#but no they gave him a different arrangement of her song

[eyeofthebrainstorm]

Forever mad about how well Strange New Worlds understood the assignment on the musical episode but then how poorly it executed it.

That said APOLOGIES THE MOST CONFOUNDING THING ....

[st7rnioioss]

࿐ ˚ ⋆ ֹ CHRIS DOESN'T KNOW

— based off the song "scotty doesn't know" by lustra

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... don't like, don't read! chratt fic!!, threesum (no incest shit), dom!matt, softdom!chris, cheating (don't do this in real life), unprotected sex (wrap it), slightly public sex (? in a car), minor angst (mentions of cheating + arguing), protected sex, oral (f + m receiving), praise kink, dumbification kink, slight dacryphilia.

𝒢𝜚 wc: 5.3k

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: wow wow woooww.. first chratt fic i've ever written! i can't tell if i like or absolutely despise this, but here you are. i love u, freaks!!🤍

chris doesn’t know we do it in my van every sunday she tells him she’s in church but she doesn’t go still, she’s on her knees and chris doesn’t know

“o-oh, matt-“ you moaned, head thrown back against the window of matt’s car, one of your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he basically pounded his cock into you, the other one holding onto the hand grip on the door.

“fuuuckk… c-can’t believe chris gets to see this every day, huh? so pretty..” he ducked his head down to leave a trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone, his pace not halting one bit as his fingertips dug into your hips.

this had become sort of a routine.. every sunday you’d tell chris you were going to church when really you were doing something way more sinful. something that definitely didn’t belong in a church—far from it, even.

you had arranged a specific spot where matt would drive by every sunday, and he’d either have you on your knees in his car or, like right now, sprawled out in the backseat.

“matt! d-don’t stop, please!” you wailed, his thumb connecting to your bud making your back arch and eyes squeeze shut.

“oh, i don’t plan on it.. w-we have ‘til ten thirty-“ he groaned, throwing his head back when he felt your sticky walls clamp around him. “th-think you can keep going?”

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

you knew all this was very wrong.. cheating on your boyfriend, first of all. but with his brother? there was really no excuse.

restless nights were one way to describe the pit in your stomach. staring at the ceiling, asking yourself what drove you to do such a fucked up thing.

chris was perfect… he treated you like there was no other girl in the world, showering you with gifts, and receiving endless kisses from him, and the praise and sweet words he gave you whenever you had sex were more than enough of what you needed.

it left you wondering. couldn’t matt give you the same? they were so similar, yet different. whenever you were having sex with chris, you couldn’t deny you missed matt’s cruel effort to make you cry, rather than chris’s effort to make you smile. yet chris’s compliments is what kept you so flustered and shy around him.

it was complicated. you used to have this “friends with benefits” situation with matt before you got with chris.. and disturbingly enough, it lasted. but you still loved chris, very much.. you just also happened to have sex with matt?

“hey, um.. i don’t mean to be nosy, but like.. you’ve been kinda off lately. are you okay?” chris whispered from behind you, his arms wrapped securely around you.

you sighed, but not in annoyance, messily turning around under the sheets. you met his eyes that had a somewhat worryingly look to them.

“chris, i’m okay. i promise, i’ve just.. i’ve just been tired,” you whispered back, leaving a kiss on his forehead. “don’t worry about me.” sure, you were lying straight through your teeth, but you couldn’t tell him yet. he wasn’t ready to know.

he smiled back at you, nodding slowly as an answer, not wanting to take this thing further. he returned the kiss but to your lips.

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

you were sat in your bed, music playing softly in the background while you scrolled through whatever social media app was interesting at the moment until you were interrupted.

a sigh escaped your lips. you hated keeping this from chris.

even though you saw stars every time you were with matt, it felt so wrong—that pit in your stomach only grew time after time… but yet you craved more from him.

she says she’s out shopping but she’s under me and i’m not stopping

your phone was going off from your nightstand, chris sending messages about letting him see what you had gotten yourself—but that was the last thing you wanted to focus on right now.

chris had called you just earlier, asking if he could come over to hang out with you. but you were.. busy with some other stuff. stuff, as in, matt was over.

“what do i say? i can’t just tell him i’m having sex with his brother,” you groaned, staring down at the confused message from chris.

matt shrugged, taking a sip of his canned soda. “i dunno.. just say you’re out shopping or somethin’, he won’t bat an eye,”

“y-you’re so fucking wet.. listen to that,” matt groaned from on top of you, listening to the wet squelching his dick elicited from your pussy. “y’like it raw that much?”

ecstasy was all you could describe it as. as much as you liked all the positions matt could manhandle you into, this was easily your favorite—along with the raw feeling of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

you had always kept a promise that no matter what, you’d never let matt fuck you raw. it was intimate to another level, even the thought of him finishing inside of you making your stomach churn weirdly. but this..?

“m-mm..” you babbled, eyes stuck to the back of your skull as he fucked his hips into the back of your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders.

he chuckled, reaching a thumb out to wipe the spit off the corner of your mouth. “so dumb.. you like being fucked stupid on my cock, don’t you?”

you weren’t even processing his words, nodding dumbly at the clouded words before you squeezed around him for the second time that evening. a loud moan of his name escaped your puffy lips, your release creating a ring around his cock.

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

a few months had passed since you got together with chris while keeping up this thing with matt, and honestly, you were surprised you first of all hadn’t told him yet, and second of all that he still hadn’t noticed. you were being quite risky with this after all.

“do you want anything?” chris whispers from next to you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face making you chuckle.

“no, i’m okay.” you whispered back.

you, chris, nick, and matt had gotten together to watch a movie, though matt’s eyes were not on the screen in front of him.

the tension was in the air—and it was thick. at least between you and matt. it always left you nervous when both chris and mag were in the same room as you. thinking about what went on behind closed doors.

a sense of jealousy was bottled up inside of matt. he’d never gotten to be intimate with you like that. the secret whispers, cuddling, kissing, all that jazz was only something you’d ever do with chris and not him.

still, he pushed that feeling away, reminding himself to appreciate he even got to be close to you.

and though you’d never like to admit, the thought of both chris and matt being with you, touching you had crossed your mind.. more often than you’d like it to.

it was a simple solution, right? both matt and chris having to share you, rather than you being torn inside from lying to chris and cheating on chris with matt.

chris doesn’t know don’t tell chris

“no, i’m serious. something is up, y-you’re not acting like yourself!” chris raised his voice, reaching out to take your hands in his.

the poor boy was so afraid to lose you, his heart pounding in his chest. he’d do anything for you, anything to keep you as his.

“chris, i said i’m okay! nothing is wrong, i’m just stressed lately, stop being like that!” you yelled back, but you didn’t let go of his hands.

you wanted to cry, you really did. your love for chris was so overwhelming, yet you felt so terrible when thinking of letting him know about you and matt. how would he react? would he leave you for good? did you want.. the both of them?

all those bottled-up emotions only left you to push chris away from you.

“no, i’m not- i’m not accepting that excuse anymore. you’ve been telling me that for weeks now, you have to tell me the truth,” he clung to you, pulling you closer to him while a pleading look made it to his face.

you only stared up at him for a while, momentarily considering telling him about this whole situation.

“but.. but what if i am telling the truth?”

chris nearly couldn’t believe what he was hearing, letting out a scoff while letting go of you, shoving your hands off.

“fine. if you wanna be like that, then go ahead. but i can’t help you.”

the whole situation fucked up chris and matt too. every passing second, matt got more and more possessive over you, leading him to bicker with chris.

chris didn’t understand why he was suddenly being pushed away from the both of you, leaving him on edge at all times as well.

the powder and the fuse—chris and matt. whenever they walked into the same room, you could only bet on how long it’d take before the two were arguing. whether it was pointless stuff that pissed the two guys off, or there was a deeper meaning behind the arguments.

all this caused nick to get upset as well. he couldn’t stand his brothers fighting all the time, leaving him pissy too.

whether it was breaking up the arguments between the two brothers or joining in, there was always a building tension in their relationship.

was there any escape from this? all you knew was that your lies and secrets only tore all of you further apart from each other.

i can’t believe he’s so trusting while i’m right behind you thrusting she’s got him on the phone and she’s trying not to moan it’s a three-way call and he knows nothing

the next time you spoke with chris after your little disagreement was over the phone. you had matt behind you, thrusting his cock into your soaked walls while you tried your best to focus on what chris was saying.

“wha.. yeah. yes, that’s- that’s perfect..” you bit back a whimper, your hand tightening its grip on your phone, your eyes pinched shut while matt drove his dick in and out of you.

it was so nice of chris—after the argument you had just a few days prior, he decided he could at least make it up to you by taking you out for a nice dinner, talking stuff through instead of staying mad at each other, even treat you with some make-up sex. hell, he’d even gotten you a pretty dress to wear.

“are you okay? you sound a little off,” chris’s voice could be hear through the speakers, the confused tone to his voice making you wish you could just hang up already.

with a weak and somewhat faux laugh, you answered him. “no, no i’m good.. s-seven thirty is fine,” you mumbled, a whimper falling from your lips, momentarily making you panic. “sorry, my shoe won’t- won’t come on,”

chris shrugged off your explanation. “uh, okay. i’ll see you at seven-thirty then, baby. goodb-“

“bye! i’ll see you,” you interrupted, hanging up immediately.

finally, you let the moans fall from your parted lips, muffled from the pillow you buried your face into, clutching for the sheets. the phone fell from your grasp, matt’s hand grabbing a good handful of your hair, driving your face further down into the soft pillow.

“he doesn’t have a clue in the fucking world.. his pretty girl getting her brains fucked out, huh? on his brother's cock?” he chuckled dryly, lifting your head up.

he gradually picked up his pace, allowing weak and whiny moans to flow freely from your swollen lips, skin slapping against skin.

“i don’t think he’d be too pleased to see this.. drooling over my fucking dick. is it really that good?” he taunted, referring to the patch of spit soaked into the fabric of your pillow.

chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris ‘cause chris doesn’t know

you should’ve seen it coming, really. all the sneaking around would eventually come to an end, whether you broke it off with matt, or chris somehow found out…

which he did.

“hey, do you want anything? i could grab some food for us,” chris suggested, gently nudging your side to catch your attention.

chris had invited you to sleep over, as if you didn’t basically live with them by now, deciding to starts a movie-marathon. chris’s idea.

you looked up at him from your position on the bed, your limbs entangled. “yeah, sure. i’ll stay here tho, i’m too tired to move,”

chris laughed lightly at your response, but he eventually got out of your complicated position, leaving a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be back in no time,” he smiled, before waving goodbye, not forgetting his keys and wallet.

you blew a kiss his way, and not long after you could hear the car running.

tiredly, you stood up, deciding to why not go talk to matt while chris was gone, since nick was at the movies with a couple friends.

softly, you knocked on his door, hearing a faint ‘come on in’ from behind the door, carefully pushing it open.

“oh. hi there,” matt smiled at you, sitting by his desk.

“hello,” you returned the smile, waving at him from his doorframe, taking a quick glance at his room. though you weren’t exactly here to do anything specific, your stomach started swirling, making you nervous.

the second matt stood up and made his way over to you with a twinkle in his eye, you regretted going upstairs to say hi in the first place.

looking at you, he reached out to tug a couple strands of hair behind your ear, leaving you speechless and flustered, gazing straight into his blue eyes.

“did you want anything?” he asked, cupping the side of your face while tilting his head to the side in a questioning manner, though he definitely knew.

you weren’t here to have sex, it wasn’t the time and situation for that.. but now it seemed much more than tempting with nick and chris out of the house. you were supposed to just chat, and keep you entertained until chris came back.

you met his eyes, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, and that was all matt needed as an answer, quickly getting his hands on you.

matt was sprawled out under you, his head and back resting on the mattress beneath him, while your nails clawed for his chest.

“ff-fuck.. we have t-to hurry..” you whimpered, your legs already aching from being spread out on either side of his hips.

matt was trying his best not to buck his hips up to meet yours, the restraint wearing thinner and thinner while you squeezed and grinded on top of him.

“you gotta pick your pace up then, baby..” he mumbled weakly, giving the side of your thigh a gentle pat, as if that would help you go faster.

you shook your head, feeling matt’s hands rub down your sides, one of them eventually reaching for your breast, brushing his thumb over your bud.

“i-i can’t, matt..” you whined, the ache in your inner thighs too evident to keep moving, only continuing your weak and slow rocking, your pussy drooling around his stretch.

“cone on.. y-you just gotta-“ matt went to say, but immediately cut himself off when he heard a creak from the doorframe.

“oh.”

chris stood there by the door, staring at the two of you. the second you heard a voice that definitely wasn’t matt’s and was a little too familiar, your eyes flickered to meet chris’s.

and just like that, your heart immediately dropped to your stomach, blood running cold.

“i-i’m sorry..” you whispered, your voice quiet and barely coherent, staring back up at chris, before looking away from him.

though chris was more than shocked to see you literally sit on his brother's dick, he didn’t feel sad or betrayed like any other person would. sure, confusion and shock were running through his whole body.. but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling.

quickly, you reached for a blanket, wrapping it around yourself before getting off matt, leaving him to scramble around with his own blanket.

there was silence. not a single word, except the music playing from matt’s computer, nearly drowned out from the thick tension.

chris felt torn. he wanted to be mad, no, he had to. you cheated, didn’t you? but yet he couldn’t get himself to yell at you, instead feeling a sense of arousal both the sight of you right there, and the thought of.. sharing you.

he kicked the door shut behind him, stepping forward to look down at you sitting on matt’s bed.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered with a hurt expression plastered all across your face, patiently waiting for any chance of explanation.

“no.. i don’t- i don't know why. i’m not,” he mumbled back, taking off his cap to run his hands through his messy hair, before looking at matt.

relief washed through your veins, letting out a sigh of reassurance, yet a perplexed expression made its way to your face.

“can i ask you something..?” chris questioned, his eyes flickering between the both of you.

swiftly, you shot a glance matt’s way, before you both nodded hesitantly, making chris wonder how exactly to word this without being too straightforward.

“could we.. i mean, it’s fine if you think it’s weird, but- i’ve been thinking about us, me and matt, both.. going down on you?”

chris’s words lingered in the air, your earlobes turning pink, as well as your cheeks, staring at him. matt seemed just as shocked, yet neither of the two of you seemed opposed to the idea.

you had no clue that chris would think of such a thing. whenever you had sex, it wasn’t like he initiated more. but from chris’s point of view, he would just get to see more angles of how you’d react to another person's touch, his touch.

matt looked at you, a shrug pulling at his shoulders with an expression that said he definitely didn’t mind.

“i-i don’t.. i don’t mind,” a red hue tinted your cheeks, almost too shy to say the words, to even thinking about what would happen.

and immediately, it was like a switch had been flipped inside chris and matt.

“a-are you guys sure about this?” the words came mumbled from your lips, feeling more exposed than ever, though both brothers had seen you completely vulnerable and naked numerous times.

you weren’t unsure about your own situation, more about theirs. since.. well, they’re brothers?

“shh, don’t worry. it’s okay, we’re okay. just relax f’me, will you?” chris’s breath fans against your inner thighs, making your squirm.

but matt holds you in place, his legs on either side of yours, arms wrapped around your middle from behind you. he rested his chin your shoulder, just to get a clearer look of what was going on, to see how you’d react.

“stop squirmin’..” he husked, feeling your lean further back into his chest, your head thrown back into his shoulder, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’.

chris wastes no time, pressing deliberate kisses to your inner thighs as you whined in desperation, your eyes fluttering shut.

matt’s fingers make their way up your chest, carefully cupping your breasts in each hand, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers.

“so, so pretty.. and so wet for me?” chris’s breath was hot against your folds, making another whimper tug at your lips.

“for us..” matt broke in, making chris roll his eyes in response.

not another second passes before he attaches his tongue to your folds, causing you to gasp, instinctively allowing your fingers to reach for chris’s hair to tug on.

you can hear matt chuckle faintly behind you, but it was washed out from the buzzing in your head. chris deliberately lapping kitty-licks to your folds, before pressing his tongue to your clit, hooking your thighs up over his shoulders.

at this rate you didn’t care about his fingers leaving marks to your thighs, the only thought going through your head was the absolute pleasure you were receiving from the two.

“oh gosh, chris.. please keep going,” your lips parted, puffy and glistening while your eyes pinched shut, your senses filled with the faint smell of matt’s cologne that still lingered on his skin.

chris continues to lazily lick stripes up your folds before he lets one of your legs rest on the bed to allow his thumb to attach to your clit. the sudden change made your back arch, but matt held you down once more.

moans and whimpers are being ripped from your mouth, only adding to the fuel inside of chris, working his pink tongue in and out of your leaking hole.

“y’taste.. so fuckin’ good, princess..” chris mumbled from between your legs, the soft vibration of his words going straight up your spine.

chris’s hair was already disheveled and messed up from when you played with it earlier, but when you reached and tugged gently on the strands it only messed it up even further. your reaction adds to chris’s desire, knowing he was doing well.

he let his tongue run down your pussy again, before starting to swirl and prod the muscle at your entrance, his only goal in mind being giving you as much pleasure as he could.

shameless moans continued spilling from your lips, leaning further into matt’s body behind you, your legs closing around chris’s head.

“fuck! i’m gonna come, please-“ you whined, accidentally bucking your hips up, but chris didn’t seem to mind.

his thumb circled your bud even tighter, the slight stubble on his face scratching across your inner thighs, surely leaving a faint burn later.

“shh, y’need to quiet down a tad,” matt’s words were whispered from behind you, his lips close to graze your ear.

one of matt’s hands sneaks from your breast to your neck, gently but firmly gripping you to hold your shuddering body back as you lean into him, trying to get you to stay in place as chris worked you through your orgasm, fucking you with his tongue.

you just about lose it when matt’s fingers add a soft pressure to your neck, your skin heating up and breathing getting heavier—all this leads to your mind fogging up completely.

shockwaves gripped your body, dissolving into pleasure when you came, letting out strangled moans of chris’s name.

