#and then lily writes the song about him

[sturnstars5]

sexy playlist-matt sturniolo

“oh, fuck matt-” you moaned as matt’s dick pounded into you at what felt like the speed of light.

one of the girls by the weeknd blared out of the speaker connected to matt’s phone, which was one of the only noises you could hear over skin slapping and your whimpers.

matt insisted that playing music while having sex would “heighten the experience”. you didn’t believe it up until now, but the euphoric feeling crashing over you was proving matt’s theory to be true.

“mm, fuck sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good f’me.” matt grunts.

the tip of his dick is pounding into your cervix, bruising the sensitive spot already. it hurt so good, the way it stung as you clinger onto him for dear life.

matt grabbed your neck in his hand, squeezing just hard enough to assert his dominance but not enough to hurt you.

the next song to play was me and your mama by childish gambino, which only made matt go faster and rougher on you.

the sudden change in pace made you clench around matt even harder, and you could feel yourself needing an orgasm.

“m-matt, m’ gonna come!” you cry out, your voice barely being heard over the loud music.

“come all over me sweetheart, you’ve earned it.”

the words that left matt’s mouth made the tight knot that had formed in your stomach release, causing you to secrete your juices all over matt as he released his own, your pussy milking him dry.

matt pulled out slowly, carefully going to get a warm washcloth from the bathroom.

as matt wiped your sensitive area down, put your head on my shoulder by paul anka came on. you and matt both loved this song.

matt carefully laid down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and being careful to avoid the sensitive spot between your legs, he gave you a kiss on the forehead as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

the playlist worked wonders.

a/n I LOVE THIS!!! when chris mentioned matt’s sexy playlist i knew i had to write about it.

here’s the songs i used:

[mercwithadilf]

Home

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

Summary: Sirius runs away from ‘home’ having finally suffered enough of his parents’ ideals and behaviours. The only place he can really call home is with his best friend, James Potter. Wherever James is, you are too.

This is my first fic after a really long time but I'm really excited to get back on my writing journey! Writing for Sirius Black is mainly because of my absolute love for Ben Barnes so I hope you enjoy!! <3

‘Mum! Godric- James if I catch you looking through my stuff again, it’s your head!’ You chase after James who somehow manages to not only sneak into your room, but also find and run away with the hoodie you forgot to give Sirius back after a night of Quidditch practice.

James pauses in front of you causing you to almost run straight into him and holds up the hoodie with a wide, shit-eating grin. 

‘And why, dear sister, do you have my best mate’s hoodie in your closet?’

You roll your eyes at his annoying, but also very usual antics. ‘Because, dear brother, your best mate gave it to me after I was freezing to death during the Quidditch practice you so thoughtfully stretched out until the dead of night. I simply forgot to give it back before Christmas break! Now give it back!’ 

You jump up to grab the hoodie back from James which he oh so kindly pulled out of your reach. Euphemia took the hoodie away from James’s hands and gave it to you. 

‘Let your sister fawn over the hoodie Sirius gave her in peace, James.’ James smirks at you as your mother chuckles at both of you. 

You stare at her in disbelief and scoff. ‘Seriously, mum! James is being a twat –’

‘Language!’ You hear Fleamont yell from downstairs.

‘– and I get humiliated! Unbelievable! Why don’t you tell mum about Lily, Jamesy?’ You flash your brother the same grin he shot you a mere few seconds ago.

You watch his eyes go wide as your mother pauses her movements and turns to him, ‘Are you still chasing that girl, James? I told you, girls don’t like stalkers.’

James playfully glares at you and turns to you mother, ‘She actually gave me a chance, mother dearest. And I said yes!’ He grins.

You look at him with the most unimpressed look you could fathom and both your mother and James catch up on it, which causes your mother to mirror that look. ‘Okay fine, she said yes, happy?’

‘Very actually.’ He sticks his tongue out at you and you reciprocate the gesture.

Your father’s footsteps emerge up the steps as he walks past you both, ruffling your heads. ‘Everyone to bed or else Santa won’t bring any presents down the chimney for tomorrow morning!’

‘He’s talking to you, Jamesy!’ You sing-song.

‘You wish, sister!’

Everyone heads to their rooms with a final goodnight, you settling in your bed with the comfort of the sounds of the rain and Sirius’s hoodie warming you and lulling you into sleep.

James jolts up from his sleep at the violent bangs of knocks coming from downstairs. In a rushed daze, he scrambles to put his glasses on and grabs his wand. He clutches it tightly, knuckles turning white as he sneaks downstairs, ready to attack whoever decided to disturb the peace at four in the morning. 

He looks through the peep-hole, adjusting his sight to the figure standing outside. As his vision adjusts, he begins to panic.

‘What the fuck?’ James opens the door. ‘Pads?’

Sirius spins to look at him, eyes wide, lips quivering from the cold as he engulfs his figure in his robe. A bag is slung against his shoulder, the boy looking too weak to even carry it properly.

James could tell the streaks on his best friend’s face were from tears that were being washed away by the constant, harsh droplets of rain.

They were both too stunned to even speak.

‘Prongs –’

‘Get in. Now.’ 

James grabs Sirius by his shoulders and leads him inside, taking his bag from him as if it was weighing him down a ton and a half. He helps Sirius take the robe off and replaces it with a warm, fuzzy Christmas blanket as he leads him to the couch.

You huff while sitting up, expecting James to have gone downstairs to get a very early head start on the presents. You walk out of your room and storm downstairs ready to tell him off until you’re stopped in your tracks by the site in front of you.

‘Sirius?’ Your voice wavers.

Both boys situated on the couch turn to look at you. ‘Y/n.’ You wouldn’t have been able to hear Sirius’s voice if it wasn’t for the complete dead silence in the house.

You rush down the rest of the stairs and sit on the floor right in front of Sirius, your hand on his knee to reassure him of your presence.

You glance at your brother for an explanation, but he only shakes his head at you with a frown. You take that as a hint that Sirius hasn’t said anything and to not rush him.

Sirius’s eyes trail over your figure as you sit in front of him. He notices the hoodie you’re wearing was the one he kept looking for, however finding it on you softened the edges of his heart.

James notices Sirius’s eyes on you and smiles softly, despite the situation they’re in right now. ‘I’ll get you a cup of hot choco, yeah?’ James offers Sirius which he responds to with a grateful nod and an attempt of a smile. James gets up and walks to the kitchen while you stay with Sirius.

You look up at him with a reassuring, gentle smile. ‘You can talk when you’re ready, Sirius. No rush, yeah?’ He nods.

James comes back with a cup of warm hot chocolate and places it on the table for Sirius, taking his spot back next to him on the couch.

‘I left them.’ Sirius breaks the silence, his eyes stuck on his hands fidgeting with each other on his lap. ‘It was about time I left my parents but… I can’t believe I just left Reggie there. He’s gonna hate me, he- Godric I-’ He breaks, his hands now rubbing his face as if wiping off all his emotions.

‘You don’t have to explain, Padfoot–’ James speaks up, but Sirius quickly shakes his head.

‘No. No you need to know why, I just- It’s so hard-’ 

You squeeze his knee. ‘You can explain tomorrow, Sirius. You need to rest now, alright? You know you’re always welcome here.’

You can see the look in his eyes. Fear, pain, hurt, regret, but also relief and a tinge of happiness. He can only nod as he looks at his two best friends.

James stands up, a cue for you and Sirius to follow him. ‘You can stay in our spare room, we’ve had it ready in case anyone wanted to stay for the holidays.’

‘Thanks, Prongs.’ Sirius manages a smile as you both lead him to the room which you assume will be his for a good while from now.

‘I’ll tell mum and dad in the morning, you should rest now.’ Sirius nods and thanks him again while he’s settling in. James gives him a pat on the back before he kisses your forehead and heads to his room for a well-needed rest.

You, on the other hand, linger on the doorway of Sirius’s room. He looks at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes which you take as a hint to walk in, shutting the door behind you and sitting on the edge of his bed.

‘Are you alright?’ He sits down next to you with a sigh. ‘I know it’s a stupid question but… I don’t know…’

He chuckles lightly, the tension in the air softened, giving way for a more light-hearted and calm tone.

‘I could be better, but I’m glad I have you.’ He pauses as he looks at you, a stare that made your heart flutter. ‘A-and James, of course.’

You look at him with a hint of a smile, your shoulders rubbing against each other. ‘You’ll always have me, Pads… Us.’ 

You suddenly stand up. ‘Hold on.’ You walk downstairs, grab a glass of water and painkillers and go back into Sirius’s room and place them on his bedside tables while he watches you with curiosity. 

‘What’s this for?’

‘You were absolutely drenched. Just in case you might fall ill, something for you to take in the morning.’ 

His heart skips a beat as he watches you show him the sort of care that not even his family has shown him in his whole lifetime. 

He grabs your wrist desperately but gently, his eyes looking up at you like a puppy anticipating its praise for a trick.

‘Pads? You okay?’

He gets up, hovering over you with a vulnerability that makes his tall frame appear small and fragile.

Wordlessly, he slumps his forehead on your shoulder and lets his shoulders sag. The weight of the night finally leaves him as he collapses onto you, letting himself break down into your shoulder. His heaving sobs echo around you.

‘Siri…’ You whisper into his ear. You’re not used to seeing such an emotional side of him. He’s usually so bright and loud, a proud, smug grin on his face as he prances through the halls of Hogwarts. Now, in the dim and little room, you hold the same boy that’s held your heart in his palm for years. The boy that’s now showing a side of him that he doesn’t even show to himself.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, pulling him impossibly closer to you as you comb your fingers through his long, still slightly damp hair.

Sirius shudders at the feeling.

‘Everything’ll fall into place. I promise, Sirius.’ You continue to whisper reassurances into his ear. You can’t tell if those reassurances are just for him or for the both of you, but now you just know that he needs them more.

He pulls away to look at you while you remain in each other’s hold, his eyes roaming yours as if to find a hidden message in them. Anything, anything to prove to himself that he’s where he’s ever needed to be, where he’ll ever need to be.

Your finger as it glided up his skin to wipe the tears off his face, the site of you in his hoodie, the domesticity of it all, the dense, moody atmosphere; all of it. It all clouded his brain, his mind, any sense of logic that he held onto. It was all fogged into a silhouette he couldn’t make sense of anymore as he crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was messy, unrestrained, as if pouring every ounce of your soul into that fleeting moment of closeness. Your lips moved together in a trembling dance, every touch drenched in vulnerability and an aching need to hold on. It was as though the world had shrunk to just the space between you.

You both pull away reluctantly in the search for air, panting exasperatedly as your eyes never break the foggy stares you give each other. In that moment, Sirius knew he wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time, the weight of his past felt lighter—not gone, but shared. And as your laughter filled the small room, he realized this was what home felt like.

‘Took you only four years, Pads.’

You both chuckle, his forehead leaning on yours while his hands trace the skin of your neck and waist.

‘That all you’ve got to say, darling?’

You smile up at him. ‘Trust me, there’s so much I’ve got to say.’

He pecks your lips. He couldn’t get enough of you and he’s only just started.

‘Good thing I’m stuck here with you then, huh?'

[11thfempachi]

"People expect us to be small and quiet and innocent" Kim Petras makes every single one of his songs about being a whore, being a bitch, getting fucked, being an object in a female form and gets treated like a genius of pop industry and a queer icon. Ayesha Erotica made a song about a woman who enjoyed anal rape and is considered funny and silly despite an entire list of controversies. Lily Orchard known for SU video essay used to write graphic incest and pedophilic abuse MLP fanfiction in his TWENTIES. Ezra Miller - a "non binary" man - assaulted a child. Ethel Cain made religious abuse and incest his aesthetic and literally uses slurs and no one bats an eye. Hunter Schafer posted a psychopathic manifesto about how being a woman is being an object and everyone praises him. Chris Chan raped his mother and he's seen as a victim of bullying first. Eli erlick has a massive following on Tumblr despite being a rapist. You tried to close the Vancouver rape shelter leaving women escaping abuse basically homeless and everyone supported you. A man with several porn accounts with explicit urls got banned for posting said porn and ceo of Tumblr got harrassed for weeks over it. When jkr said trans males sent her porn and she didn't engage with them she got harrassed for "not taking action" despite her saying she literally reported said porn.

Who the fuck expects you to be dainty and demure? All you do is mock, harass and abuse women and the entire world save for like a couple women on Twitter finds an excuse for you. Shut the fuck up

[evermoreness]

wingman | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader!

summary: james definitely has a crush on you, but he won't admit it. so his best friend sirius steps up to be his wingman.

masterlist

If Sirius Black had one true passion in life—aside from pranks, Quidditch, and being generally insufferable—it was meddling. Specifically, meddling in James Potter’s disastrous love life.

The problem wasn’t that James lacked charm. No, James was overflowing with charm, much to the dismay of every professor at Hogwarts. The problem was that James refused to acknowledge that he had feelings for you—his best friend, his ultimate rival, his favorite person to annoy.

And, as Sirius often pointed out (loudly, in the middle of breakfast), you were just as bad.

Which is why, after months of watching you and James dance around each other with an infuriating amount of tension, Sirius decided enough was enough.

It was time for some intervention

Step number one

It started in Transfiguration.

You strolled into class, fully expecting to take your usual seat next to Lily, but before you could sit, a strong arm slung around your shoulders.

“Ah-ah,” Sirius drawled, spinning you around and gently shoving you into the seat next to James instead. “New seating chart, love. Professor's orders.”

You frowned. “Professor McGonagall never changes the seating chart.”

“She does now,” Sirius said, smirking before plopping down beside Lily, effectively blocking your escape route.

You turned to James, who was lounging in his chair, grinning like the cocky little git he was. “Look at that. You’re stuck with me.”

You groaned, turning to Sirius. "You look suspicious"

"When do i not?" Sirius said, grinning like he was planning something.

"Fair point." You said, before turning to James. “Merlin help me,”

James gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you? I am an absolute delight to sit next to.”

“You poke people with your quill and hum off-key when you’re bored,” you shot back.

“I serenade,” he corrected.

“You butcher perfectly good songs.”

James leaned in, his face just a little too close, and smirked. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart did a stupid little flip. “Sure, Potter. I’d be devastated.”

“You could just admit you love spending time with me,” James offered.

You scoffed. “Or I could stab you with my quill.”

James leaned in, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “Kinky.”

McGonagall just ignored them all, she had learned a long time ago she couldn't keep up with the Marauders antics. So she just let them. It was best for her mental health. But she still could hear you and James bickering every time she turned to write something on the black board.

James, completely unbothered, leaned closer to you, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his hand. “Well, you heard the professor. We’re partners now. Best get used to staring at me all class.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead with your quill. “Merlin, you wish I stared at you.”

James grinned. “You’re staring at me right now.”

You huffed. “Because I’m contemplating how best to Transfigure you into a ferret.”

Sirius cackled from behind you. "Oh, young love" he said, making you and James glare at him.

"Don't you have a boyfriend to annoy or something?" James asked, rolling his eyes.

"Remus is recovering from the full moon, idiot" Sirius said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was about to say something more but McGonagall glared at the three of them.

McGonagall sighed again. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

At least, step one of Sirius' plan was definitely a success.

Step number two

The next part of Sirius’s plan required a little more... creativity.

Which is how you and James ended up in detention, standing outside McGonagall's office, glaring at a very pleased Sirius Black.

“Explain. Now,” you demanded.

Sirius shrugged. “Professor McGonagall may have received an anonymous tip that you two were planning to sneak into the kitchens after hours.”

“We weren’t,” you said flatly.

“Well, you should’ve been,” Sirius said, looking entirely unbothered. “Really, it’s your own fault for being so predictable.”

James groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot.”

“Oh, don’t act so ungrateful,” Sirius scoffed, draping an arm around James’s shoulder. “I’m simply giving you both what you want. Quality time. Candlelit settings. Romance.”

“You’re sending us to detention,” you deadpanned.

“Exactly.” Sirius grinned. “Do you know how many legendary couples started with forced proximity? This is the perfect setup.”

James scoffed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re delusional.”

“And you are hopeless.” Sirius turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows.

You crossed your arms. “And what exactly do you gain from this?”

“An evening of uninterrupted flirting, obviously.”

James scoffed. “We don’t flirt.”

Sirius blinked. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic.”

Soon enough, Sirius was gone, and McGonagall assigned the two of you to polish the entire trophy room. Without magic. Which was, quite frankly, a crime against wizardkind.

“I think I’ve inhaled enough dust to choke a hippogriff,” you muttered, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge.

