#and i’m ALREADY FUCKING PISSED when he’s like

[moonstruckme]

hi love I like all ur fics!!! Ur most recent emt Maurader made me realize tho we don't always get to see Sirius being vulnerable so what about a fic where may be he's having an off day? Or runs into a cousin and they completely ignore him and he tries to act like it doesn't bother him and just reader comforting him and giving him space

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: allusion to past abuse, discussion of toxic workplace dynamics

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius gets home from work early. You’re in the bedroom, stomach-down on the mattress with your book in front of you. You hear the front door open and come out to greet your boyfriend, but your smile falls when you see him. 

Sirius’ face is red. He doesn’t usually color when he’s upset, so you take it to mean something that he has now. He steps on the back of his shoe a couple of times before he manages to get it off, stomps on the back of the other even more harshly. You think he might be shaking. 

“Sirius?” 

He flinches. Turning around, his expression twinges with some mix of emotions at seeing you, too muddled to parse apart. He seals them all away quickly. 

You take a step towards him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse. Sirius clears his throat. “Yeah. Just a shit day at work.” 

“You’re home early,” you note. 

Sirius nods curtly. You think maybe that’s that, but his expression is conflicted. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” you ask gently, going to the couch and hoping he’ll follow. He does. It’s a challenge not to reach for his hand, to pull him closer or offer some kind touch, but the stiffness about Sirius’ frame hints that it may not be well received right now. 

When he’s still silent after a moment, you say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I could make tea and we could just relax.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, tersely, like he might be trying to convince himself more than you. “I think I’m probably going to be fired, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up. 

“I…you know how I got a new boss a few weeks ago?” 

You nod mutely. 

“Right, well, she’s got a temper. At least a couple times a week I’ll hear her shouting at someone in her office and she’s already managed to fire from almost every team.” Your dread mounts as Sirius goes on, speaking faster now that he’s on a roll. “She called me in after lunch. I fucked up something in a report—I hadn’t checked it and it had gotten sent out with the error—and she was pissed. She screamed at me—really screamed, stood up and got red in the face and all that—for probably ten minutes before she sent me back to my desk. And I just came home.” Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “If she doesn’t fire me, I might quit.” 

“You should, baby.” Your voice pitches with dismay, hurt and outrage for him warring inside you. You take a chance and reach for his hand. Sirius fits his fingers between yours instinctively, something seeming to loosen in him at the touch. “I can’t believe she really shouted at you. No one deserves that, least of all for a silly error in a report. She should be fired for that.” 

Sirius gives you a little smile, but it dissolves at the edges, watery. A cavity opens in your chest as his eyes grow shiny. 

“Baby.” 

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. Blinking. “Sorry,” he says roughly. “I never used to do this.” You feel your face pinch with sympathy. He means cry, you know. Sirius as an adult is more emotional than he was as a child, but you still rarely see him cry. “She just—she sounded just like my mother.” 

Realization comes like a blow to your middle. “Oh, my love,” you say breathlessly, moving to put your arms around him. 

Sirius usually hugs with his whole being. He throws himself into it, with force and purpose and his own rough brand of caring. So you’re used to letting him take the lead, but now, when his arms come around you hesitantly, you’re the one who applies the pressure. And Sirius melts against you. 

You cup the back of his neck in one hand and squeeze between his shoulders with the other, imagining your love pouring out of you and into him through your palms. Sirius is quiet, but you feel a couple of hot tears transfer from his chin to your shirt. You worry he’s holding his breath. 

“Sirius.” You say his name with all the tenderness you can summon, afraid of him hearing echoes of his mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry, lovely. You never, ever deserve to be shouted at that way.” 

“Even if I told you I left your favorite mug at my office?” he jokes weakly. 

You let him go. There aren’t many tears to brush off his cheeks, and you make short work of them, soothing your thumbs over his face just for the sake of it. Surprisingly, his complexion is less agitated than it had been when he’d come in. He was holding it in, you realize. 

“Don’t ever let me speak to you like that,” you say.

Sirius’ expression sobers. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” 

“Really. Leave me if I talk to you like that, I’m serious.” 

“No, that’s me.” 

One side of your mouth tips up without your consent. “Bad joke.” 

Sirius mirrors you, grinning halfheartedly. “You think you’d have learned to evade it by now.” 

You gather that he wants things to be light now. That’s okay. You know Sirius has a difficult time with the truly heavy emotions—anger is an instinct for him, but tears and sorrow he’s never known what to do with. You’ll talk about it more over time, in bits and pieces where he’s comfortable. And just because you’re letting it go now doesn’t mean you’re done coddling him. 

You let your hands coast down from his face to either side of his neck, massaging gently the tension in his shoulders. “Did you really bring my favorite mug to work?” 

Sirius’ smile goes a tad sheepish. “Yes?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because it makes me think of my most favorite sweetheart when I get coffee from the break room,” he says, smarmy. “Also, it was the first one I saw when I went to grab one from our cabinet.” 

You smile at him. Sirius pretends at facetiousness, but you know the first reason had been the genuine one. 

“What,” he asks, “you didn’t notice it was missing?” 

“No, I did. I only thought you’d broken it.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” 

“What’d be the point?” 

A soft, intimate look comes over Sirius’ face. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, gray eyes raw and quiet, “do I?” 

You match his tone. “Of course you do, lovely. You deserve better than me, it’s just I’m what you’ve got.” 

“Mm, there’s another way you’re not allowed to speak.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a heavy-fond kiss to your hairline. “I won’t have any of that talk.” 

“I’ll trade you that for the jokes about your name.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work a little harder, doll, I’m not giving those up so easily.”

[rnnsdrms]

f1 drivers and popular romance tropes: charles leclerc !!

DEAREST READER. hello there! while waiting for the two-week break to end, i needed a little f1 headcanon/scenario to heal me from the famine. anyway, here’s for the leclerc fans out there! it’s funny that i’m posting his first when i actually finished oscar’s first 😂 i hope you’ll enjoy~ for more drivers, you can see my masterlist at the end of the post !

