#empties what the fuck how did you do that

[rainydayathogwarts]

Low waisted jeans - Remus Lupin

summary: you don't realise you have bruises on your hips when putting on low waisted jeans, and your brother becomes protective over you. cw: allusions to sex, secret relationship, jily part of my remus x potter!reader secret relationship au! This is set before james finds out. read more on my marauders masterlist! 0.6k+ wc

"You're going to make us late y/n!" Marlene yells, Lily chuckling by her side as they wait for you to get ready. It wasn't your fault that you were still in class, and definitely not your fault that everyone had made Hogsmeade plans whilst you were in said class. You heard the door to the dorm open and slam shut, three extra voices added to the commotion in the room. You run around the bathroom, throwing off your tie and running your hands over your slightly crinkled shirt, hoping the outfit you picked out matched the image you'd created for it in your head. Kicking off your skirt, you shimmy on a pair of low waisted jeans. You pull the material of your shirt up, wondering if you should tuck it in or not before deciding against it.

Shrugging, you open the door to the bathroom, closing the closet door after stuffing your school shoes in its bottom compartment. You sit on the floor, putting on your sneakers and tying your laces. You glance at the boys who have joined your dorm mates in the room. James, your brother, sits with an arm wrapped around Lily's shoulder, whispering something into her ear. You pull a disgusted face, turning your attention to the others. Remus catches your eye and smiles widely, which you immediately return. Oh, the things you would do to stroll up and kiss him, but unfortunately, all that would do is expose your relationship to your brother. You push yourself off the ground, your shirt riding up your torso a little, and you walk into the open space of the room, putting your sun glasses on your head. "Okay I'm ready." You announce, attracting five pairs of eyes.

Sirius is the first to make a comment, asking "What counter did you have a fight with?" The comment confuses you, and you pull a face at the boy. "He means, how come you have bruises on your hips?" Marlene corrects, clearing her throat awkwardly. You glance down, view of your hips obstructed by your breasts. Huffing, you turn towards the mirror, jaw dropping just as James says "I think what they both mean is which boy fucked you so hard you have bruises on your hips?" You grimace at your brother's rephrasing, looking at the expression on his face through the mirror while Sirius barks out a laugh. James's jaw is tightly clenched, eyebrows furrowed angrily and you laugh nervously, watching as he slowly stands up. You definitely didn't think about the after effects of Remus having you bent over your desk yesterday, a hand slapped over your mouth despite the dorm's emptiness. At least the sex was good. Regaining your composure with a cough, you say "My sex life is none of your business, James."

James crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you. "What, you don't think an older brother should care about their sister's romantic involvement with boys?" You grin, putting your arm through the handle of your purse. "No." You walk towards him, poking him in the chest. "And three minutes doesn't count as older." You open the door to your dorm, saying "After you, princess." Marlene and Sirius burst into a fit of giggles, and you can see Lily and Remus's unhidden grins from the corner of your eye. Three people stand up, following your brother out of the dorm, but one person stays behind, letting you close the door before approaching you.

Remus's hands land on your hips, massaging the bruises sorry with a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry about those sweetheart." He says, pecking your lips sorry. You hum, opening the door again, and shooing him out. "I think that smile says otherwise, Lupin. Causing me trouble with my brother..." He laughs at your comment, chasing after the others before you attempt a weak attack at him.

[taeyongdoyoung]

wicked game

summary: you try to seduce the unpopular virgin to win a bet with your stepbrother. your stepbrother wants to sleep with you and you want his car. but the virgin guy has more to offer... pairing: loser virgin!haechan x popular girl!reader genre: angst, romance, smut, high school setting warnings: the bet trope my beloved, manipulative stepbrother!jeno, ex-boyfriend!mark, innapropriate groping in school, one non-consensual cheek kiss, past man-eater y/n, lowkey corruption kink, lots of kissing, handjob, blowjob, eating out, attachment issues, protected sex (unbelievable), classmates to lovers, non-consensual photo-taking, breakfast in bed, break-up, no pain no gain author's note: this is loosely based on the movie Cruel Intentions minus the dying part; disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, i don't actually think Jeno is an A-hole, i just needed such a character for the sake of the plot word count: 3.7k

You're bored. Being the most popular, prettiest and richest girl in high school is not enough to satisfy your greed. Boys are literally throwing themselves at you in every corner. It's almost too easy. You want a challenge. Something to make the last year of school a memorable one. Something fun.

So, when your stepbrother Jeno presents you with an idea, you accept it eagerly.

"If you're so bored, why don't I propose a bet?"

"What kind of a bet?" you eye him curiously.

"See that guy Haechan? I heard he's a virgin and saving himself for his one ~true love~. How fucking pathetic is that?"

"So? What is it to me?" you scoff, though you already have a feeling where this is going.

"If you manage to seduce that fucking loser, I'll give you my Jaguar."

"Oh, that's very tempting," you smirk. "And if I don't?"

"Then, you'll sleep with me," Jeno whispers in your ear.

"Ew, as if. You're my brother," you make a gagging motion.

"Stepbrother," Jeno points out.

"Still, it's gross," you shake your head.

"Are you scared you'll lose?" Jeno sticks his tongue out.

"I haven't agreed to the bet yet," you answer.

But Jeno knows you too well. You are already thinking of ways to ruin that poor boy Haechan.

You approach him that same day, sitting on the empty seat on his desk. Asking him to do homework together...

"Why would I want to spend time with you?" Haechan spits out.