“ohhh, just like that.. doin’ so good,” matt chuckled, his fingers slipping from your throat, returning to cup your soft skin

chris’s chin and lips were basically covered in a mix of your release and his own spit, before using the back of his hand to wipe it off.

you chuckled breathlessly, letting your hands fall from chris’s hair, your chest heaving with every breath.

“come on.. let us take care of you,” matt said from behind, clearly growing impatient and eager, gently nudging your back to signal for you to move.

chris quickly stole a kiss, leaning forward to connect your lips, before leaving more down the side of your face, causing you to let out a giggle. he laughed along, before getting settled on the bed.

a second later you’re on all fours, feeling chris crawl up behind you, one of his large hands smoothing down the spine of your back.

your look over at matt, a confused look settling on your face. “are you not joining?”

he shrugs, shaking his head for a moment. “i just wanna watch for a minute.. don’t worry.”

a smug smile made its way onto his lips. really, he just wanted to watch you, how you shuddered and reacted while positioned like that. it was like his own, personal third-person view of how you’d look while being fucked by him.

you just nodded it off, before your legs were spread further apart by his thighs, the tip of his cock prodding at your weeping pussy, smearing the precum over your folds. the icky feeling made you whine, digging your nails into the sheets in both desperation and aching need.

“so, so pretty.. i could look at you all day,” chris whispered from behind you, hand hand reaching the ends of your hair to push out of the way, smoothing his palm up your back.

you smiled to yourself at his sweet words, until you felt him press the head of his cock through your opening. a gasp slipped from your parted lips, the stretch leaving a twinge between your legs.

“christ.. you take me so well..” he groaned from behind you, watching his cock disappear inside of you, a whimper ripping from the back of your throat. “do you wish it was matt touching you right now? this isn’t enough, is it?”

your ears perked up at his question, all blood running from your face. matt was already staring at the two of you, carefully wrapping his hand around his aching dick. chris never talked to you like this, making your stomach swirl—it was only something matt ever did.

truthfully, you shook your head. it wasn’t like matt didn’t make you feel good, but this was really all you needed. “n-no..”

a yelp elicited from your lips when he pressed his cock further inside of your drooling walls, echoing with the whimper falling past matt’s.

you turn your head to look at him, met with the sight of him fisting his erection, eyes locked on yours.

“really? i think you’re lying.. too busy running around fucking my brother. come on, matt,” chris waved him over, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your hips, pulling you back to take more of his cock.

you felt nervous, more vulnerable than ever under both their eyes and chris’s harsh words, though they weren’t linked with malice, more something to get you both going. matt shuffled closer in front of you, and you twisted your neck to look up at him.

“come on.. you know what to do,” chris murmured, his length throbbing inside of you—it was getting hard to hold back from pumping his cock inside of you, watching your puffy walls suck him in.

nervously, you reached out to wrap your hand around matt, watching the sticky substance already smear from his tip, purposely rub your thumb over his slit, earning a groan from him.

carefully, your lips parted to wrap around his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. matt let out a quiet moan, his hand entangling in your hair, guiding you to take more of him. it wasn’t until he hit the back of your throat he stopped, loosening his grip on you but not letting go.

“fuck, you look so hot with my dick down your throat,” his head lolled back, eyes shut while you desperately tried to adjust to the restraint of breathing, your own eyes pinched shut.

suddenly, chris thrusted his hips forward, his hand on your back pressing down to arch your back as much as possible, the sudden shove forward making your gag around matt, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes.

“o-oh my god..” chris groaned, starting to pick up a slow rhythm, keeping it gentle since he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“shiiitt.. fucking drooling around my cock, sweetheart..”

spit pooled around matt’s girth, hollowing your cheeks in an attempt to bob your head on his hardness, feeling every vein and ridge under your tongue, causing matt to groan.

it didn’t take long for chris’s pace to pick up, as well as your own, moaning and sputtering around his dick. his hand gripped the back of your head, accidentally bucking his hips into your mouth.

“you feel so good, angel.. so, so good, you’re doing so well..” chris cooed from behind you, gently massaging your hips in a way of comforting you, though his pace was a stark contrast to his dreamy words.

chocked whines were let out around matt, trying your best to signal your climax was close, your head going empty as the bliss took over you. the feeling, the pure ecstasy that ran through your veins seemed irreplaceable in the moment. nothing could add up to this.

the vibrations from your pretty noises and attempted words sent a shock of electricity up matt’s spine, guttural groans flowing past his lips.

you were throbbing around chris, your walls fluttering with every erratic pound, heat pooling in your lower tummy. and chris could feel it all, feel how your soaked hole pulsed and squeezed around his cock.

“you’re close, aren’t you? it’s okay.. it’s okay,

you can come,” chris shushed you, his chest heaving while letting out pathetic whimpers between pants.

you were writhing beneath the two, your clit swollen and a sheen of sweat prickling across your forehead and back. you lost composure, seeing stars from how overwhelming the whole situation was, your body going numb and hot.

“come on, she’s doing so good.. why don’t you tell her?” chris spoke between gritted teeth, looking up at matt.

he looked almost puzzled, not used to being so sweet with his words, but that was exactly was chris was going for. you deserved the world, not derogatory praised though he knew you didn’t mind either.

“yeah.. he’s right, you take it so well, hm? y’like being stuffed full like this?” matt complied, feeling your lips loosen around his length, your bobbing turning sloppy and halting.

your gut tightened, knees buckling under you when you came around chris’s dick, waves crashing upon you as your slick smeared over his length, tears escaping your waterline to roll down your cheek.

the repeated shudder around matt’s length was becoming too much, before his grip tightened on your hair, spilling his cum down your throat when he was pushed over the edge, spit seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“fuck! take it all, i know you can,” matt’s words stung when he continued to rut his hips forward, before tears were staining your cheeks, milking him completely dry.

with a pop, he pulled back, allowing you to heave for air, messy moans being ripped from your throat from chris’s unrelenting thrusts.

“ch-chris.. i can’t take it, please. it’s too much,” you whimpered between a quiet sob, sobs of ecstasy, clamping down around him while the tip of his dick kissed your cervix with every roll of his hips.

“y-you really think you could handle the both of us? at the same time?” matt cooed with faux sympathy, leaning down to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiping the mix of his release and saliva off your lips, “of course, you couldn’t,”

he tsked, shaking his head while giving your cheek a pat. chris then broke in, his eyes stuck to where your two bodies connected, your slick release covering his length, “shh.. just a little bit more, m’almost there doll, you’re doing so good..”

another whine slipped from your glistening, swollen lips, dipping forward to bury your face into a pillow, allowing chris to hit way deeper inside your gummy walls.

you were basically clawing at the soft fabric, hot tears falling from your eyes like prior, the soft cries making his pace turn sloppy, indicating he was close.

with a final thrust, his movements stilled, before spurting the hot seed inside of you, the icky substance filling you up.

he groaned, basically collapsing on top of you, his fingertips trailing down your sides while mumbling mindless praise, “so, so pretty.. you did so well, don't cry. my girl,”

you wobbly made it onto your elbows, smiling dreamily to yourself at his words, completely fucked out and weak while his lips made their way down your back, “i love you too,”.

matt’s hand met the top of your head, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“anyway.. pizza’s in the kitchen. go crazy,”

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[eumppattv]

you’re so sweet ❀˖° ot7 enha 𖦹

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ cute things they do in a relationship

enha ୨ৎ reader fluff headcanon masterlist engene zone an: requests are open!

heeseung ۶ৎ make you cute messages on minecraft

as the gamer he is, heeseung spends a lot of his free time on his pc. as the boyfriend he is, he spends even more time involving you in said gaming as much as he can. that’s why when you agreed to play with him, he left you a cute message in your world made with your favorite colored blocks. as time went on, any time you joined his game, he would leave a sweet message outside your shared home.

jay ۶ৎ add your voice to songs

jay was obsessed with every thing about you, but he had to admit your voice had a different effect on him. there was one day where he replayed a voicemail you left him over and over again, smiling to himself in his studio. that’s when he had the idea to add the voicemail to a song he was working on. since then he finds his favorite voice messages and voicemails you’ve sent him, and adds them as intros or background vocals to his tracks.

jake ۶ৎ makes layla bring you things

we all know layla is well trained as it is, but jake decided to take her training a step forward. it all started the day he asked you to be his gf, he had trained layla to bring you a basket with flowers, chocolate, and a letter asking you to be his. since then he gets layla to bring you flowers, or he will give her your bags to bring down the stairs. once he even got layla to bring you coffee, and you still don’t understand how it didn’t spill. it’s the cutest thing ever.

sunghoon ۶ৎ take off guard pics of you

as the photographer he is, sunghoon can’t help but capture the beauty in life. and everything about you was beautiful. he would often bring a small camera to your dates, waiting for the perfect opportunity to capture your essence. like the time you were on a picnic and he took a picture of you petting a dog that ran up to your spot. or the time you were watching a scary movie and he caught you mid scream, although you argue there was no beauty in that one.

sunoo ۶ৎ arrange skincare nights

when it comes to self care, sunoo is the master. he often gave you advice on what products to use, but you would find it difficult to find time for yourself. so, he decided to have skincare nights once a week, where you would do movie nights with face masks, or play games while doing clay masks. he would even apply all his products on you, because he wants to take care of you.

jungwon ۶ৎ pretending to propose while on walks

early into your relationship you figured out that jungwon loved going on walks in his free time- and you decided to accompany him. on one of these walks, you witnessed a proposal and made a joke about how bizarre it was to him. since then jungwon randomly gets on one knee when going on walks, and you laugh every single time. sometimes he would even add a speech, and you would pretend to say yes.

ni-ki ۶ৎ put on music and dance with you

as the dance prodigy he is, ni-ki’s life is not complete without some music. he will shower with music, sleep with music, and when you’re around he will dance with you. you’ll be baking cookies, and he will put some music and pull you away from the batter for a dance break. he’ll guide your body around, moving you to the beat. there’s times where he will play one of his songs, and teach you a small part of their choreography, praising you when you get it right.

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[thatdesigirl17]

you and i

toxic!theo x fem!reader

kinda inspired by the song you&I by one direction

warnings: theo being toxic and manipulative, slight angst, theo may seem a bit possessive and territorial

It had been going on for months now. The constant fighting, the making up, the arguing again, it had converted into a cycle with Theo. Today, another misunderstanding led Theo to storm out of Y/N’s dorm, leaving her alone to dwell in her frustration and sadness. It had become excessively frustrating for Y/N, the way Theo would never listen to her, would never talk things out. He would always avoid the conversation, he had become an expert really in getting out of it. Her friends had started to tell her that this was toxic, that he wasn't good for her. That was what had started the argument this time, her friends 'interfering' in their relationship as Theo had phrased it. Y/N sat on the ground, her knees tucked in her arms towards her chest, her chin resting on them, as she thought over her relationship with Theo. She loved him, and he always seemed to know what exactly to say to win her again but it was getting exhausting to be like this. 

The door to her dorm opened slowly, pausing her thoughts midway as she looked up to see who it was. Theo, of course. He was standing there with a bouquet and a small carry bag in his bag. The slightest bit of a smirk appeared on his face as he took in the sight of her. 

‘What do you want?’, Y/N asked slowly, her voice low, her words making him frown slightly. ‘Bella, I shouldn’t have fought with you like that. You know I love you right?’, he said, coming closer to her. He handed out the bouquet of white lilies, her favourites, to her. It was neatly packed in brown paper, tied securely with a white ribbon, the arrangement of lilies done with white orchids and baby's breath. 

'Theo...', she sighed accepting the bouquet and placing it next to her on the floor. He crouched down beside her, setting the other bag on the floor. She shifted her position on the floor, crossing her legs, sitting up straighter to face him. 'Why do you always have to avoid talking things out? It’ll just be so much better for the both of us.’, she started, trying to get him to talk, her hand on his forearm. ‘Cara, please, let’s just forget about it okay? Both of us said things we didn’t mean.’, he said, his voice silky smooth. Y/N looked at him, knowing that he couldn’t get out of talking this time that easily, Theo sat down in front of her, cupping her cheek and caressing it gently. 

‘Cara mia…’, he started, his eyes pleading and full of sincerity, ‘I know we have been arguing a lot lately, but we love each other more than that. I know you think your friends are right, but they don't know anything about us, about how we make this relationship work. Did they ever fight like us? Did they ever hold each other like us? We see things differently, amore, but we try, like no one ever has and that’s what makes us special. That’s what makes us stronger.’ 

Y/N looked at him feeling herself get swayed by his words again. No matter how hard she tried, she knew he loved her and she loved him. She knew she would go back to him, he would make her come back. 

‘Y/N…’, he said in a soft voice. Her name on his lips further crumbled her doubts about him. ‘Amore mia, we can make it till the end, till we are one. I know it, I believe in us. Nothing has come between you and I, definitely not some silly argument like this. Do you believe in me? In us?’ 

Theo looked at her, his eyes full of hope. Y/N nodded, making Theo smile, as he leaned in, pulled her closer and kissed her. It was soft and passionate. ‘That’s my girl.’, he smiled pulling away, 'Promise me you won't let anyone get to your head again.' 

He held her gaze, searching her eyes for any reaction. Y/N nodded slowly, her hand coming up to rest on his wrist and caress him reassuringly, a small smile breaking out on her face. Her words made him grin, as he gave her a quick peck on the lips, before continuing, ‘I planned to take you out on a nice dinner tonight, and then give you this, but I think here will have to do.’  He turned slightly, picking up the bag that rested on the floor, beside them. 

He handed her the bag and she opened it carefully to reveal a square, red box that read ‘Cartier’ in neat cursive. She looked at him a bit surprised as she opened the box. In the box, laid a beautiful bracelet made of white gold and diamonds, the classic Cartier design. ‘My god Theo, this is beautiful. It must have cost a lot, you didn’t have to do this.’, Y/N said, her fingers gently tracing the piece of jewellery. ‘Anything for you, cara. Don’t worry about anything and let me put it on, yeah?’, he smiled. 

He gently picked up the bracelet, opened the clasp and then put it on her left wrist. He then pulled up a small driver out of the pocket of his jacket as Y/N eyed him with confusion. 

He chuckled, ‘It’s a Cartier love bracelet, Bella.’ He tightened the bracelet with the driver and caressed it on her wrist. The sight made him smirk softly. Holding her hand, he brought it up and kissed her knuckles. ‘It can’t be taken off without the driver. You’ll wear this forever now, as a symbol of our love.’, he explained, her eyes widening in surprise. Before she could say anything, he continued, his voice soft but firm, ‘Nothing can separate you and I now, amore, not even the gods. I’m gonna throw the driver in the Black Lake so that it’s always there on your wrist. You’re mine, Y/N, forever.’ 

[oacest]

(with enormous thanks to @noandneuron for their tremendous scholarly work taking pics of the library print version of this article, which seems to otherwise not exist online. original post with pics can be found here.)

LIAM WANTED ME TO MARRY HIM AND HAVE HIS BABY... BUT NOEL TORE US APART

SINGER FELL FOR WICKED SEX LIES ABOUT LOVER

by Phil Taylor, Chief Feature Writer (News of the World) (Sept 8, 1996)

Oasis idol Liam Gallagher's jilted fiancee opened her heart to the News of the World last night and told how her wedding plans were torn apart by his scheming brother Noel.

“Liam was the love of my life and we planned to get married and have children,” seethed Cerice Blakeley. “But Noel wrecked our relationship because the most important thing in his life was Oasis and he felt that I was in the way. I will never, ever forgive him. Noel deviously told his brother the most hurtful allegation that he could about me—that I had betrayed him and had sex with the band's cocaine supplier. I never two-timed Liam. But he believed Noel and was absolutely devastated. To this day he doesn't know the truth. Now Liam's with Patsy Kensit. I wonder if Noel will do the same to her.”

Life had all looked so different when Cerice first met the brothers who were yet to take Britain by storm. It was in a marquee near Oldham in May 1992—and it was Cerice's 21st birthday.

“I was heavily into the Manchester music scene,” she said. “And I was friendly with a band called the Inspiral Carpets—at the time Noel worked for them as a roadie. When he came along with the band I wasn't attracted to him at all. I hated his haircut—it looked as though someone had used a bowl. But I took one look at Liam and it was love at first sight.

“He wore blue cords and a dark navy kagoule and looked adorably different. I got quite flirtatious with him and later we arranged a date. Liam couldn't drive and was living at his mum Peggy's council house in Manchester. So I picked him up in my Citroen and we went up on the moors. Liam gave me the most amazing kiss I've ever had. It seemed to go on for ages and my mind was in a whirl. I felt so turned on I wanted to have sex with him there and then. I know he felt the same.

“But we decided to do it properly, so we booked into a lovely country hotel. I've never felt so excited in my life as we finally curled up on the bed and smoked a joint of marijuana. We kissed and kissed and I was ready and willing for Liam to make love to me. But to my disappointment, he suddenly stopped and told me, 'I respect you too much.' I couldn't believe it. It was so unlike a Manchester bloke. But I was very touched and it made me love him and want him even more.”

Liam later invited Cerice home to meet his mum. Then, she said, after a cup of tea and a chat they went upstairs to Liam's bedroom... and made love for the first time.

Cerice sighed: “Liam was only 19, two years younger than me, and was very nervous in bed. I wanted to strip him off, but he was so self conscious. He wouldn't take off his cream woolly jumper because he felt his chest was too puny. So I tried to break the ice and joked: 'Don't worry about your chicken chest, you've got lovely footballer's legs.'

“It worked. He relaxed and we made love to Hey Jude, one of his favourite Beatles songs. I felt wonderful afterwards and spent the night in Liam's bed. Then, the next morning, he brought me up a cup of tea and we chatted for ages.

“Then he ran a bath and started putting handfuls of salt in it. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked him what he was doing. He told me, 'It helps strengthen my bones.'