James, sprawled dramatically on the floor, groaned. “This is actual torture.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve been lying there for twenty minutes. I’m doing all the work.”

James grinned lazily. “I’m providing emotional support.”

“Oh, how noble.”

“I try.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked a damp rag at him. He yelped as it smacked him in the face.

“Oi! That’s rude.”

“I’m so sorry, did I offend the Great James Potter?” you said, smirking.

James leaned on his elbow, smirking right back. “Oh, love, you offend me constantly.”

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

James’s smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to notice.

His hazel eyes flickered over your face, something softer in them now. Something that made your heart do a completely unnecessary little flip.

Before you could overthink it, James groaned and rolled onto his back dramatically. “I cannot polish one more bloody trophy.”

“You’ve polished one,” you pointed out.

“Exactly!”

You snorted. “Oh, poor baby, suffering through a whole hour of detention.”

James gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”

“Oh, shut up and hand me the polish.”

But James didn’t move. He was staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Oi. Potter. Earth to James.”

James blinked and turned his head to look at you.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked suddenly.

You frowned. “Thought about what?”

He hesitated. Then smirked. “How gorgeous I am.”

You groaned. “Oh, for the love of Merlin—”

“I mean, really,” James continued, grinning now. “It must be exhausting for you, being constantly exposed to this level of handsomeness.”

“Exhausting, yes,” you said dryly. “Mostly because of your ego.”

James laughed, and it was so genuine, so warm, that you almost forgot why you were annoyed in the first place.

Almost.

By the time detention ended, you were both covered in dust, exhausted, and slightly delirious.

You both stumbled out of the trophy room, stretching like freed prisoners.

“Well, that was awful,” James said cheerfully.

You sighed dramatically. “If I never see another trophy again, it’ll be too soon.”

James turned to you, smirking. “You know, we should really thank Sirius for this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpanned. “Maybe hex him as a thank-you.”

James grinned. “You do have the best ideas.”

You smirked up at him. “I know.”

James’s smirk softened slightly. His hazel eyes flickered down to your lips—just for a second.

Your heart definitely did not stutter. Absolutely not.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then James cleared his throat. “So.”

“So,” you echoed.

James shifted on his feet, then suddenly grinned. “Race you to the common room?”

You snorted. “Please. You’d lose.”

James gasped. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

You smirked. “You tell me.”

James took a step closer. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

You took a step closer. “Loser has to buy Butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip.”

James grinned. “Deal.”

He started running before even counting to three, and you really tried to get into his pace but he was much faster than you. James got in front of the painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room, breathless, you got there second, just by some seconds of different.

James grinned, looking far too smug. “I win.”

You gaped at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Strategic advantage, love.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable—”

James laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the common room. “Come on, loser. You owe me a Butterbeer.”

You groaned, but you were smiling. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

James squeezed your hand. “You love it.”

And, Merlin help you, maybe you did.

Step number— Intervention!

By the end of the week, you had reached your limit.

You slammed your hands down on the Gryffindor table, glaring at Sirius. “I know what you’re doing.”

Sirius, mid-bite of toast, blinked innocently. “Doing what?”

“Every time I turn around, James is right there. Transfiguration. Potions. Detention.”

Sirius smirked. “Weird how that keeps happening, huh?”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Admit it.”

Sirius leaned back lazily. “Admit what? That my best mate is tragically in love with you and needs a little push?”

James, who had just sat down, immediately choked on his pumpkin juice. “SIRIUS!”

You and James turned bright red at the same time.

“I—You—” You spluttered, words failing you for the first time in your entire life. “He is not—”

Sirius just grinned wider.

James, still coughing, thumped his chest and pointed an accusatory finger at Sirius. “Mate. What the hell.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffed. “We all see it. You two are basically a couple already.”

Remus, sipping his tea across the table, nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

Sirius put an arm around his boyfriend. "Thank you, Moony, at least one person on this table actually supports me"

Remus gave him a look "I never said that"

Sirius gasped in mock horror "Hey! I told you all my plans to make those two," He pointed at you both "Start dating and you actually said it was a good idea"

Remus just swallowed a piece of bread "You have no actual proof i said that"

James buried his face in his hands. “Merlin, kill me now.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “We are not dating.”

Sirius waved a hand. “Yet.”

You and James simultaneously threw a piece of toast at him.

It bounced off his head. He didn’t even flinch.

Sirius just grinned. “Give it a week.”

Step number... five?

The Gryffindor common room was unusually peaceful that evening. No firework explosions, no magical pranks, no Sirius Black laughing maniacally while being chased by McGonagall. Just a cozy fire, the occasional page-turning of a textbook, and the low murmur of students finishing their homework.

It was exactly the kind of peace Sirius Black found unacceptable.

He leaned over to Remus, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s time.”

Remus, who had been this close to finishing his Transfiguration essay, sighed. “Time for what?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Operation: Get James Potter a Girlfriend.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sirius, for the love of Merlin—”

But Sirius was already in motion, zeroing in on James and you, who were currently seated across from each other at the Gryffindor table, mid-banter as usual.

James leaned back in his chair, twirling his quill between his fingers. “You keep looking at me like that, love. Starting to think you fancy me.”

You scoffed, flipping a page in your textbook. “Oh, absolutely, James. Nothing gets my heart racing like watching you struggle with fourth-year level Charms.”

James gasped dramatically. “You wound me! I am excellent at Charms.”

You smirked. “Oh, of course. Remind me again, how many times did you accidentally set your own tie on fire last week?”

“Once,” James muttered. “And in my defense, the spell was successful. Just...with extra flair.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

Sirius plopped himself down between you two, grinning like a madman. “Wow, the flirty tension in this room is suffocating.”

Both you and James immediately groaned in unison.

“Sirius—”

“Nope,” he cut you off, slamming a hand down on the table. “I refuse to sit idly by while you two idiots continue this will-they-won’t-they nonsense. So, I’ve decided to help.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, just making sure you two spend as much time together as possible.”

Before either of you could protest, he waved his wand.

Suddenly, the two of you lurched forward, an invisible force yanking you towards each other until your noses were barely an inch apart.

You blinked. James blinked.

“What. The. Hell.”

James tried to lean back, but something—no, Sirius—kept you stuck together.

“Black, if you don’t undo this spell right now, I swear to Merlin—” you started, your face rapidly heating.

Sirius just beamed. “Ah, young love.”

“Padfoot,” James hissed through gritted teeth. “If I hex you right now, will you undo it?”

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. You could try, but you are currently nose-to-nose with your one true love, so any sudden movements might result in an accidental kiss.”

You and James immediately went rigid.

“You're so dead, Black.” you shouted.

Remus, watching from the sidelines, sighed deeply. “You do realize McGonagall is going to kill you for this.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, this is romantic. I’ll probably get an award.”

James turned back to you, his lips twitching despite himself. “So… reckon we just stay like this forever? Seems like Sirius has finally found a way to actually make you stare at me all day.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable. I’d rather kiss a Dementor.”

“Ouch,” James said, dramatically clutching his heart. “That’s cruel. I’d at least make a handsome Dementor.”

You huffed, crossing your arms—which was a bad idea, because now your hands were even closer to James’s chest.

Sirius gasped. “Oh, Merlin! Are you about to hold hands? Is this a moment?”

“I will kill you,” James said.

Remus, who was now actively ignoring the situation, muttered, “I’ll alert the authorities.”

Lily, walking past with a book, glanced at the scene, sighed, and kept walking. “You two deserve this.”

James grinned at you. “C’mon, admit it. This is the best day of your life.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hm. Ask me again when I’m not glued to your face.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll undo it. But only if you both admit you like each other.”

James and you both froze.

Silence.

You turned to James. James turned to you.

And then, at the exact same time, you both blurted out:

"Absolutely not.”

Sirius groaned. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

And with that, he flicked his wand, releasing the spell.

The moment you were free, you shoved James off of you, and he—completely unprepared—toppled off the bench and onto the floor with a very undignified yelp, making everyone laugh at him.

Step number 10? (Sirius has definitely lost counting)

It was pouring outside.

The Quidditch pitch was soaked, the thunder rumbled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. You both had just gotten out of the game, and everything would’ve been fine, except you and James were currently locked in the Gryffindor locker room.

Courtesy of Sirius Black.

James banged on the door. “Pads, you absolute menace, open this door right now!”

Sirius’s laughter echoed from the other side. “Not until you both admit you’re in love with each other!”

You groaned. “You child!”

“Nope, just a genius. Have fun, lovebirds!”

And then—silence.

James sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “He’s never letting this go, is he?”

“Nope.”

You both stood there, dripping wet, silence stretching between you.

And then James said, “We could just… do it.”

You turned to him. “Do what?”

James shrugged. “Kiss. Just to get him off our backs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re willing to waste your first kiss on me?”

James laughed softly. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

Oh.

The air between you shifted. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something softer, something almost shy.

Your heart hammered. “Well… if we have to.”

James took a step closer. “Right. Just to get Sirius to shut up.”

Another step.

“Obviously.”

His hand brushed yours.

“No other reason.”

You swallowed. “None at all.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative. But then you grabbed the front of his stupid Quidditch jersey, pulling him closer, and suddenly—it wasn’t just to get Sirius to shut up anymore.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, James just grinned.

“So,” he said, “how mad would you be if I told you Sirius left five minutes ago?”

You blinked.

And then you shoved him.

“POTTER!”

James stumbled back, laughing as you shoved him again, harder this time. “You knew?” you accused, hands on your hips, still breathless from the kiss.

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Well, I suspected.”

“You absolute menace!”

James only laughed harder, dodging as you lunged for him. “Come on, love, don’t be mad—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘love’ me, Potter! You tricked me into—” You stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing what you were saying.

James smirked. “Into what?”

You scowled. “Into… into…”

His grin widened, and he leaned in. “Into kissing me?”

Your face burned. Damn him.

James stepped even closer, so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin. His voice was lower now, teasing but softer. “You did kiss me back, you know.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only because you kissed me first.”

He nodded solemnly. “And you’re saying you hated it?”

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “That is not the point.”

James just laughed, and before you could shove him again, he caught your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just playful anymore.

You swallowed. “Potter—”

He leaned in again, close enough that your noses nearly brushed. “I think,” he murmured, “we might have to do that again. You know, just to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Oh, for research purposes?”

“Exactly.”

And then he kissed you again—this time slower, sweeter. No tricks, no games. Just you and him.

Outside, the storm raged on, but in that moment, all you could feel was warmth.

[taasgirl]

lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!

[maidragoste]

Birthday

Ex Husband!Cregan Stark x Reader

A little more about ex-husband! Cregan, if you have any more ideas or questions about this universe, feel free to send them to my inbox 🤗🤗

Maybe in the next part I'll write something about a jealous Cregan, but I don't promise anything 👀

If you like this fic, please leave a like, comment, and reblog. That always motivates me to keep writing 🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you have a good read!

Cregan would be lying if he said he wasn't a little depressed, but how could he not be when it's his birthday and you and Rickon are away from him?

Last year, he'd woken up with you in his arms, and you'd left kisses all over his face before wishing him a happy birthday. After that, the two of you kissed for a while until you heard Rickon wake up, so you forced Cregan to pretend he was still sleeping while you and your son went to the kitchen and made him breakfast.

But this year Cregan woke up alone, without your warmth or kisses, and there was no breakfast in bed. You were no longer his wife. And you and Rickon no longer lived with him. He would have to settle for talking to Rickon over FaceTime after his son came home from kindergarten. He was sure his son would sing him Happy Birthday and then show him the drawing he drew. Maybe if he is lucky you would join in too and sing happy birthday to him and the two of you could talk for a few minutes.

The sound of someone knocking on his office door made him check the time on his computer. It was noon, so it was probably his sister Sara wanting to get him out to lunch together. She'd already sent him several messages telling him not to get depressed and to work on his birthday.

“Come in,” he said as he put away the documents he had been working on, but the moment he heard your voice and Rickon’s singing Happy Birthday, his eyes instantly snapped away from the screen.

Cregan felt his heart race at the sight of you two, his favorite people, and he didn't even wait for the song to finish before he stood up and ran over to hug his son, scooping him up in his arms. He smiled at the sound of Rickon's laughter.

“Dad, you didn't let me finish the song!” the boy complained, clearly happy with his father hugging him and kissing his forehead.

“Sorry, I missed you so much,” he said, making you smile. “What's up with kindergarten?” he asked, looking at you.

“It's okay that he missed a few days. Besides, it's your birthday; you're more important,” you said the last part, trying to ignore the heat you felt on your cheeks.

“Thank you. This is the best gift,” Cregan said, approaching you. You didn’t back down, so he joined you in the hug and kissed your forehead, making you feel warm and fuzzy.

“It’s nothing,” you said sincerely. You hadn’t had to think about it much when you decided to come North with Rickon. Perhaps it was the same for Cregan when he found out you were sick. He wanted to be there for you, just as you wanted to be there for him.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith   @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog   @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol  @jacesvelaryons @aemondwhoresworld @cassiopeiablogg-blog @multiversemayhemme @dixie_elocin

[biarthurpendragon]

Do we think merlin has perfect memory? I’ve always wondered if with time, he starts to forget the little things.

First, he forgets the songs they’d play at feasts in Camelot, each one fading into melodies that all sound the same.

Next, he forgets the taste of the porridge Gaius fed him every morning. The grain becomes much finer, and there’s something missing even when he tries to recreate it.

Then, slowly, the bigger things start vanishing. He starts to forget what Gwen’s favorite flower was. Was it lilacs or lilies? What about the sound of her voice? Her laughter? It all begins to become fragile, vanishing from his mind slowly.

He writes down what he can remember, of course. Searches for magical ways to perfect his memories m. No spells exist that can turn back time and make him remember it all, though.

All his power and yet, time takes and takes from him. The strangest day is when he begins to forget the exact shade of Arthur’s hair: was it golden like sunflowers, bright yellow, or muted like honey? Did it feel as soft as silk or was it like cotton thread?

The memories fade and he waits, waits until he can know it all again. After all, when Arthur comes back, Merlin can ask him all that he’s forgotten.

[sunnami]

you'd be the love of my life when i was young

summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)

tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)

They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.

What a load of bullshit.

You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate. 

There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months. 

Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.

Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room. 

And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them. 

Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them. 

(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.) 

Were you dying?

That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees. 

No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends. 

That was absurd. 

You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.

(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”

You huffed. 

Maybe you’d try Severus next. 

Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.

Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)

Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.  

“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?” 

Ba-dump!

Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.” 

Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered. 

Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares. 

(And you were. If only you knew.)

“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius. 

Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.” 

“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.” 

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it at all.

Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.

James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.” 

“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.

“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.” 

Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins. 

(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.) 

Something stirred deep in your belly. 

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”

People could get the wrong idea.

You could get the wrong idea.

“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?” 

It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.

You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.” 

“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.” 

“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head. 

“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.

“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.” 

They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart. 

James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily. 

“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat. 

“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.” 

“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words. 

“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder. 

“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.” 

You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression. 

(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)

“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)

But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.

“I’m fine.”

As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization. 

You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends. 

And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship. 

Who were you to get in the way of that?

—

They would understand, you convinced yourself. 

They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace. 

But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise. 

If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it. 

Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs. 

It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests. 

(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.” 

You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.” 

“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.” 

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.

“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”

“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.” 

Oh.

You were well and truly screwed. 

“Thanks,” You croaked.)

But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses. 

(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?” 

You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”

Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”

“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.” 

Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”

But only the wind replied.

Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat. 

“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.” 

You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.” 

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?” 

Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone. 

You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”

It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too. 

You didn’t go to his match later that day.

It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)

Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own. 

You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”

“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook. 

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”

You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!” 

“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.” 

“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.” 

“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.” 

“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.

Still, you missed them. 

“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”

Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”

You cried louder. 

“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”

Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”

Narcissa glared at him.

Lucius raised his arms in surrender. 

Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?” 

You nodded weakly. “I love them.”

“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?” 

“I love them!” You hiccuped.

“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.” 

“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob. 

Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much. 

“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.” 

—

Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready. 

Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes. 

Did you have a place with them? 

You were about to find out.

“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.

(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.) 

“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you. 

Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you. 

Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”

You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month. 

A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist. 

“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain. 

 (You made him feel unafraid of the moon.) 

“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”

“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this. 

“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested. 

“Because you don’t feel the same.” 

The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. 

You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along. 

“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”

“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”

“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.

James only smiled, stealing your third kiss. 

Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory. 

(You were art that he wanted to worship.)

He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”

He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.” 

“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.” 

You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.” 

Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.” 

You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.” 

Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?” 