CONTENT WARNINGS. no warnings. just a heads-up that i am an 18+ blog and i prefer only adults visit my profile page. if you’re a minor, you can still read this work since it’s sfw. so, i hope everyone out there is being honest with themselves. oh, probably my fucked up english grammar because why do i care it’s pure vibes !

WORD COUNT. 998 words (ugh, so close to 1k) !

I debated with this idea, but after some time, I decided that mutual pining suits Charles Leclerc better. There is so much potential for slow-burn and comedy. It’s the kind of story where there’s already an established sense of familiarity between you and Charles, one that has existed for as long as either of you can remember. But it has never crossed into anything as intimate as being ‘lovers’. Sure, both your groups of friends always comment about how the two of you argue like a married couple and suggest you should just make it official already, but you and Charles dodge these accusations as swiftly as an F1 driver dodging a collision course.

While you and Charles may eye-roll or stick your tongue out at the sight of each other, both of you secretly wish for something more. Yet, neither dares to make a move, fearing the loss of the bond binding you and him. The platonic relationship between you and him feels comfortable, and disrupting that would seem like the foolish move of the century. So, to preserve it, you’re quick to ignore your feelings, and he does the same. As a result, pent-up, endearing emotions often spill out in the form of silly banter and subtle jealousy. The sneaky glances across the room and the lame lies told when either of you got caught staring seem endless. This routine is no different to playing a song on repeat: it’s the only thing that you’re both fixated on, apparently. At this point, provoking each other just to see what kind of reaction the other can elicit can be considered a love language. You think he’s just being annoying as usual, while he thinks you’re unbearably nosy–and it doesn’t help that he has heard of the ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ meme and he has used it against you every single time you are about to start an argument with him.

Charles Leclerc, despite being a multiple Grand Prix winner and has earned himself many titles–The Prince of Ferrari, The King of Monza, The Sun of Maranello, The Predestined–he still can’t officially call himself ‘your boyfriend’. It’s pathetic and it pisses him off. Currently one of the best drivers on the F1 grid, he has placed himself among legendary rivals, and yet, he can’t seem to place himself on the same bed as yours. Although his fame attracts the attention of high-profile celebrities and influencers, Charles has his thoughts and eyes only on you, even when he is currently surrounded by them. You, on the other hand, love to torture yourself by watching him sitting and talking with glamorous models–or just pretty women in general. He says it’s an occupational hazard, but the way you see it–or rather, feel it–it is more of an emotional hazard to you. But you’re not just going to sit around and drink your sorrows away. No. You’re going to greet and chat with his driver friends … but him.

His eyes narrow dangerously whenever he sees you hanging out with another man, even with his fellow F1 driver friends. But he starts losing his cool when he sees one of them initiate physical contact with you. While you’re giving them your best smile and laughter, Charles is already plotting how to commit a massacre on the next circuit. When you notice that he’s beginning to space out, you decide to approach him, incoming snide remarks already up your sleeve to torment Ferrari’s golden boy.

‘So,’ you start, taking the long-awaited empty seat beside him, ��is she going to be your next in-chi-dent? Or just another pit stop?’

‘What? I’m the most charming guy in the room. I can’t help if all the ladies want a piece of me.’

‘Oh, please.’ You roll your eyes, ‘you’re about as charming as a stalled-out engine on a race day.’ You add, taking a sip of your drink.

A grin spreads across Charles’ thin lips as he leans closer to you–his chin barely above your shoulder. ‘Is that so? Funny, because I thought I’m just like Ferrari–impossible to resist.’

You try to repress the blush that is beginning to creep up your cheeks by staring at him dead in the eyes. ‘Well, since you are a Ferrari, then I guess I’m the safety car. Always having to slow you down when you get too full of yourself.’

The slight shock on Charles’ face gives you immense satisfaction, and you don’t try to hide it. But he is also quick to gain composure.

‘Or maybe, you’re just the chequered flag I’ve been racing toward all along ...’ He said, but his words seem to trail off in the wind.

It catches you off guard, and you stare at him with a questioning look, only to see Charles’ green eyes gazing at you tenderly. Oh, you hate it so much when he looks at you like that.

‘Nice try.’ You quickly cover your raging emotions with a smirk. ‘But you’re still stuck in the pits.’

• ───────────────────────────•

[ SONGS FOR THIS TROPE: Taylor Swift – Dress ✦ Sabrina Carpenter – Nonsense ✦ Arctic Monkeys – I Wanna Be Yours ✦ Gracie Abrams – Feels Like ✦ Lana Del Rey – Say Yes To Heaven ✦ Ariana Grande — goodnight n go ]

• ───────────────────────────•

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ KO-FI ˎˊ˗

RNNSDRMS™. SUPPORT WRITERS BY REBLOGGING THEIR WORK. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR POST MY WORKS ON ANY SITE. I WILL POST MY POSTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA SITES MYSELF AND THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

[chleem]

Flashing Lights #6

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter5 | index | chapter7 soon!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mid-May 2024

It’s just you and Drew now.  

Laura left after getting the two of you settled in this hotel room, explaining how your stylists would be here in less than an hour, Vogue coming over to film a getting-ready vlog. 

You anxiously stand by the window, looking down to the city. It was beautiful; but your anxiety didn’t let you appreciate it. You wanted a smoke. A drink too. 

The no-smoking sign on the table catches your eye, and you look at the ceiling. Smoking detectors were on it. Fuck. So, you reach for the alternative. 

You pick the room cell up, typing the number to the lobby. 

But Drew hangs it up, then grabs the cell from you. You look at him, pissed. “What? That was important,” you lie, but it was partially true, you needed alcohol to settle yourself. 

“Really?,” he says, putting the cell back. He glares down at you, as if you stole his money or something. “I’m not letting you.”

You let his words hang in the air, sharp and defiant.

Instead, you reach for the room cell again. 

Drew harshly grabs your wrist, which you immediately shake yourself out of. “Hey. What’s your fucking problem?” You ask impatiently. 

“That’s what I should be asking,” he replies. After a few seconds, he talks again. “Why would you go out with him?”