“Afterwards he spent ages doing his hair... he was always using his mum's hairdryer. I told him, 'You're going to end up like Mick Jagger.' Then I asked him if he wanted to try my mascara—and he did. But he went one step further and squeezed into my size 8 velvet jacket too. Then he put on the Rolling Stones record Satisfaction, pouted his lips and started strutting around the bedroom like Jagger. I creased up laughing. I'm only 5ft 5ins and Liam is 5ft 11ins. The jacket was so tiny on him, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. But he loved it and it turned him on. He fell on the bed and we had fantastic sex for 45 minutes. Afterwards, Liam told me, 'I'm not gay or bisexual. I'm just in touch with my feminine side.'”

Cerice saw Liam and Oasis rise from obscurity to stardom. “I went to the studio with them while they were recording their album Definitely Maybe and knew they were going to be massive,” she said. “It went to No. 1.”

Two years after they met, Cerice's life seemed complete. “We had just got back to Liam's mum's house from a gig in Sheffield,” she said. “Liam looked really nervous. He told me, 'I have got something very nice to ask you. Will you marry me? I want you to have my children.'

“I was thrilled. I gave him a big hug and said, 'Of course I will.' We celebrated with a glass of his favourite drink. Jack Daniel's and Coke. Then we went round to my home and he told my dad. Liam said to him, 'I love Cerice and I want her to feel secure, so I've asked her to get engaged.'

“Being a practical, logical man, Dad asked Liam how financially secure he felt he was going to be. At the time, Liam was only getting £100 a week from the band. And he told my dad he couldn't even afford to buy me an engagement ring. But he said he was saving up to get me one. Dad wasn't too impressed. But he gave us his blessing because he wanted me to be happy.”

Liam's brother Noel, she said, was less pleased. “Noel nicknamed me Yoko Ono,” she recalled bitterly. “He felt I'd pull Liam away from the band, just as Yoko did with John Lennon and the Beatles. Nothing could have been further from the truth.”

Cerice and Liam rented a flat in the Didsbury area of Manchester for £75 a week and moved in together. “He put his favourite posters on the ceiling of our front room,” she said. “They were of John Lennon and the Stone Roses, one of his favourite bands.

“I would do the cooking—Liam's favourite meal was steak and Walker's crisps—but he'd always do the washing up and we would take turns with the hoovering. The only thing that annoyed me about him was that he always left his wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

It was in that flat, said Cerice, that the couple planned a family. She sighed, “I said I wanted a little girl and told Liam I hoped she'd have my hair, my brain, and his tenderness. He joked that he wanted a little boy who loved Manchester City, then said, 'I really don't mind what sex it is. I just want to have a baby with you.'”

And all the time, she confessed, their sex life became more and more intense—fuelled by drugs. “I must admit we took our share of cocaine through a £10 note,” she said. “It was extra special when we got in bed together because Liam was away on tour more and more as the band got bigger and bigger. I saw them play before 100,000 at Glastonbury and they were phenomenal.”

In the summer of 1994, Cerice and Liam drove to Scotland together for the massive Tea In The Park festival. “As the journey went on we were feeling friskier by the minute,” she said. “After four hours' driving we couldn't wait any longer. We were travelling on the M74 through Scotland when we saw a big wood. We looked at each other, smiled, and both had exactly the same idea.

“I pulled over, parked on the hard-shoulder and we ran off into the woods. Then we lay down on the soft moss and made wild, blissful love. It was the first time I had ever had sex outside and I think it was for Liam. We were there for nearly an hour writhing among the undergrowth before we finally got up and made our way back to the car. But as we walked back close to the motorway, holding hands and beaming smiles, passing motorists saw us and started beeping their horns. It was obvious what we had been up to and I was blushing bright red. So was Liam.”

They were never to be as happy again. After the concert, Cerice went backstage to congratulate Liam on his performance but could only find Noel. “I asked him where Liam was and he told me, 'He had to leave to catch a plane from Manchester for a concert in Germany tomorrow night. We're performing in Hamburg and he unexpectedly had to catch the flight tonight. I'll be flying over in the morning.'

“Bewildered, I went back to Noel's hotel where I met Simon, the band's cocaine supplier, and a record company executive. He told me he could get keys to Noel's room and I could sleep there. There were two single beds. I fell asleep in one and Simon and this fella slept on the floor, keeping the other one free for Noel.

“Then, at about 6am, Noel came into the room with a blonde and said, 'Oh, you're all in here.' Then he got into his bed with the girl and I went back to sleep. At 9am Noel got up and said, 'I'm going to Hamburg. I've told Liam you're OK and you'd phone him tonight.”

Later that day, Cerice phoned the Gallaghers' mum and she told her that Liam had phoned to pass on his apologies for missing her in the Scottish crowd. That night, Cerice managed to contact him herself.

“He was really angry and abrupt,” she said. “He told me, 'I need to talk to you face to face and not over the phone.' Then he slammed the phone down. I was distraught. He'd never spoken to me like that before and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Noel told Liam I'd cheated on him and slept with Simon. A friend of mine told Liam it wasn't true. But he wouldn't believe her because it came from his own brother. He was shattered and went completely off the rails afterwards.

“We met just once when he returned to Manchester from Hamburg. I told him he shouldn't have treated me so badly. But we were both so angry and upset we couldn't even row. Instead he walked out of the door and out of my life. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He has never answered my calls. Noel must be delighted.”

After their split in August 1994, Cerice left Britain for Australia to get over the trauma. “It was while I was there that Oasis released Don't Look Back in Anger,” she said. “I tried to relate it to my own circumstances, but I can't look back in any other way. I have no anger towards Liam. But for Noel I have. I despise him. After we split up Liam was shattered and went completely off the rails. He simply hasn't been the same since.”

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Four - That You Are

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my favourite so far

warnings: mentions of violence and blood, arranged marriage

song: That You Are - Hozier

You let your eyes wander. 

It was not a rarity for the king to request to dine in the gardens, though you don’t understand why he never has a tent put up so one might not suffer so much beneath the mid-day sun. 

It is still summer, the last inklings of it clawing uncomfortably at your dignity as you excessively fan yourself, just below the line of impropriety. 

Your sister has clicked her tongue at you multiple times now, in hopes that you might calm yourself, but you cannot and you will not relinquish your only means to cool down the tiniest bit. 

To your right sits Benji. Actually sits and does not lurk behind you or a few feet away, as your father, so very graciously had ordered him to take a seat and is now boasting over how smart the deal he made with the Brackens and the Blackwoods is and how only a true king could come up with such skilled thinking. 

You’re fairly certain that this could not have come from the little bit of dazed brain he must have left but nobody speaks out, least of all Benji, who simply nods and every now and then thanks the king. 

It’s all quite arduous to sit through and your mind keeps circling back to the end of town and wondering whether the medicine you had made in a hurry two nights ago was doing what it was supposed to do. 

Marion had gone bright red in the face when you had informed her of your indiscreet meeting in the dungeons but you cannot seem to muster up even an ounce of concern over having shared your secret with Benji. 

Quite the opposite, actually. 

You allow yourself a stolen glance at him and this newfound sensation overwhelms you again. You cannot figure it out, incapable of identifying the strings that pull at your heart, but it has fluttered up ever since you had entrusted him with your concoction, grown stronger still, when he gave you a clandestine wink to inform you that everything had arrived safely and where it should be. 

Cordelia nudges you beneath the table. “Did you hear a word he just said to you?”

You frown. “Tristan didn’t say anything.”

“No, but father did. You are to begin a courtship with the young Lord Cathcart.”

Your heart drops to your feet, hand clutching onto your sister’s before you glance up to see a wide-smiled Lady Cathcart, her spider-like fingers curled around the king’s biceps. 

Just then your father lays his eyes upon you and smirks. “Is that not wonderful news? And your knight will be there to protect your honour throughout this. Before we know it, there will be more grandchildren roaming the world.” That last part he directs at his mistress, with a beyond disturbing wiggle of his brows. 

You look at Cordelia and Tristan, both of them blank faced. 

Benji swirls the wine in his cup from side to side and nobody speaks for an awfully long amount of time.

The other advisors at the table do not seem thrilled either. 

House Cathcart births unpleasant people, to put it quite kindly. Their Lady was a great example, an insufferable little parasite, clearly seeking to fuck her way into power and sparing nothing but ill-temper and rude words for anybody she does not view as important. 

She is an embodiment of sleaze, if one that has been blessed with wonderful teeth and hair. 

Her younger brother is not much different. You had heard the ladies of the court whisper about his disgusting lack of manners. 

“Father, might I remind you that I have many offers from much…,” you pause, contemplating whether you would actually like to speak your mind. “Well much more esteemed birth.”

Apparently your father has had enough of your face because he no longer makes the effort to look at you. “And yet, you have not enticed them. You will begin your travels to visit him tomorrow.” 

You desperately try to think of a young nobleman you would prefer to spend time with, yet your mind goes blank, your brain one continuous noise of a warhorn being sounded.

You let go of your sister’s hand and scrape your knife across your plate as the conversation resumed, occasional attempts of naming other highborn heirs, perhaps even from another kingdom.

Sure, you think to yourself, might as well remove me from the only home I know. Might as well let me be a cattle to be bred an ocean away.

“Your highness, I believe it is time for your dance lesson,” Benji says. 

Your head snaps up. It is not. 

He nods, the slightest bit, and then turns away. 

You are not certain, but you think the apples of his cheeks are tinted light pink. 

“I must be excused,” you say, as Benji already pulls out your chair for you. 

Cordelia and Tristan exchange a look that you wholeheartedly ignore and yet nobody else bats an eye.

A third-born daughter’s daily schedule is not of importance to them. 

In long strides you walk away from them all, with every inch of distance you can feel your heart cinching, breath shortening and by the time you’re inside the castle, you cannot see straight ahead.

“Hold on one moment, Princess,” he says and grabs your arm to push you down a narrow hallway, his arm around your waist the moment you are hidden from plain sight. Gratefully you lean your whole body weight against his, until you are back in your kitchen. 

With a swift movement you are sat on your chair, hunched over desperately trying to get air into your lungs, even stale and wet dungeon air, tainted by the stark smell of clandestine medicinal practice.

But you cannot. 

Your mother had died shortly after birthing you. Cordelia had struggled through every pregnancy, growing weaker with each child planted in her body and then clawing its way out. 

You think you might hurl. 

“Princess..,” Benji carefully mumbles. 

You try to see him through the blind panic and fury that clouds your mind but your eyes won’t focus, horrible images of what would happen to you. 

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp. 

He kneels in front of you, his hands clutching at yours. “Yes you can.” 

His voice is laced with uncertainty, as though he doesn’t believe his own words.

Firmly you shake your head. “No, get me out.”

He drags his thumb across the soft palm of your hand. “Out of where?”

Another sharp gasp. 

Here, this palace, this family, this kingdom, this world. 

“My corset,” you all but whimper. 

There is a moment of hesitation, where you cannot hear or feel anything but your own soft cries. 

Then he gets up and walks behind you. 

“My god, this thing is built like a trap,” he mumbles, rough fingers fiddling with your bodice. 

You might have laughed at that. 

It takes him long to help you out of it, revealing the fishbone corset, your hands now clawing at your neckline, praying for some sign of sweet release. 

He is taking forever, or maybe he is not but you have lost all sense of time and space.

Finally there is the sound of a barbaric rip and you are left in your linen shift, panting heavily.

You slump forward and bury your head in your hands. 

Unwilling to be seen, or look him in the eyes - eyes that are undoubtedly looking at you with nothing but pity. 

“Princess..,” he whispers again. You can feel one rough hand through the thin fabric as he circles around to your front.

You shake your head, like a child. “He can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

A soft touch against your wrists, softer than you had thought possible from him. “You’re a witch. Just put poison in his wedding night supper,” he says. 

You snort, an ugly sound, much unlike your usual demeanour. “You-” Hiccup. “Speak treason, Ser Benjicot.”

Carefully he interlinks your hands into one and pulls them from your face. Your forehead hurts from where you dug your nails into it. “You’re smart for a capital girl, you will manage.”

His face is kind and warm, a desire to make you smile clearly etched into the twinkle of his eyes.

“I won’t kill my husband. He is not at fault for my father’s failures.” 

Benji huffs. “And I am the one speaking treason.”

You hiccup again. “He is the king but he is my father no less. And he is horrible at both.”

His fingers sweep hair out of your face, unthinkingly, quickly. “His children turned out quite well either way. A benevolent queen, an honourable heir to the throne and a witch.”

Now he manages to make you smile lightly. “My god, what must a lady do for you to not tease her.”

“I would rather not say,” he answers, and you know there is a double meaning there but you don’t know how to decipher it. You have studied the human body but some things will lie beyond your book knowledge.

Until your bedding ceremony, that is.

Your face drops again and you lean back. “Have a seat somewhere, would you? I do not wish for you to crouch in front of me.” 

“I am your knight. Kneeling comes with this duty.”

You huff. “Does ripping up royal corsetry and sneaking potions into town also go along with it?”

He scrapes the chair across the floor and plops down beside you. 

The two of you sit, and though your eyes are set on the cauldron in the corner of the room, you know he is looking at you.

Perhaps he wants you to say that you feel better?

You decidedly do not, this is after all your deepest fear becoming reality.

Benji nudges the tip of his boots against your calf. 

Everything between the two of you is contrasting. 

“We will find a way. The counsel is against his choice as well, he may be the king but he is not a king at heart and soul.”

A deep sigh escapes you, hiccups slowly fading away.

 “Mayhaps he will be overthrown by the time we reach Lord Cathcart’s castle,” Benji adds. 

Would you want it that way? 

Yes. 

Yes you would.

You would not want him dead, you think, but you want Tristan to rule. You want your father to desert the throne and leave it for somebody capable and dignified. 

Somebody who has honour. 

“Won’t you cheer up, little witch. You still have Marion and me to come with you.” 

A hand flies to your mouth. Marion. “She won’t come. And even if she would like to, I will not let her. Her love won’t let her. Her life is here and her family and friends.” Your hands claw at each other, nervously digging into tender flesh. 

Benji hums. The weight of his oath must be a harsh burden to carry. He will never have a choice but to go where you go.

“I am sorry,” you whisper. “For it all. I know you hate it here.”

He shrugs and grabs your hand. To prevent you from scratching it bloody, you’re certain. 

“I am a man of honour and strength. I suppose it is best put to use for your protection. And the occasional smuggling and destruction of dresses far more expensive than my pay.”

You snort. “It didn’t suit me anyways. Made me pale.”

“Told you. I like red best.” 

He winks. “Like the colour of your cheeks turn sometimes.”

With little force you shove him, your fingers still securely interlinked. “Watch it, I’ll begin sobbing again, my knight.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You had bid your goodbyes to everyone at dinner tonight.

A courtship, successful or not, could take many moons and this one is nearly set in stone to end in marriage. Your return home, for now, is a distant dream that you can’t put faith into.

Surprisingly many people had grieved over your farewell. 

Much of the courtiers and even more of the staff insisted that they would miss you. 

Cordelia did not leave your side the entire evening and repeated many times that marriage is less scary than one might expect and that for the most time, your husband would likely leave you be. 

Even Tristan, ever so calm at all times, had looked as though he might like to tie you up if that meant you got to stay and you couldn’t help the deep gratitude you felt for Benji’s consistent, calm presence next to you.

Though you couldn’t claim that you were not deeply embarrassed over how dishevelled he had seen you today, even after he had assured you multiple times that he did not care, as you snuck through the secret passageway back to your room, his cape draped around you. 

Marion had wept the most; her waterlike, bendy fingers preparing your hair for dinner, achieving perhaps her finest work yet. 

It seems sadness is the greatest motivator of the human mind, tears streaming down her face and yet leaving your hair in neat braids. She had apologised many times, that she could not go on this journey with you and that she would likely forever miss your generosity, something you felt she was inflating greatly. 

After all, she had risked her position and even her life every single time she snuck you in and out of the castle walls. 

Your fingers cramp around your quill.

Over the course of your meal, you have come up with a plan once again, though this one might be the most idiotic one yet.

You know that almost everyone with blood rushing through their veins inside this castle is opposed to this marriage and maybe there could be another way to get out of it, but you know it would take long and you will not let your father torture you in the mean time.

Droplets of ink stain your wrist as you scratch forcefully across the parchment. 

You are not dense. You had never tried to trick yourself into believing your betrothal would occur from a love match but you had always been able to comfort yourself with the fact that at the very least you were to do something useful to your family line.

Marry into another important house, a house of wealth or with a strong army. Something that would strengthen the crown and its representation in the kingdom. 

Colour drains from your face each time you think about this fate. 

You’d be ridiculed in the history books, married off to a Baron, the lowest of ranks anybody in your line had married into, ever since the claiming of the throne.

No, you must leave and you must do so quickly. 

Your finished letter remains on your pillowcase. 

Wrapped in your velvet robe you peek out of your door into the hallway where the nightwatch had taken Benjicot’s place a few hours ago. 

“Ser Lawrence. Ser Timon. I wish to not be disturbed during my last night in the castle. Any and all visitors must immediately be sent away,” you tell them.

“Yes, your highness.”

Satisfied you go to lock the door, but then quickly remember. 

“Ser Timon, please tell your cousin that he must reapply the bandage and salve everyday.” 

And with that you turn your back.

You switch your robe out for the most simple dress you own.

While Ser Rodrick had still been around, Marion had kept a better disguise hidden in one of the trunks beneath your bed, but when the change of protector was imminent, she had taken it back home, in fear of being caught. 

You slip into a hooded cloak, in hopes it might do more to keep your identity hidden, wrap a satchel filled with jewellery around your waist, in hopes to pay for travels.

You wish you could take your horse.

Fury is a good horse, in your humble opinion, the most empathetic and perfect companion one can ask for.

Weirdly, she reminds you of Benji, now that you contemplate it.

She looks scary; tall and black and when you had gotten her she was unruly and stubborn but that quickly faded.

A terrifying thought crosses your mind suddenly.

What would happen to Benji? If you were to disappear, would he have to die for it?

You halt in the middle of your room.

No.

That is not a price you are willing to pay for your freedom. You could not in good conscience be responsible for such an atrocity.