You nodded. “P-Please.”

Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.” 

He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips. 

Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath. 

You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you. 

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.” 

Then, Lily captured your lips with her own. 

She tasted like happy endings.

note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.

[moonstruckme]

Hi love, if you're up to it could you write about bf Sirius teasing reader about something, and it actually hurts her feelings quite a lot? maybe she's always thought she's to shy for him, and he teases her about being quiet and it just hurts so much that he sees her just like everyone else does? like she thought he understood her, but instead he's teasing her about something she's rlly insecure abt ?

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: reader has leg hair

Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You hear Sirius’ ruckus before he’s anywhere near you. Down the hall, shouting and laughter, and then your boyfriend’s voice: “Yeah, I’m on the lookout for my bird. She likes to hide herself away, let me know if you see her?” 

Your face warms, humiliation a prickly, unpleasant thing beneath your skin. The kinder part of you thinks for a second to stick your head out into the hallway so he can stop looking for you, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. A few seconds more, and it doesn’t matter. Sirius twists the handle of the door to your refuge, his amused gray eyes finding you in an instant. 

“Hey there, sweetness.” His voice is smooth and easy. He closes the door behind him, settling down across from you on the carpeted floor like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Lily told me you went to go get another drink, but I think you might’ve gotten turned around. The kitchen’s just down the hall.” 

“Took a wrong turn,” you say sheepishly. Sirius only smiles. 

“My shy girl,” he croons, reaching forward and brushing his thumb over the soft hairs just below your kneecap. “If you were nervous, you could’ve just come and found me, sweet thing. I told you where I’d be.” 

He had, but you couldn’t have gone to him. You already feel like such a child. 

Sirius had been obviously thrilled with how well you were getting on with his friends tonight. It wasn’t like you hadn’t met them before, but this time Sirius had intentionally maneuvered you so you’d sat closest to Lily and Remus, the least obtrusive of his lot, and it had been going well. You’d been contributing to the conversation more than you were used to, encouraged by Lily and Remus’ gentle friendliness and your boyfriend’s pleased looks. After a while, James had cajoled the majority of the group into playing beer pong in the other room. Remus had stood to go, and Sirius with him, pulling his hand from yours and checking you’d be okay if he left you with Lily. 

The way he’d asked it, “Think you can manage on your own for a bit, gorgeous?” all light and teasing and infused with laughter, you’d had no choice but to say yes. Even if you suddenly didn’t feel very confident you could manage, and in the end, you hadn't. 

You’d let Sirius’ silly, thoughtless question get to you. Lily hadn’t even seemed to notice what he’d said, but your face had burned all the way to the tips of your ears, and all her kind, patient attempts at conversation were wasted on you. You forgot what you were going to say, stumbled over your words, apologized and awkward-laughed until you’d finally said you were going for another drink and not come back. You’d found this, a guest bedroom as far as you can tell, and hunkered down. You really hope she hasn’t taken it personally. 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you tell Sirius now, your voice so soft it’s a miracle he hears. Outside of your sanctuary, the music turns up and shouting begins, the lyrics to a song everyone knows but you. 

“You could never bother me,” he promises. He’s lowered his volume to match yours. “I know how you get.” 

Shame burns hot and painful behind your eyes. “It’s not—” your voice catches, and Sirius’ thumb stills on your knee. You try again. “It’s not something I do on purpose.” 

“Hey, I know.” He scoots closer to you, setting his hands on your tented knees and propping his chin atop them so he’s looking at your face with just a few inches between you. His eyebrows are furrowed. “I know, sweetness. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, you know? Just that I don’t mind taking care of you when you’re feeling nervous or anything like that. You can always come find me.” 

It’s hard to avoid Sirius’ gaze when he’s this close, but you manage, looking down at the carpet past your thigh. “It felt a little bit like you minded when you left to go with James and Remus,” you say quietly. 

He tilts his head, steadfast in his eye contact even if you won’t reciprocate. It feels like he’s taking an inventory of your reactions as they flit across your face. You wish you were better at hiding them from him. “That upset you?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You wanted me to stay?” 

“No,” you say. “Well, yes, but that’s not…it didn’t upset me. You shouldn’t need to stay with me all of the time.” 

“I don’t mind,” Sirius interjects. 

You look up, and he rewards you with a half-happy uptilt of his lips. His expression is kind and open now, not a lick of teasing about him. 

“I don’t need you to stay with me,” you clarify. “It was just the way you asked. It made it sound like I can’t manage without you.” 

“Oh.” Sirius’ brows twitch together, recalling. One of his pinkies starts to stroke absentmindedly up and down on your thigh. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Did I embarrass you?” 

“A little,” you whisper, shoulders hunching as your body tries to shrink away from him. “But it’s more that I didn’t realize you thought that.” 

“I don’t,” he says quickly, voice soft but ardent. “I really don’t, honestly. It was a joke, I was just…I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have made light of it. I know you’re fine on your own, angel, that was just my dumb way of trying to ask if you wanted me to stay and trying to keep it light. I wasn’t trying to tease you.”  

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth. “It’s okay if you meant it,” you say.

“I didn’t,” Sirius promises. “Really, I swear. Can I—can I touch you? Say no if you don’t want it.” 

“You’re already touching me.” Some amusement makes its way into your tone. Sirius smiles, but doesn’t move until you say, “Yeah, you can.” 

His hands plant themselves on either side of your face, and then he’s jamming your knees apart with his torso, stamping his lips to your face. 

“M’sorry, my sweet girl,” he mumbles, mushing the words into the side of your nose. “I was being a prat, and I’m sorry. I can’t believe I made you feel bad.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, smiling now. Your face is still burning hot, but the cause of that warmth is growing murky. 

“No, it wasn’t nice to make fun.” He pulls back, fondness mingling with solemnity in his gray irises. “I didn’t realize it’d come off that way, but I won’t do it again, I mean it.” 

“Thanks,” you reply just as sincerely. “I’m okay now, really.” 

“Yeah?” He kisses between your brows. “Okay enough to go back out there, or do you wanna go home?” 

You think on this for a minute. “I should probably talk to Lily for a bit before leaving. I feel bad for abandoning her.” 

“She’s alright, gorgeous,” Sirius reassures you, but offers you his hands. You take them, and he hoists you up. “We’ll grab you a drink on the way, say you got sidetracked. I mean, that’s basically what happened.” 

You roll your eyes, leaning into his side as he starts for the kitchen.

[eloriis]

OPPOSITE - charles leclerc

in which. . y/n l/n was everything charles leclerc wanted, until he didn’t — cl16 x singer! reader

notes : first post in sososososo long!! hope u guys like it and it does well 🤞🏼

and NO HATE towards alex! i ADORE her smm but i needed someone to match the description that sabrina gave in her song

type : smau ⋆ face claim : sabrina carpenter

december 16, 2019

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomez and 15,547,396 others

y/nuser it’s so romantic in paris 🤍🖤

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc all because of you mon amour 🌙

y/nuser je t'aime ☀️

user6 THE MOON AND SUN??

francisca.cgomez BABE?? THE HAIR?? THE DRESS?? OMG IM DYING

y/nuser KIKAAAAA ILYSMMM MWAH MWAH

user1 A MAN?? OMG?? A VROOM VROOM GUY?? WOAHHHH

user2 they just became public and they’re already making me feel single 😔

user3 OH GOD WHAT?? OH GOD

user4 they’re lowkey cute 🤭🤭

user5 THE SOFT LAUNCH OF FUCKING 10 MONTHS HAS FINALLY ENDED I THANK EVERY DEITY I HAVE PRAYED TO FOR THESE PAST MONTHS 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

february 26, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, gracieabrams and 10,375,984 others

y/nuser when in doubt, turn the piano on <3

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc je t'aime, ma lune 🌙 ( i love u, my moon )

y/nuser je t'aime plus, mon soleil ☀️ ( i love u more, my sun )

user1 the moon and sun duo is back ☹️

user2 SHE LOOKS SO PRETTY UGH

user3 the note :(

user4 did charles write that for her?

user5 i don’t think so, i’m pretty sure that’s her handwriting

user6 the second pic made me feel so single

gracieabrams ARE WE GETTING A NEW SONG??

y/nuser IDK ARE YOU??

user7 WHAT WHAT WHAT

user8 Y/N PLS WE ALL BEG, WE’VE BEEN STARVED FOR TOO LONG

user9 if they break up, i’m going to stop believing in love.

march 14, 2023

liked by user1, user2 and 585,697 others

f1updates ferrari driver, charles leclerc caught with mystery woman who is not popstar y/n l/n!

charles and y/n have been in a relationship for almost 5 years. they made their relationship public on december 16 in 2019 after 10 months of dating. they seemed to be deeply in love with each other so what might have been the reason for charles to be caught with a different woman?

let us know your thoughts and feelings on this in the comment section below.

tagged: y/nuser, charles_leclerc

user1 what the fuck? charles what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

user2 i can’t believe the nerve of this man?? FIVE FUCKING YEARS?? down the drain just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants

user3 both charles and the girl are in the wrong because while y/n and this creature kept majority of their lives together private, they still posted about each other regularly so it’s not possible that the girl didn’t know that charles was taken

user4 the audacity of this man? his girlfriend is at the studio most likely writing a song for him and this man is out in the broad daylight cheating on her??

user5 studio?

user4 yeah, she was caught walking into a studio a while before this was posted

user5 fuck bro, that’s so sad

user6 everyday i wake up and wonder where the fuck do men get the audacity to do this shit and stay sane

user7 i’m actually speechless right now. all i can say is poor y/n, she looks so in love with him whenever they’re together and then this man pulls this shit

user8 we were about to get another song about y/ncharles :(

user9 i haven’t just lost faith in men, i’ve lost faith in love as well

march 14, 2023

ynssecretlife has removed sharleclair as a follower

ynssecretlife has unfollowed sharleclair

ynssecretlife has just posted a story! tap to view.

seen by lanthedodo, liliesareme, georgewashingmachine and 98 others

view story replies:

lanthedodo y/n/n, i’m so so so sorry. i promise u NONE of us knew about this

lanthedodo we are all always here for you ❤️

liliesareme y/n bby:( i’m coming over rn

alexisalbono i’m so sorry, lily and are the otw

view more story replies.

y/nuser has deleted 30 posts from their account.

may 25, 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, user39 and 674,694 others

alexandrasaintmleux in paris with amour ⭐️

tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc the star to my sun

liked by author

user1 this is very similar to the post made by y/n

user2 the nicknames. that hurts me :(

user2 the audacity of these two. ch*rles got bored of the moon so he moved onto another star. honestly fuck off dude.

user3 beautiful couple 😍 ( i giggled at this )

user4 girlie is trying wayyyy too hard to be like y/n…🤓

june 6, 2023

liked by taylorswift, lilymhe and 21,854,297 others

y/nuser i’ve kept all of you guys starved for too long now </3

from my heart to yours, ‘opposite’ is now out 💌

taylorswift i’m so proud of you bby 💗

y/nuser tyy 🤍

lilymhe sobbing, breaking down, screaming, crying, on the floor, breaking dishes

y/nuser LILY BBY 😭😭

alex_albon she’s not even joking. there’s actually broken dishes on the floor and she’s about to flood the living room with her tears

lilymhe shut up. no one asked you 🥰❤️

maxverstappen1 you did so well with this song! proud of you y/n/n 💙

y/nuser tyy so much maxie 🫶🏼🫶🏼

user1 MOTHER IS SO BACK

user2 MIGHT AS WELL SNATCH MY HEART OUT AND STAMP ON IT ATP

liked by landonorris and francisca.cgomez

user3 you did so well y/n, we are all so proud of you for being strong and loving 🤍

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomez, iamrebbecad, kellypiquet and 157,286 others

y/nuser thank you so so much, i love all of you so much 🫶🏼

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Diet Pepsi

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: early in the f1 season fans found their love for you, carlos sainz new girlfriend who loves to write him poems. however the fans realized the secret letters you wrote to him were nothing like they thought when you unexpectedly dropped a spicy new song with lyrics taken from the poems.

♥ smau - fc: addison rae - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes, and one hate comment !!!

♥ a/n: ME? posting TWICE in one week?! we're so back. thank you for suggesting this fic idea @1800-love-me <3

-March 19, 2024-

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liked by carlossainz55, lilymunihe, landonorris, and 230,583 more

yourusername p1 in melbourne. congrats amor <3

view comments

carlossainz55 mi amuleto de buena suerte 😘 - (my good luck charm)

♡ by yourusername

lilymhe it was great to meet you! alex and I had an amazing time :)

yourusername same here! let me know the next time you wanna meet up 🫶

oscarpiastri @/alex_albon double date without me and @/lilyzneimer...

oscarpiastri its literally my home race

alex_albon you don't even know carlos that well 😭

oscarpiastri @/alex_albon do you??

alex_albon @/oscarpiastri ...

yourusername what did I get myself into

user8 she is STUNNING

user4 oh my gosh shes already friends with lily m? I love her already

user7 if the girls love her so do we

landonorris he finally pulled

carlossainz55 "finally"?

landonorris @/carlossainz55 yeah

carlossainz55 @/landonorris says lando norizz

landonorris 😧

user3 I know Carlos did NOT JUST CALL HIM LANDO NORIZZ 😭

user5 HOW DOES CARLOS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT

-Post Race Interview Highlights-

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liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 463,949

carlossainz55 caught her in the act

tagged; @/yourusername

view comments

yourusername i’m literally just a girl

lilymhe have some respect for your girlfriend !!

yourusername thanks lily

yourusername fine sue me for loving you too much ☹️

landonorris you hold onto her @/carlossainz55

yourusername AWW LANDO 🥹

user1 LANDOO :(

user8 he's the sweetest thing

user3 imagine your girlfriend writing letters to you

user7 she’s a POET

user6 trapped inside the body of a finance guy

♡ by yourusername

user10 oh I love her

user4 the lipstick stains-

user12 shes such a romantic

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

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liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, madelineargy, and more

🔒 yn.priv my boy’s a winner, he loves the game, my lips reflect off his cross gold chain

view comments

francisca.cgomes luv you

alexandracooper can’t wait to see you ladies 😘

yourusername <3

yourbestfriend are you working on something…

jyourusername perhaps 🙈

landonorris 🤨

carlossainz55 nos vemos pronto x (i’ll see you soon)

♡ by yourusername

haileybieber you are gorgeous

yourusername no you

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APRIL 9TH

Y/n and Kika: Wag Life, Industry Parties, & Age-gaps | Call Her Daddy

Join Alex in the studio for an interview with Y/n L/n and Francisca C. Gomes. The two open up about being reduced to their partner's fame, finding independency, and working on their own public brands. They discuss chaotic industry parties, not just within modeling, but the secretive business of Formula One and entering their healthiest relationships. Enjoy!

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

"Y/n and Kika welcome to Call Her Daddy, I'm so happy we're doing this, it's honestly been way too long since we've seen each other," Alex says, beginning the episode. "A lot of people don't know but I've known you for a while now, you were friends with Mads [Argy] first."

"Yeah the two of us met through her but I don't think you've met Kika yet, right?" you ask, looking over towards Francisca.

"No we haven't, so it's really great to meet you," she smiles. "Your modeling careers have been going amazing I saw Kika you worked with ALO and Rhode recently, and Y/n we've been trying to get you on the podcast for like a year now but the thing that solidified this episode in my mind was when I saw Carlos post about your little letters to him."

"Oh my god," you muttered, hiding your face as the other two girls laughed.

"She carries this pink notepad around with her in the paddock," Kika gestures with her fingers.

"We’ve been itching to read your writing so if you ever get around to releasing something definitely hit me up," Alex spoke into the mic.