Oh. So he’s asking about what happened last week. 

It was nothing. You met Theo at the grand prix, who was surprisingly friendly. The two of you weren’t alone on the yacht; there was a small party before it. Theo and you just stayed longer, and the media made it seem like it was like that the whole night. 

Of course, you were too drunk to remember the details of what happened when it was just the two of you, but from the pictures; yeah, it was really bad. Your PR team gave you a hard scolding for that, and even fines for breaking one of the terms on the contract. 

You cross your arms, holding your head high. You didn’t do anything wrong; Drew’s intimidating stare won’t break you; nothing will. “I didn’t go out with him.”

“Does he know that?” His voice unable to hid the mockery behind them. 

“Of course.” Lie. Maybe a lie. 

“Y/n.”

“What? I can’t answer for him. But I know it wasn’t a date.”

“Right, two people of the opposite sex alone, on a yacht-“

“Not a date-“

“With wine, table candles, food-“

“Not a fucking date-“

“Touching each other? Smiling like he’s the funniest shit ever-“

“Fucking shut up, Drew,” you say, slightly louder than him. What he’s going on about, is just stupid. You already got scolded by the PR team, you didn’t need another person telling you you fucked up. 

Drew does shut up, but only for a few seconds. “Fine, then what really happened, y/n? Tell me, tell me and I’ll believe it.”

You look at him.

“Why should I fucking tell you?” 

The anger in your voice isn't just directed at him; it's a mix of frustration and confusion, the feeling that you shouldn't owe anyone an explanation, least of all him.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow even harder, his tongue poking against his cheek. You go on; ignoring how you’re filling up his anger meter. “All you need to fucking know is that it wasn’t a date. Fuck, why are you even talking to me about this? It’s not part of the contract, it’s not part of-“

“Contract?” He interrupts, looking at you in confusion and disbelief, as if your point of view was absolutely shit. “What does this have to do with-“

“That’s the whole reason you’re here-“

“What the fuck does the contract have to do-“

“Every fucking thing, Drew. The contract has everything to do with you being here. You don’t even care-“

“I do care,” he answers quickly, but you scoff. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking to you-“

“Really? You do care? What do you care about?”

“You,” he exclaims, his features softening. 

Bullshit. “Your fucking reputation, you mean?”

He shakes his head, a smile on his lips. You furrow your eyebrows, feeling pissed that he’s laughing. “What-“

“You’re unbelievable, y/n,” he starts, and suddenly, his aura feels cold, different from earlier when it was just pure anger.  “Why can’t you just explain the situation to me? Huh?”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him, lowering your voice. No. You won’t- can’t tell him.

“Okay, because I might not care?” He asks, ignoring what you want to add on. “If I really didn’t, why would I ask?”

Drew’s blue eyes make you want to yield everything to him. There’s a bit of comfort in his eyes, behind all the anger, “because…because you’re just another co-star I meet. You don’t really care.”

You continue to stare into his eyes, challenging him to disagree. 

“But I do.”

He says it so faintly, that it felt like the words were your hallucinations. But he did say it. Well, too bad you weren’t one to be swayed easily by words. “Stop lying, Drew. It just makes you look stupid.”

You brush past him and reach for the room cell. You needed like, five bottles of wine to move past this. To even survive the film festival later. 

But Drew stops you yet again. “Let go of me,” you threaten, shrugging his hands off your wrist. 

He doesn’t budge, even after saying it a second time. 

“Why can’t you can’t understand basic shit?” You snap, finally shaking him off and putting the cellphone back.

If you knew your next insult towards him would end badly for you, you wouldn’t have said it. “You’re so insufferable to be around, you know that?”

Drew stares at you, furrowed eyebrows back in place. 

What was he thinking of now? Thinking about a better insult? Thinking about all your flaws? It’s evident that he wants to say something mean about you. 

“What? What were you going to say?” You ask, getting impatient. “Say it. I’m sure whatever you’re thinking, they have it worse for me.”

His lips form a small frown, but his eyes stay mean, staring down at you. 

Okay. Now this was annoying. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like talking?

“Do you need help forming it?” You tease, stepping closer to him. His eyes flicker fast to your lips, before back into your eyes. “Let me give you a few ideas. Druggie,  coke-head, slut, oh, wait, BBC said something about me once. It was-“

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“You think of yourself that way.”

“What?” You scoff yet again. 

“You could be so much better, y/n. But instead, you let yourself rot,” Woah, what is he talking about? “Always getting drunk, smoking your lungs out, and putting on this- this sloppy attitude. You give up on yourself when other people haven’t. Why- why the fuck would you do that? Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?”

His words throw you off track. It’s the first time someone has said this type of stuff to you.

You swallow hard, your throat running dry. For the first time in a while, you feel exposed. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, unexpected and hard. You freeze, unsure of how to react, how to process what he’s saying. 

“Why do you make yourself so insufferable?” 

You want to hate him for making you feel this way, for making you feel like you're doing something wrong by existing this way. But you can’t. He’s right, isn’t he? 

Even with the constant buzz stinging your mind, you still refuse to show weakness. You refuse to show that his words have impact on you. “No; you make me insufferable in your eyes. You hate me, you hate how I bring more trouble to you-“

“I don’t hate you-“

“You hate how you’re stuck in this situation with me, but you know that only I can help you out-“

“Maybe, but I realized-“

“You stick around and then act like you care-“

“How many times do I have to tell you I do care about you-“

“You’re just like the rest, Drew!” You yell over him. He shuts up, looking at you with furrowed brows. “The fame, the money, the people I can bring you, that’s what you care! You’re just waiting for your payoff. ”

The contract again. That fucking contract mentioned again. 

You see his Adam’s apple move, his features softening. 

The doorbell rings, probably the stylists. You look away from Drew, hugging yourself tight, to keep yourself together. 

He brushes past you, going to open the door. 

The crew starts filing in, talking and setting up like nothing’s wrong. The noise feels like a wall around you, a barrier between what just happened and the performance you have to put on.

You glance around. Drew’s gone.

He must've left.

