains from touching himself because he wanted to know how to get more of your pretty little expressions with his fingers.

"Don't girls usually use two?" He asks, as he teases his second finger along your hole.

Your chest is heaving. "Yeah. It fills us up more."

Ethan liked the sound of the that, so he quickly pushed his second finger in with his first. "Shit." You mutter, as one of your hands clenches around the duvet.

Ethan shifts closer to your pussy, as he fingers you. "You can go quicker." You gulp out.

Ethan is soon expertly hitting your g-spot, as he listens to the whining moans your making. He places one hand on your thigh, as he curls his fingers, trying to reach the spot that makes your mouth hang open better. "God, Ethan. Your a fast learner."

Ethan grins, continuning to watch your pussy eating his fingers. "I want to do more." Ethan lowly states.

Your breathing stutters at his words, your orgasm nearing. "J-just keep doing that."

But Ethan really did want to do more, so he pulls his fingers out, making you whine at the loss of contact. “What-"

Ethan holds your thighs, spreading you even wider as he pulls you towards his awaiting mouth. He's then placing his entire tongue against your pussy. With your almost orgasm near you squirm, yoru clit painfully engorged.

"How do I lick you?" Ethan asks. "Or should I just try to figure it out?" In response to his own words he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, before he's just kitten licking everywhere he can. Soon your taste is nearly dripping off his tongue, but he doesn't stop, beginning to kiss you as if this were your other lips.

His lips would close around your clit, as his tongue would poke out, circling. Your back acrched, as a moan escapes you. "Shit, Ethan. I thought you'd never done this before." You half whimper out.

Ethan grins against your pussy. "I haven't." Each syllable hits your core, making your whole body buzz. "Then why..." You can't even finish your sentence as Ethan sucks, his teeth slightly grazing across yoru clit. "I just like how you taste." He replies innocently. "So, so sweet." He whispers, as his breath hits your weeping hole.

"Can I do the same as I did with my fingers?" Ethan asks.

"Please." You shamefully moan out.

He smiles, satisfied before he's pushing his wet tongue inside you. Your hand tightens around his hair, as you hold him even closer to you. "Ethan—oh, fuck."

"Is that good?" Ethan mumbles, as he tightens his hold on your thighs, beginning to thrust his tongue into you.

"So good...so—shit." You graon out, as you begin to slightly grind into his face, your orgasm nearing again.

You clench your fist in his curls. "Don't stop—oh god, pelase don't stop." You say, worried he would like he did before.

"Oh, I'm not stopping." Ethan groans. He hasn't even touched his cock and it feels like he's going to burst. "I'm never stopping." He whispers against your pussy.

In response to his dark tone you shudder, your orgasm riding through you. You moan, eyes rolling at the intense feeling. Your chest is erraticly heaving as you slowly come down from your high.

You go to usher Ethan away, but he quickly holds you down by your thighs, as he keeps you wide and open for him. "What are you-"

Ethan kitten licks your sensitive pussy, making you jolt. "Ethan-" You harshly breath. "I-i'm sore—and sensitive."

But Ethan doesn't back away, continuing to kiss your pussy. "I told you." He says, his lustful eyes focused on your pussy, before he glances up from between your legs. "I'm never stopping."

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[inevesgf]

“come here, idiot” and oscar? 😇

"come here, idiot"⠀ + ⠀oscar piastri ⠀༉ ‧₊˚. ⠀prompt list here.

oscar comes to realize how wonderful of a chef his girlfriend is and wants to join in on the fun, though he can't bake to save his life.

content + warnings: oscar piastri + female reader, swearing, basically pure fluff. word count 1.1k+.

i fear oscar is so cutie i can't.. still working to plow out more of these blurbs so stay tuned x if you would like to find other works from this special or read my other works, click the link here ⋆·˚ ༘ * notes + reblogs are heavily appreciated and don't forget to tell me your thoughts via comment, reblog or ask.

the kitchen was alive with warmth and light, the morning sun spilling through the window and illuminating the scattered flour that dusted the counter. a cozy hum of hozier’s music played softly in the background, filling the air with a calming tone as you fished in the cabinet for ingredients. a tattered apron was tied snugly upon your waist, and you were certainly in your element as the aroma of vanilla and butter filled the air. 

baking was your santucary, a place where you felt free and at ease. if anything big or small was bothering you, you’d dive head first into some intricate recipe and bake the blues away. usually alone in the kitchen, you found yourself getting lost in the world of flour and sugar, whipping up pastries as if you were a five star chef, but you were quickly pulled out of your fantasy when a voice erupted, the tone laced with confusion.