Maybe they would let him off the hook? After all there had been a deal made with the Blackwoods, perhaps his family would revolt? 

Would your father have his head still? 

And in mere seconds your last bubble of hope had burst and rained onto you in glittering glass shambles. 

Benji was tough to crack and a little rebellious but you won’t have his blood on your hands forever.

You gaze out the window, see the distant sea. 

But you could still sneak out. For one final night. Check on your medicine. Maybe you could find a tavern to spend time in.

Marion had always said that she loved nothing more than to dance with the common folks, telling never-ending stories of how much lively the music is than at your royal balls, how free and funny the people are.

Yes, you might not run away but for once in your life you would simply do what you wanted to do. 

You pull up your hood and slip into the narrow staircase behind your bookcase. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The streets were bustling, even after nightfall, people chatting away, merchants yelling from every corner, sounds of life buzzing in your ear.

You are smiling, weaving through the crowd. A stranger had handed you a daffodil, proclaiming his inn had the best hunter’s stew in all the kingdom.

Another had told you she could read your future from the palm of your hand, which you of course deemed ridiculous, but had let her do anyway.

She told you that you were destined for a great love. Ridiculous, but endearing in a peculiar way. 

Now you were hoping to find that tavern that Marion so loved to frequent. It was called duckling, or something to that extent. An odd name for a place where people go to drink and celebrate. 

But your feet carry you still, steps lighter than air. You had noticed that your boots were a tad too white, and had promptly walked through every possible puddle to blend in. 

It was exhilarating. You know your privileges and you know them well, but while all the rest of the nobles question how the people of lower birth could live like this, you wonder how you could have gone your life without this. 

Every path revealed something exciting. 

When you had snuck out with Marion, she had dragged you through quiet back alleys, to avoid as many people as possible, but now you wonder if she wasn’t also trying to keep you from being drawn into this magical world you are witnessing now.

A shoulder bumps you and you stumble a bit. 

“Oi watch where you’re going,” came a gruff voice and you almost want to laugh, heart melting at the vulgarity of it, but you have the good sense to not.

“I’m sorry, good man.” 

He grunts and goes to move along but then something catches his eye and he stops.

“Where you from?” He asks.

He has a strong build, tall and burly. You try not to let that worry and flash him a smile. “Arbormere.” 

The man steps forward. You don’t step back. Marion and Ser Rodrick had drilled into you for a long time, that fear is one’s worst enemy. 

“Are ya, now? I ain’t ever met a girl from over there.”

You shrug. “I am their queen’s handmaiden. She is visiting her family,” you lie, quick as the wind and then you decide that you should not remain in one place for so long, shuffling to step past him. 

He blocks the way and before you know it he’s grabbed your arm, with enough force to make you shriek in surprise.

You squirm beneath his grip, attempting to meet the eye of a passerby desperately but nobody seems to notice this scene playing out. 

“Let me go,” you order, with as much authority as you can muster.

With too much ease, you are ripped into a side street. It smells rotten and you close your eyes when the back of your head meets the cobbled wall. 

“Pretty girls like ya’self shouldn’t roam foreign streets,” he says. His breath smells acidic as it fans across the side of your face. 

“Help,” you croak out but you know it is of no use. There isn’t a soul here to hear you in this dark corner.

He squishes your face between one hand, thumb deep in the soft of your cheek. 

“Somebody should teach you a lesson, aye.”

“Yeah and somebody should teach you some fucking manners, you fucking cunt,” a voice rings. 

Benji.

Your face is freed from his grip and you rub where it hurts. 

“Piss off, lad. Ain’t none of your business,” the man tells him.

Something unfamiliar flashes across Benji’s face, a shadow of something sinister. 

Bloody Ben, you think. 

“Get the fuck away from her,” he growls through clenched teeth.

He laughs at Benji, his arms crossed. “I’m not gonna fucking say it twice, boy. Piss–”

He can’t finish his sentence before Benji is on him, a disgusting sound of bones cracking as his fist connects with his nose. 

You yelp, a hand pressed to your mouth in an instant. This stranger is considerably larger than Benjicot, who himself could not be described as a slender man. 

The pair of them tumble to the ground and with every hit your sworn protector takes, you wince, as though you were feeling them yourself. 

Blood sprays across their faces, their hands, the hem of your shirt and you wish you could avert your gaze. 

Something glitters. 

“Knife,” you scream. “He has a knife.”

But Benji has already registered it. 

In a movement so smooth and quick that it was barely noticeable, the knife is stuck in the man’s hand.

He wails, guttural and gory and tries to crawl back. 

Your knight gets up from the ground, towers above him. “Get the fuck away.” Then, in an act so raw you are almost taken aback, he spits on him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the stranger staggers away, as fast as his delirious self can. 

There is a sickening swirl in your stomach and for a moment you think you will cry, but then good sense wins and you leap toward Benji.

Panic strains your voice. “Are you well?” You ask, gently inspecting his face. His nose is bleeding profusely. It stains your fingers, streams down to your wrist, thin red streaks across your skin and white linen sleeves. 

He nods. Distance clouds his eyes but then it is almost like he snaps back to this world. 

He flicks your hands away, and searches your face, the way you had done his. 

You grimace. He is clearly in much worse condition. 

“You fucking idiot. Don’t fucking ever frighten me like this again,” he whispers. 

“Do you know what could have happened? What you look like?”

He raises your hands to eye level. “Your hands are soft, you’ve not done work with them ever. Your hair shimmers, you walk like a fucking fairie and you reek of rose and lavender.”

With each word his voice raises to a whisper-shout. “Do you know how lucky you are that you weren’t recognised? How lucky you are that I got here in time?”

The tips of your ears run hot. “I just wanted-”

“What? To run away and die in a ditch?” 

You shake your head fervently. “No! I was going to return, I just forgot to rip up the letter! I didn’t mean to-”

He scoffs. “You’re lucky I was the one to find that thing. You’re the luckiest girl in the world, in fact.” 

Now there will likely be many moments in the future where you regret this moment but you cannot help yourself. “You call this situation lucky? I am lucky that I will be shipped off to be fucked by a disgusting little man for the rest of my life, be forced to bear his children, do as he pleases me to do, until the day I die? You think this is lucky? I would rather spend my time working every hour of every day of every week of every moon until my bones fail me.”

Benjicot comes even closer, the tips of your noses are almost touching. “Do not ever do something like this again. I will give you as much freedom as I can, but I suppose you did not plan to spend a night of freedom being defiled in some dark alley. Don’t you ever do this to me again.”

To him. 

“Understood?” 

He has engulfed your senses, speaking seems too hard a chore now. You nod. Is it normal for a knight to chastise his princess like this? 

“Good,” he whispers, but you don’t let him get away. 

You use the tissue tucked into your cleavage and dab at his nose. Crimson red stains the colour of house Aprikate. “I think I should set your nose.” Your voice is faint, like you’re worried you might scare him off, like some jittery woodland creature. 

“Hmm.” 

Your hand pulls away and your eyes lock. You swallow thickly. That new sensation haunts you again. 

Benji’s hand curls around the small of your back. 

This feels dangerous. You can’t bring yourself to end the moment. 

He does it for you.

“Let’s return to the castle.”

The air feels tense, new and vibrant the entire way home.

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

[starsofang]

Southern Nights

kyle garrick x country!reader

tw: fluff that developed into brief smut. idk how that happened tbh. don’t look at me.

Kyle Garrick was many things, but picky was not one of them.

With food? Maybe a bit, but with women? He’d be absolutely mad to stick to a specific type of woman.

He’d been with them all — thin, chubby, short, tall, pale, tanned. Some were flings, some were girlfriends, and some were just mindless flirtations on drunken nights when he’d seek refuge in a shitty bar after months of grueling missions.

Kyle couldn’t exactly say he’d been with a southern girl, though. Not until you.

All wit and charm, pearly smiles and the cutest accent that made his sound like choked gurgles.

He didn’t know how he landed you. He must’ve done a hell of a lot in his past life to even gain the pleasure of calling you his, because the way you looked at him with that sparkle in your eye made him appear like he was God himself gazing down at you from the clouds.

Kyle knew close to nothing about the south. Fuck, he was british, could you blame him? How did a bloke like him end up with a southern belle like you?

Sure, Kyle had worked for the CIA before turning to John Price and vowing his loyalty to him. Even so, it seemed improbable of him to fall for a woman that accentuated her words with a lick of country charm, who wore sturdy boots on her feet that thumped along the pavement every time you walked beside him, hand in hand.

Despite it being near sinful for you two to pair together, it worked to perfection.

You taught him everything there was to know about your side of the road. He didn’t realize there was so much that went into being a pretty, little bird, but he was fully willing to learn so he could take mental notes of every piece of information that made you, you.

On late night drives when the two of you wanted to clear your headspace while also remaining in each other’s presence, you’d show him your collection of songs. He didn’t know any of them, nor had he taken the chance to listen to the arrangements of fiddles and guitars that poured through the speakers.

Somebody named Chris Stapleton was a repetitive appearance, and he didn’t have a clue who that was.

But the smile on your face as you sang along to the lyrics with your eyes on him while his remained on the road was enough to have him bob his head along and mirror your smile, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze from where he held it on the center console.

Bars were certainly different, too. They were more rundown and rugged than the ones he was used to, and it wasn’t a crowd of young people who were there to fuck and party.

No, it was a mixed crowd of all kinds of beings, sharing laughter with friends and enjoying shots of whiskey and a concerning amount of piss beer.

The music wasn’t upbeat and erratic and instead, filled the bar with a lovely atmosphere that made you want to saddle up with your lady and enjoy the blessing of her existence rather than fuel a desire to grind against one another.

The change of pace was something he hadn’t realized he needed. It was comforting, even more so with you under his arm, talking wildly about past experiences at that specific bar with old high school friends.

He thought you were beautiful like this, your words slurring together in your own form of accented youth, specific words slipping off your tongue in a way that gave him the subtle reminder of your roots.

Kyle had yet to know about customs, and when you pulled the cowboy hat you had graciously gifted him (he personally didn’t think it suited him, but he’d never shy away from your presents) and planted it on your head, he gave you a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you teased, and when his mouth gaped open in confusion, your sweet laughter filtered through his ears. “You’re the cowboy, Kyle.”

It took him an embarrassingly long five seconds before realization dawned on him. You giggled some more, eyes crinkled into dusty, starlit crescents, and he had to swallow down the rest of his drink to hide his lingering sheepishness.

And when he took you back to his your place, seeing as you practically moved in by now, he didn’t hesitate to ravish you in ways that had that southern drawl drip off your tongue like honeyed nectar he couldn’t get enough of.

Even as you clambered on top of him after he’d spent the last twenty minutes tugging pretty, little moans from your soft lips with his tongue between your thighs, where he’d worshiped you like the sky goddess you were, you made sure to keep the gifted cowboy hat perched on your head.

The hat wiggled with instability on every bounce of your hips, threatening to fall off with every thrust Kyle uprooted to meet yours.

Your baby hairs slicked with sweat against your forehead, right where the brim of the hat met, and by god, Kyle thought he was looking at the loveliest bird he’d ever seen.

“My pretty dove,” Kyle cooed breathlessly, fingers dipping into the fat of your hips as he guided every motion back up, then down, until you were slammed against the plains of his pelvis with every push and pull. “Look so beautiful wearin’ my hat, don’t you?”

You moaned his name with broken fervor, and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine.

“Keep talkin’, birdie. Y’know I love your voice, sounds so pretty like that.”

His words opened the floodgates for your mindless babbling, accent heavier than ever as it laced over with need and desperation.

Kyle was in pure heaven when each and every accented word fell from those pretty lips. They pricked his skin with want, fueling the warmth building in the pits of his abdomen.

Your body glistened with a gorgeous sheen as it continued to bounce and wiggle on top of him, chest rising and falling in erratic attempts to gather air as each thrust knocked it out of you.

The hat laid a bit crooked, but stayed true to its temporary owner, branding you as his from where it loyally stayed atop your head.

When you finally gave in to the tight coil in your core and exploded into a mess of warm, fuzzy pleasure, Kyle took in the sight and engraved it under his eyelids as he couldn’t hold back from finishing inside you.

After Kyle had you successfully spent, body floating on a soft cloud of his blankets and pillows, his hat halfway off your head from where your face pressed into the mattress and sleepy snores left your lips, he basked in the sight of you.

Kyle didn’t have a type before. He’d gone through nearly every course of women before you came along, but now, as he brushed away the stray hairs from the softness of your face, he thought maybe he had a thing for country girls.

Only if they were you, though.

i’m a y’allternative girl from the south who lives in fields of cows so the fact i haven’t written this sooner is surprising but lord have mercy, i’m happy i did because kyle is so 🤌🏻 this was meant to be sweet and fluffy but i got ahead of myself and ending up making us fuck him instead but hey who’s complaining? not me

[2ndkaiser]

⋆˚࿔ WINTER WONDERLAND

Headcanons of the crew celebrating Christmas

Word count: 1287

Sorry I disappeared for a bit, I got pneumonia and was so sick I couldn’t write. Merry belated Christmas.

Warnings: Brief mention of: slight injury, alcohol, implication of bad childhood

⟡ ݁₊ . Notes: Not proofread. I quite literally wrote this in the hospital so I genuinely don’t know if this is ooc for some characters so apologies if they are.

CURLY

Assigned to put up the Christmas tree and to prepare the Christmas movie marathon.

Quietly struggled to put the tree in place and had the tree collapse on him multiple times resulting in a few trips to the medbay. Now has those round cartoon bumps on his head.

Had to pry Jimmy away from getting into a heated argument over a missing Polle ornament.

Gave everyone presents wrapped with bright pink wrapping paper with ugly gingerbread men.

Genuinely thought the wrapping was cute so nobody told them it looked like a bunch of mini disfigured Igor album covers arranged in a pattern. (I’m not saying the cover is ugly I swear I love Tyler.)

Turned the sofa into a cozy area with blankets scattered everywhere, pillows in every corner, snacks in a little basket. It’s oddly surprising how the ship could look this much like home.

Fell asleep drowning in blankets after the party, also had the deepest sleep of his entire life with arms wrapped around pillows, drooling, weighted blanket on his side. No one knew he was there until Anya woke him up the next day.

JIMMY

Assigned as the tree decorator. Reluctantly let others put up their own ornaments too.

Couldn’t find a star so he made one himself with paper and yellow markers stolen from Daisuke, hence the crumbled origami star sitting on top of the tree.

“Accidentally” knocked over the “make your own hot chocolate” bar because it was decorated better than his tree. Framed Curly.

Secretly was really excited to cuddle under blankets and watch cheesy, poorly made Christmas movies. He misses how lively the city looked during the festive season and crappy Christmas movies seemed to fill the void just fine.

Has a peppermint flavored candy cane addiction. Ate a whole box and stole a second box to store under his bed.

Told everyone he hated his gifts but if you squint really closely you can see a slight smile on his face while opening every single one as he’s finally experiencing the childhood he didn’t get to live.

Never knew he was so bad at tree decorating. The tree fell over multiple times and he had to start over twice. Threw a tantrum and claimed that Curly did a bad job at getting the tree to hold up.

ANYA

Assigned as the hot chocolate bar organizer and the decorator alongside Daisuke.

Made those really cozy “customize your own hot chocolate bars” with different flavors, toppings and mugs. Even decorated it with mini gingerbread houses and snowmen. (Yes, I’m talking about the bar Jimmy knocked over.)

Was in charge of decorating the hallway and put up polaroids of the crew on the walls which ended up never getting removed after the party.

DIY enthusiast. Made heaps of ornaments and painted a lot of them, she invited Daisuke to paint some too.

She even DIY-ed some decor—snowmen made out of white blankets rolled into balls, snow globes made out of a picture stuck on a jar lid screwed onto the jar with water and glitter… that type of stuff.

Got the crew to add songs to a Christmas playlist that would be played during the party. Sadly got all her own songs removed by Jimmy. It’s okay she added them back and put laxatives in his hot chocolate when he wasn’t looking.

DAISUKE

Assigned as decorator with Anya and also the food organizer.

Had lots of fun taste testing all the food while Swansea was cooking. Literally stood by him half of the time with a look in his eye equivalent to whining “can I try some?”

The whole counter at the kitchen was turned into a buffet. At this point the countertop couldn’t be seen and it was completely covered in food and decor. Was really proud when Swansea complimented how it was arranged.

Hums a few Christmas carols while arranging how each plate or bowl was placed. Was actually a perfectionist and didn’t let anyone toucv anything.

Drew a festive yimpy and pinned it beside OG yimpy.

Bow tying might just be his hidden talent, he tied bows out of ribbons for everyone’s presents. Possibly a ribbon bender if you get what I’m saying.

Ate a serving of every dish before the party started without anyone knowing. Woah wait who did that? Wasn’t him. Actually no food was missing at all. Who mentioned food again?

SWANSEA

Assigned as the cook. Hell yeah Swansea get it unc. Also made a bunch of decor.

Honestly I think the crew used some of the cryo pods to store frozen ingredients, that's where Swansea gets a whole turkey from.

Cooking made him feel like he was on earth again, it made him forget how lonely space was. He whipped up a few dishes made from his wife’s recipes. It reminded him of when he used to cook for his family with his mother and wife. Good ol’ days.

There’s a massive light up snowman decoration he made. He actually messed it’s face up a bit and left it with a permanent lazy eye.

Daisuke and Anya placed said snowman in between the door and one of the vending machines. Swansea let out a funky dad scream seeing it. Has a burning hatred towards it now.

Made a Santa hat for Polle because it “felt right.” He actually just felt bad because Polle was excluded.