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

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liked by carlossainz55, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 302,583 more

yourusername who's ready for miami?

view comments

haileybieber me !

yourusername can’t wait to see you 🫶

user1 the collab we indeed knew we needed

user6 yn model career when

user4 @/user6 right?! she’s so stunning

user23 don’t you think it’s weird that she’d get a career bc her boyfriend is famous?

alexandracooper @/user23 looks like someone missed an episode of CHD :/

user8 clock their ass alex

carlossainz55 🕯️ ferrari front row 🕯️

landonorris @/carlossainz55 hey 😕

yourusername 🕯️ logan sargeant podium 🕯️ haas 1-2 🕯️

carlossainz55 @/yourusername …

user13 🗣️🇺🇸🦅

user7 i can’t wait to see yn in the paddock again

user10 same! i wonder how many of the girls are gonna be there

liked by landonorris, yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,304,843 more

carlossainz55 amazing drive out there today. proud of you @/landonorris.

view comments

landonorris gracias cabron

♡ by carlossainz55

yourusername *sniffles*

user2 stoppp 🥹

user3 carlando!

user7 they should be a throuple

yourusername i’m considering it

carlossainz55 @/yourusername i saw that

yourusername congrats lando 🧡

landonorris thanks yn ❤️

user1 i’m gonna psychoanalyze the hearts btw

user8 i’m so normal about this 🙂↕️

user10 @/user1 they’re mclaren and ferrari colors 🥹

liked by haileybieber, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, and more

🔒 yn.priv modeling for @/rhode out here in miami

view comments

haileybieber gorgeous as always. thanks for meeting with us 🤍

yn.priv any time! thank you so much for the opportunity

haileybieber 💋

alexandrasaintmleux literally stunning

yn.priv no you !! have we seen the pictures they took of you for the case?! phenomenal

carlossainz55 ven a casa rápido 😘 (come home quick)

yn.priv sí, señor 🙈

landonorris i wish i could unread this

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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

ynfan1 ok but seriously, what’s up with yn and carlos? for some reason everyone's saying they broke up but I can't find any proof at all?

view comments

user4 something something "she's not at every race". she’s got her own life bro huh 😭

user5 didn’t alex cooper say yn was working on a project

user4 @/user5 she did! yn is probably working on that. they both have tight schedules so it’s not like they’ll be around each other 24/7

user7 I miss the yncarlos content so bad

ynfan1 don’t we all

user10 i really hope they didn’t break up

user5 im starting to think they did…

user11 this is such a non issue 😭 it’s been like a few weeks since we heard from them

user6 EXACTLY yall are making up stuff at this point

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°���

liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, madelineargy, and 1,843,950 more

yourusername im so grateful to announce you can now stream my new song diet pepsi on all platforms. the lyrics were taken from the poems i wrote to my lovely boyfriend @/carlossainz55 over the (almost) year we’ve been together. 🤍

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user1 when yn said she wrote poems to carlos this is NOT what i was expecting 😳

user3 SITTIN ON HIS LAP SIPPIN DIET PEPSI

user7 “my boy’s a winner” YES HE IS

user6 releasing this right before monaco? power move.

user2 she’s manifesting for carlos

user1 ferrari 1-2 cmon

tatemcrae i’m obsessed with this song actually

yourusername thank you tate 🫶

user12 CARLOS IS IN THE MV. I REPEAT. CARLOS IS IN THE MV

lilymhe @/alex_albon so this is what you were humming to today 🤔

alex_albon its catchy 🤷‍♂️

landonorris @/yourusername did alex get to hear this song before me

yourusername @/landonorris whaaattt noo that’s crazy

carlossainz55 @/yourusername mi amor he’s sensitive about these things

user8 never beating the throuple allegations

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, alexandrasaintmleux, and 592,506 more

yourusername congratulations on your win @/charles_leclerc you really are the prince of Monaco. I'm not in person to support my team but I'm there in spirit! I love you @/carlossainz55 congrats on p3 <3

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charles_leclerc merci yn

♡ by yourusername

carlossainz55 thank you amor 🫶 I'm so proud of you as well

yourusername ❤️

user1 are we gonna ignore diet pepsi...

user2 EXACTLY what I was thinking about

alexandrasaintmleux we missed you in the paddock

yourusername missed you too !!

user8 the queen herself

lilymhe obsessed with the new song

yourusername thank you lily 🥹

user10 SOSO impressed with the song. shes an artist now !

user7 right?! the vibes are absolutely immaculate

user9 the imagery >>>

user6 carlos is a lucky man omg

liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, landonorris, and 1,030,180 more

yourusername I write my name with lipstick on your chest, I leave a mark so you know I'm the best 💋

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[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ green is the color of envy (and poison)

type of post: fic characters: neige, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, vague possessiveness maybe angst idk, oooh drama author's note: I wanted a break from headcanons and had this strange urge to do a character study for neige. here I am, writing this at midnight

Neige Leblanche does not hate Vil Schoenheit.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

In fact, if you had even asked as much, his wide, doe-like eyes would fill with pretty tears, and he would ask you, in a trembling voice, if you really thought of him so cruelly.

Neige Leblanche did not hate anyone. On the contrary, he had so much love, it practically overflowed from him, touching the ground at his feet and imprinting itself on everything he held.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a vision of loveliness, a sunrise, morning dew on the petal of a white lily. He would have gladly, if you asked him, plucked each star out of the sky for you, written you a thousand songs, laid himself at your feet in adoration.

He was cupid, a chubby-faced, blushing cherub.

He had been content, for a time. Happy, even, with his little life, the family and career he had built with his own two hands, though you wouldn't know it from their softness.

Then, there was you.

You. You. The magicless prefect of Night Raven College. An otherworldly being. A hero.

You. So kindhearted, always gentle with the first years and animals. So polite, with him and his friends. So brave, facing danger and coming out unscathed. Your hope and gratefulness despite your circumstances reminded him, in a way, of himself.

There was no other explanation for it. You were sent for him.

Neige had simply never been so sure of anything. It felt right. It felt perfect. You were the one he'd been waiting for. You were his.

After the VDC, he couldn't stop thinking about you. You! You were perfect for him, his soulmate, and he didn't need to know you to know that. He'd never felt like this before, after all. It must be love.

You feel it too, don't you?

Limb by limb, he sews together a ragdoll of you in his mind. Something simple. Soft. Beautiful. Something for his thoughts to play with. He gives you a sword, one day, and he makes you a knight. He dresses you in the finest of silks, and he makes you a noble. He pushes up the corners of your sewn-together mouth, and he makes you smile back at him.

You're kind. You're brave. You're loving. You're loyal. You're chivalrous. You're anything he could want or need, anything at all, because you're his.

Why would fate lead him to someone who wasn't already perfect?

And, oh, how he wants to pick you flowers. Neige will make you breakfast in bed, and sing for you. Everyone loves him; and he loves everyone. But it isn't enough. You're his soulmate. Don't you know?

Why do you keep looking at each other like that.

You're so friendly, just like Neige, always so eager to please. Right? That's what it is. Right?

There could be no other reason for you and Vil Schoenheit to look at each other like that. As if you know something that Neige doesn't. As if you're having a conversation with only your eyes. What is that? What does it mean?

Why does he feel so comfortable touching you?

A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist. He corrects your posture with both hands on your shoulders. He taps your thigh when you're distracted. He holds your face in both palms to scold you for smudging the eyeliner he had so tediously put on you before coming here...

Why do you smile at him when he lectures you? Why does he smile back?

This strange, dizzying feeling, this tightness in Neige's chest, this unwelcomed weight, can't just be confusion.

He can only lie to himself for so long.

You feel it, too... don't you? Don't you get butterflies when you look at him? Don't you feel dizzy? Don't you think of him?

Vil murmurs something in your ear with a sly smile, and you laugh.

And you haven't even looked at Neige once yet. The thought makes him clench his fists under the table.

As this new, painful weight settles in his stomach, a dizzying thought sits with it.

Neige Leblanche is jealous.

Of Vil Schoenheit.

[heesdreamer]

Forgotten Consequences

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader (bsfs little brother au)

SUMMARY ➩ Your bestfriends little brother comes back from Australia and catches your attention despite knowing the consequences

WARNINGS ➩ ages aren’t specified but reader is a few years older than Jake and considers him “barely an adult”, RLLY ROUGH SM*T, like no joke it’s rough be warned, consent is there even though reader says no (she def wants it!), d*ddy is used sorry lol… this is straight up p*rn so there’s your warning. Jake is rough and borders obsessive

WC ➩ 5.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Not exactly pleased my return to the writing world is basically PWP lol but here it is… there’s a larger story here I’m considering writing so lmk if you’re interested. Sorry to keep you guys missing me, take this as an apology piece

“Your brother is a lot taller than I remember him being Chaeyoung.”

You briefly glanced over to the side once you heard Lily’s voice start to whisper, seeing her leaning into the other girls side as she tried to be as discreet as possible.

Both of them were staring out at something in the yard and you followed their gaze until you landed on Jake standing in the corner, picking up something off of the snack table and looking as bored as you felt at this ridiculous party.

“If you hook up with my little brother I’ll actually kill you.” Chaeyoung’s voice was flat and deadly serious but her face didn’t show any actual signs of caring about the conversation, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink before looking away and letting Lily lay on her shoulder.

Your eyebrow raised slightly at the interaction before your gaze was floating back over to the boy instinctively.

He hadn’t been home from the dance school in Australia long and this was only your second time seeing him since. You’d grown up together but you’d never paid him much mind outside of when Chaeyoung gave him funny makeovers and made him dance to girl group songs with you and your friends. Other than that he wasn’t necessarily somebody on your radar.

It was impossible to not notice the difference in him now.

Mainly the fact he was almost double the size he had been when he left, clearly hitting puberty now and apparently the gym considering how large his shoulders looked underneath the washed out black hoodie he was wearing.

He’d obviously gotten a new sense of style in his time away too and it was one that you were almost annoyingly attracted to. His hair was longer and stuck in his face most the time, earbuds peaking out from behind the dark strands whenever he pushed it back with his large hand and you could’ve sworn you’d posted the shoes he was currently wearing on your Instagram story a few months ago.

You watched him as he started to make his way back inside, completely ignoring the party going on around him and not even sparing a glance at the people in his backyard and living room.

When he was younger, he always wanted to be involved, especially when it had to do with Chaeyoung and your friends. You remember seeing her send him back up to his room dozens of times when he tried to hang out with you guys, always greeting you and the others enthusiastically.

A frown was forming on your face at his indifferent attitude before you were glancing back at your friends, glad to see they were lost in their own conversation and not noticing the way your eyes had been locked on your bestfriends little brother for the better part of the last ten minutes.

They were so distracted that they also didn’t notice the way you were scooting off of the outdoor bench, adjusting your skirt and balancing yourself slightly before you were heading inside and following the path you’d seen the younger boy taking. You were a bit thrown off when you entered the house again, the atmosphere a lot more intense and dizzying than the outside partygoers had been.

But you knew Jake wouldn’t have stuck around this type of environment long so you pushed your way through the crowd and continued on your way upstairs to where you knew he’d be, raising your fist and knocking on his door before you thought twice about it.

You froze up slightly at the speed in which he swung open his bedroom door, a heavy glare set on his face and you could hear music coming from deeper in the room, having seemingly abandoned his headphones. His eyes widened for just a second when he realized it was you in the hallway before he was forcing on an expression of indifference.

“Y/N? Whats up?” He was asking but his tone was lazy like he didn’t care, luckily you knew better and could clearly read the curiosity in his eyes.

You ignored his question and pushed into the room, taking a deep breath once inside before turning towards him with a raised eyebrow. He was sighing and closing the door behind you, leaning against it for a second once he realized what your expression was directed towards.

“You smoke?” You were finally speaking and he tensed at the sound of your voice, looking way more intimidating with the way he was lazily leaned against his door and accidentally trapping you inside the room. You took a seat on his bed and watched him curiously, waiting for an answer.

You didn’t necessarily need one considering you were now noticing how lazy his eyes were, gaze low and hazy as he stared at you sitting on his bed and the corner of his lips turned up into a half smirk at your stern voice and scolding demeanor.

“You gonna tell on me Y/N?” His tone was teasing now and you kept watching him as he pushed off the door, crossing the room until he was flopping back into his bed.

Luckily he kept some distance between the two of you, sitting up so his back was propped up on his headboard and his knee was pointed towards the ceiling. You were still sitting on the edge of his bed but you turned your body so you could face him better, adjusting your skirt with the movement. You took one final glance towards the door, eyes falling down to the turned lock on the knob.

“I’m sure I could be convinced to not tell.” You were responding to him slowly, keeping your voice light so he knew you weren’t serious. His eyes darkened a touch but you continued on with your light teasing. “Maybe if you were open to sharing.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up in Jake Sim’s bedroom smoking weed with him, sitting fully on his bed now with your legs crossed underneath you and grazing fingers every time he passed the bowl over in your direction.

You kept picturing Chaeyoung walking into the room, seeing the way you were looking at him every time he was breathing smoke outwards into the air. You wondered if she’d care, wondered if she’d realize where your mind had gone and then you’d shift on the bed and feel the tension in the room and know there was no way she wouldn’t suffocate in it.

He was watching you now in a way that you knew was past the line of friendly, miles past the line of being your bestfriends younger brother, and for the first time since entering his room you got nervous. So nervous that you inhaled wrong and the smoke traveled to a tighter part of your chest, sending you lurching forward in a rough cough as you patted your torso a couple times to try and clear your airways.

Jake was chuckling at your amateurish smoking skills and you sent him a glare as another cough ripped through you, moving your hand to send a soft punch towards his knee for his teasing.

“Wanna know a better way to get the smoke down?” His voice was low, lower than it already was and you remember being frozen the first time you heard him speak when he originally got back, deep and silky as he muttered a halfhearted greeting in your direction.

You gave him a curious look even though you already had an idea of where this was heading, wondering how far he was planning to take this. You only responded with a soft nod now that your coughs had died down and left your throat with a burning sensation, worsening when a gasp ripped through you at the feeling of him wrapping his hands underneath your knees and tugging you closer on the bed.

He moved you completely effortlessly and your eyes were wide and panicked, still sitting with your legs crossed but now you were directly in front of him and your knees were bumping into one of his, his other leg stretch out along your side and effectively forming a cage around you.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Your warning was coming out far less stern than you’d hoped it would, voice weak and almost teasing again despite how serious you were.

His eyebrow cocked at this and you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say considering the challenging glint forming in his eye now. He was swaying forward so his face was close to yours, way too close considering you felt his nose graze you for just a second before he was pulling back so he could stare down at your tense features.

“Keep your mouth open.” He was speaking suddenly and you could feel his breath on your lips, his tone light but commanding enough that for some reason you were immediately nodding your head and parting your lips for him.

He wasn’t wasting any time, sitting up enough so he could light the bowl once more and inhale it deep, holding it there in his chest easily for a few seconds before he was leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t a kiss but it was enough for your eyes to flutter closed, leaning forward to press tighter against him but still not enough to feel his mouth completely on yours.

It was completely sensual, the way he was breathing out the smoke into your mouth from his own, almost suffocating as you inhaled a shaky breath softly and swayed further against him to try to avoid letting it escape.

“Breathe it in.” He was directing you again now that the smoke was out of his mouth and inside yours, not bothering to lean back and give you space as he started to speak and you could feel his lip brushing against yours for just a second. “C‘mon hold it for me. You can take it deeper than that.”

Your eyes were widening in surprise at his suggestive words, letting the smoke out before you were planning to and sitting up straight to try and put some distance between the two of you. He didn’t seem bothered at all by your reaction and for a second you wondered if you had just misheard him, let your own guilty thoughts and insecurities take his words to mean something besides smoking.

It didn’t help that your stomach was flipping with want now, face reddening and getting warmer as you replayed what he had said in your mind.

“Do it again.” You were requesting it in a whisper and you weren’t exactly sure what you were asking for, judging yourself for secretly hoping he’d repeat his innuendo laced words so you could hear it in his voice again. Instead he was grabbing the bowl and placing it between the two of you, lighting it again and inhaling.

You didn’t have too much time to be disappointed considering he was immediately lowering it and connecting your lips again, not even giving you time to open your mouth to collect the smoke.

He seemed to take matters into his own hands and you felt his tongue pressing against your sealed lips, prying them open so he could tilt his head and funnel the smoke into your throat. For a second you were chasing after his tongue with your own, nearly kissing him fully in a deeper lust fueled high, but he was cupping your jaw briefly and closing your mouth so you were forced to breathe in the smoke.

It was settling deep in your chest and this time you held it for him, looking up at him slightly through your eyelashes with watery eyes and he had a more satisfied expression on his face now that you were listening to him.

“Good girl.” He was humming out the word casually but your mouth parted in surprise, legs instinctively clenching together as you let the smoke filter back out and hit his face instead. The smirk on his face told you that he had definitely noticed your reaction and you were starting to lose all feelings of guilt and hesitation, being replaced with something much more terrible.

Something so intense that you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking forward and pressing your lips against his fully.

He thankfully was immediately reciprocating and you tried not to think about where he learned to kiss this intensely, hands coming up to cup your face and keep you locked against him as you moved together. You’d rocked forward so far that you nearly knocked him over back against the bed, leaning over his lap now as you desperately kissed him deeper and deeper.

It took for his hand sliding down your back, attempting to pull you fully onto his awaiting lap, for you to snap out of it and sit up straight with a small gasp.