——

You tried your best to make Drew’s words leave your mind. 

You drank a bottle and smoked half a vape in a the last few hours while getting ready, and still, his words left a scar on you. You couldn’t believe yourself either, affected by Drew’s fake concern for you. 

“Give it to me, y/n, we’re arriving.”

Laura’s talking about the vape in your hand. You take on last breath, before handing it over to her. “This dress is uncomfortable,” you comment while puffing out the smoke. This dress was very tight. 

“You look beautiful,” Laura says, and a part of you wonders if she actually means it. “Now, the cast is already moving along the carpet, you’re the last one.”

“Where’s Drew?” You couldn’t help but ask, knowing that you only attended the Cannes’ film festival to be seen with him. 

“Right… there,” she points out the window. You see Drew, in a black suit that matches your dress, signing and happily taking photos with fans. He looked… fine.

“Ready?” Laura asks, once the car stops. 

It was your first time at the Cannes film festival. You’ve always declined because of your ‘schedule’, but really, it was because of your anxiety. The flashing lights, the disrespectful questions, and audience that have high expectations. These reasons are mainly why you’ve always declined award shows, festivals, or any kind of event that required you to interact with people. “Yeah,” you force out. 

Laura opens the door, and steps out first. You take her hand when getting out, and while adjusting your dress, multiple cameras flash. The industry never changed, has it? 

Once you’re done adjusting your dress, you smile at the cameras, waving at them nicely. The lights are blinding, but you’ve trained yourself to not flinch to them. 

You walk down the red carpet, until you reach where Drew was. Of course he noticed you, all the photographers were shouting, hoping that you would stare at their cameras. 

He says bye to fans, before walking over to you. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, and you don’t either. 

Drew simply takes your hand and puts it on his inner forearm. You purposely grip tight, hoping to cause physical pain to him. 

The two of walk side by side until you reach the middle, stopping for photos to be taken. 

Drew wraps his arm around your waist, standing closely to you. You pretend something is wrong with his collar, smiling while adjusting it. You meet his eyes, and you just smile even more; acting. He smiles at you too; acting. 

Acting. Act. Act. Act. 

He whispers in your ear, making sure to get close enough so photographers don’t catch his lips. “You smell like grapes.” Oh. His breath hits your neck, and you feel your goosebumps rise. 

He moves away, looking at you lovingly; acting. 

You pat his chest and smile at him lovingly; acting. 

The photographers’ camera’s flash doesn’t stop, not even for a brief moment. All eager to capture every movement of this couple. Little did they know, while the both of you posed lovingly next to each other, hours ago a catastrophic fight happened. 

After a few more seconds which felt like minutes, one of the staff informs you to move up the stairs, where your other cast members were waiting for you. 

As you make your way toward the stairs, Drew’s hand hovers close to your lower waist, almost like a protective gesture. The warmth of his palm against your skin is an odd comfort, and for a moment, you forget everything else—the argument, the tension, the walls you’ve built up between you.

When you turn your back to the cameras, the weight of the moment hits you. The flashing lights and fake smiles are just a blur now. You face him, your words soft but certain. “You’re right.”

He blinks, taken aback, and lifts his hand, waiting for you to take it. “What?”

You meet his eyes, swallowing down the mess of emotions swirling inside. For a brief second, you think about pulling away, about keeping the distance. But instead, you take his hand, letting it slip into his.

You raise the hem of your dress slightly, your steps becoming more deliberate as you climb the stairs. “You’re right,” you repeat, your voice steady, almost as if saying it out loud makes it real. “About everything.”

"Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?"

“But, the industry shaped me to be this way. I don’t know any other way,” you confess, looking at the stairs while saying this. 

The two of you reach where your co-stars were, and you let go of his hand. 

The director of this movie, which is about the working class in the 1800s, makes space for you in the middle, urging you to stand next to him.

It was the director’s first work, so he was very eager to have his main leads stand next to him. Not only that, but because of your performance in this film, today, it was nominated for numerous categories.

You do, and smile at the camera with the director’s arm around you. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” the male lead, whispers to you, a smile on for the photos. “You never come.”

“This one’s special,” you reply, referring to Drew. 

He must’ve thought you were talking about the movie, “good thing I persuaded you to take the role.”

The flashing continues, but the staff informs that it was time to head inside. You turn around expecting Drew to wait at the top for you, but he wasn’t.

You hide your disappointment, seeing your co-star offer his hand. “I believe we’re sitting together?”

“Yes,” you smile, taking his hand. 

The two of you walked up the stairs with the rest of the crew, and into the main venue. 

——

The standing ovation lasted around ten minutes. Yet, felt like eternity. 

The sound of clapping fills the room, surrounding you, and for once, it’s not just noise. It’s recognition. It’s validation.

It felt…extraordinary. Like something out of a dream. You couldn’t believe how many you’ve missed out on. You want to soak it all in, to savor the moment, but a part of you can’t help but wish you weren’t alone in it.

Your co-stars would stare or blow kisses at their loved ones, whispering thank you to them. But you? No one. Not even your ‘boyfriend’, who was gone from the start of the night. 

Even when going up to receive awards, you wished you had someone special to dedicate your speeches or awards to. Or someone you could lock eyes with in the crowd. 

You had no one. 

Drew was still gone, and you soon realized, he was gone the entire night. 

——

You push through the door, finally getting it open after multiple tries. 

You immediately fall to the ground, your legs and arms giving up. You laugh, still a bit drunk even after sleeping in the car. 

“Where were you?”

Your blurry eyes squint at the source, and you see Drew. He’s sitting on the couch, half naked and hair still wet. “I should be asking you that,” you smile, the alcohol in your veins making it hard to control your features. “I missed you.”

It wasn’t you talking; obviously the alcohol talking. Drew knew that, because he walks over and stands in front of you. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at his toes. They’re funny. “Hey, your toes are-“

“Where the fuck did you go?” He asks more firmly this time.

You look up at him. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in something between concern and irritation. But all you can feel is the burn in your chest, the strange weight of his question. “Why do you care?”