CREW SECRET SANTA ⊹ ࣪

CURLY

He got a Christmas basket so thoughtfully packed it nearly brought him to tears. Inside were his favorite protein bars, a pack of Biscoff, gift cards to use back on earth, candy canes, and coffee-flavored sweets. He couldn’t have been happier. But the real star of the show? A leather cowboy hat paired with a red bandana with his name engraved right on it. He loved it. Wore it proudly around the ship for weeks before finally tucking it away safely in his quarters, far out of reach from anyone who might dare to steal it. (Jimmy)

JIMMY

When he unwrapped his gift, he didn’t expect anything special. Probably just booze or something generic. But this? A custom pillow with his face on it and a blanket covered in a pattern with all the crew members’ faces? Seriously? Still, it wasn’t all bad. There was a Dexter poster, Take a Look in the Mirror album, and four cans of beer. Not terrible. But then he spotted the note. It read, “I hope Dexter gets you next.” And just like that, it was bad.

ANYA

She really hoped Jimmy wouldn’t draw her name. In fact, she prayed for it. And it seems those prayers worked, because the gifts she received? Absolute top tier. Swansea has kids, he knows how to pick presents. Not that she knows it was him, of course, but it’s obvious the gifts were chosen with care. Books which were already on her wishlist, new board games, medical school supplies she could never afford, jellycats, custom jewelry. It was everything she could have hoped for.

DAISUKE

Probably still leaves out cookies and milk for Santa just in case. But knowing a different Santa was behind this gift? That had him buzzing with excitement. And when he unwrapped a Nintendo and a stash of sweet treats? Pure joy. His Secret Santa even threw in game cards for Splatoon, Overcooked, and Snipperclips... Just like that, his boredom was cured and so was the missing sweetener problem.

SWANSEA

He knew he had the worst luck as soon as he saw how his gift was wrapped, the paper didn’t even cover the whole box. One glance inside confirmed it: a very clearly secondhand pair of sneakers, scuffed with a few marks and a scratch on the back. Not exactly ideal. But hey, at least they were a good pair he didn’t already own. Another one for his collection.

Sorry for being so inactive. Hope you like this, I had to cram it in today so I can go catch up with my other projects. Thanks for reading.

[vastderp]

I Had A Baby Brother

My brother was found dead last tuesday in his apartment.

He died anywhere from Sunday to Monday, and his landlord got worried and checked up on him and found him on the floor with one hand over his face. There was an open jug of methanol nearby. My sister thinks he drank it, I pray he didn't. It was an ugly, fucked up death.

He was in declining health this past decade because he was a paraplegic and uncontrolled diabetic. There are systems in place to help with low income people in his condition, but they were barred from him as he was a convicted felon.

He went from learning to walk again in the physical therapy pool to drinking a gallon of vodka per day, growing more hostile and bitter as the pain got worse, until his body just gave out. He drove away his friends, he drove away his family, and then he hit the floor and never got up.

I was meant to view the body with my sister and her grown kids, but the funeral home couldn't tell us where his body had been sent, and stopped answering the phone on friday before memorial day weekend, and then we had to wait for someone to follow up on my sister's dozens of phone messages, which they finally did, to try and make their little profit.

My sister, who has been handling all of this along with my niece, selected a different funeral home for the cremation because the first one was disgraceful with my mother's death in 2007, and they're disgraceful all over again with my brother's now.

At one point today they finally established contact, and asked how my sister wanted to handle the arrangements for her "father". O how casual the not giving a fuck goes! Dude pressed to make a sale even after she told him how unhappy we were with their work.

All this to say that I have a car full of inherited possessions, unused medical gear, and the shitty fucked up remnants of my brother's shrine to Mom.

Good old Mom may have died almost 20 years ago, but her gentle, loving mission to smother her only son to death (and probably into eternity) is finally successful. Of all of us, I've often wondered who got it worst: The golden child, the scapegoat, or the parentalized invisible middle kid. Now that one of us has effectively committed suicide, I guess it's for the scapegoat and me to hash out who gets second place. My mother crippled him long before his car accident, in one long and winding but uninterrupted line of consequences from his birth to death. I consider it a murder-suicide. Which was which? They were both the killer, and both the victim. Enmeshment is a motherfucker.

I'm super bitter, really fucking sad, and incredibly proud of what's left of my family for how they're coming together now. (Except my dad, who is in another state, petting his dogs, because I don't think he can really deal with this shit).

So what's left? To go put some cologne on his corpse when they finally let us go view what's left of him. He always liked to smell nice and he probably doesn't right now.

They'll cremate him, and give us a ridiculously heavy cardboard box of ashes that we'll have to carry out, knowing it's all that's left of a lifetime of struggling and pain. Probably we're gonna mix his ashes with Mom's, and make that lifetime of enmeshment official.

I hope if they go to the same afterlife, he kicks her in the cooter. I hope she kicks him back. I hope they can see each other with eyes unclouded by trauma, and forgive each other for the choices they both made. I hope they forgive me for still being mad at them both for not being stronger. I hope I will forgive myself for a lifetime of resentment and blame. I sure got enough time for that.

Jason was funny, weird, secretly really smart but never made a point of it. He was stylish. He was a broken man who could have made better choices and didn't, who was happily fed poison until he couldn't live without it, who was basically his own whole ass Pink Floyd song. His violence sent me running into a better life. His death sent me trudging back into a damaged family with gaping holes like torn out teeth, into the arms of my sister, and we reconciled. There's just us two left now, and it's our job to make something beautiful come out of this jerry springer childhood we shared. We're doing our best.

Dozens of catheters still in the package. Leakproof bed padding in a plaid pattern. Gallons of creams, antacids, fiber supplements by the jar, pressure sore ointments, fungus treatment creams, lidocaine pads, antibiotics, antipsychotics, a hash pipe or two.

An entire apartment hoarded with moist towelettes, pressure garments, and cleaning supplies. An entire life choked with mental damages and crying relatives. I put on CeeLoo Green's "Robin Williams" and sobbed until my face felt burned. It helped.

All the usable/safe to give away medical equipment is being distributed to the other impoverished disabled people in his apartment complex, who will hopefully put it to good use. I got his old manual wheelchair because sometimes I can't walk. I'm terrified of becoming more like him, so back to phsycial therapy I go.

The rest?

The memories, the pity, the jug of methanol that I pray he never actually drank, the stain he left on his floor after a lifetime of compulsive tidiness, the shrine to the woman he killed who also killed him? All these things I will keep with me forever. I will honor him. He could have been so much more, for so much longer. He had a whole story I'll never know. He contained incredible kindness and generosity, and also a rage so deep it was fatal. He was only 41.

If you can spare a couple bucks for the gofundme my niece set up, it'd really help make the financial side of this horseshit a little more bearable while we do all the shit that comes with a death. Thank you for taking the time to read this post, for your sympathies, and for reading my fucked up family trauma dump. Rest assured there will be more.

Dear god, will there ever be more.

Send help. Send pizza. Send sad hip hop. Hail Atlantis. Hail Jai.

[jubileemon]

Regarding Octavia's song I Will Be Okay:

The line "I'll just get older and you'll only know my name" implies that Stolas had trouble keeping up with her interests when he began his affair with Blitzø. Now that he's estranged from her for the entirety of his sentence, he has no way of finding out what she’s doing or who she's becoming unless some news about her gets out to Hell’s general public. When he reclaims his crown in a hundred years, the daughter he knew at the start of his banishment will be a distant memory, replaced by a stranger he won’t even recognize or know anything about except her name and the fact she was once his beloved child.

Stolas realizes the inverse of this too, mournfully telling Blitzø that he’ll be a stranger to her by the time he's allowed to regain his title. Why? Because his experiences during his century living as a commoner will inevitably shape him into a different person than he was before his banishment, meaning that all she’ll know about him is his name.

Nearing the end of the song, the scene begins a cataclysm of meteors showering from above and the ground exploding beneath her. Back in the episode "Loo Loo Land", she listens to a song called "My World Is Burning Down Around Me" by 'F*ck You, Dad' (the band) while her mom Stella is screaming at her dad Stolas about the affair with the imp Blitzø. The song title serves as a pun that her dad has supposedly ruined the family structure and she doesn't feel comfortable at home anymore and, when they reconcile at the theme park, Blitzø's fight with Robo Fizz results in the place burning down around them on their way out. Stolas tries to keep her world together that is their own relationship as father and daughter. Unfortunately, that falls apart in "Mastermind", which Stolas was willing to die for his lover after he previously promised to "never leave her". Her song tells how she's questioning if her dad's love ever existed. Now that he has left, her world is now burning down around her with no one to support it and she contemplates carrying on in her life without him. It takes a look at the box of her father's antidepressants before she decides to unironically say "F*ck you, dad" without actually saying it by the end of this episode, misguided as it is without knowing the additional context of those pills.

When Octavia asks Stolas if she was just an obligation to him, it hits harder when you remember that she actually was since it is usually a parent's duty to raise their child. On the political and aristocratic side, Stolas and Stella were arranged for the sole purpose of birthing her as a precautionary heir. As her father of that family, it's his obligation to raise her enough to be worthy of his legacy. When he saw how precious she turned out to be, it gave him a new sense duty out of love to raise her less as an heir and more as his pride and joy of a daughter.

The scene where Octavia decides to leave Stolas - it wasn’t because she hated him, or even Stella and Andrealphus’ manipulations. It was because she believes it’s her fault that Stolas is so miserable that he had to take antidepressants, and that he stayed in a miserable marriage purely out of obligation towards her. Octavia believes it’s better that Stolas be with Blitzø and be happy for once, which was why she also asked beforehand if it's why Stolas didn't hesitate when the chance to "leave" her appeared.

There is the fact that Octavia accused Stolas of choosing Blitzø over her sounds like jealousy, but then there were all of his efforts to protect her and make her happy over the years before the series began. Especially in "Loo Loo Land", none of the imps who attacked Stolas ever connected Octavia as his daughter because he was the bigger target. What's more, when they are alone, the prince is shown capable of protecting them both. With portraits in the mansion of them both being happy, it is possible that there hasn't been a single moment so dangerous that it actually required Stolas to risk his own life for Via like how he did for Blitzø in "Mastermind", and hopes that will never happen. For all of his actions that drove them apart, it is shown in "Western Energy" how much he would still be willing to sacrifice his life to protect Via if he ever has to, just by threatening someone like Striker.

[lanafofana]

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁

Hehehehe

Xx

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

The answer to this will never be no 😘

“I don’t have any magic,” she said doubtfully.

Gale waves off her concern. “Think of it like plaiting a rope. I will provide the material to be wielded, you only need to move as I instruct you. Together we will twist the rope into being.”

So they arranged themselves side by side. He showed her the physical aspect of the incantation and felt his skin prickle under her solemn stare as her eyes flicked to each part of his body as it moved. She copied him, grim faced but her actions were exact and he felt the magic begin to catch.

He shared with her the words and gave her an encouraging smile when doubt and unease twisted out from her eyes like pale lanterns. She repeated them in her low velvet voice soft but firm around each unfamiliar syllable and despite himself he felt a rush of something in response to her tone.

The magic, he thought to himself dismissively, merely the manifestation of the Weave.

The final instruction was the most critical so he spoke as clearly as he could without artifice or poetry. Harmony, he stressed and did not know what to make of the face she gave him. Utter confusion.

“A childhood memory?” he tried but her lips drew thin and she looked suddenly much older than he supposed her to be.

“I think, wizard, even if I could pull a memory from that cask of oil you would see something far different than harmony.”

“Music then, surely a verse must linger in your memory from poetry or song. Some lyrics you find your mind repeating though no music plays?”

Her gaze is distant and a little sad. “I have none. But tell me wizard what is the point of the instruction? Give me something else or else this lesson will be for naught.”

Gale thinks long and hard and at last he admits, “The truth of it is that it is through harmony the subject could at last open themselves to the mother of magic, to bare yourself down to the core of yourself. Harmony is by the easiest. Not a rending of the soul entire but a jab, a peek, a key hole through which you surrender yourself, opening yourself to her.”

“Is that all,” mutters Tav, staring at the ground with a furrowed brow.

He’s ready to cease the lesson and retreat, ready to release his tenuous hold on the flimsy filaments of magic they have begun to call together from the aether when she places her hands to her breast as if to pray.

Her face is a rictus of concentration, jaw tight, shoulders nearly bowed. The silence between them stretches long and dark and he almost suggests an end to it. His mouth is open the words on his tongue the color of disappointment but acceptance. They curl against his teeth, ready for release. Some are not meant for the study or application of magic and it was perhaps a little foolish of him to cast aside her initial concerns so dismissively.

In the same breath he might have spoken, he feels it. The tendrils of weave snagging on the trembling wings of her spirit and fanning out like a blaze. The air around them is suddenly flooded with magic so potent it sings in his veins and sends his heart skipping like a fool in love.

“You did it,” he breathes.

She stares at the evidence of her success, a little awed a little dumbstruck, and a little afraid.

“How does it feel?”

The only time Gale has ever felt the tiniest bit of regret for being a wizard prodigy is when he sees others experience the Weave for the first time. There is not a memory in his head that is not tinged with the presence of it. What must if be like he wonders, drinking in the expression on her face, to never know a thing as big and as eternal as the Weave and suddenly come face to face with it.

Tav stares around at the magic in the air. There is no sense she possesses that could contain the words needed to express what she feels. It is more than sight or taste or touch or smell. It is something both heavy and light and it lingers against her skin, her mind, her heart. How does it feel? She would need an eon to quantify it and another eon to describe it with mortal words.

It was the first wedding bell ringing in spring. It was rich soil after a heavy rain, swollen with potential for new growth. It was the horror of a building hollowed out by fire. It was the sensation of standing under the eye of a goddess and being perceived for exactly what she was.

“It’s…a lot,” she finally says, finding more truth in those small humble words than any other description that flitters against her mind. “Too much to take in all at once. Light and air and a tingling that starts in the fingers and zips down to the toes. Art and poetry indeed.”

He smiles though, a handsome thing. Self assured, cocky, proud, blazing bright like a star and she feels the breath stutter out of her lungs.

They linger in the pocket of Weave for a moment or an age. When she turns to look at him a question dies on her tongue before it can be born as something unfolds in her mind’s eye. A sudden vision of Gale, of how she imagines his future when all this mess is sorted.

Humming happily to himself, walking down a street, on his chest— in place of the orb— his skin is blemish free. He calls out with a smile and wave and she sees herself turning to look. A smile on her own face. He holds out a hand and she reaches for it, the sun is high and hot and they are content.

It’s such a beautiful daydream she feels the corners of her mouth twitch in response but through the vision she sees his face beyond it. Surprised mostly, and she realizes she’s projecting her errant daydream between them. Before the vision of his hand can grasp hers the image dematerializes as cold dread seizes her heart and twists it like a dishrag, wringing sour embarrassment and shame where before there had only been the warmth of basking in his pride.

If she had known what thoughts trailed like branching streams through is mind she wouldn’t have worried half so much or at least not about the same things. Gale himself hardly knew except that his heart was aching as if split open and he felt both warm and hot for opposite reasons and they clamored for control in his breast and his brain.

It was a simple spell often done in an apprentice’s first year at Blackstaff. Something to give them a taste for the Weave if they were unfamiliar or better their focus if they were. Most students had the same vision on completion and their thoughts tumbled loud and braying into his before they had learned to contain them and ward off the eyes of others. Visions of success or homesickeness or which student they hoped was watching. The pride of being singled out by the professor for exceptional wizardry. The impatience for doing something harder, grander, greater.

She had shown him none of it but that her greatest wish in that moment was to see him whole and happy unburdened by his curse. She had hardly starred in her own vision except perhaps as an afterthought. That she might someday bear witness to a Gale of the future. A future she thinks he is owed. He is dumbstruck by it. He doesn’t think the image will ever not be emblazoned across his mind.

“Thank you for showing me your magic, Gale,” she says, looking off to the side to avoid his gaze. “It was…quite something.”

“Yes,” he murmurs, staring at her in profile and wondering if experiencing the Weave for the first time could hold a candle to being seen so purely by another. “Quite something,”

She flashes him a smile and he sees the walls going up again but he can’t do anything but watch as she turns and walks away.

more asks here fam 👁️🫦👁️

[shawnxstyles]

green and gold

DATE: MARCH 29, 2023

summary: tom invites you to the brothers trust charity event that you didn’t really want to go to. you made up countless excuses, trying to run away from him like you usually do, but were convinced anyway. during the event, tom finally confronts you about always running away when he’s close. years of pent-up feelings are unraveled along with some clothes to make up for all the time you lost.

request: yess

song: dress- taylor swift

words: 7.7k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight masturbation, some nipple play], exhibitism, small praise kink, unprotected sex [coming inside], dirty talk), pining, lots of fluff, and some language.

note: i used this image because it was one of the only ones i could find of him at the event where he wasn’t with other people lol. this is hardly edited

best friends to lovers :) famous!tom x female!reader

–

You really didn’t want to go tonight. You had so many reasons, or excuses is what Tom said, why you didn’t want to go to a high-end charity event. But your best friend put on his puppy dog eyes and played the “I need you by my side tonight” card. It was truly an unfair move.

The “reasons” you gave Tom were all in-the-moment excuses. Like “I have to clean my entire apartment and it’s going to take a week” or “I’m not going to feel good for the next week”. Yeah…your excuses got worse every time he asked.

Tom told you a week in advance and it went like this; he asked if you wanted to go, you said no for three days straight, and then eventually caved because of those stupid puppy dog eyes. That’s how most of Tom’s requests for your presence went. At first, you loved the idea of all the fancy clothes and luxurious events, but after about two nights out, you were already sick of it. You respected that Tom did that and more for a living.

Like every other event he convinced you to go to, you shared a suite in some grand hotel that still made your jaw drop from its lavishness. He made sure his team arranged an outfit for you each time, every dress more opulent than the last. The dresses he got you always fit you so perfectly, you were in disbelief when you looked in the mirror at the final results.

Tonight was no different. Well, it was a bit different. As you stood in front of the full length mirror, you stared at your figure way longer than you usually would have. Tom ordered you a long, green dress with velvet fabric that comforted your skin. It was snug, flawlessly fitting, and had a huge slit that showed your entire leg. You made sure to shave everything and wear your tiniest pair of underwear, so nothing could be seen.