Your hand was reaching up to touch your lips and you tried to ignore the fact they were wet from his mouth, looking at him and scanning from his confused eyes down to his own swollen lips that most likely mirrored the state of your own. Your body was lit up with need and it didn’t help that he was still touching you, hand resting on your lower back like he was waiting for you to kiss him again.

“We can’t do this.” You were telling him sternly in a panicked voice, shaking your head desperately to try and make sure he understood and that your point was getting across to him.

His hand was sliding down lower and roughly squeezing, resting on the curve of your ass and sending your hips forward and more onto his. A soft gasp was slipping from your mouth, followed by a breathy whine at the feeling of him hardening and pressing against your front, even more unbearable considering he wasn’t moving his hand and was instead softly groping your behind and rocking you against him.

“But we’re going to.” He was responding to your rejection in a casual tone, sounding more confident than he was pushy and you let out another soft whine as you gave him a bewildered look. “You followed me up here, you came into my room in this tiny little skirt and climbed into my bed because you wanted me to fuck you.”

You were instinctively shaking your head in panicked denial but your hands were going to his shoulders, pulling yourself forward onto his lap fully and mewling softly at the feeling of him completely pressing against you.

He didn’t say anything else as you started to desperately move against him, your head falling forward and landing in the crook of his neck as you lifted yourself up and down slowly so you could feel him under you at every possible angle. His large hands were holding you roughly and lifting you every time you struggled, pushing your skirt up further on your hips so he could feel your bare skin and lace panties.

“Fuck fuck.” You were panting out into his neck and arching your back into him, a shiver rolling down your spine when he was harshly tugging at your underwear so it was pressed painfully against your sensitive clit.

“God, do you always get this wet?” He was finally started to sound affected and you let out an embarrassed sob at his words, hand sliding up the back of his neck until it was tangled in his long hair. You imagined you were already a mess considering how desperate you were feeling, an overwhelming heat mixing with your high and stopping you from thinking about anything other than Jake.

“Let me fuck you baby, let daddy fix this.” He was talking so sweetly in your ear in his low voice.

You were shaking your head again but you already knew your resolve was falling apart, feeling nearly inhuman with how much you longed to be full of something, especially if it was him. You were aching in your panties and the forbidden image of your best friends little brother stuffing you and making the ache go away was nearly making you drool.

“How old are you Jae?” You were gasping out and lifting your head out of his neck to look at his face clearly, fearing his response and knowing you had a right to the fear considering for the first time his eyes flashed with guilt and worry. You were quickly doing the math in your head and gasping again, sitting up even more and stopping your rocking against him. “Oh my god you’re barely legal.”

He suddenly looked really annoyed and you felt bad for getting this far with him, knowing you had no choice but to stop what you were doing and reject the boy before anything more happened.

Messing around with your best friends brother was one thing but doing it while he was just barely an official adult was too much for your conscience, even if you weren’t that much older than him.

He seemed to have a totally different idea than you considering he was scoffing in annoyance before he was pausing and then flipping you completely over, ripping a shriek from you as your back unexpectedly hit the bed and he was left hovering over you. You froze up in shock as he impatiently undid the buttons on your skirt that was still pushed up on your waist, tugging it down and tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Don’t act like you care about how old I am.” He was barely looking at you as he spoke with anger lacing his voice, looking at your nearly bare bottom half for a few seconds before he was glancing up at you to check for your reaction. “Let me eat your pussy.”

You were letting out a loud laugh of disbelief, lacking any humor as you clamped your thighs shut and shook your head. “I mean it Jake, we can’t do this. It’s wrong.”

His large hands were squeezing your ankles for a second before sliding up your legs softly, your breath getting shakier as he reached your knees and slowly separated your legs. You both could tell you weren’t actually showing any attempt to stop him, not even putting up a fight as he lowered his face closer to your core and you could feel his breath over the wet spot covering your panties.

“It’s wrong that you want my tongue so bad your thighs are soaked.” He was talking in between the kisses he was laying on your skin, getting closer and closer to the thin fabric separating you and the point of no return. “Would be wrong to let you leave my room without my cum in your stomach.”

“Please, you need to stop.” You were breathing it out in a moan once he finally was placing a kiss over your covered core, softly running his tongue along your wetness and humming softly. The vibrations went straight to your clit and your hips rolled off the bed, pushing his face straight against you. “Oh fuck.”

He let out something that sounded almost like a growl before he was pushing your panties to the side and diving into your wet folds, wasting no time in sticking his tongue as deep as he possibly could get it and ignoring the way you nearly screamed and tried to close your legs around his head. He used his free hand to aggressively slam your knee back against the bed, opening you up completely for him and practically making out with your cunt.

It was completely lewd and disgusting, the wet noises filling the room as he ate you out with a level of expertise that almost made your stomach turn with curiosity if it wasn’t for how good he was making you feel.

Your hand was going to his hair to pull him out of your core but plans changed when he was sucking your clit into his mouth softly, instead keeping him locked in place with his long strands between your fingers. He abandoned your sensitive bud to go back to trying to stick his tongue as deep inside you as he could, turning his head so he was pushing into your tight hole and he moaned against you, the vibration nearly pulling another scream from you.

“Please Jake, oh my god please.” You almost thought you were begging for him to stop but you both knew you weren’t, lifting your hips up every time he tried to take a breath in an attempt to keep him buried in your cunt as long as possible.

“Wanna cum on my tongue or my cock baby?” He was lifting his head up to question you and you were thrown off by how easily it rolled off his tongue, how confident he seemed to be in being able to fuck you properly and make you cum with no question. You rarely came from hookups and definitely left unsatisfied more often than not but something about the glare in his eyes made you believe him.

You were apparently taking too long to answer considering he was climbing back on top of you and adjusting you slightly, moving your body like it weighed nothing.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this Y/N. Going to show you what a real man feels like inside this slutty little hole.” He was reaching down and rubbing his fingers against you for emphasis, smirking when you let out a shaky breath and your stomach clenched. “Beg for daddy to fuck you baby, let everyone hear how much you want me.”

You were shaking your head and letting out an actual sob now, tears heavy as they rolled down your face and landed on the bed underneath you. He looked completely unaffected by your emotional reaction to the humiliation and pure want you felt for him.

It didn’t matter what he said now and it didn’t matter even if his sister walked into the room and saw him on top of you like this, you’d realized from the second you entered the room that you’d let him do anything to you that he wanted and that fact drove you absolutely insane with guilt and embarrassment. He seemed to know it as much as you did considering he was silent and patient as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself, knowing you’d end up begging for him regardless.

“Please Jake I need you so bad, need you to fuck me baby please.” You were pleading with him through a sob, grabbing onto his shoulders and trying to lift your hips to meet his and show him how desperate you were.

His eyes darkened the more you spoke and for the first time since entering his room you felt genuinely anxious, letting out a cry as he swiftly moved his hand up so it was pressing on your throat and restricting your breathing. Your eyes widened at his sudden aggression even though you were beginning to understand your mistake.

“Say it again and say it right or I’ll throw you out of my room with nothing but your dripping cunt.” He was leaning down to spit the words into your ear and you let out an embarrassing whine, another rush of heat running through you. “You like that huh… like when I get rough with you?”

You were nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, the sting of the pressure making more wetness rush out of you as complete desperation took over your mind and left you feeling dizzy and out of it. Out of it enough that your tongue was hanging out of your mouth before you realized it, mouth opening as you stared up at him with watering eyes and heavy eyelashes.

He let off some of the tension around your throat just enough for you to be able to speak in a weak voice.

“Please daddy please give me your spit, I’ll be a good girl I promise.” You were practically sobbing as you begged him and his eyes were basically darkened to pitch black at this point, staring down at you with a hunger you’d never experienced from someone before. “Can do whatever you want to me, I’ll take it.”

Jake aggressively gripped your jaw and tugged your head closer towards his, waiting until you were eagerly sticking your tongue back out for him so he could spit roughly into your mouth. Before you got a chance to swallow it he was chasing after his spit with his own tongue, licking against yours until he was practically in your throat. You hummed softly and bobbed your head so he was even deeper, wanting him inside you in every way humanly possible.

“God you’ve gotta let me fuck you now or I’m going to hurt you.” He was pulling back to speak through gritted teeth, nearly looking pained as he was roughly sitting you up and tugging off the sweater you’d been wearing, leaving you completely bare outside of your panties that were beyond stretched from the way he was holding them.

“Hurt me.” You were begging him for it before you even processed that you wanted it, the imagine of him holding you down and shoving himself so deep inside you that you couldn’t handle the stretch making your stomach tighten with want. “Please Jake hurt me.”

“Don’t even know what you’re fucking begging for, you’re such a slut you don’t even care how I fuck you.” He sounded so angry but you knew he was just as affected as you, tugging you up and back into his lap so you were straddling him again. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth for just a second before he was letting it go to speak again. “Wanna drag you down to that packed living room and take you in front for everyone there, let everyone watch me stuff you so deep your stomachs bulging.”

You were dizzy now, almost worried you were going to pass out from how overwhelmed you were and he’d barely even touched you so far.

You were desperately rolling your hips into his again and he was surprisingly letting you, guiding you as you bounced in his lap and practically rode him despite the fact he was still fully clothed. The image of you, bouncing on his hard on while practically naked and dripping down your thighs compared to him being fully dressed and composed made you feel even dizzier and you found yourself longing for what he was describing.

“Gonna make me feel so full daddy please, I’m sorry.” You could feel his hardness pressing against you every time you bounced and you were so turned on you couldn’t even find the time to be embarrassed you were probably soaking the fabric of his pants, the time to be humiliated you were calling a boy younger than you daddy.

“Should be fucking sorry.” He was growling out the words again and flipping you over easily so your stomach was on the bed instead, lifting you up by your hips so your ass was perfectly presented for him.

He didn’t hesitate before he was sending a sharp smack to your bare skin, immediately ripping a pained yelp from you that faded off into a desperate whine. You were adjusting yourself so you were pushing your ass towards him more and silently communicating you wanted him to hit you again, sobbing into his bed and pressing your face into the blanket to try to muffle the sounds of your cries.

Thankfully, he was understanding and roughly hitting you again. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength considering how strong he was but he definitely wasn’t going easy on you and you could feel yourself leaking even more at the pain.

“Tell me you’re sorry for never looking my way when I was a kid.” His words were barely being processed by you since you were so dizzy but you cried harder at the sound of his deep voice commanding you. “Sorry for being such a fucking slut but never giving me the chance to fill this pussy up.”

“Only want you to fill me please.” You were being immeasurably too loud but you didn’t even slightly care, completely serious in your desires for him to be inside you no matter who was watching. “M so sorry Jae please, please.”

You could hear the sound of his belt coming undone behind you and you nearly cried with relief, adjusting even more so you were completely presenting your ass and core to him. You wanted him to see how much you belonged to him so he’d have no choice but to fuck you.

He must’ve finished undressing his lower half because you could feel him pressing against you and your back arched at the realization his skin was pressing against yours, a loud whine sounding through the room when you felt his bare cock rubbing against your folds and thighs experimentally. You pushed against him harder and he reached up to squeeze the fat around your hips roughly in annoyance, a silent warning as he groaned softly.

“Gonna stuff you now and you’re going to lay here and take it.” He was grunting as he spoke and you sucked in a sharp breath when the head of his cock caught on your hole, pushing in just enough for you to realize he was a lot thicker than you’d prepared for. “Fuck you’re so tight, I’m going to end up in your stomach.”

You arched at his words and whined into his blankets, pushing your hips back against his so he was going deeper inside you. The stretch was knocking the air out of your chest but you nearly cried with how full he was going to make you feel.

“Please daddy please, I’ll be such a good girl for you I promise.” You were pathetically pleading with him and you knew for a fact that if anybody had drunkenly wondered upstairs they could definitely hear you, but you didn’t care about anything other than him in this moment and he was driving you crazy with how slow he was pushing into you.

He was finally losing his control and fucking himself deep inside of you in one go, bottoming out as you both took deep breaths and tried not to lose it before you’d even started.

The sound of him groaning above you was making you even more needy and you were overwhelmed with how much you wanted to keep hearing him make sounds like that, instinctively clenching around his length and feeling the way he was throbbing deep inside you.

You were basically sobbing with pleasure just from his first stroke into you when he pulled out completely, your body reacting intensely to the emptiness as you immediately looked over your shoulder and prepared to beg for him to fuck you again, stopping mid sentence when he was turning you back over on your back so you were able to see him again.

He was slamming himself back into you before you even adjusted to the position and he felt ten times deeper now, a pained grunt falling from your lips as he started to finally actually fuck you.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight Y/N. I thought you were a whore but you feel brand new for me baby.” His facial expression as he spoke through gritted teeth and continued to thrust into you made you dizzy and you desperately reached out to hold his arms to try and ground yourself.

“Just for y-you Jake, only wanna be this full with you.” You were practically delirious as you cried and spoke to him but your words seemed to turn him on more considering he was slamming into you harder, clearly enjoying the level of ownership you were voicing towards him.

You didn’t want to internalize any of the things he said about you not paying attention to him before, knowing if you stopped and considered what he was implying you’d not be able to go through with this.

He was skilled at distracting you considering he was reaching forward to aggressively grab at your wrist, placing your hand against your stomach and pressing down so harshly you grunted in upset as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The lack of understanding didn’t last long considering it took only two more rolls of his hips inside you for you to feel what he was intending, your stomach bulging slightly from his size forcing itself deeper.

“Feel that?” He was rasping and you looked up to meet his gaze for the first time since he entered you, taken back by how dark and deadly his eyes were. “You’re mine now.”

You were nodding quickly in confirmation, not because you agreed with what he was saying necessarily but because of the wave of fear you felt seeing how serious and cold his expression was.

He had managed to already get you shockingly close between the foreplay and rough manhandling and it wasn’t long before you were feeling the familiar tightness in your stomach, only worsening when he was leaning down and catching your mouth in the sloppiest kiss of the night. It was bordering painful and filthy, exactly what you needed to distract you from how wrong this was and exactly what you needed to have you finishing around his length with a sharp inhale into his mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him kissing you even after you’d came, letting him know it was okay to keep fucking himself deeper inside you.

It was just enough to help you forget everything outside of the feeling of him on top of you and you felt drunk with how much you wanted to stay in this moment. You were terrified by how much he seemed worth the consequences when you had him like this, how much you wanted him even when the door was swinging open and a loud shriek was coming from the hallway.

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (bondage, p in v, dacryphilia if you squint, DDLG, edging, breath play, female masturbation), graphic violence (description of murder), domestic violence (verbal abuse, physical abuse), possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of blood, HEAVY angst

word count: 10,723

a/n: hi!! so sorry for the late submission this week, I should be back on track to post on Fridays going forward. TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter will have scenes of graphic violence and domestic violence. I will put asterisks (*) at the beginning and end of scenes that some may find disturbing. Summaries of those scenes will be available at the end of the chapter for those who choose to skip.

a/n pt. 2: idk, I'm over writing summaries at the beginning of the chapters. but if y'all prefer them, please let me know! Enjoy :)

Camille's song: Baby Boy-Beyonce ft. Sean Paul | Terry's song: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls-The Weeknd

Pt. Six

Camille

Camille’s breath hitched as she stood frozen in the doorway. She had walked into her office and found herself utterly speechless. Even though he was out of the office today, Terry had called her moments ago.

“I know it's not one of our rotation days,” Terry had said, a playful note in his tone, “but I want you to stop by your office when you get the chance today.”

Confused, she had furrowed her brow. “Is there something you need me to do?” she had asked, curiosity tinged with a hint of concern.

Terry had laughed softly on the other end, the sound making her lean into the phone even more with a soft smile. “No ma’am, just a little surprise I want you to see.”

He hadn’t given her the chance to question him further, quickly ending the call and leaving her with nothing but anticipation that pulled her toward her office.

And now, she stood there, admiring the unexpected surprise. Her private space had been transformed.

Baby blue and gold balloons floated lazily in the air, some of them bouncing gently against the walls while others hung from the ceiling like clouds. Streamers in similar shades cascaded from every corner. On her desk were four cupcakes, each one delicately frosted, their sugary beauty making them almost too perfect to touch. Next to them, a vibrant bouquet of lilies stood proudly, further adding to the thoughtfulness behind it all.

But what really stopped her was the gold banner draped behind her desk, its letters spelling out Happy Birthday in elegant, bold font. It wasn’t just the decorations or the carefully placed gifts that left her breathless, it was the fact that she felt so seen. It was the thought of someone so special to her, going out of their way to make her feel appreciated.