It comes out cold, defensive, but his eyes soften, just a little, as if he’s already heard the answer, as if he knows the real reason why he does care.

He bends down to grab your arm. He helps you up, placing your arm over his shoulder. You’re too tired to protest; letting him place you on the couch. He walks away, but he comes back with a bottle of water, a trash can, and some pills.

“Hey, drink some water,” he says, his hand going behind your neck, as he helps you sit up. 

His hand is always so warm. Why?

His thumb rubs the back of your neck while you drink the water, surprisingly, you find it comforting. You finish half of it, before handing it back to him. “Wanna tell me where you went?” He asks you much more gentler this time. 

“The afterparty,” you reply, as Drew removes his hand from the back of your neck. The warmth disappears, and you actually feel sad. “Your turn.”

“I stayed in here,” he confesses. His voice turns quieter now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t want to see you.”

Just because of that, he leaves? What a selfish dick. “I didn't want to see you either, but did you see me leave? No.”

“And I’m sorry,” Drew apologies. You look into his eyes, and see the sincerity in them that can’t be faked. 

“I felt so stupid,” you continue, “The only person I knew was you.”

Drunk you could talk about whatever you wanted, and no one could stop you. “I know you hate me, but couldn’t you have stuck around? You only had to watch me, you didn’t need to do anything else.”

A tear falls down your cheek. It feels almost foreign, as if your body is betraying you, allowing a moment of vulnerability you didn’t expect, one that you didn't know you were capable of outside of a scene, outside the cameras.

You quickly wipe it away. “I would’ve never done that to you.” 

And you meant it. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, the only right thing to say right now. 

Silence lingers in the air, the two of you staring down at the floor. 

“It was my first time experiencing a standing ovation,” you start, giving him a soft smile. He sends you one back, a faint, quick smile. “No wonder why people like going to award shows.”

“You’ve never been to one?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

“During the first few years. But after that… overdose incident, I wasn’t in the right state to attend public events,” you feel your voice shake; the memories of that night coming back to you. “Not only was I afraid, but so were the executives.”

You’ve never told any in showbiz about your drug overdose incident. Why are you telling him? Maybe, there was just something about Drew that made you want to. 

And sure, everyone knew, from the media, where things are often exaggerated and vilified. But, did anyone bother hearing it from you? 

This incident changed your entire life. To others, it was just hot gossip. 

“Have you ever had a standing ovation for you?” You change the topic, his lack of response worrying you. 

“No; but it sounds amazing,” Drew says. “I’ll…I’ll look for you when I do.”

There's something in his voice, though, something that almost feels like a promise.

“Will that time even come?” You decide to tease him instead, uncomfortable with how cheesy this is going. 

“Sooner than you think,” he winks at you, before glancing down at the pill. “Take one after you shower; you��ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, before looking towards the bathroom. “I stink, don’t I?”

“Not the worst you’ve stunk,” he comments, and you roll your eyes. 

“Whatever,” you get up, but way too fast, making you almost stumble. Drew holds onto your arm, steadying you. 

“Need help?”

“I can manage,” you breathe out, shaking his hand off and walking over to the bedroom. You spot your suitcase, opening it and taking a shirt and underwear. You see the bed, realizing that it’s yet another one-bed situation. You peek out the bedroom door, and Drew immediately turns his face over to you. “Um, you can have the bed if you want.”

Shyly, you close the door, ending the conversation. 

—— 

Drew slept on the couch that night, without any protests. 

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

word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: a lot to take in for this chapter...phew

i have a one shot idea coming up, so look forward to it! same as usual, thx for reading, and sry for the long update (ignore my mistakes). i try writing as much as i can, but schedule doesnt allow it T_T

ps, is this a safe space? um, i was kinda losing motivation for this series a couple of days ago. but, i saw the taglist, and the ending i planned for this series. so, safe to say i got to writing!

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

slash and femreader get high and slash brings her to band practise but they dont do much and end up doing it on the couch in front of everyone else

A/n: read for bitchy Slash at the end 😘

Warnings: smut, use of drugs (heavily implied, it doesn’t show them being used), voyeurism, riding, angry Axl (he throws a cereal box), whiny Slash, squirting, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

“Oh, I’m so sorry for wanting to get my fucking work done!” Axl yelled, throwing a box of cereal across the room. It hit the wall and spilled everywhere.

“Oh, cmon man, that was, like, expensive.” Slash mumbled.

Guns was living in the storage unit behind Sunset at the time, occasionally crashing on girlfriends couches. Slash was currently living with you and he thought it would be a good idea to get high before going to band practice.

You thought he was stupid, you still did, but weed was weed, and Slash had good weed.

You were leaning against him on the makeshift bed, giggling as Axl yelled. He was pissed, rightfully so, his guitarist was high as a kite and couldn’t keep his hands off his girlfriend, who was equally as high.

Axl glared at him and took a several threatening strides over until he was towering over the both you. “I swear to god, if you don’t get your fucking shit together-!” He paused, thinking of something. “I’ll fuck your girl and make you fucking watch.”

Slash thought about for a good long few minutes before smiling widely and giggling himself. “You could watch.” He said, hands moving with more need now as he tried to get your clothes off.

Axl groaned and stormed out, officially done with the band for the day, the rest didn’t mind and kept coming up with new jams.

It took a lot of fumbling but you ended up naked, Slash didn’t bother much with his own clothes, he got you in his lap and on his cock, it was good enough with his jeans pushed halfway down his thighs.

Izzy and Duff were still working on something but it was hard enough without their lead guitarist, not to mention Steven had stopped drumming, staring wide eyed and slack jawed as your cunt took Slash in, glistening from the light hanging from the ceiling.

You leaned into Slash, your back against his chest and giving the guys a perfect view of you with your legs spread, knees hooked over Slash’s thighs.

Slash was doing his best, arms wrapped around you and rolling his hips up into yours, granted it worked, but he got horny when he was high, more so than normal and he was already bad when he was sober. It took longer for him to start crying, usually by the third or fourth orgasm, but he was barely bringing himself to one.

He was whining in your ear, asking you to help, to do something, but what he was doing was working for you, his crying only aided in your little ride.