You weren’t a celebrity like Tom. Yeah, sometimes you went to events with him, but only for support. You were seen on the media with him a lot, and after at least a year of fans either “shipping” you two or hating you, they finally understood the idea that a man and a woman can be friends.

No matter how much you hated it, that’s all you two were. That’s all it was ever going to be.

You and Tom have been friends since you were kids. You only ever saw him as a friend, and he, the same. But as puberty hit and hormones developed, the line of friendship began to blur for you. When he had a few girlfriends (all for short periods of time), it became clear to you that he had no interest in you outside of a friendship.

His name got huge after he landed the iconic role of playing Spider-man for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But your relationship together never faded, along with the confusing feelings you learned to label as a crush. Your “crush” eventually turned into a “like”, and then…well, you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t in love with the man.

And as you smoothed your hands over the velvet dress, your heart swelled at the idea of it all. A girl in love with her best friend.

You took a deep breath and pulled your conscience away from your reflection. You hastingly put in the dangly, gold earrings with matching green gems that Tom also ordered for you. Sparkling gold heels rested by the bed, waiting for your feet to become ridiculously uncomfortable. You strapped them on and grabbed your black clutch on the bed. You peered one last time at your shared hotel room before walking out and to the elevators.

Outside, a car was ready to escort you to the event. As you rode, you made light conversation with Tom’s driver, Eddy, and asked about his family and how his night was. While entering, sitting, and exiting the car, you repeated numerous thank you’s just like you did every time he escorted you. A few events ago, you overheard him say you were something along the lines of “kind-hearted” and “a keeper”, which made you smile to yourself. But you swear Tom replied saying “that’s the goal”.

Maybe it was all in your head, but it never left you. Even if it was, you wanted to hold onto it–the sliver of possibility that there might be something between you and Tom.

You trailed up the long, creme cemented stairs and opened the double glass doors. The lobby was roomy and extremely tall for no good reason besides the glistening chandelier that hung from the roof. The floor was covered in red velvet carpet with a white and gold marble outline. Heels padding the carpet, you checked in easily and were directed to the ballroom area. You followed and strutted into the decked out event.

Similar to the lobby, red velvet and marble decorated the floor and walls. The foundation of the walls were dark wood, which matched pleasantly with the other colors. Accents of gold were everywhere, including the white-clothed tables; candle holders, golden tassels, and picture frames. Voices buzzed all around you, but you hardly acknowledged anyone before taking in the beauty of the room. This was definitely one of the fanciest events you’ve ever been to.

After a welcoming look, you scanned the crowded tables for a familiar face. Or, familiar faces. Since this was The Brothers Trust charity event, all of the Holland brothers were present. That being said, it was also one of your first questions you had asked Tom when he asked for you to go. Why would you need to go if he had the support of all his brothers? You would just be there.

But that’s all he wanted. He just wanted you there. At his events, by his side; in his house, in his bed, in his arms–he always just wanted you there.

You got easily distracted by the outfits and people that it took you a minute to find him. But when your eyes spotted his face, your heart skipped a beat so frequent and fast that it became comfortable. Tom stood in a criminally charming tux by a table of middle-aged people, conversing with a wide smile plastered on his tan face. You watched as he laughed whole-heartedly when Harry made a joke, clutching onto his arm for support.

Without noticing, you had swallowed all your saliva and weren’t breathing correctly. Once your brain and body wanted to function, you used your legs to wander his way.

Tom was busy talking to one of his associates at another table when you caught his eye from across the room. The words that left the older man’s mouth turned into a muffled hum along with all the other voices in the room as he gazed at you. He’s seen you in a numerous amount of dresses, all beautiful and glamorous in their own way. But the dress you’re sporting tonight caused his breath to hitch in his throat and heart stop–correction, it made everything stop. Everyone around you blurred as he absorbed the image of you strutting towards him in that dangerous green and gold.

Dangerous because he might not be able to hold himself back tonight.

“Uh, Tom?” The associate questioned, causing Tom to shake his head and peer down at the man. Before the man could continue about whatever he was talking about, Tom politely, but quickly excused himself with a pat on his shoulder and met with you in the midst of the room.

He inhaled deeply to appear unaffected, like you didn’t just ruin his entire night–entire life–by taking his breath away and looking drop-dead gorgeous. He wouldn’t be too surprised if you killed him.

“This place is ethereal,” You said, head spinning and arms waving. “I cannot believe you made me come to this.”

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“Tom, I just said it was beautiful. Of course I like it. It’s just…a lot,” Your arms cross and you tuck your clutch under your armpit. “I don’t think this scene works for me.”

“Me either. You stick out like a sore thumb,” He teases with an exaggerated sigh. You dramatically gasp.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” You whisper-shout, leaning closer to him. He feels your breath fan his cheek and a slight blush creeps up his neck at the proximity. He doesn’t want to look down because he knows that he would get a glimpse of your breasts perched up by your crossed arms. However, his eyes betray him as his glances quickly at the pair causing a subtle twitch in his cock.

No more looking, Tom, he tells himself.

“You’re way prettier than all of these people. You’re killin’ all of their egos and raising all of their jealousies. If everyone hates me, I’m blamin’ you and that goddamn dress,” Tom expresses with gritted teeth, eyes wandering anywhere but yours. A wave of heat rushes up your neck and your eyes have a staring contest with the carpet.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, his eyes are piercing into yours causing your skin to feel flushed all over. The glare of his brown eyes kindles a small fire in the pits of your stomach, dull but throbbing. The feeling travels lower until there’s a slight drip in your thong.

“I’m glad I chose a good one,” He adds, eyes drifting to scan your entire frame once again with his hands behind his back. Your breasts raise up and down with the deep breaths you take, still unable to comprehend his previous words. You shake your head.

“You chose it?” You always thought it was some stylist, or literally anyone else but Tom. You thought it was just his money that he used to rent it. “Do you always choose my dresses?”

He nods matter-of-factly. “Of course. I’d like to think I know what you like.”

He wasn’t wrong. Every dress that he chose looked like it was made exclusively for you and only you. Whether it was flowy or tight, red or white, you always managed to leave the hotel room more confident than you had when you entered. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember ever telling Tom your sizing. It must have been something he learned along the way because like you said, every dress fit perfectly like it was tailored for you.

Before you could respond, a lady tapped on his shoulder and introduced herself. Tom didn’t hesitate to take a step back and introduce both himself and you. You greeted the lady kindly as you three talked about the goodness of the event. After a few minutes, the auction was set to begin and Tom had to excuse himself.

Before he went on stage, he showed you your seat, which was right in the front with Harry, Sam, and Paddy. You didn’t sit before giving them each a heartwarming hug, even though you saw them all yesterday. Even though you were in a glamorous ballroom you weren’t used to, you felt comforted by the boys you were close enough with to call the brothers you never had.

Sometimes, you wished you saw Tom that way. But when you compared the feelings in your heart and your head, you knew they could never be the same.

Finally, the auction started. Tom’s name glowed in dotted lights on the striped wall behind him. You turned your whole body to face Tom as he introduced the entire event before it got kick-started. Many items were being auctioned; paintings, autographed guitars, and other things that were so far out of your price range that you were deaf to all numbers over the thousands.

In between each item were fun little trivia games to keep the people awake and alert. It was an entertaining way to support a charity, and you felt a sense of pride because you knew it had been Tom’s idea. One of the trivia questions had been to guess how many na’s there were in “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. Some people got insanely close, but no one got it on the money.

After all the auctioning and bidding was over, you felt immensely poor, but felt instantly better when Tom came to sit next to you. The room chatted away, wining and dining while Tom’s brothers did the same. Unlike them, Tom turned to you.

“How are you?” His voice was raspy, probably from talking for hours. That subtle fire in your stomach tingles at his voice. You turn your body to face him.

“I’m good. You did really well up there, by the way,” You said, lifting your nearly empty wine glass to your lips. There’s a blurring stain from your shiny lip gloss on the rim.

“Thanks, love,” The graveliness of his throat doesn’t fade, even after he takes a few sips of water. You watch as his fingers wrap around the cup, and it’s embarrassing that you’re obsessed with his simplistic movements. You subconsciously lick your lips, unable to rid the dirty thoughts piling in your head.

Tux. Pretty. Hot. Raspy voice. Thick fingers.

Tom’s lips started moving, but you weren’t paying enough attention, too caught up in your head to focus on the living dream in front of you.

“What?” You asked, subtly leaning toward him. He leaned closer, lying a hand on your bare thigh through your slit. You quietly gasp because his hand is chilly from the water, but also because it was so close to where you ached. Your skin burned nearly causing you to break out in a sweat, contradicting his icy palm.

“Are you okay?” His other hand gently patted against your forehead and caressed your hot cheek with his thumb. “You’re warm.”

No shit. Does he see what he’s doing?

You couldn’t formulate a response when his hand traveled down to rest on the curve of your shoulder and neck. His hand on your mid-thigh rubbed reassuring circles as your heart thumped a million miles an hour.

“I’m fine,” You vaguely answered in a squeak, subtly squeezing your thighs when his touch got too much. His eyes glance briskly at your tightened thighs and anxious hands in your lap, a knowing eyebrow raising slightly. Tom didn’t mean to put his hand on your thigh, but now that it was there, he didn’t want to remove it. When he saw you squirm for a sliver of a second, he engaged in the idea that you might be turned on.

The thought made his cock twitch needily in his pants.

You didn’t notice, too concentrated on the feeling of his hands on you.

You wanted him to slide his hand up higher, to break that boundary that you’ve waited years to cross. But of course, when your chances were closer than ever, you had to be at some stupid, very public event. And doing anything explicit would be stupid.

“Are you sure? You’re burning up, love,” Tom’s hand squeezes the back of your heated neck causing you to inhale sharply. “And you’re so tense. What’s up, Y/N?”

You clenched your teeth. You began to run through every excuse in your mind, just like you had when Tom first asked you to this event. But he wasn’t texting you or calling you this time. He was sitting right in front of you with his hands on your neck and thigh. You nearly moaned out from just him rubbing your skin, his touch delicate with his rough skin. With every excuse you thought of, you couldn’t think of one that made sense enough for Tom to want to leave you alone for the rest of the night so you could collect yourself.

“I’m just really hot,” You complained in a low voice. Tom’s eyebrows raised, pursing and tightening his lips. To Tom, your voice sounded whiny and lustful. His dick stirred, slightly hardening at the growing conclusion that you’re highly aroused. Like him.

“What can I do, love?” He noticed the smallest quiver of your lip at the name, almost as if you were holding something in. He’s called you love for ages, so maybe it was something else. Or someone else…

What if it wasn’t even him? If it wasn’t him then what had you so worked up?

“Um…can we go outside? Need some air,” Your eyes traveled down to his pink lips, looking so soft and kissable. You were barely a foot away from him before he nodded and stood up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until a wavering sigh left your mouth. Tom extends his hand and you follow him to what you assume is outside.

He leads you out a back door after giving a curt nod to a security guard. The chilly February night breeze brushes over your skin, finally cooling you down as Tom releases your hand. The exit led to an alleyway, a brick wall that grew darker one way. You strained your eyes on each brick and attempted to concentrate on your breathing. But Tom’s looming presence made it impossible because that fire in the pit of your stomach never dulled.

“Feelin’ better?” He broke the silence and it had you swinging your head to face him. You shakingly nodded your head with a quick hum.

You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t stand so close to him while you were feeling this way.

“I have to go,” You exhaled briskly before beginning to walk away. Tom told you to wait, but you didn’t.

You didn’t get more than a few steps before Tom caught your hand and spun you around magically. Your shoulders collided with the surface as he stood in front of you, caging you to the wall. Your breathing faltered as your heart bounced crazily against your ribs, skin beginning to burn up again. He faced the floor before finally meeting your wide eyes. He gazed at you as if he was searching for something and you wanted to give it to him, whatever it was, so he would stop looking at you intensely.

“Why do you always do that?” His voice was a whisper, low and still a tad raspy.

“What?” You scanned his features, allured by his lips only inches away from yours. He’s never been so close and it was dangerous. So, so dangerous. The only barrier in between you was that line of friendship that thinned with every passing second.

“Always run away. Every time…”

Your heart raced faster than it ever has before. It thumped out of your chest like a lovestruck cartoon character as he had you hanging on every single word.

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “Every time I get close. Every time I want to be closer, you make up some excuse so you don’t have to be near me. Am I that horrible, Y/N? Is the possibility of this that horrible?”

Possibility? Possibility of what? Oh, please be what you’re thinking.

“No, God, of course not. You’re perfect. You’re too perfect that I get…overwhelmed when I’m near you. I can’t do this,” You shake your head and try to duck away under his arms. You’re completely disarmed when one of his hands drops to pin your hip down. Your wiggling comes to a halt.

“There you go again. Just stay, Y/N,” He leans toward you, mouth hovering near your ear. Your senses dial up to a hundred when you feel his breath tickle your skin. “You’re still warm, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, holding in a whimper that was threatening to leave your mouth. Your hips subtly moved against his hand that stationed you to the wall, but you weren’t going anywhere.

A thick thigh parts your legs, pinning you to the wall more securely. You gasp as his hand that was on your hip travels up and brushes over the warm skin of your cheek. You search for the words in your brain.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

Tom is struggling. Being this close to you has his cock rock hard under his trousers. He’s sure you could feel him against your bare leg, which was slightly spread for his own leg. His chest was restricting and blocking his air flow because he couldn’t breathe correctly. Your glossy lips were plush and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you until you shared oxygen.

You felt what you assumed was his large boner on your thigh. You mewled so delicately you weren’t sure if he heard it, but he did.

You felt years of friendship being slowly torn apart with every second he didn’t say something. You were about to push him off of you and sprint towards your hotel, which was miles and miles away, so you could die of embarrassment. Or maybe you would die because of your lack of cardio.

When you looked away from him, his hand adjusted your chin so you were staring directly at him. A soft kind of smile adorned his lips, but no words were spoken quite yet. You hated the sliver of hope that leaked from your heart. His thumb rubbed against your bottom lip and pulled it down, smearing your lip gloss.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to kiss these lips?” Throat husky, he pushed himself impossibly closer to you, lips barely an inch away now. His nose bumped yours and you felt the breath evaporate from your lungs. “Sixteen years.”

“Sixteen years…” You repeated breathily. If you were to do the math, which your brain was very incapable of doing right now, that would be your entire friendship. Since you were only ten years old, Tom has been waiting to kiss you.

Tom’s been waiting to kiss you for sixteen years? That must mean…

“Promise you won’t run away,” Tom said, on the edge of pleading and demanding. A slow nod was all you did, and then Tom’s thumb slid down to your chin and tilted your head.

He pressed his lips to yours gently, slowly molding you both together. The motions are so agile, but you can feel everything this way. The tip of his tongue nudges yours, eliciting sparks of fire with every push of your lips. Your polished nails trail up and lightly scrape the soft hair on the nape of his neck. A swirl of passion ignites in your stomach, encouraging and begging for more. Eagerly, your movements got faster, rocking your heads together as you took in as much of one another as you could.

His body pins desperately into yours, smushing you against the rough wall. He removes his hand from your chin and slams it on the wall beside your head. His free hand lifts one of your legs, so he can slot himself in between you. A needy whimper escapes you as his clothed bulge presses against your damp thong. You clench around nothing but the aching and throbbing of your pussy.

“T-Tom, the dress–” You pant.

“I’ll buy you another one,” He slams his lips back on yours to shut you up, which of course, it works. But not for long before another excuse is popping up in your head.

“What if someone walks out here–”

“I’ll kill them,” He goes to kiss you again.

“Tom!” You dramatically shout with a giggle as your hand rests on his chest while the other is on his neck.

“Okay, I won’t actually kill them. Unless you want me to…” He drifts off, getting lost in your smile and your sparkling eyes.

At that moment, it hit him. He had you. He finally had you. Like he’s said, he’s waited sixteen years to have you. He’s been through trial and error with other girls, but they weren’t you. No one could ever be you.

Suddenly, someone bursts through the exit door and has both of your heads turning hastingly. Tom gently releases your leg as he scoffs annoyingly when he realizes it’s just his brother. His hand balls into a fist on the wall as he smiles irritatingly at Harry.

“There you are! Can you save this for later? We have things to sign and people to acknowledge,” Harry says before walking briskly back into the building.

“Yeah, let’s just “save this for later” like I haven’t waited long enough,” Tom mocks his brother with a grumble. You feel Tom sigh into the air. You bring your hand to caress his cheek reassuringly. After the last few minutes, you’ve gotten the courage to be a bit more vulnerable with him, without feeling the urge to run away.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve waited a long time, too,” You curl the corners of your lips into a faint smile as you watch your own thumb smooth over his tan skin. Tom practically melts into your touch, smiling goofily at you. “But we’ve waited this long, what’s a few more hours going to do?”

“Kill me,” Tom mumbles dramatically and you roll your eyes. “I don’t want you to run away.”

Your heart aches at his words. You made a promise to him, and you planned to fulfill that. After that kiss and feeling him in ways that you only imagined, you couldn’t run away now. You needed more of him, all of him. But even if you had all of him, you don’t think you’d be able to leave him again.

“I’ll stay by your side all night. Just like you asked,” You reassured and he nodded. He slowly backs away from the wall, releasing you, and all the heat between you dissipates. But your skin still burned from his touch and your clit still throbbed for him. You quickly adjusted your dress and wiped your hands over the fabric.

“How does the dress look? Fucked up?” You asked, spinning in a half circle. Tom cursed to himself, getting a view of the curve of your ass. That dress really did fit you perfectly, but he wanted nothing more than for it to be off of you.

“Not nearly as bad as I want it to be,” He husked, the sexual innuendo hanging in the air. He quickly swipes his thumb under your lip to fix your smeared gloss before leading you back inside. You blink a few times as he drags you through the door. You weren’t used to him being so blunt, but you loved it. It made you aware that there was something between you and Tom.

You had both surpassed the line of friendship ages ago. You looked back at it like a distant horizon as you entered a new, long-awaited arena; romance.