That morning had begun with an unwelcome jolt from sleep, courtesy of a relentlessly eager Aston. His excitement was palpable, as though he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face, and he made sure he was there to witness it firsthand. Gifts were carefully arranged at the foot of their bed. A dozen shopping bags, each one bearing the logos of high-end brands, lined up like trophies.

She had sat up, trying to mask her grogginess, her eyes scanning the luxury items. Aston had a certain smug satisfaction in his demeanor, as if he expected her to be overwhelmed with gratitude at the sight of the designer items he had chosen for her. Each bags’ contents were extravagant. A sleek black Chanel bag. A pair of pristine white Louboutin heels. Three carefully selected Ralph Lauren dresses. A collection of luxury perfumes and elegant sunglasses followed, each one a symbol of exclusivity. And a delicate lingerie set from a French brand she’d never heard of. It was exquisite, but in a way that felt more about display than desire.

All of it was beautiful. But as Camille lifted each item from its bag, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Each piece was a status symbol. Something to show the world that she was with a man who could lavish her with items meant to impress others. None of them reflected her own tastes. Aston looked down on her love for brands like Le Labo, Aesop, or Anthropologie, so they were never included in his gift-giving. The gifts he showered her with always had his preferences written all over them, as if to remind her, and everyone else, that she existed to be a trophy. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful or bratty. He had worked hard to buy her these things. But the nagging disappointment lingered. She just wished, for once, that he would see the real her when he picked out something for her.

Despite the early rise and the hollow feeling the gifts left behind, Camille’s day brightened from the messages that came through later in the morning. Sweet voice notes from her siblings and heartfelt texts from her mother warmed her heart. Their words were a comfort, a reminder that she was loved. She smiled as she read each message. The thought of the distance between them did feel bittersweet, however.

And although Kali promised to treat her to dinner, she couldn’t make time for that evening due to her late night shift at the NICU. And Aston, absorbed in a pro bono case that had consumed much of his time lately, would be working late as well. Thursday nights had ran over later than usual, and though he insisted it was important, Camille couldn’t help but feel like there was more behind it. But she refused to dwell on it too long. Instead, she accepted the loneliness she believed she would feel for the rest of her 30th birthday. But as she walked through her office at that moment, she felt comforted by the presence of someone who she loved. 

Ever since her fainting spell a few weeks ago, something inside Camille had shifted, and she allowed herself to face the truth. The feelings she tried to ignore, the emotions she brushed aside, had risen to the surface. She was in love with Terry.

There was an almost magnetic pull toward him, one that she couldn’t seem to escape. Every time he entered a room, her eyes followed him. When he spoke, his words seemed to drown out everything else and held her attention like no one else’s. And when his penetrating gaze met hers, her heart would stumble, then race, and then stumble again.

She had no intentions of pursuing these feelings. She knew better. On her end, there was too much at stake, too many layers of complication already woven into her life. Her loyalty to Aston and her commitment to her relationship was unshakeable. On Terry’s end, she understood he could have anyone he wanted. While her boss was sweet and humble beyond words, she could see that he was extremely influential in Houston, maybe in the country.

His accolades and clients demonstrated that the world was practically at his feet. Someone like that wouldn’t settle for her. He probably had dozens of high value women throwing themselves at him. She didn’t stand a chance. So, Camille had come to terms with the fact that her heart belonged to someone she could never have, and she accepted that with a strange mixture of pain and peace.

But there was something freeing about being honest with herself. A clarity that allowed her to focus on her professionalism with even more intention. She could acknowledge her feelings without acting on them, without letting them cloud her judgment. And for the first time, she understood how much she had been missing: the raw, aching beauty of love, the kind that made her feel giddy and alive in ways she hadn’t felt in years. In a way, her love for Terry had become a quiet treat, a secret pleasure that she could hold onto, one that gave her the space to feel without any expectations of reciprocity.

It also gave her the opportunity to savor the moment before her life became completely consumed by being Mrs. Aston McCoy. She couldn’t ignore the growing distance between her and Aston, a gap that seemed to widen with each passing year. The passion they once had was a distant memory, and Camille knew they would never find their way back to it. Because of that, she didn’t judge herself for the love she carried for Terry. And she could bear it because, deep down, she knew it wouldn’t last. Terry would be out of her life in less than a year, and after that, she would return to her world with Aston, for better or worse.

For now, though, she allowed herself this one thing, this secret love. It was a fleeting moment, a brief chapter in the book of her life, but it was enough to make her feel something real again. And that was something she would cherish.

She began to approach her desk, her fingers reaching for the gold envelope wedged between the cupcakes and flowers, her name scribbled across. But just as she picked it up, the clack of heels approaching caught her attention. 

“Wow,” a snarky voice rang out from behind her. Camille immediately closed her eyes, recognizing the voice with a sinking feeling in her chest. She let out a quiet sigh before turning on her heel, forcing herself to face Stephanie. The other woman leaned against the doorway of her office, her gaze sweeping over the room with open disdain. “How sweet of Terry to celebrate you so… impressively. Even in his absence.”

Camille’s jaw tightened, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, unsure of how to respond. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, but she kept them still, willing herself not to react.

Stephanie’s eyes finally settled on her, a knowing gleam in them as she crossed her arms. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought he was your fiancé, not Aston.”

A sudden wave of dread washed over Camille.

“Excuse me,” Camille managed to say, her voice tight, anxiety curling in her chest. Stephanie simply narrowed her eyes and crossed the room, closing the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps.

“I don’t know what kind of hold you have over him,” Stephanie said, her voice lowering, dripping with malice, “but you should probably stop being so friendly with Terry. You wouldn’t want your colleagues to start assuming you’re... fraternizing.”

Camille swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry and her pulse pounding in her ears. She held Stephanie’s gaze, forcing herself to stay calm. “And why would my colleagues ever come to that conclusion?”

Stephanie's lips curled into a wicked smile. “Who knows? Someone might start spreading rumors,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet. “Suggestions about exchanged looks, late nights in the office, or other behaviors that border inappropriate. And then that someone would let other people’s imaginations wander.”

Stephanie’s smile never wavered as she stepped even closer. “You wouldn’t want that, would you? I mean, Terry’s reputation would go unscathed, sure. But you? You would lose your job. Maybe even Aston too.”

Camille stiffened in response. Her mind raced, desperate to find a counter-threat that would shake Stephanie’s confidence, but nothing came to her. She forced a calmness into her voice, her gaze unwavering. “And what would I have to do to keep that someone satisfied?”

Stephanie’s smile stretched, turning into a triumphant smirk. “Simple,” Stephanie purred, leaning in just slightly. “Just keep Terry at arm's length. Make him feel that whatever this little budding friendship you two have is nothing to you. His investment in you takes away his attention from much more important people in his life.”

Camille snorted, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She can’t be serious right now, Camille thought, the disbelief simmering just beneath the surface.

“And who would those people be?” she asked coolly, her voice smooth, despite her inner turmoil.

Stephanie blinked at her. Then, in an almost mocking tone, she replied, “His girlfriend, silly. Who else would that someone be?”

Camille’s heart skipped a beat, her blood running cold. Stephanie was Terry’s girlfriend? Aston had been right all along? Stephanie’s smile widened, a cruel glint in her eyes. Without another word, she turned on her heel to leave, but then paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a look that sent a shiver down Camille’s spine.

“Remember,” she said, the sweet professionalism dropping away, replaced with something far more venomous, “someone is always watching.”

Then, with a smirk, she reached out, her sharp nail slicing through the air to puncture the nearest balloon. The sudden pop made Camille jump, the silence following suffocating.

As Stephanie walked out of the door, Camille stayed in place, her mind reeling from the encounter. She had to find a way to protect herself from Stephanie’s threats, because she knew that no matter how hard she tried, Stephanie would never be satisfied. 

So for the rest of the work day, she hid in Aston’s office, wondering how to keep her job and engagement safe from Stephanie’s claws.

Aston's Song: Money Trees-Kendrick Lamar

Aston

Aston sat at the lavish poker table in the center of Terry’s grand penthouse apartment, excitement and envy swelling in his chest. For the past three Thursdays, he'd been making his way to Terry Richmond’s apartment, hoping to try his luck at poker. And his attempts have been nothing but fruitful so far. Each time, he walked away with more money than he made in a year. Bigger winnings than he thought possible, big enough to keep him coming back for more. And God knows he needed to keep coming back.

Aston McCoy, one of the heirs to the McCoy oil fortune, was living on the edge of financial irrelevance. He wasn’t poor like the average middle-class American. But among the elite circles he moved in, he was a charity case. And it was all because his father, the great Texas oil giant, couldn’t let go of his conservative values for one minute. Or his need to expand his wealth through marital agreements. 

To access the full $10 million of his inheritance, Aston had a contractual agreement with his father. He had to marry the daughter of whichever business partner he deemed to be the most advantageous. For the first 19 years of Aston’s life, he moved through life unconcerned with an arranged marriage. He was wild, spent money without a care in the world, and felt that his status was secured. But that all changed when his father struck a deal with Colin DeWaterson Sr. The tacky businessman turned refinery owner was desperate to attach himself to an established oil family. So desperate, he had practically sold his soul, and his daughter’s soul, to guarantee such a union.

He had fallen deep into debt with the McCoy family. And the only thing that would satisfy that debt was a marriage that joined the families together. So, at the tender ages of 19 and 17, Aston and Camille were groomed to become husband and wife.

Aston didn't have any particular objections to Camille. She was attractive, intelligent, well-mannered, and came from a respectable family. Everything on paper suggested they’d be a good match. But she failed to elicit any real love from him. He was still young, wealthy, and determined to enjoy life on his own terms. Throughout the early months of their relationship, Aston continued to sleep with other women, assuming that Camille, being just as aware of the nature of their arrangement, would do the same.

However, about eight or nine months into their relationship, Camille discovered his infidelity. The blow was devastating for her, and Aston finally realized that, unlike him, she had been taking their engagement seriously all along. What followed was even more disastrous for Aston: Camille ended their relationship. His father, furious that Aston had jeopardized such a valuable business deal, reacted swiftly and harshly, cutting him off financially.

Gone were the carefree weekends spent partying with his frat brothers. He was evicted from his lavish off-campus housing and his prized sports car was repossessed. Aston was left to scrape by on his own, but he wasn’t ready to give up the lifestyle to which he’d grown accustomed. For months, he begged Camille to take him back, apologizing profusely, but she remained firm, refusing to forgive him.

It wasn’t until three months later, after his father had personally intervened and approached DeWaterson again to smooth things over, that Camille reluctantly agreed to reconcile with him. However, the terms had changed. Aston no longer had the limitless financial freedom he once enjoyed. His father, ashamed of his reckless behavior, set stricter boundaries on his access to his inheritance, and Aston found himself learning the hard way that his wealth was no longer a guarantee, but a privilege to be earned.

The McCoy estate was worth over $90 million, but Aston was left with a measly $300,000 in liquid cash. An amount that would seem like a fortune to most, but was barely enough to keep him afloat in the high-stakes world he dabbled in. To his peers, the money he had was insignificant. It wasn’t nearly enough to maintain the lavish lifestyle he needed to keep up appearances, to keep his friends interested in him. It wasn’t enough to avoid being seen as a loser.

And that was why the poker games, with their promise of quick cash, felt like a godsend. And he didn’t care if he had to swindle some random black guys out of their money. It probably came from selling drugs or fighting pitbulls anyway. It didn’t matter. The kind of money they had, Aston thought, deserved to be in the hands of someone more respectable. Someone who knew how to actually benefit society.

But even as Aston looked forward to those Thursday nights, the thrill of the game, the rush of winning, there was always a bitterness that lingered. A sharp sting in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

Terry’s lifestyle reminded him of everything he didn’t have. Everything that was always just out of reach.

Terry lived in one of the most expensive and exclusive complexes in the city. The kind of place most people could only dream of. A sleek, modern building with underground parking, a 24-hour doorman, and a concierge who could cater to every whim. But it was Terry’s penthouse that really struck a chord with Aston. Aston could still picture the first time he stepped inside. The crisp, woody scent, the marble floors, the gleaming surfaces. A housekeeper had greeted him at the door, offering a glass of whiskey with a polite smile, taking his coat with practiced hands.

Aston had stepped further inside, the grandeur nearly knocking him off his feet. His eyes had been wide with awe as he took in the soaring ceilings, at least twenty feet high, the opulent space stretching out in all directions. Massive windows stretched the length of the walls, allowing the city’s skyline to pour into the room, like an endless sea of lights and steel. Every corner of the penthouse screamed wealth, sophistication, and power. It was the kind of place people worked their entire lives to get, and still, most would never achieve.

For a brief moment, standing there in that extravagant space, Aston had felt like an outsider. The kind of outsider who might never be able to belong in that world again. And that alienation made Aston’s blood boil, on top of other things.

Terry was a constant annoyance, one that he couldn’t escape, even when he wasn’t around. It wasn’t just the work he did or the cases he handled so flawlessly, it was the way everyone around him adored him. His fellow associates couldn’t praise him enough. Conversations about Terry seemed to seep into every corner of the office. In the break room, in the firm’s kitchen, even in the elevator, it was the same. His colleagues gushed about how incredible Terry was, how lucky the firm was to have him. Everywhere Aston turned, someone had their head up Terry’s ass. And Aston couldn’t shake the feeling that Camille was softening toward him, too.

Aston could sense it, the subtle shift in her demeanor when Terry was around. She was never the same since she found out about his infidelity, Aston knew that. He knew that she would never trust him like she once did, and she definitely wouldn’t love him again. He had come to terms with that, especially since he didn’t love her either. But seeing her respond to Terry with such warmth, with such a quiet affection... it made him jealous. It bruised his pride in ways he hadn’t expected. His ego, already a fragile thing, felt the sting of it every time she looked at Terry like that, her attention completely consumed by him.

But the real sting, the one that gnawed at Aston every day, was seeing how Stephanie fawned over Terry. Stephanie was the most beautiful woman Aston had ever laid eyes on. Her thick, crimson-red hair framed her face like a fiery halo, and her emerald-green eyes held a depth that always seemed to pull him in. Her skin was always kissed by the sun, like she spent every day at the beach. She wasn’t just attractive, she was gorgeous. And she knew it.

Every step she took exuded confidence, and it was as if she knew every pair of eyes in the room was following her. Even though she was just a secretary at Watkins and Grant, she commanded the room in a way that few others could. All the men, including Aston, were tripping over themselves to earn just a moment of her attention. But she didn’t care. She played with them like toys, tossing them aside when they didn’t meet her expectations, moving on to the next.

Aston had spent months trying to win her attention, just to end up frustrated and empty-handed. He tried to be what she wanted, but it was never enough. She had seemed intrigued at first, but when he failed to meet her material demands, her interest quickly disappeared. She moved on as if he were nothing more than another passing distraction. At the time, he’d been disappointed, but now, in retrospect, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was for the best. Camille might have noticed if things had gone further. 

But what truly hurt was watching Stephanie latch onto Terry like a moth to a flame. The way she practically devoured him with her eyes every time he walked into the room, the way she was always the first to offer help, to show interest. And Terry? He didn’t even seem to notice. He was indifferent to her, completely unaware of the power he held over her. It was the ultimate insult, and Aston could do nothing but watch as Stephanie melted under Terry's indifference, while he couldn’t even keep her attention without buying her expensive bags and shoes. 

So, Austin approached the poker table with one goal: to take everything he could from Terry and his friends. Make them feel as small as he felt.

He glanced around the table, smirking to himself as he took note of the faces he’d become familiar with the past few games. There was Terry of course, glancing at his cards without a care in the world, as if he hadn’t lost over $200,000 in the last two games. Then there was his doctor friend, Elijah, who was always light and jovial despite also losing a substantial amount of money. The other four looked much more stressed, which made sense. They didn’t have affluent jobs like the others. Jabari and Tariq said they were club bouncers, Devon was a firefighter, and Ray worked at an Amazon warehouse. But, to have the funds to participate in the games, Aston was sure that they were involved in something illegal. 

But Aston couldn’t care about that right now. He was winning, he could feel it. The night’s been his, every hand, every bluff, every raise. He’d been untouchable. One more hand, one more victory, and he would walk away with enough money to scale back on his cases at the firm. So he bet everything on this last hand. Everything in his bank account and the $820,000 he got from the past two Thursdays and the previous hands. Once he won, he would be able to go home and do something nice for Camille. It was her birthday after all.

He stared at the cards, the flush staring back at him with promise. Everyone else was nervous and sweating or completely indifferent, but he could see it in their eyes. They knew it was over. And Aston felt invincible.