“Come on, that’s just mean.” Duff said, looking over the both of you, seeing Slash hide his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re torturing the poor guy.” Izzy said with a laugh.

“Do you wanna help?” You asked, words slurred and mumbled. You brought your hand to Slash’s head, running your fingers through his hair, encouraging him to keep going even if you could feel him pulsing inside you. You couldn’t see it, but if you had to take a guess his dick was a bright red and aching for release.

“I’ll help you!” Steven chimed, eagerly getting up from his seat behind his drums and coming over to you. Slash was crying, begging you not to let him touch you, you had fun teasing him but you loved him before anything.

Steven kneeled in front of you but you stopped him, pushing on his chest with your foot. He couldn’t care less, he got a front row seat and that’s all he could focus on, your hole taking Slash so good.

The guitarist calloused hand came down to rub your clit, knowing when you came your walls would flutter around him so deliciously, squeezing him just right and he’d get to cum.

Unfortunately for him you knew exactly what he was doing. You let him tie the knot in your gut, a ball of heat ready to snap but as it came undone you stood up, standing barely an inch from Stevens face which was soon drenched as you squirted on him.

Slash lurched as you pulled away from him, weakly tugging at your hips as you touched yourself, knees buckling under you.

Steven was completely caught off guard but could only smile as he felt you going down his throat, Duff and Izzy watching not far away either in awe and envy.

You sat back down, flopping onto the couch beside Slash and relishing in the scene you’d just created, Slash���s soft sobs and bitchy whined music to your ears and helping you fall asleep.

[madangel19]

Hiiiiii ghestie 💕

Request for the sexual sentence starters.

19: Get on the bed. You know the drill.

Alpha trying to tease secondo but he had a rough day and isn't having any of it.

Or just secondo being a sourpuss

Love youuu

Finally got around to doing this one! Hopefully it's to your liking ^-^

Secondo is a sourpuss, but Alpha makes everything better

Contains: Nothing too spicy. Just Alpha having his dick out and giving Secondo a nice warm massage after a rough day

“Aww, someone looks grouchy,” Alpha crowed once Secondo stepped into his quarters. Secondo grunted in response as he went to get undressed in his closet. His ghoul was already being annoying. All day, he had been dealing with countless problems that just kept coming and coming. He needed some much-needed relief from his ghoul, but he really didn’t need him acting like this. 

“Man, you look pissed, Papa. It’s a good thing I’m here, yeah?” Alpha called out from the bedroom. 

He just wanted silence. Sure, there were other ghouls who were mostly silent when it was clear that he was not in a good mood, but Alpha was all he had at the moment. 

Once he was in a white tank top and loose fitting boxers, Secondo stepped out of the closet and back into his room where the ghoul was waiting for him, a playful smile on his lips. 

“You need some warming up, Papa? Looks like you could use a nice massage,” he said, raising his now glowing hands. 

“Get on the bed. You know the drill,” Secondo growled.

Alpha chittered, his head cocking from side to side before quickly going to sit on the bed. His playful smile had disappeared as he gazed at him while taking his pants off. 

“Bad day, huh?”

“Horrible,” Secondo replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he went to sit next to the now-naked ghoul. He just wanted to relax and forget about this awful day. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You still want that massage?”

Secondo sighed loudly, laying back on the bed and gazing up at the ceiling. A nice warm massage actually sounded like just what he needed. 

“Yes, please,” he grumbled.

The ghoul let out a rumbling purr that eased Secondo’s tired mind. Alpha’s warm hands were on his tense shoulders, massaging and kneading at his skin. Secondo groaned softly before melting under his touch. 

“Not so grouchy now, eh? You just needed a special touch,” Alpha cooed, pecking him on the cheek.

“Hush. Less talking and more rubbing,” Secondo said, moving to lay on his stomach.

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of rubbing, Papa. Don’t you worry about that,” Alpha purred while adjusting himself so that he straddled his lower back while massaging him.

Secondo was about to complain but once Alpha’s hands kneaded an especially sore part of his back, his eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned. Sweet Lucifer, his hands were like magic and his warm cock felt heavenly pressed against his back.

“Good Papa. Relax. Your ghoul is gonna take good care of you.”

“Fuck me until I pass out after this, amore,” Secondo moaned.

“As you wish, Papa.”

[pluto-on-mars]

“Its always been you”

I wrote this for a friend, but I decided to post so enjoy Rodrick Heffley fucking you in a bathroom folks. Also if anyone wants to commission anything HIT ME UP!

Rodrick Heffley x AFAB! reader (18+ Minors DNI)

Includes: Fingering (f! receiving), drunk sex, p in v

Word count: 2,567

The party was loud, the atmosphere thick with fun and desperation, which of the two you were was lost to you as you crept through the hallways, drunken bodies pressed against you and almost spilling what was left in your solo cup.

You were trying to find your friend, a common thing that seems to happen to you despite your attempts to get it to stop. But ever the lover boy, Rodrick always got swept up in the crowd once Heather Hills was spotted, leaving you in the shadow of her spotlight. You knew this was going to happen, and you didn’t even want to go to this stupid party!

Rodrick could be terribly convincing when he wanted to be, unfortunately, promises to stay with you this time spilling from his pretty lips, and you couldn’t do anything but say yes. It was stupid, you were stupid, having a crush on a boy who didn’t necessarily want nothing to do with you, but he certainly didn’t want you in that way.

Stepping into the kitchen, you found who you were looking for, and you downed the rest of your drink as a result. It was the same as always, Rodrick trying, and failing, to impress Heather, but it was still a sight you couldn’t bear to see.

“ ‘Scuse me.” You grumbled, trying to reach the liquor that resided behind the pair.

“ Oh sorr-heyyyyy whatsup?” Rodrick, clearly drunk, slurred out once he recognized it was you.

“ Same as always.” You couldn’t help but be a little snippy, already having talked about how you didn’t like how he just left your side at a party, especially one that he convinced you to go to.

“ Oh-Heather wait!” He scurried past you, flashing you a smile as he chased the “girl of his dreams”.