–

After what you swear was the longest two hours of your life, Tom had talked to every person at least twice with the addition of his goodbyes. Ever since you came back from outside, the tension between you and Tom was undeniable. You stuck to your word and were tied to Tom’s side for the straining hours. His hand was placed on your lower back for most of the night torturing you, and it was no different when he was ushering you out of the front door. Hastily, you both went down the steps and into the car with Eddy.

You tried your best to make normal conversation with Eddy like you usually do, but when Tom placed his large hand on your bare thigh again, it was hard to comprehend anything. Eventually, you entered traffic and Eddy got a phone call. He pressed a button and the wall that separated him from you and Tom was rolled up.

Tom gave you a knowing look as his hand raised higher on your thigh. Your breath hitched as his fingers were merely inches from your drenched heat. You instinctively spread your legs a bit wider, allowing him more access. He leans toward you, purposefully missing your lips and pecking your cheek. He tucks a stray strand of hair around your ear causing shivers to crawl up your spine.

“Are you wet, darling?” His thumb rubs dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Finally, his finger skims over the laced fabric, soaking. You whine when his delicate, teasing touch pets your clit. He chuckles hoarsely. “You’re soaked, baby. Have you been like this all night?”

You nod with closed eyes. “Please, touch me, Tom,” You plead quietly, in fear that Eddy might hear you.

“In the back of the car? Naughty thing,” His fingers press harder into your seeping hole, still covered by your panties. He rubs your hole, thumb petting your clit while your hand slaps over your mouth to keep you quiet. Your chest rises quickly with your racing breaths, your nipples poking at velvet material.

Tom slides your thong to the side, making bare contact with your dripping cunt. He massages your arousal around your folds while his thumb quickens its pace on your throbbing clit. That fire in your lower belly burns deliciously as his movements send you into a frenzy.

“Tom,” You mewled behind your hand suctioned to your face. Tom groans as his middle finger slips into your hole easily. Your hips buck into his touch, back slightly arched.

“Almost there, Mr. Holland,” Eddy informs on the other side of the wall. Your eyes widen as your heart beats quickly in a panic.

What if you get caught? Oh God, you would seriously die of embarrassment.

“Okay,” Tom replies simply, as if he’s unaffected and he isn’t fingering you in the back of a car. Tom’s voice lowers and instantly becomes raspier. “Are you almost there, Y/N?”

You remove your hand from your face, so you can hold onto his shoulder and nod briskly. Your nails dig into his tux jacket as your head slams against the leather seat. Rolling your hips for more, Tom inserts another finger into you and curls them. Your teeth stab into your bottom lip, probably drawing blood, so you don’t scream and alert the whole street.

“I need you to come, love. Right now,” His order was soft and sexy, but demanding and dirty. The thrusts of his fingers only increase in pace as he tries to get you to your orgasm before the car comes to a stop. With another curl of his fingers and a nudge to your clit, your stomach tightened until relief flooded over you.

Noticing this, Tom crashes his lips onto yours to dull your sweet noises. Every moan, scream, and whimper melts into his mouth as his fingers gradually pump into you. Your legs spasm intensely as your release coats his fingers. Tom pulls away from you and takes his fingers out from your sopping cunt, messy with your arousal and cum.

He doesn’t hesitate to raise the substance up to his pink lips, licking it clean off his hand with a devilish smirk on his face. You watch him do so with a widened mouth while you try to catch your breath, panting.

“Did so good, love,” His smirk never fades as the car comes to a stop. Before you know it, Eddy is unlocking and opening your door for you both. You exit first while trying to fix your disheveled appearance, so your post-orgasm look isn’t too suspicious. You mumble a thank you as you hurriedly walk to the front door of the lavish hotel. You stop in your tracks, almost forgetting your clutch in the car. Turning around, you walk back to the car and overhear Eddy and Tom again.

“I’m no fool, Mr. Holland. You told her.”

“I know you’re not, Eddy. And I did. Finally,” Eddy pats him on the shoulder. “And you can call me Tom, you know. We’re friends.”

“I know, I know. Because as your friend and driver, I know when to roll up the partition.”

As a wave of heat rushes up your neck and cascades onto your face, you realize that the clutch wasn’t that important and someone would return it. You resume your fast-paced walk into the hotel with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

A girl in love with her best friend.

–

Since you didn’t have your clutch, you were standing in front of your hotel room waiting for Tom. He wasn’t long after you, finally walking up to you with a smug smirk on his face. And your clutch in his hands. You snatch it from him.

“Finally, I can take these heels off,” You moan, slipping them off as he scans the card and unlocks the room. You place them on the floor near the door and head straight for your room. You don’t get too far, though, because Tom captured your hand and is twirling you around just like earlier in the night.

He traps you on the door, instantly warm against you. You feel his bulge poke your bare thigh as he spreads your legs slightly, fitting in between them. He grabs your hands and pins them above your hands.

“Your dress,” Rough and raspy, his breath fans your cheek.

“What about it?” You whisper, swallowing as your heart falters.

“I need it on the floor,” He husks. You hesitate, so aroused you can’t think straight. You just had an orgasm in the car and you were already horny again. This man made you insatiable.

“Then take it off,” You reply. Everything was so quiet around you. The only things you could hear were your ragged breathing and galloping heart. Tom groans, but listens.

He drops your hands and then folds the straps off your shoulders until your dress is pooled around your ankles. Now, you stood anxious in nothing but a black thong.

“Fuck me,” He grumbles after just looking at you for a second. Your breasts were bare and perky, nippled pebbled from being so turned on. He wanted to put them in his mouth and suck on them until you were sore and begging him to stop.

“That’s the goal,” You’re not sure if he got the reference, but he chuckled, voice even more raspy from the low talking.

“I knew you heard that conversation, you minx,” Without a warning, Tom sweeps you off the ground and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal, squirming in his hold, but it doesn’t even phase him as he leads you toward his bedroom. He jokingly slaps one of your ass cheeks causing you to shriek at the jolt of pain. You won’t lie, it turned you on even more.

Tom tosses you on the bed easily, watching as you scramble to lay on your elbows. You gaze at him with a seductively lip bite, wondering what he has in store for you.

“Touch yourself,” He orders as he loosens his bowtie around his neck. “C’mon, want to see what you can do.”

Hesitatingly, your hand sails down to your laced thong, slick with arousal. Your fingers rub your throbbing clit causing you to sigh and spread your legs. Your eyes drift shut as you get immersed in the feeling of your own hand. Your other hand massages your breast, gently pulling on your nipples. Getting eager, you yank your panties off. You get a glimpse at Tom, who is admiring your every move in nothing now.

Fuck.

You’ll never get used to Tom’s body. He was attractive on a God-scale level and sometimes that scared you. But finally seeing his whole body was jaw-dropping. His cock was girthy with a good amount of length that you had a feeling would kill you. His tip was pink like his lips, and like his lips, you wanted your mouth on it. Was he even real?

You didn’t get too much time to think about it because Tom was removing your hand from between your legs while hovering over you. His brown orbs ogle yours, piercing into your soul and reading you. Although you were way past friendship, entering the “romance” area was very scary. If not, scarier. Tom’s body above yours and the way you could see every detail of his skin terrified you. But you’ve never wanted something more in your entire life.

You pushed your head up, interlocking your lips with his. You melt into a passionate kiss, your hands entwining with his brown locks. Tom drags his lips down your neck, sucking for a moment on a sensitive part. Moaning, his smirks smugly against your skin, trailing lower. He meets your breast and immediately begins to suck on it.

You sharply inhale as his tongue swirls around the bud. His other hand twists the other causing your back to bend off the mattress. It should be illegal for him to be this good with his mouth. He could cause some serious damage.

He sails lower and lower until he’s kissing the skin near your heat. You’re already panting and he hasn’t even touched you yet. His mouth licks your thighs, teasing you immensely. You had already come once tonight around his fingers, you didn’t expect his mouth too. Although you would love to have his mouth on you, right now, you just needed him inside of you. You needed to feel him stretch you out and officially break that boundary.

“I really need you inside of me. Like right now,” You yank on his hair, pulling him towards you. He moans at your words and you love how vocal he is.

“Need a condom, fuck, hold on–”

“Can you actually um…not have one?” You suggested, voice shaky as the question came out. You just wanted to feel him. Everything that he was willing to give you, you wanted. You’ve both waited too long for this. In some way, you felt like you were in a relationship with him this whole time.

Maybe that’s what friendship to relationship feels like.

“Are you…are y’sure? I mean, I’m clean and everythin’–”

“Tom,” You put a reassuring hand to his warm cheek. “I’ve never wanted something more.”

“Christ,” He grits and strokes his shaft above your cunt a few times. His tip teases your entrance, and the small, but very bare contact had you both hissing into the air. “So fucking wet for me.”

His dribble of pre-cum mixes with your arousal as he rubs himself against you. Finally after ten years of waiting, literally, he slowly pushed himself inside of you. The crown of his cock is squeezed by your walls as if you were going to lose him. He curses, pulling himself out an inch, just to add more of his length.

Just like you craved, you feel the impending stretch as his entire cock gradually enters you. Once he’s fully in you, you sigh as he holds the position for a moment. You both take in the feeling of the moment; you’re never going to forget his body on yours or the look on his face as he slowly moves.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, darlin’,” Tom moans with a lip bite.

“Please, please, move,” Just as eager as you, he obeys your request.

He lifts his hips, almost pulling completely out, before thrusting back inside. You cohesively moan, your mixed sounds echoing off the hotel walls. His leisure rocks gently accelerate into powerful pumps, hitting that sensitive spot with a simple nudge of his cock. Your body naturally levitates toward his body, pushing your neglected breasts on his skin.

Tom rams his cock into you, pinning you to the bed with his harsh thrusts. His head falls in the cradle of your shoulder as one of his hands lifts your leg to spread you wider. When his dick sinks entirely deeper, you gasp and drown in a mix of moans and screams. Your nails dig into his tough shoulder blades, probably leaving crescent moon shaped marks. Your leg wraps around his backside, forcing him to be deep inside of you forever.

Your head is thrown back onto his pillow, hair fanned out wildly. When Tom lifts his head to look at you, the wind practically gets knocked out of him. You were drop-dead gorgeous in your dress, like he said. God, your naked, bare figure nearly sent him into cardiac arrest. But watching you wither in complete bliss underneath him gave him a sense of pride that he was the one making you feel this way. No one else. And it would never be anyone else ever again.

With this thought, his cock pumps barbarically into you, rightfully proving to you that your friendship will never be the same. He repeatedly pokes at your G-spot, eliciting debauched shrieks from you. When you thought it couldn’t feel any better, Tom’s hand sneaks between you both and circles lightly on your clit.

“Feels so good. God, you’re so good,” You praise breathily. Clenching around him, a shuddering moan leaves him. “I’m so close, please.”

“Gonna come for me, hm? Need to feel you come around my cock,” Tom orders with another jarring thrust into your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his demanding words, your body on the verge of caving.

Squeezing around him greedily, your entire figure tenses as an overpowering wave of relief floods over you. Your abdominal muscles clench intensely, your hands cramping from fisting his skin so hard. Your legs flutter around him as you begin to coat his cock in your release. At the same time, you feel the twitch of Tom’s length inside of you, alerting you that he’s close.

“Where do you want me to…” He grunts when you clutch around him from overstimulation. A string of curses leak from his mouth as he holds back his load, waiting for your response.

“I-Inside, please. Fuck, I need it inside of me, Tom,” You panted as he practically growls against your perspired skin.

“Fuckin’ killing me, angel. Shit,” Finally, Tom releases into you, pumping sloppily as he does so. You sigh relievingly as his orgasm covers your walls, tingling your insides. He slowly pushes every drop inside of you, ensuring you didn’t miss any.

Your eyelids flutter closed as Tom falls on the bed beside you. Your body sinks into the mattress beneath you, suddenly too tired to move. You had a keen feeling that tomorrow you would struggle to walk, or move in general.

“Tom,” You start. “I think you just ruined me forever.”

“Good,” His post-orgasm was somehow even more sexy. It was groggy and double raspy. He drags your body towards him and holds you close. Your head relaxes on his buff chest, his rapid beating heart making you smile to yourself. “I want to ruin you for everyone else.”

The heat on your skin that you thought had ceased never did, not with his flirtatious and alluring comments. A flush creeps up and makes your cheeks all warm against his torso.

“You know you’re mine now, right?”

“That’s definitely not how I pictured you asking me out…”

“Well, how did you picture it?” The truth is, you never really pictured it. You never let yourself think that far because then you would start getting hopeful. And being hopeful made you scared, and when you were scared…you ran away. It was a constant loop of life you lived in. However, with Tom lying beside you as your face was cradled in his chest, you had a feeling you wouldn’t have a problem staying this time.

“How about “Will you be my girlfriend?” That seems better.”

“But what if you said no? Might as well jus’ say you’re mine, so you can’t,” He kisses the top of your head softly while you roll your eyes at his foolishness. “Aren’t you glad you went now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off. Realizing you have to get up from the comfort of his security, you gently push yourself up into a sitting position.

“I really don’t want to get up.”

“Then don’t? Just stay here. We don’t ever have to leave this room again.”

“As much as I love you, I’m not sleeping with a face full of makeup,” You begin to slide off the bed before you realize what you just said.

Oh fuck. Did you just admit you loved him after not even five minutes of being in a relationship?

“You love me?” He gripped your wrist, but didn’t spin you like what he did earlier. This time he let you stand still in shock of your own words. In every other situation you would have run away or made some excuse. But you wanted to be different. You didn’t want to be so easily intimidated by intimacy or vulnerability anymore. You really did love Tom, you always have, even if it took you a little longer than him to realize it.

Maybe instead of avoiding it, just go with it.

“Yeah, I do,” You smile full-heartedly at Tom, delicately biting your lip. A part inside of you bursted open, unlocking all sorts of emotions you didn’t know how to comprehend or express.

“I love you too, So much,” You both lean in to share a passionate kiss, but you cut it short to seriously push him off of you, so you could leave and wash up. If you didn’t have an ounce of self-control for the both of you, you would never leave this hotel room. Tom was clearly the insatiable one.

“If you don’t come back to my bed in five minutes, I’m dragging your ass in here. No warnings,” Tom says before you strut out of his room completely naked. You hear him groan to himself, which makes you giggle like a young school girl.

Walking to your bathroom, the same uncontrollable smile etches on your face like the one you had when you returned to the hotel. You splashed icy cold water to your heated cheeks and tried to rub away the plastered grin, but nothing could dull the adoration you felt for the other man in your hotel room. Instead of trying to erase it, you stared and allowed yourself to feel the emotion without running away from it.

A girl in love with her best friend.

A boy in love with his best friend.

Best friends who are stupidly in love with each other.

–

this was wayy longer than i thought. i liked this a lot more than i thought i would, too. i hope you enjoyed it just as much :D

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[camillesblogsposts]

Say yes to me - three

Song- dream girl, lana del rey

@blairfox04 @lostcasefile @kyleeservopoulos @cursedpixie @ellieinmybed @intrnetdoll @frasersgf @alanahendrix @experiencebeinanamericanwh0re @ariianelle @nil-eena @spidersammy @starhrtz

“She said it’s different with me.”

“What?” Cat’s face scrunched up.

“Ellie, she said it’s different with me than it is with you and Dina and Jesse.” You told her. She had said that. You didn’t exactly know what she had meant by that, but it must have meant something. “Well yeah, she’s friends with us, she’s not with you.” Cat snapped, turning on her tv as to ignore you.

“Why do you think she doesn’t wanna be friends with me?” You sat on the end of her bed. Cat shrugged, “Ellie likes strong people.” That made sense. “The more you try suck up to her the less she likes you.” She continued on. “I don’t suck up to her.” You crossed your arms a little defensively. She rolled her eyes. You didn’t try to. You just wanted her to know what you had to offer; you weren’t lying or exaggerating, you wanted to be able to dote on her all day every day.

Somebody knocked on the door and Cat went to fetch it, Dina following soon after back into Cats bedroom. She smiled warmly at you, quickly embracing you. “Hello sunshine,” she hummed against you before pulling away. “When Ellie and Jesse get back from patrol how about we all have a movie night?” She looked to you and Cat to gage your responses. You nodded and gave her a big smile. Cat nodded too.

You had a quick shower and got changed, tidying your room hurriedly just in case anybody ended up in there for whatever reason. You’d be watching movies in your small living room, the usual arrangement was Jesse and Dina on the smaller sofa and you, Cat and Ellie on the larger one. Cat seemed to love that, physically being between the two of you. Your heart would be going crazy in your chest from being so close to Ellie, every time without fail.

You’d just walked back out into the kitchen when the front door opened, Jesse walking in alone. You smiled at him, a little confused, “Where’s Ellie?” He smiled back softly, “She’s getting stitched up by Maria, she got grabbed and-” you cut him off “Is she okay?” He nodded. “Nothing serious, just a few cuts.” You nodded back at him, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on, quickly walking past him. He grabbed your arm.

“Y/N, she’s lucky to have someone care about her so much, even if she doesn’t appreciate it.”

You didn’t reply to him, looking down and leaving. You hated when people said things like that. You didn’t care about Ellie in hopes that she’d show how much she appreciates it, you just felt that way for her. You wanted her to be reminded of it every day.

You walked quickly to the infirmary, the little wooden star you’d been traded at the market in hand. Ellie was there, laid down on top of a bed. She was asleep. “She’s okay, the painkillers make you drowsy, she’s okay to sleep for a short while.” Maria spoke, examining you quickly. Ellie’s arms were bandaged. “You stay here with her for me, I have to go find Tommy, when she wakes up she’s okay to leave.” She smiled at you quickly, sort of robotically. Maria left in a rush.

You felt a little awkward, you sat on the edge of the bed besides Ellie. Even asleep she looked so tense. Hesitantly, you stroked her hair behind her ear. You settled down to lay beside her, watching her chest dip down and up as she breathed. It was so comforting. You could feel her warmth on your skin, all you could smell was Ellie. You could’ve fell asleep like that. After a short while, Ellie opened her eyes. She looked shocked to see your face, blinking rapidly for a moment.