The cards turned. Aston didn’t even bother to look, immediately dragging all of the chips on the table toward him. Until Terry cleared his throat. Aston’s head snapped towards him, confused. Terry just gave him a light smile, nodding to his cards. Aston followed his glance. His heart dropped to his ass as he looked at the cards. A royal flush.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

No, this couldn’t be happening! 

Aston’s gaze snapped back to Terry, his mind racing in disbelief. His chest tightened as he tried to process what had just happened. Terry’s face was unreadable, but the grins that spread across the other players’ faces couldn’t have been more telling. It was as if they had all conspired in some quiet, shared joke that he was the last one to catch onto.

Aston’s lips twitched into a chuckle, but it came out more nervous than amused. He scanned the table, taking in the wide smiles and knowing glances. An anxious snort escaped his nose, his irritation bubbling up as he forced another laugh, trying to play it off. “Alright, guys. Nice try,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ve been winning every game, but now, all of a sudden, I lose when I bet everything?” He scooped up the chips as though he could brush away the growing tension.

But as his fingers closed around the chips, Jabari, who sat to his right, placed a firm hand over his. It was a subtle gesture, almost casual, but it was enough to send a jolt of annoyance through Aston. Jabari’s touch was a quiet warning, one that didn’t sit well with him.

Aston’s glare locked onto him, his brow furrowing. “Seriously, this is too much money to joke about,” he spat, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion. “I know you cheated to get a cheap laugh, but it's not funny anymore.”

His words fell flat in the charged air. Aston leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking from face to face, searching for some sign that this was just a game, a joke he was missing. But all he saw were those same smug smiles.

“Aston,” Terry called out, bringing Aston’s attention back to him. His strangely colored eyes flickered with something Aston couldn’t comprehend. “You lost. That’s all there is to it.” Aston began to vigorously shake his head. There’s no way he lost. They had to have rigged it somehow, he thought to himself, growing more agitated by the second.

“No…there’s no way. I’ve been winning every hand since I joined. Every. Single. Fucking. One!,” Aston shot back. Terry’s eyebrow raised, but Aston continued to rant. “You sons of bitches might have done something to the deck, but I didn’t fucking lose!”

Jabari leaned a bit closer to him. “Aye man, there’s no need to get loud. Just accept the loss and move the fuck on–” 

Aston jumped from his seat, unable to contain his anger any longer. “This is bullshit!” He yelled as he looked at everyone around the table. But he didn’t like the reactions he saw. No one looked the least bit surprised by his outburst. Gone was the indifference in Terry and Elijah. Gone was the nervousness in the others. Instead, they just looked at him with a strange mix of amusement and irritation.

“Aston, this little tantrum is entertaining and all. But just go ahead and accept the loss so we can all go home,” Terry said softly. The others remained eerily quiet, but Aston couldn’t give a fuck. He was not about to give everything to his name to Terry and his friends of all fucking people.

“Fuck you, Terry!” He shouted, throwing on his jacket. “I didn’t fucking lose. You all are just fucking cheaters. And I’m not going to pay any of you shit. I’m not going to be fucking hustled!” He continued to yell. Terry’s relaxed demeanor disappeared as everyone else at the table stood, chuckling as they walked away from the table. Aston watched as they stood in different corners or the exit, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. He warily looked back to Terry.

“You really think I’m gonna let you walk out of here? And you owe me over $800,000?” Terry scoffed. Aston stared at him for a moment, sweat beginning to collect by his hairline. I need to get out of here, he thought as he resumed collecting his stuff. 

“If you think I’m afraid of you, think again Terry. At the end of the day, you’re probably nothing but some shady drug dealer. And I’ll gladly report this to the police,” Aston scoffed, pulling out his phone, ready to call 911. Terry’s loud laugh cut through the air, sending a chill down his spine.

Just as Aston’s fingers pressed ‘9,’  a cloth bag was thrown over his head from behind him. Blinded and disoriented, he dropped his phone as he clawed at the scratchy fabric blocking his sight. But he only struggled for a moment. A sharp, heavy blow to the back of his head sent a burst of pain through his head as he crumpled to the floor and everything went black.

Aston woke up, his head feeling as though it had been split open and his mouth tasted metallic. He blinked, wincing at the sharp pain at the back of his head, trying to process his surroundings. He realized he was in the trunk of a car, arms, hands, and legs bound and his mouth gagged. Panic consumed him as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the small space. He had no idea how long he had been in there and no sense of when the car would stop. He groaned, leaning his head against whatever surface he could. But he immediately regretted it after as the car rolled over something like a pothole, sending his head slamming into the rough of the trunk.

Stars moved behind his eyes, artificially lighting up the dark space. Before he could even blink them away, the car braked suddenly, making the car come to a stop. His panic spiked, waiting for any sign of movement. 

The trunk of the car popped open, bringing in a rush of light. The brightness magnified the splitting pain of his head, making him whimper and shut his eyes. A pair of hands grabbed him from the trunk with unnatural ease before dropping him on the pavement below. His pained “fuck” was muffled by the rag in his mouth. He was grabbed once more, the mysterious figure carrying him effortlessly, as if he was a piece of luggage. They walked into a warehouse of some sort, which seemed to be in a deserted area.

No one would hear me scream, he thought, his heart dropping. No one would even know I’m here.

He was dropped once again, but this time, he was at the feet of a large figure. He craned his neck to get a good look at them. 

It was Terry, an unamused look on his face, menacing beyond words. Aston shrank from his gaze, moving his eyes to the person who brought him inside. Jabari stood silently from a short distance, his arms crossed. The other poker players didn’t seem to be present. But as he laid at his feet, Aston understood that Terry was running the show. Jabari was just reinforcement.

His attention returned to Terry as he used his booted foot to push him onto his back. He crouched down, pulling the rag from his mouth, his expression never faltering. Aston gasped, the absence of the rage making him notice how dry his mouth was. He winced as he flexed his mouth, dried blood at the corners of his lips cracking the skin.

I need to find a way out of this, he thought, refusing to meet Terry’s eyes. I can get an emergency loan from dad, agree to pay it off within the year. Yeah, I can–

“Fucking look at me,” Terry breathed over him, his tone way too calm for his liking. Aston froze, his gaze snapping to Terry’s, but the moment he locked eyes with him, he instinctively recoiled, pulling his head back as his breath caught in his throat. Yes, it was Terry, but not the Terry he knew. This Terry was something else, something unrecognizable.

Terry’s eyes were now a deep, menacing red, dark and rich like fresh blood. Aston’s pulse quickened, his senses screaming that something was wrong, that this wasn’t just a shift in appearance, but something far darker. Terry’s lips pulled back in a cruel sneer, revealing canines that had lengthened beyond what was natural. The sharp tips of his teeth jutted out menacingly, almost piercing the skin of his bottom lip. This wasn't just Terry, it was a version of him that was far more monstrous and it gripped Aston’s very soul.

“Terry, what… what–” he stammered as the eyes watched him with a predatory glint. “Look, I’ll get you your money by tonight. No explanation needed. W-we can discuss this like gentlemen.” 

Terry just smiled, leaning back as he shook his head. Suddenly, subtle pleas and cries began to approach them from behind. Aston went to roll to face the direction where the sound was coming from. He was stopped by Terry placing a heavy foot on him, keeping him on his back.

The cries grew louder, amplifying Aston’s terror. He was sure that he would have a heart attack the way his chest thundered.

“Terrence, please. I didn’t mean to run them off! I know Crimson has a reputation to uphold, but those girls just got a bit spooked. I just got a little excited!” An unfamiliar voice filled the space next to Aston. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of the words the new voice was saying. 

Without lifting his foot from Aston’s chest, Terry grabbed a stammering man who must’ve been brought in by Jabari. He draped an arm around him as he made him stand in front of Aston. Tears and snot poured down the man’s face, his distress making Aston’s stomach twist even more.

*

“Aston, this is Cole. Cole is going to help me demonstrate what I do to people who fuck with my money,” Terry spoke calmly as he gripped the back of the man’s neck. 

Terry’s hand twitched unnaturally, and in an instant, his nails began to elongate, sharpening into jagged claws before Aston’s very eyes. They gleamed with a menacing sharpness that made Aston’s blood run cold. He tried to twist away, desperate to escape the horror unfolding before him, but Terry’s foot remained planted firmly in place, an immovable force keeping Aston exactly where he was. The pressure of it anchored him down, making it impossible to break free.

Terry’s gaze flickered back to Cole, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. Then, in a blur, his other clawed hand wrapped around the front of the man’s neck, squeezing it dangerously hard. Then, with a flourish, Terry yanked his hand, effectively tearing the man’s throat out. Aston let out a blood curdling scream as blood and tissue splattered onto his face and chest, the sounds of flesh ripping echoing in his mind. Terry remained unphased as he dropped the man’s flailing body next to Aston, pressing his boot further into his chest, forcing him to shut up. Disgust and horror made Aston turn his head, spitting up everything that was in his stomach. He trembled as he turned back to Terry, who brought himself closer to his face, his red eyes seeming to darken. He wiped the bloodied hand he used to kill Cole on the jacket Aston was wearing, making him flinch.

*

The warehouse was unnervingly silent, the only sound being Aston’s ragged sobs that echoed off the cold concrete walls. The sound of his anguish reverberated through the space, but Terry stood unfazed, a deep, resigned sigh escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes.

His once haunting, blood-red gaze slowly shifted to the unnatural blue-green they usually were. His nails began to retract and shrink back into their human form. And his fangs that protruded like daggers, shrank back into his gums. It was almost like watching an illusion dissolve.

Terry’s gaze lingered on Aston, his expression a mix of indifference and distaste. The fearsome being now looked… ordinary.

Aston’s sobs grew more frantic, his chest heaving with each shaky breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. There was no escaping this. He wasn’t getting out of this alive. His thoughts spiraled, each one more hopeless than the last.

Though he wasn’t particularly religious, Aston found himself murmuring a silent prayer, his voice barely more than a whisper. It wasn’t for salvation, it was a plea for mercy. He whispered to no one in particular, hoping that Terry would be merciful, that whatever came next would be quick and final. Aston swallowed hard, his body trembling, as he waited for the inevitable, hoping against hope that it would come swiftly.

Terry began to mockingly shush him, lifting his foot from his chest and moving to crouch down next to him, gripping Aston’s face in his cleaner hand, carefully avoiding the residual puke on his chin. 

“Now… I think you finally understand who you’re dealing with, right?” Terry's voice was a low, ominous murmur, his piercing gaze fixed on Aston with unnerving intensity.

Aston nodded frantically, desperate to avoid Terry’s gaze. Terry’s lips curled into a satisfied hum. He tilted his head slightly, his expression of pure, cold detachment being replaced by a small, unnerving smile.

“Good,” Terry purred, his voice dripping with malice. His next words seethed out with barely contained fury. “Because I want my fucking money.” Terry leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing as he spoke again, his voice dropping even lower, laced with venom.

“But before that, I need you to part ways with what I want the most,” Terry continued, his smile never faltering. “This whole scheme? It was about much more than money.” His words dripped with dark amusement as he watched Aston’s face falter, Terry’s words slowly sinking in. “I didn’t even want your money to begin with. I have plenty of that on my own. But you’ve been disrespecting me ever since I came to the firm, which I find unacceptable. So now, I have to have everything you have. The money is... nice, I suppose. But it’s not my priority.”

Terry leaned in, closing the space between them with deliberate slowness. His breath ghosted across Aston’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. The words he whispered were smooth and velvety.

“You have someone... much more valuable to me.”

Aston’s face scrunched in confusion, his mind racing to understand what was being said. His heart thudded in his chest as the cryptic words twisted in his mind. And then it hit him. The realization crashed into him, freezing him in place. His blood ran cold as the horror settled over him like ice water.

Camille.

The name ran through his head, making his pulse quicken even more. The room seemed to tilt, his world suddenly spinning. He didn’t love Camille in a romantic sense. But she was still his friend, someone he had shared the last thirteen years of his life with. They had been through too much together to be torn apart by some… money-hungry beast. They had been companions in their shared pursuit of belonging, trapped in a world where power and influence shaped everything.

But beyond all of that, she was good. Pure. Kind-hearted. He felt the need to protect her surge through him. She couldn’t fall into the hands of a monster like Terry. Not when he was capable of doing anything to get what he wanted. A wave of nausea swept over him. But instead of cowering, Aston looked Terry in the eyes, showing that this was where he drew the line. 

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Aston snarled, a burst of courage running through him. Terry just chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Camille will be well taken care of, well-cherished, and well-fucked,” Terry laughed sinisterly. But his voice returned serious. “But, I need you out of the way. But it has to be subtle. So, if you follow my instructions, I’ll be merciful. But if you try to fuck me over,” he spoke, pulling him up slightly by his collar. “I will make you suffer in every way imaginable.”

Aston sniffled. He couldn’t let him get away with this, but he needed to be smart. He wouldn’t be able to help Camille from the other side of the grave. So he needed to remain in Terry’s good graces until he had a solid plan to navigate the situation. 

“What do you need me to do then?” He gulped as Terry hummed thoughtfully, watching him intensely. 

“We’ll see what works best as we go along. But, your first task will be breaking up with Camille. The little thing loves to stick to her morals, which I admire. But it makes her a bit inaccessible at the moment,” Terry began with a nonchalant shrug. 

Aston’s mind seemed to stutter as he processed everything that was said. No, no, he couldn’t let Camille deal with this predator alone. He needed to buy some time.

“I can break up with her, but her hands will still be tied by the contract,” Aston stated, hoping he was giving him new information. Terry’s jaw clenched but he looked intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Camille and I have a contractual agreement. The marriage prevents her family from losing everything. Sure, she’ll be covered by you, I’m assuming, but if her family loses everything, their houses, their assets, she’ll be devastated. And her father has placed so much pressure on her to be their savior. If the marriage doesn’t go through, she has no way of preventing them from falling into poverty,” he stammered. 

Terry looked genuinely surprised by the revelation. He released his grip on Aston’s collar, making his head fall back into the hard floor. He groaned, white-hot pain throbbing from the site of impact.

Terry rubbed his chin, his eyes flickering to Jabari, who remained silent and unmoving during this entire exchange. He brought his eyes back to Aston, making him hold his breath.

“Huh, I knew that this engagement was arranged, but I had no idea there was a contract involved…” he whispered to himself, more so than Aston. But his eyes came back into focus.

“Alright,” Terry’s grin returned to his face. “You obviously have valuable knowledge of the situation.” Aston released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“But,” Terry growled, fangs once again appearing from the corner of his lips. “I still want you to end the relationship, sooner rather than later. So once I figure this contract shit out, it better be the first thing you do. For your sake at least.” Aston gave a curt nod. He had no intention of breaking up with Camille when the time came, but he just needed to do what he could to get back home.

Terry rose from his haunches, fully standing over him. 

“Jabari will make sure that any injuries you got from tonight will heal fully before you get home. It’s a drink we make, but it’ll be mixed with a lot of alcohol so you don’t have to remember anything but the most important details of the night. You’ll also need to wash up and freshen your clothes. Once all that’s settled, he’ll make sure to drop you by your apartment.” Again, Aston nodded furiously, just wanting to move on from this moment in time so he could figure out how to protect himself and Camille.

“And, just so we’re clear,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You tell anyone about any of this, especially Camille, I will kill every family member you have in front of you, slowly and brutally, until no one’s left. Then I’ll kill you too.”

With that, Terry stepped over his body to walk out of the warehouse as Jabari lifted him from the floor.

Camille

Camille couldn’t help but pull at the satin restraints expertly tied around her wrists as she writhed with agonizing pleasure. Through a haze of tears, Camille looked up at the hypnotic blue eyes of her captor as he gazed down at her, silently pleading for him to have some mercy on her. But Terry just smirked down at her, his strong thighs keeping her legs pried open as he slowly pulled in and out of her, his length brushing past a spot that made her vision blur with each stroke. 

“Baby…,” her voice barely above a whisper. He hummed, grabbing her leg to place a feathery soft kiss on her ankle. Her toes curled in response and her pussy quivered around him, pulling a satisfied groan from his throat.

“What is it, princess?” he teased before dragging his tongue across her Achilles. “Tell Daddy what you want so I can do it for you. Pussy too good to not let you have what you want.” Camille’s lips quivered as she tried to form words, the delicious pressure in her core too intense for her to think. Her lover placed a few more kisses on her calf, his strokes slowly coming to a stop. Camille’s body throbbed at the absence of his movement, stuck at just the edge of her climax. 