Arguably a little bit too pissed off at how he left you again, you poured yourself another drink after taking a shot. Maybe it was a bad decision, trying to put out the flames of your anger with alcohol, but your already tipsy brain didn’t have any care to give.

You left the kitchen, body instinctively going towards the vibrations of the bass, following the music to the living room where it was the loudest. You got lost in the sea of bodies, chugging your drink occasionally while your hips swayed as you let the music overtake you.

Eventually your cup ran dry, you frowned once you knocked your head back, and realized you were met with nothing. You were certainly feeling it though, and that fact compelled you to want to get another one. With the room spinning, and you definitely stumbling, you made your way back to the kitchen. Pouring yourself one more, you rested on the counter for a bit, cool tile pressing against your hot back feeling nice as you indulged, nursing your drink as a means to not feel out of place.

Unfortunately, your peace didn’t last long, some asshole tripping into you, spilling your drink down your shirt, and effectively ruining your night. Still drunk, you wandered to the bathroom that unfortunately had a line. Deciding to go upstairs to continue your search, you found Ben.

“ If you find Rodrick, tell him I’m leaving.” And that was all you hissed out before you slammed the bathroom door, not even caring to answer his questions.

Gripping the counter as you looked into the mirror, you glared back at yourself, bad decisions catching up to you as now all the emotions you were drowning out seemed to come to the surface. Roughly grabbing a wad of toilet paper, you started dabbing it against your shirt.

“ Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You chanted, getting more pissed as each word continued to leave your mouth.

Angry tears dotted your eyes, and that made you feel even worse.

“ I know I shouldn’t have gone to this fucking party oh my god.” You rambled, rubbing your shirt harshly as you started to realize it was going to stain.

Slam

“What the fuck!” The bathroom door swinging open was the last you expected as you yelled out.

“ What's wrong, why are you leaving?” His voice reached you before you realized it was him, and you hated how you couldn’t stop your heart fluttering at his presence.

“ Don’t you have something else to worry about?” You snarled out, alcohol making you much more confrontational than you would be.

“ What? No, why would I-” Rodrick stepped in more, closing the door behind him, and looking down at your soaked shirt.

“ Please I’m surprised you aren’t too busy with Heather right now.” Words spewed from your tongue, and you knew you were going to regret this later with the direction it’s going.

“ No, never, you know I care about you c’mon.” Normally these words coming from him would work, but you were just so over everything, you just couldn’t be bothered. You needed to shout, you needed to yell, you needed to express your pent up frustration, and Rodrick was sure as hell going to hear it.

“ Do you though?” Your question hung in the air, tone biting, and you continued before he got the chance to speak.

“ It’s always Heather with you, Heather this, Heather that, always Heather fucking Hills!” You exclaimed, shoving your hands in the air, wad of tissue dropping into a sad lump on the floor.

“ You care until she’s there, and suddenly you're nowhere to be seen, even though I’ve told you Rodrick.” You were close to him now, finger pressed to his chest as you glared at him, despite your wavering stance.

He fidgeted, looking down at your finger before sighing, clasping the hand pointed against him gently, he used his other hand to run a hand through his hair.

“ It was never Heather.” He muttered out, words slightly slurred as he looked down at your hand in his.

Your mind raced, waiting for the words that could come out of his mouth, trying to stop yourself from foolish hope at what that might entail.

“ I only ‘liked’ her for so long cus you were never into me.” He trailed off, eyes darting around the bathroom as you slowly processed his words.

“ Are you being forreal right now?” You stuttered dumbly, mind not being able to comprehend this wasn’t some stupid drunken delusion and that this was very much real.

A nod was all you needed before you made your next decision, fueled by liquid courage, you couldn't help but tease.

“ God Rodrick, you’re so stupid.” Was all you said before you tugged on the neckline of his shirt, his lips crashing into yours as you got the kiss you’ve longed for god knows how long.

His hands seemed to instinctively find your hips, and you hummed into the kiss, pulling his bottom lip into your mouth, you steadied yourself against him. His grip tightened, and you moved along with him as he placed you onto the bathroom counter.

He was between your legs now, and you hooked your legs around his waist. You gripped his shirt tighter as he bit your lip, pulling him into you as a means to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip and you obliged, parting your mouth to feel his tongue against yours.

Arms resting around his shoulders, and hands going to his surprisingly soft hair, you shuddered once you felt his once stationary hands trail up your thighs. He pulled away with uncharacteristic softness, and you could feel his breath fan across your lips as he looked into your eyes. Just as you were about to close the short distance, his head dipped into the crook of your neck, wet kisses left in his wake as your breath grew shaky.

Head spinning not just from the alcohol but also with how hot it was getting in the room. Feeling as though you were burning up under his touch, Rodrick lifted the hem of your shirt, and you helped him get the rest off.

“ Thank god, that thing was fucking soaked.” You sighed in relief, cold air feeling nice against your skin as you unclasped your bra.

“ Yeah I bet that's not the only thing.” You could feel the chuckle against your neck, and you laughed along despite how warm your face grew at how right he probably was.

His short nails managed to drag across your skin just right as you straightened up at the sensation, and you jolted at him pulling you closer to the edge of the counter so you could press against the bulge in his jeans.

His hands stilled as your hips bucked, a muffled groan coming from his throat as his head began to go lower to your chest. Rodrick’s presence was overwhelming, he was licking, sucking, and biting what he could get his mouth on, and occupied what he couldn’t with his surprisingly skilled hands.

Your mind was racing, your head was fuzzy, and you were growing more desperate by the second.

“ Rodrick I swear to god if you don’t get a move on I’m going to explode.” You practically begged, voice having a slight needy whine to it, and you figured you would kill him if he decided to tease you on it after the fact.

“ God calm down, hardly even done anything yet.” He teased, hands drifting down to your inner thigh.

“ That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” You groaned out, biting your lips in order to bite back the embarrassingly loud moan that would’ve left you as his hand grazed you through your underwear.