“What are you,”

“Sorry! Maria asked me to watch you.” You jolted to sit up and Ellie extended her hand quickly, preventing you from moving. You were pinned back down beside her, face to face. Your heart skipped a beat. She didn’t say anything else.

“Are your arms okay?” You whispered, struggling to look in her eyes. “Yeah.” She whispered back to you, voice rough. You closed your eyes, “If you’d let me, I’d kiss them better.” You heard Ellie’s breath hitch. You looked up at her, her eyes were wide, she was biting her lip. “You’re so fucking cruel to me.” She huffed, turning to lay on her back. You were confused. “What?” You asked, leaning over her to see her face again. She refused to look at you. “Nothing.” She mumbled. It was awkward again for a moment.

You remembered what Maria had said and got up, “You’re okay to leave, Dina said we’re all having a movie night.” You smiled at her, stroking your hands together anxiously. Ellie nodded, standing and walking to leave. She held the door open for you.

Once you were home, everyone had already settled into the sofas and got comfy. Cat motioned for Ellie to join her and before she did she turned to you, “Thanks for watching me, or whatever.” Her voice was quiet. You nodded and smiled. It was probably the first time Ellie had ever thanked you.

You sat beside Cat, your usual seat. Everyone fussed over Ellie for a minute or two in jest, irritating her. You were watching some action movie, not really your speed. You realised you had fell asleep after being shoved off of Cat, “If you’re gonna fall asleep don’t use my shoulder as your pillow.” She moaned, crossing her arms and shuffling away from you, closer to Ellie. You yawned and stretched, standing up a little wobbly. “M’ tired, gonna go to bed.” You spoke, waving your byes to everyone as you walked out of the living room. Ellie watched you with a strange look. You wondered what she was thinking.

You realised you still had the wooden star in your hand and quickly scurried back to the living room, waving at Ellie quietly as to try not to distract everyone from the movie. Ellie stood, Dina smirking at her a little as she noticed why Ellie was walking out of the room.

She closed the living room door behind her, the intimacy of it making you feel a little hot. It was just the two of you in the hallway. She didn’t say anything, looking down at you with hooded eyes.

“Got you something.” You whispered. She raised an eyebrow, waiting. You presented it, your little wooden star. She smiled, a small, hesitant, awkward kind of smile. “Why?” She asked, her hand raising to rub her neck. “Just made me think of you.” You told her, smiling and blushing. You wanted her to wrap her arms around you, let you touch her, kiss your forehead and tell you how much she loves it.

“You shouldn’t keep.. doing .. and saying stuff like that.” She was growing annoyed, now. A second before she’d been smiling. You realised that it was whatever she was thinking of that dampened her mood, not you.

“I know you don’t like me and that’s okay, I just wanted you to have this.” You were tearing up again. God, you thought, you must be so fucking insufferable to be around. Such a cry baby. Ellie’s jaw clenched. “I’ve never said that.” She grumbled. You were confused again. You swung back and forth your feet, pouting a little. “You don’t have to say it for me to know it.” You felt guilty after saying that, biting your tongue. “You’re so fucking difficult, you know?” She turned her head away from you, looking down the hallway, arms crossed.

“M’ sorry, sorry, I don’t want to upset you.” Your voice was cracking now. Ellie audibly gulped, her face coming back to yours. “Fuck, god, how don’t you fucking get it?” She sounded, strangely, hurt. You met her gaze, your tears streaming down your face now. It was harder to stop it when you were sleepy. “If I don’t get it then why can’t you just explain it to me? Tell me what’s wrong with me, I already told you, I’ll change it.” You were blubbery, Ellie growing nervous the others would hear your crying.

“Listen, just stop crying, okay? Get yourself to bed.” She tried hushing you, her hand hesitantly wiping away tears. You shook your head, “Just tell me what’s wrong with me.” Ellie grabbed your hand and pulled you down the hallway to your bedroom without a word, pulling you inside. “Nothing is wrong with you, Y/N. You just, the way you act, it’s fucking horrible for me.” Her voice was high with emotion. You were still crying, a rather pathetic display. “Why?” You whined out, your breathing unsteady. She sighed again, so so so fucking annoyed that you just didn’t get it. It seemed to painfully obvious to her but honestly, she was the only person that knew how she felt. Her and Joel.

“If you can’t fucking stop it then just stay the fuck away from me, feel like you’re torturing me every time you’re close.”

“I can’t help liking you.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it? Im not gonna be your fake fucking friend, pretending that I don’t, don’t feel,” She stopped herself. It seemed like you were having two completely different conversations.

You were quiet, sniffling to yourself. Ellie’s face was scrunched up. She came and knelt down on the floor, her face close to yours as you sat on your bed. “I wish you felt.. wish you wanted me.” You whispered. Ellie’s face grew red, she looked a little confused and taken aback. “How… how do you mean?” Her eyebrows furrowed. You struggled for the words. “Like… like those two girls in your book.”

Ellie’s head could have literally exploded. She had never ever ever once considered that you had thought of her in that way. She’d spent every day of her life since she’d met you obsessing over you, analysing you; the way your face moved, how you spoke, what these little changes meant about how you felt. She’d desired you so deeply and wholly it horrified her. You scared her. She hated how it made her feel, the way her throat clenched whenever you were in her line of vision. All of your little comments, all of your pouts and whining and little touches, they’d all been intended to entice her? She couldn’t grasp it.

Your bedroom door was opened, Cat stood, mouth agape. The day, seemingly, had came.

[cor-obscenum]

Yeah no I’m also not a fan of unhappy endings with dark cardiophilia. Nothing crazy in mind I would just like to see femdom Aurora :)) -🫀

Omg so sorry for taking so long to reply, I was having a really bad case of writer's block for this one... Hopefully you'll like how it turned out!

There Will Be No Tenderness

Picture from Pexels, edited. Title is a reference to the song "Hatefuck" by The Bravery (check it out, it's a banger)

Pairing: Swiss x Aurora.

Summary: Swiss wants to try something different in the bedroom with Aurora. More specifically, he wants her to torture his heart.

Contents: 16+, but still fetishy, dark cardiophilia, self-inflicted arrhythmias, heart pressure, femdom Aurora, medfet, latex kink, stething, trampling

Word count: 1.218

Read on AO3

"So, let me get this straight... You want to use your quintessence to mess with your heart rhythm? While I press down on your chest?" Aurora asked coyly, delighting in seeing a blush crawl in Swiss's face.

"Well, yes, haha" the multighoul replied, barely containing his nervousness.

"Well, I suppose this can be arranged... I never tried anything like that, but if it floats your boat... Is 10 PM an okay time for you?"

"It's perfect."

"It's a date, then. See you in my quarters at 10 PM and let's see how can I play with your heart..." The air ghoulette finished, placing a peck on her boyfriend's lips.

Swiss spent the rest of the day feeling like he was walking on clouds. Daydreaming about Aurora dominating him in all her dainty glory and abusing his heart. He could barely focus on his ghoul duties from the anticipation, everything was a blur to him.

9:59 PM. His heart pounded on his chest as he knocked on the door of Aurora's room.

"Come in" her cute voice sounded front the other side. Swiss bit his lip as he turned the doorknob, and the vision he got made his heart just about stop.

Aurora was wearing a skin-tight teal latex dress, a nurse's cap and a stethoscope around her neck. She smirked as she saw her lover enter the room, flustered and ready for his treatment.

"Welcome, my patient. Have a seat." She commanded, her voice soft yet firm.

Swiss obeyed and sat on the bed, giddy from the excitement. Aurora started putting on black latex gloves, stretching and snapping them seductively. The squeaking sounds of the latex made Swiss just about pass out from the expectation and growing arousal in his crotch.

"What brings you here in my office?" The air ghoulette asked in a stern tone.

"Well, let's say I haven't been happy with my heart rate lately... It's a bit boring, you know?" Swiss replied.

Aurora stared at him for a couple seconds with a smug expression, really living up to her dominant persona.

"That's certainly an unusual reason for seeing a doctor. Aren't you aware of the dangers of playing with your heart? It could put your life at risk."

Swiss gulped, taken aback by the reply. Time to play the needy sub.

“Eh, yes, I am aware, but I want it anyway.”

“Why?” Aurora questioned, still looking impassive and stern.

“It’s that… It seems dangerous and exciting, like an extreme sport, you know? I really want it.” Swiss said with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Well, if you want it so much, I guess I can oblige, then.” She finally gave in. “But first, let me check you up to see if your heart is healthy. Would you mind removing your shirt?”

Swiss unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the side at an impressive speed, such was his eagerness for the “checkup” to start. Aurora got very close and placed two gloved fingers on his throat, feeling for the carotid pulse. Her free hand cupped his cheek, running a latex-clad thumb across his cheekbone, which made the multi ghoul visibly blush from the fluster. The friction of the gloves against his skin was so tempting, so sensual that made his heart rate rise significantly, which the air ghoulette definitely noticed.

“Pulse seems normal, just a little elevated. Now let me take a listen.” She put the earpieces of the stethoscope on her ears and placed the chestpiece against his chest. This move alone made the multi ghoul’s heart race, his arousal and excitement already over the stratosphere. It was beating so fast that Aurora's eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the freakish thumpthumpthump through the stethoscope.

“It's so fast…” She commented, faking concern. “Are you feeling okay? No dizziness, shortness of breath or anything?”

“I'm fine…” Swiss replied with a breathy voice, not even trying to contain his fluster anymore.

Aurora listened for a few more delicious seconds, letting her partner relish in the feeling of having his heart listened to. Then she took the stethoscope out and placed it in his ears, earning an awkward moan from the multi ghoul.

“I'll let you listen from now on, since you seem to be enjoying it more than I am. Now let's monitor this ticker.” She said, moving away to look into her bag, where she picked up a pulse oximeter and put it to Swiss' right index finger.

Swiss felt like he was between heaven and hell.

“120 beats per minute. Not bad for a pathetic little simp waiting to have his heart tortured, like he himself requested.” Aurora commented smugly on the reading of the oximeter. She leaned in closely, lips brushing Swiss’ ear, and whispered: “Are you ready? Can we start with the procedure now?”

“Yes, please” Swiss pleaded, his voice an octave higher, almost a whimper.

The air ghoulette shoved him into the bed, forcing him to lay down. She placed both hands on his sternum as if she was going to perform CPR and pressed down, releasing her body's weight on him. The multi ghoul channeled his quintessence to her hands, which multiplied the pressure on the organ and made it literally struggle under the ghoulette’s weight. The fast, tortured beats sounded like the most beautiful music through the stethoscope.

“Is that all you can take?” Aurora teased. “I'm not even trying and you're already looking so done. What a weakling you are.”

“No, I want more, please” Swiss muttered, almost out of breath from the pressure on his lungs.

“And you shall have more. But first, let's take a look at your numbers.” She pulled away to allow him to take a breath, and checked the oximeter. “160 beats. That was just the warmup.”

She pressed down on his chest again, and this time the quintessence flew more strongly, which made the air ghoulette tremble. With her low-cut dress, bending forward, she was a sight to behold, and the vibration of the quintessence made her tits jiggle beautifully to the multi ghoul's delight. His poor heart struggled, pumping vigorously as if he was running a marathon, and soon he could feel the rhythm becoming irregular - just the way he wanted. At first it faltered in faint, fluttery skips, until the beats became erratic, bordering on a life-threatening fibrillation. It was so dangerous, yet so delicious. Swiss’ heart was struggling so much, if he was hooked to an EKG, the graphs would look like rough scribbles - nothing like a normal heartbeat.

Aurora pulled away, legitimately concerned upon feeling the irregular beats.

“I think we should stop now. Otherwise your heart is not going to take it.” She said in a condescending tone, looking at the oximeter in Swiss' finger. “220 beats! Now that's impressive. I'm proud of you and your little ticker, working so hard to stay alive, despite my abuse.”

“Thank you” the multi ghoul muttered between gasps.

“Now I need you to promise you're gonna take good care of your heart, okay?” Aurora asked in a gentle tone, trailing kisses from Swiss' chest upwards, until locking lips with him. The multi ghoul sighed, contently, basking in the warmth of her passionate touch. Sweet aftercare ensues.

Taglist: @runscold-runsdeep @boomerangjr

[gattnk]

For every shadow there's a light source. For Malachia, there's Reina.

The superior villain pair of the show and the highlight of the first season, everyone! I would've kept them secret for a bit longer but my darling @angelsfriendsass did one of their famous crossover pieces showcasing my (until now) server-exclusive Reina so... I guess my hands are tied :P Here's how the magic happened:

The first thing I did when I set myself to revamp the Angel's Friends plot, was work on Reina and Malachia's role in the story. They're the driving force behind the plot in both the series and the comic, which meant it was crucial to determine what their story would be this time around: what would I keep, what would I change, and what would be tossed out entirely.

I looked into Igor Chimisso's work for Malachia and Reina to better understand his design work (he was a lead character designer for the series). I also looked into their theme songs for inspiration. My research brought me to four key words: light, shadows, opposites, and neutrality. Reina would be searing light, and Malachia would be creeping shadows. The "opposites" and "neutrality" concepts would tie them together and unify their designs.

I love the idea of protagonists seeing themselves mirrored by their antagonists in some way. Reina used to be an angel in the show and Malachia used to be a devil in the comics, so I cemented this into my own canon; they would mirror Raf and Sulfus quite naturally this way.

Malachia's new personality and role as a "creeping shadow" made me choose a variety of greys for him. Being a former devil, his focus on ambiguity and "neutrality" would fit well with him. Reina instead has more polarizing tones, dealing in extremes like the "searing light" she embodies: being a former angel, her line of thought would be more black and white, and this would be reflected in her dress with "opposite" hues.

You can't have a villain duo without complementary concepts, and what better way to represent complementary concepts than with complementary colors? I gave Reina yellow eyes and Malachia purple ones, and included "hints" of each other by adding shades of these colors on their counterpart.

Malachia has ochre accents, a yellowed shirt and bronze skin, very straightforward. Reina has dark magenta accents and her iconic blue hair to tie her to his counterpart. I considered white hair like her young self in the series at first, but it clashed with the dress; I took a page from her adult design and kept her silver bangs to frame her face instead.

Reina's shattered halo pieces are arranged over her head like a crown, a tongue-in-cheek reference to her name ("queen" in spanish) and her position of leadership in Limbo. Malachia instead used his shattered horns to fashion himself a diapason, like the one in the comics. The function of this tool is very different in my rewrite, but I'll keep the specifics to myself for now ;P

Also, I wasn't entirely sure where to include this, but remember how angels are tied to circles and devils to triangles? Reina, Malachia and other neutrals will be tied to a half circle on top of a triangle, kinda like a diamond with a round top. See how many of those you can spot around!

It'll be a long time before they show up in my fic proper, but I still encourage you to keep your eyes open just in case while you read my rewrite fic. After all, Raf and Sulfus aren't particularly careful or subtle, so who knows what's lurking around the Golden School these days...

I'll Fly With You (rewrite fic) Art masterpost

[shychick-52]

'Day of the Sorcerers' is an even deeper study of Cedric's complex, tormented character than I thought at first. Now, there were a TON of amazing callbacks and symbolism in his incredible song (My Evil Dreams) to his friendship with Sofia and his painful conflict over whether their friendship or his evil dreams were ultimately more important. Here's two examples of incredible symbolism (one is from the song, the other is later in the episode)...

During his fantasy of becoming king, the rubies in the crown are clearly the same rubies Sofia made/gave him way back in 'Cedric's Apprentice':

I think the rubies in the crown represent (like the song in general) how deeply torn he is over his ambitions and her friendship. And it was a good callback to how similarly torn he was back in 'Cedric's Apprentice' after Sofia left him the rubies she transformed with his guidance (arranging them into a heart shape)... back then, he only just started to see her as a friend; what makes the song/symbolism in My Evil Dreams so powerful is how far their friendship had evolved since then and how much she's come to mean to him, which he can't deny.

Later, when Cedric freezes the rest of the royal family and takes the throne, it's not Roland's throne he takes and transforms, oddly enough- it's Sofia's:

I was talking to @bettathanyou about it recently. We think a possibility is that the symbolism reflects the tragedy of Cedric originally choosing his misguided ambition over her friendship, and the grim reality of that choice.

And then Betta went on to add that it also likely reflects Cedric's true desires deep down, which isn't power, but friendship and love and acceptance and support- all of which he's always had in abundance in Sofia (but always forced himself to believe it wasn't enough, which was part of his tragedy). Cedric always claimed he wanted to be king, but he doesn't even take THE KING'S THRONE! He takes Sofia's throne, and we all know what Sofia represents- love, kindness, friendship, respect! All the things Cedric truly wanted, so of course he would take her seat and morph it into his own!

I absolutely agreed with Betta. And then I summed it up by suggesting that it perfectly reflects how even tho on the surface he appeared to choose his ambitions over her friendship, he subconsciously still valued and craved her friendship above all.

And this is something else I noticed ONLY last night after watching this episode again. Cedric transformed Sofia's throne (and the surrounding pillars) to be raven-themed, symbolizing his "loyal" familiar and friend. But as we know, Wormwood never cared about Cedric or had any confidence in his abilities- he only cared about serving a powerful, evil master and becoming powerful by association, which was the only reason he ever stuck by Cedric and did all he could to help him steal Sofia's amulet. It's also why he so obviously manipulated Cedric in the song 'My Evil Dreams' when he was so torn, pushing him to choose vengeance and power over Sofia's friendship: "The princess may be nice to you / But what about the rest? / All those who point and laugh at you / Must see that you're the best!" (And ofc, Wormwood would eventually abandon Cedric, because he finally realized that Cedric turning over a new leaf meant he was of no more use to his own plans for power).

So, the symbolism in having raven-themed decor in/around what was once Sofia's throne is that it represents the difference between his relationships with Sofia and Wormwood- the purity of Sofia's true friendship and the toxicity of his relationship with Wormwood.

@bettathanyou @fantadym @moonypears-blog