“is it egg first or flour first?” oscar questioned, turning over to you as he raised a brow, holding the ingredients in his hands. a small laugh escaped your lips at his state, the boy's hair tangled in every which way as flour covered his apron. “it doesn’t matter, you know,” you teased, placing a small tube of vanilla extract on the counter next to him, “it’s all going in the same bowl, osc.”

you knew baking with your boyfriend wasn’t going to be all that easy, yet you didn’t expect him to be entirely clueless. growing up in a household full of girls, you were sure oscar had helped his mother out once or twice, but that clearly wasn’t the case – the boy was practically running around like a chicken with his head cut off.

“i don’t know how you do it,” oscar mumbled, trying to multitask between talking and cracking the egg delicately into the bowl, “you have to be so patient for this shit – what’s the fun in baking if you have to wait for the sweets? it’s no fun.” a joking tone fell from oscars lips as he discarded the empty egg shell into the trash bin, looking over at you with a smug look.

“that’s the fun part, you see, it’s like a little reward at the end of all your hard work,” you chuckled, smiling over at him softly. oscar swore up and down he was a big boy: able to follow the instructions and bake the cookies by himself, but he cleary wasn’t all that as he began to struggle. pouring some flour into the measuring cup, oscar raised a brow in confusion, his gaze looking similar to a baby who just saw its reflection for the first time. 

you playfully rolled your eyes, advancing towards oscar as if to offer help. “it’s not rocket science, osc,” a teasing tone poisioned your words, causing oscar to grumble and step to the side, “let me show you.” you moved gracefully over to oscar, your apron tied securely as you began to measure out flour with careful precision. you poured it into a mixing bowl, the powder puffing gently into the air. oscar huffed out, baffled at how you could do this so effortlessly, his gaze focused intently on the task at hand.

“see?” you hummed, “easy-peasy.” to which oscar found himself grumbling once more, coming back over to the bowl as he picked the spoon up from the flour covered cabinet. “can’t you just work the magic while i stand here and look pretty?” he teased, shoving the spoon into the bowl, “i can be your second-hand – toss the ingredients to you.”

a small laugh fell from your lipsticked lips again as you hummed, shaking your head back and forth. “i mean, you’d be great help, but this is supposed to be bonding time, remember? not myself baking while you sit and watch,” you joked, splashing a tad of vanilla into the bowl oscar began to stir, using his muscles to blend the thick batter. 

“i’m not great help, you know,” oscar laughed, huffing to blow the hair away from his forehead, the strands falling lazily as it clouded his view, “can’t keep myself together enough to bake.” you found yourself chuckling at his words once more, tightening the apron before lazily pushing the strand away from his amber eyes. 

you hummed again, leaning your body against the table, studying him softly as he blended the mixture in the bowl. the morning sunlight peered through the window, the suns rays illuminating the most miniscule of oscar’s features. you couldn’t help but oogle at the way his muscles flexed, the tiny freckles decorating his forearm comparable to the details on a roman statue.

“you may not be great help, but you’re wonderful company,” you teased, your eyes dancing over his face as his eyes looked over to you, a small smile overtaking his visage, “and i’ll pay you handsomely with these cookies for helping out even a little.” as if your words were the best hums of thought he had ever heard, the smile on oscar’s face only grew larger, a satisfied whistle falling past his lips as he mixed the batter.

oscar finished stirring the mixture, bringing the spoon to his lips as he looked you dead in the eye, his eagerness to piss off his ‘master-chef’ girlfriend promiment in his actions. keeping the spoon close to his lips, oscar stuck his tongue out, savoring the rich flavor as he licked the spoon clean. though as oscar relished the moment, a generous dollop of the batter betrayed him, slipping from the spoon as it landed squarely on his cheek.

startled slightly from the cold batter making contact with his skin, oscar froze, his eyes widening in surprise as a chuckle slipped past his lips. he glanced in your direction, your laughter bubbling up like the batter itself – bright and infectious. 

“come here, idiot,” in a moment of playful tenderness, you stepped forward, brushing the batter off his cheek with the soft pad of your thumb. your touch lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, causing even the man you loved for years to blush deeply at the affection.

“there,” you spoke, smiling as you wiped your finger on a nearby dish towel, “now you’re ready to keep baking, chef osc.” oscar grinned, the playful banter hanging in the air like the sweet scent of the cookie batter.

the atmosphere was charged with a loving intimacy, a sense of joy enveloping the two of you. the laughter and warmth radiating between both of you felt as sweet as the pastries you were making, binding they two of you together in a dance where you played teacher.  it didn’t matter to you as you grew patient with oscar and his lack of baking skills, helping him step by step. even if he couldn’t use something as simple as a measuring cup, he was still your new baking buddy – one that didn’t fail to make you laugh as he made a mess of your small kitchen.

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