“ Jeez alright, alright.” Rodrick smirked down at you, maliciously complying as he pulled them to the side gathering your wetness with his fingers all before shoving them inside you.

“ God fuck- Rodrick!” You were grateful for the loud atmosphere of the party, shout lost in the rest of the noise.

You gripped his shoulders, legs trembling from the initial shock. Rodrick didn’t seem to want to give you a moment to breathe, setting a pace that could only be described as fast, and something made to make you loud. You couldn’t stay quiet even if you wanted to, moans spilling from your lips even though you tried to be mindful.

“ I was right by the way.” He teased, looking down at you while you stared back, face growing impossibly warmer at how he seemed to be entirely focused on you and your reactions.

“ Wha-huh?” Was all you could mewl out through the sensation of his fingers inside you.

“ You’re soaked.” He grinned wolfishly, making his pace harder, and you cried out as you clenched around him.

“ And you called me stupid, you can barely even speak right now.” His tone was downright sinful and his words only built up your continually arising arousal.

“ ‘S not fair, you’re not getting fucked right now-” you managed to get out between pants,” ‘S your fault!” You protested weakly, words falling from your lips before you could even process them.

“ My fault?” He scoffed, amused as he didn’t break his unrelenting rhythm.

“ Just like it's my fault for taking so long to realize you liked me?” He said, and you could pick up on the slight softness, like he was asking for confirmation, and you didn’t hesitate to give it to him.

Nodding profusely, you let the words you’ve always thought to say tumble from your mouth,” I’ve liked you for so-fuck-so so long!”

He hummed, smiling down at you as he picked up the pace,” Oh really? How long have you liked me, pretty?”

You could feel heat pool to your abdomen, and your legs tightened around his waist,” ‘M gonna cum fuck.”

“ No, answer first.” He said bluntly, however his fingers didn’t seem to slow.

“ Shit I don’t know.” You blurted, mind frazzled as you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure.

“ Think for me baby you got it.” Rodrick cooed, his left hand tracing gentle circles into your thigh.

“ Okayyy- ever since-fuck- ever since the begining of this year.” You managed to whine out before your legs began to shake.

“ Wow this year? That’s a long time.” He smiled, at your words, fondness dripping from his tone.

You would’ve smiled back, but his left hand moved from your thigh to your clit, rubbing it much more intensely than where it once was.

“ Such a good girl, cum for me.” He purred knowing just how close you were.

Coming down and swallowing your moans with a kiss that turned frantic as you eagerly reciprocated; you felt your orgasm crash over you in one big wave, dissolving into pleasure as your grip around him tightened.

Pace slowing as he rode you through your orgasm, in your clarity you fumbled for his belt buckle, the metal cold in your grip as you tried to take it off. Not breaking the kiss, Rodrick’s hands came down to help you, his jeans falling to the ground as you both parted to gasp for air.

In one swift movement Rodrick’s hands guided your hips, sinking you down onto his dick. Your simultaneous moans filled the air as Rodrick seemed to still for a second, needing a moment to collect himself. The sudden moving of his hips caused any teasing to die on your tongue as your breath hitched.

“ Fuck you feel so good.” Rodrick babbled, various noises falling past his lips, failing to maintain his composure despite his demeanor earlier.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, too lost in the rhythmic thrusts that had you seeing stars. Rodrick didn’t seem to mind though, filling in for your lack of responses with words of his own.

“ Can’t believe it took me so long to realize you liked me back.” Both of his hands were on your hips now, dragging them down to match his thrusts.

You were lost in the pleasure at this point, already sensitive from your last orgasm, your senses were overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but take what Rodrick was giving you.

“ Glad you finally did.” You cried out, already feeling the buildup for a second climax approaching.

“ Fuck.” You breathed out, Rodrick’s hips beginning to slam into you harder.

Arms going up to drape across his shoulders, you clung to him, needing to ground yourself with everything going on. His pace grew erratic, getting lost in you as he began to approach his rapidly building high. The same could be said for yourself, voice growing in volume as various curses flew from your lips.

Nails digging into his back, you gripped him tighter, you could hear your name slip past his lips as you moaned his. Hips coming to a slow stop, the sound of you both trying to catch your breath filled the room.

“ Still gonna leave?” Rodrick huffed, slipping back into his jeans as he looked at you.

“ Shirts still soaked.” You said simply, and you were absolutely going home after that, you were getting tired.

“ Wanna come back to my place with me?” You asked, hopping off the counter and looking for the wet pile that was your shirt.

“ Hell yeah.”

[ubersaw]

at my wits end

[yorshie]

Pea Brained Bounce House time. Was thinking about the earlier Mikey bit. Then I started thinking about Warm Coded. And then:

Raph’s got like. This thing, when you’re working out with him. He uses the cover of coaching you to stare.

It’s not until he’s got you doing chairs against the concrete wall, and you look up in pleading askance on how much longer you’ve gotta hold the position, that you finally catch the way his attention is trained on the swell of your stomach. The uncanny focus of his gaze on your thighs as the muscles start to tremble and seize up.

Raph likes to stare.

[tariah23]

Noooo…… first it’s Yuuta and Shoko, now they’re yo-yoing back around to Megumi.

[phin-tastic]

unlike the narrator, I didn’t get a kiss before I was accosted by the pain😮‍💨

[lazarus-lazuli]

i might be autistic tbh bc whenever someone comes at me with a nasty attitude instead of getting offended or angry i am just Shocked. like speechless. flabbergasted. not even in a “how could you be mean to me, i am just a wittel forest creture i cannot change this 🥺” way but in a “how in the actual fuck am i meant to respond to that’ type of way

[redhotarsenic]

Man imagine whining because I called you a moron when you’re in fact being a moron

[whoblewboobear]

Moving this one fucked up leg is so exhausting. I need to buy a cane and I need it now.

[daddysfavouritewhore]

i want to yell and complain but it’s not horny complaints so i will be hiding in the tags.

[chanoeys]

I enjoy watching The Bear but it’s a wild feeling to feel like you’re wasting time with only 10 30 minute episodes

[unkillobel]

i need to bitch about my job for a minute in the tags