“No, no…no, Terry pleaseeee,” she whined, her hands pulling at the restraints that kept her tied to the bed. She could feel her orgasm retreating with every passing second.

“That’s not my name right now, baby girl,” He purred. He reached down between her legs, his calloused thumb, ever so slowly, circling her bundle of nerves. A chorus of pathetic moans escaped her lips at the friction. “Come on, princess. Just use your words. Tell me what you need.” 

Instead of answering, Camille furrowed her brows in frustration, moving her hips to meet his in an attempt to find some relief. Terry growled, gripping her thighs to hold her still. 

“Uh-uhn. Don’t be a greedy little brat. I already made you cum twice. But now I want you to beg,” his chest rumbled. Camille took a deep breath, finding the strength to voice her desires.

“P-please, Daddy. Please don’t stop,” she whispered. Terry chuckled, nearly pulling out of her completely, before slamming his full length back into her. Camille’s eyes rolled back as his girth stuffed her, nearly knocking the wind right out of her. Terry lowered his body down to hers until his lips were next to her ear, his weight locking her in place. “I can’t hear you, my love,” he mumbled, placing a teasing, sloppy kiss on her neck. 

“Please, Daddy I can’t take it! Just fucking fuck me!” she shouted, a sob shaking her body. Terry laughed, licking a tear from her cheek. “As you wish, baby girl.”

He leaned back, his large hand wrapping around her neck as he plunged in and out of her at the perfect pace. Camille’s back arched off the bed as he fucked the last bit of thoughts out of her head. The light squeeze on her neck. The way he hit her spot. The deep groans and moans tumbling past his lips. It was all too much for her. She couldn’t tell if the man was sending her straight to heaven or dragging her down to hell.

“You’re so pretty when I fuck you like this. All tied up. Begging with those tears rolling down your face. Pure fucking perfection. Of course I have to keep you all to myself,” he chuckled, the hand around her neck going to caress her tear-stained cheek. “Which is why, before I let you cum, we need to get an understanding.” Camille’s pussy clenched in response to his rough, almost animalistic tone. 

“Tell me you will leave McCoy,” he growled, staring down at her, his pace never faltering. Camille’s eyes widened. How could he demand that of her? 

He scoffed at her hesitation, bringing his hand back to her neck. “Camille,” his tone full of warning. “Stop fucking playing with me. He could never fuck you this good. Only I make you this damn delirious. Only me.” Camille bit her lip, feeling a familiar pressure in her stomach. She was almost there…so so clos–

“Camille!” Terry growled. 

“I’m yours, only yours Terry!” Camille screamed, her orgasm crashing over her. Stars and fireworks flashed in her vision as her legs shook uncontrollably. “I’ll always be yours!”

He chuckled darkly, licking his lips. “That’s right, Mrs. Richmond.”

Camille jolted awake, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her chest heaved as she scanned the room, the light from the nearby buildings and billboards bathing it in a faint red glow. 

It must be late, she thought, trying to distract from the wetness between her legs and the heat radiating off her body. She turned to Aston's side of the bed, searching for comfort. But his side of the mattress was as empty and cold as it was hours ago.

Confused, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, unlocking it. The screen lit up, and her eyes darted to the time. 11:49.

Where could he be at this hour? The thought spun in her mind urgently. Is he okay?

Aston's pro-bono work had always kept him late, but it was rare for him to be gone past 9:00 PM. She’d become accustomed to his late nights, but this felt different. A knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. She dialed his number, her pulse quickening with each ringing tone. One, two... then a click switched to a voicemail prompt. 

Where is he?

She didn’t hesitate to type out a text, her fingers moving almost automatically. Is everything ok? It’s pretty late.

She hit send, then waited, watching the “delivered” before it flipped to “read.” Her chest tightened as the seconds ticked by. No response came. 

A hollow feeling settled deep inside her as she locked her phone, placing it back on the nightstand with a resigned sigh. Her shoulders slumped forward, the emptiness of the room closing in on her. She couldn’t stop the feelings that flooded in, unloved... unimportant. Her mind spiraled. What else could he be doing right now? The question echoed in her mind, but no answer came. Tears threatened to spill, stinging the corners of her eyes. She closed them tightly, biting her lip as a soft sniffle escaped her. Maybe Kali had been right all along. Aston had never truly changed. But what was she supposed to do with that truth? What could she possibly do now?

She needed to distract herself. Do something to keep the hurt from boiling over. The throb in her pussy began to gnaw at her more and her eyes landed on the nightstand. She reached into the drawer, fishing her hand around until she brushed against the silicon of her rose toy. Rolling onto her back, she switched on the toy and stuck it between her legs. As she positioned it perfectly over her clit, she rolled her head back, letting her imagination run wild as her mind shifted from her sorrows and focused on the sensations.

She could see the scenes clearly, as if she were dreaming again. Strong arms wrapping around her. Thick lips parting to stick a dominating tongue into her mouth. Hands pulling on her hair. Loving kisses pressed against her collarbone. 

Just a bit more, she thought as her orgasm approached. Then, she’ll be able to lull herself back to sleep. It didn't take long for the wave to crash over her, a name unconsciously slipping past her lips. “Oh, Terr-”

Camille was cut off by the apartment front door slamming open. She screamed, tossing the toy away from her in surprise. 

“Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!” Aston’s screaming reverberated off the wall. Camille quickly sat up, pulling her robe around her trembling body. She stumbled out of the room, gasping as she entered the living area. Aston was a storm, a whirlwind of fury. His movements were erratic as he thrashed at anything within reach. His fists pounded into the walls, leaving deep, jagged dents, while shards of glass crunched beneath his feet, scattered across the floor from glasses he was throwing. A barstool lay overturned, its legs splintered. He screamed again. Camille’s breath hitched in her throat, terror clawing at her chest. His eyes snapped to her, pausing his rampage. His chest heaved as he ran a hand through his hair as he looked around at the damage he caused. He started to stumble toward hers, his steps uncoordinated. She recoiled in fright, pressing herself against the wall. But then she caught a whiff of him. He smelled like he fell out of a whiskey bottle. 

She froze. He had been drinking. Aston never drank. 

“Millie… baby. I’m sorry, i-if I woke you–”

“Aston… What the hell is going on?” Camille’s voice cracked.

“Nothing, baby, nothing. We just need to talk,” Aston panted, struggling to catch his breath. His chest heaved and he collapsed onto one of the barstools, his hands shaking. “You have to quit working for Terry. Probably quit working for the firm altogether.”

“What?!” Camille’s voice shot up, disbelief flooding her. “Why? Why would I do that?!”

Aston sneered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Wow, you can’t even think about it? Can’t even consider it? As my future wife, I thought you’d have more respect for me.” His eyes were filled with frustration, but Camille only felt more lost.

“You’re seriously angry at me because I don’t want to quit my job?” Camille’s voice quivered, her heart pounding as the fear inside of her slowly became anger. “Do you hear yourself right now?” Her mind raced from the absurdity of it all.

Aston threw his hands up, eyes rolling in dramatic frustration. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Camille? Do you think I’m just saying this for fun?!” His voice cracked as he yelled, amplifying the chaos between them.

Camille blinked rapidly as hot, silent tears spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t even tell if they were from fear or from anger. All she could hear clearly was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Aston,” she whispered, her voice barely steady. “I’m not having this conversation with you unless you calm down.”

Aston’s expression faltered, his anger momentarily replaced by something softer. Exhaustion, maybe, or regret. But it didn’t last. He stumbled toward the sectional a few feet away, sinking into the couch, his hands buried in his hair as he sniffled, the tension still coiled in his body. “Baby, I can’t tell you what happened tonight, okay?” His voice cracked. “Just… just know that Terry is fucking dangerous. He’s fucking evil. And I can’t, I can’t let you be around him, alright?”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me what happened?!” Camille shot back, her voice cracking in frustration. She moved closer to him, careful not to step on the broken glass scattered on the floor. “You come in here, drunk as hell and wrecking our home. You scare me half to death. And now you’re telling me to stay away from my boss for some unknown reason? Or is it just your jealousy?!” The words exploded from her before she could stop them, her anger raw and untamed. But as soon as she said them, her eyes closed momentarily with regret, knowing that her words were unnecessary.

**

Aston’s head snapped up, his eyes filled with hurt and something much darker. The venom in his gaze sent a chill down her spine. He glared at her, his voice lowering to a dangerous edge. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think Terry’s better than me? Of course you do. You look at him as if he hung the moon,” His words hung in the air, cold and accusing.

She gasped, feeling as though she was one in the wrong and not him. “Aston,” she whispered, her throat tight. “You’re talking crazy. Terry isn’t better than you. Is this still about him making partner—”

“No, you fucking bitch!” Aston shouted, cutting her off, making Camille flinch. “It’s not about that, Camille! Why can’t you just listen to me?!” His eyes burned with anger, and in a split second, he shot up from the couch, his body towering over hers as he advanced. Camille’s chest tightened with panic as she instinctively stepped back.

Aston followed her, relentless. “That guy is out to get me, Camille. And you have no idea how much danger you’re in. That’s all I can say. Tomorrow, you will put in your two weeks’ notice. And then I'm putting you on a plane to somewhere safe,” he demanded, his voice low and deadly.

Camille’s breath hitched in her throat. Despite the fear that gripped her, she would not let Aston take one of the last things that made her happy away from her. She shook her head defiantly. “I will do no such thing,” she whispered.

His anger felt thick and suffocating as it surrounded them. Aston's face twisted in frustration as he stared at her, his fists clenched at his sides. The room was silent except for the harsh sound of their breathing. But then, he walked closer to her, attempting to close the gap between them. Camille retreated until she felt her back hit the wall of their living room.

He slammed his hands on both sides of her head, leaning in close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. “You ungrateful bitch!” Camille, terrified, tried to move away from him. But his hands moved to grip her forearms, with enough force that she was sure he left bruises. “You are fucking quitting tomorrow! Do you fucking hear me?!” He jerked her body harder than he intended, slamming her into the wall behind her, leaving a dent. She cried out in pain, falling to the floor as he dropped her. He looked down at her with horror.

“Millie… baby,” Aston's voice trembled as he reached out for her, his hand shaking in the air, desperate to touch her.

“Don’t. Touch me!” Camille sobbed, her voice cracking. Aston flinched as though she had slapped him, his face contorting with shock and hurt. He froze in place, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, as she stumbled back to a standing position, using the wall for support to keep her upright. The tears flowed freely, but she couldn’t stop moving. She had to get away. She had to get somewhere. Anywhere but here.

**

Her legs barely held her up as she wobbled toward their bedroom, but just as her hand reached the doorframe, Aston appeared in front of her, blocking her path. 

“Baby, please… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! Please, I swear, I didn’t mean it,” his voice desperate. He reached for her again, but she shoved past him with all the strength she had left.

She headed straight for the closet, her hands moving frantically as she yanked clothes off the hangers, shoving them into an overnight bag. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t even think straight as she stuffed her shoes and jewelry in without care. 

Aston followed her, his voice pleading, but she couldn’t hear him anymore. His words were drowned out by the deafening roar of her own heartbeat. Tears blurred her vision as she moved through the motions, grabbing her toothbrush, her contact lenses, her makeup case. She refused to stop. 

When she finally turned to face him, Aston was on his knees, his face streaked with tears and snot, his chest heaving with sobs that shook him to his core. His gaze locked with hers, desperation and agony showing.

“Millie, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse, almost broken. “Please don’t go. I swear I didn’t mean it… I’ll do anything… just… please.”

She looked down at him, her heart aching, and for a moment, she wondered if she should stay. If he was really apologetic. He does seem sorry, she thought. But I can’t stay. The pain at the back of her head flared again, sharper this time, and she fought to keep herself steady. The thought of his hands on her, his rage, the way he just tore everything apart… it was too much.

She stepped past him, deciding not to take the risk. She pulled her robe tighter around herself. She didn’t look at him again, stepping into her house slippers and making her way toward the door.

“Millie… please, Millie!” Aston’s voice cracked behind her, but she wouldn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to.

She opened the front door, her hand shaking as she pulled her phone from her robe’s pocket. She needed to get away, go somewhere she could breathe and process how her world just fell apart.

She nearly fumbled her phone as she dialed Kali’s number, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. It rang twice before her friend’s voice came through.

“Cammieeee! Hey birthday girl!” Kali’s voice chirped cheerfully, but Camille could hear the shift in her friend’s tone as she sobbed into the phone, her voice cracking in a way she never allowed Kali to hear before. “Kali, I’m so sorry to call and ask so late. But can I please stay the night? Please.”

The moment Kali heard her desperation, her voice softened, concern bleeding through. “Oh my God, Camille… absolutely! I’ll get everything ready for you. Don’t worry, it's not a problem at all!”

“Thank you,” Camille sniffled, the words barely escaping her as she wiped away the last of her tears. She hung up the phone abruptly, barely even hearing the final words Kali had spoken as she stepped into the elevator.

Terry

Terry stood before the altar in his bedroom, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. He stared as the flames danced, tall, vibrant tongues of orange, red, and pink that swirled and shifted with a powerful potency. His love spell was working. Every flicker of the flame seemed to confirm it, she was in love with him and ached to be his. 

His gaze lingered on the sacred space until a sudden vibration from his pocket broke his focus. His fingers twitched as he reached down, wondering who could possibly be texting him this late. He hoped it wasn’t Jabari telling him he ran into any problems.

He glanced at his phone screen, expecting a mundane message. But, the number was unfamiliar. A stranger. Curiosity mixed with unease as the message popped up:

Terry. I know what you want. And I want to help you get it.

His brow furrowed. The words were too cryptic for his comfort. He stared at the screen for a long moment, wanting to delete the message altogether. He wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit. But a voice in his head urged him to engage. Shaking his head, Terry quickly typed out a response:

Who the hell is this?

He waited, and soon enough, the chat bubble appeared, followed by a cryptic reply:

A friend. Someone on your side.

Terry’s patience was thinning. He didn’t have time for this. Impatiently, he typed:

Tell me what this is about or stop playing on my phone.

Just as he was about to toss his phone back in his pocket and re-focus on the altar, the response appeared startlingly quick:

Camille. You want her to be yours, right?

Terry’s heart skipped a beat, his blood turning to ice. His fingers froze over the screen as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. Before he could type another message, another response came:

We should meet up. Come here tomorrow night @7.

A location pin was sent before the chat went completely silent. Terry took a labored breath. This could be trouble. After a long pause, Terry shoved his phone back into his pocket. He would go to this meeting, see who this person was. If they were a threat, he would deal with them swiftly. But if they wanted to support him, he would gladly accept the help.

*: Terry murders a man in front of Aston

**: Aston hurts Camille, prompting her to leave their apartment

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

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

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

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

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

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

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

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

read part 2. here

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[maidragoste]

would you mind writing some fluffy headcannons with jacaerys? thx ❤️

Hi, anon, how are you?

I'm sorry for the delay, I didn't post it before because I was hoping to write more headcanons, but since I'm busy with university and I feel like I'm too inactive, I decided to post it

I hope you like it 🥰🥰

As I always say, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated because it motivates me to keep writing 💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

•Jacaerys is the kind of husband who proudly shows off to his friends and brothers every time you make him a new cloak.

•Jacaerys who always reminds you how beautiful you are. He tells you that you are beautiful at any given moment, it can be in the morning when you are still half asleep with your hair all messed up, it can be while you are walking on the beach and the sun is shining on you, it can be while you are laughing at something Joffrey said, it can be when you are putting on a new dress. The point is that no matter what you do or what you wear to Jacaerys you always look beautiful.

•Every morning, before leaving their chambers, Jacaerys kisses you because he says that if he doesn't have your kiss then he can't start the day well.

•Jacaerys, who sometimes keeps you company while you embroider. He distracts you and slows your progress, but you don't mind because you love talking to him.

•Jacaerys loves to take you out dancing every chance he gets. As soon as he hears the chords of your favorite song, he's already reaching out his hand to lead you to the middle of the room.

•Jacaerys who is excited for you to fly with him and Vermax but if you tell him you are scared he doesn't make you feel bad or pressure you. He waits patiently until you tell him you are ready.

•Jacaerys who smiles every time he sees you playing with his younger siblings and thinks about what a good mother you'll be in the future.

•Jacaerys who feels more in love than ever when you surprise him secretly learning from Baela and Rhaena how to speak in High Valyrian to recite your love for him.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith   @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog   @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2

@buckylahey @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @jacesvelaryons @aemondwhoresworld @multiversemayhemme @aegonswife @decaffeinatedparadisepost @lidivi @alixxhere

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