Ouch. Little one is too feisty for a regular loser. This might be more interesting than you initially thought.

"Why not? If you hang out with me, people will think you're cool," you try to attack where you believe it'll sting.

"So? Popularity isn't everything, you know?" Haechan rolls his eyes. "Besides, people who peak in high school spend the rest of their lives leading a mediocre, non-satisfying existence."

Damn. Pretty harsh. You didn't anticipate this would be so difficult. Oh well, all the more motivation to try harder.

"You admit it, then? That I'm at my peak right now," you smile flirtatiously, running a finger across his face.

"It doesn't matter to me where you think you are," Haechan glares at you, grabbing your finger and removing it from his skin. "As long as you get out of my face."

Gee, so aggressive.

"Did I ever do something to you?"

"No, but you messed with my best friend Mark's head. Leading him to believe you cared for him and then ditching him is so not cool. Now, piss off," Haechan grunts angrily.

You don't even remember half of the names of the guys you slept with. But you do remember Mark. He was really sweet. And if you could feel something at all, it would have been guilt. But back when you were with Mark, your mother had just announced she's getting re-married to Jeno's father. So, you were angry at everyone and everything. And you took it all out on Mark.

"Well, I can't change the past, so don't blame me without knowing the circumstances."

"It doesn't matter anyway. Mark found a girl much better than you who's treating him right."

"What about you? Got someone special taking care of you?" you touch him again, this time more forward and shameless, trying to elicit a reaction out of him. Sneaking your hand underneath the desk and caressing him fondly.

"It's n-none of your b-business," Haechan stammers but he doesn't remove your hand this time. Oh, he's so touch-starved this is going to be a lot of fun. For you.

"I could take care of you, you know? Turn all your wildest dreams into reality."

"I know what you are," Haechan shakes his head.

"A vampire!" you gasp in mock surprise.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Haechan fakes a smile. "You're a man-eater. You fuck around with guys and then you leave them to rot. I want nothing to do with you."

"Really? Then, why haven't you removed my hand yet?" you remind him, though perhaps you shouldn't have.

Haechan grabs your wrist, pushing you away firmly.

"You're wrong, you know," you try to convince him of your sincerity. "I'm just as eager to find someone who loves me. Someone worth staying for."

"And what, you expect me to believe that someone is me?" Haechan stares at you sceptically.

"Let's find out, shall we?" you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he can escape.

And then, you let him be. Enough torture for day one.

You start interacting with Haechan every day. During the first month, you are consumed with thoughts of Jeno's bet. The abominable idea of sleeping with your stepbrother is enough to keep you going. Of course, you know he's not gonna force you into it. But you need the motivation to not lose the bet anyway. The gorgeous car is also pretty seductive.

During the second month, you are consumed with thoughts of Haechan. You begin to realize how lovely, clever and funny he is. And the fact he's even letting you spend time with him is enough to make you happy. You're no longer bored. Because everyday you have something fun to look forward to. You spend time at the school library, doing homework together, occasionally sending memes to each other. You go on little walks and picnics at the park. You even go to the cinema a couple of times, bonding over your shared love for horror movies.

During the third month, the miracle happens. Haechan decides he trusts you enough to invite you over to his place one evening. He even makes the point of notifying you that his parents aren't home. What does he mean by that? Is this an opportunity for you to finally seduce him?

Naturally, you don't get much homework done, before Haechan starts kissing you out of nowhere. You kiss him back eagerly.

"W-what are you doing?" you ask as you notice Haechan has started unbuttoning his jeans.

"I t-thought you wanted this. S-sorry," Haechan looks down, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. He's in a hurry to zip himself again. God, you feel so cruel.

"I d-do," you admit, no longer giving a shit about that stupid bet. "But I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for."

"So, you've heard about what I said at that fucking party?"

"What did you say?" you ask, even though you have an idea of what it involves.

"That I'm saving it for someone special," It being his virginity, you suppose. "Someone who loves me. To be honest, I was really drunk that night. I don't care all that much anymore."

"It's okay to have your principles, Haechan," you try to reassure him and stroke his soft hair gently. "I think it's pretty admirable, actually."

Haechan shakes his head, visibly disagreeing.

"Well, it's fine. I'm ready for this, I promise. Just...don't leave right after, okay?" he pouts.

"Oh, Haechan, of course I won't leave," you reply and surprise yourself in that you really mean it.

Kissing him deeper, you finish what he started and take off his jeans. You touch his cock softly, as if it's the most precious thing in the world. You've done this hundreds of time with guys you didn't give a fuck about and felt nothing, the actions methodical and quick. But this, right now, is more special than your limited vocabulary could ever describe. You realize you genuinely don't want to hurt him. You bow down and envelop your lips around his length. He gets hard easily, considering it's his first time. You suck on him a couple of times and he cums even faster than you anticipated. But for some reason, it's never tasted sweeter.

"S-sorry," Haechan mumbles shyly.

"It's okay, my sweet boy," you coo in his ear, after you're done swallowing his cum. You run your hands through his hair once again. God, it's so silky. You could never get enough of him.

"W-what do I d-do now?" he asks cutely.

"Whatever you want, mon ange," you kiss him once more.

"C-can I eat you out?" Haechan inquires.

Oh, so virgin boy is not so clueless, after all.

"Sure, I guess," you shrug. Not really a huge fan of that, the few times guys have offered, they quickly grow tired of it and could never make you cum as hard as you could by yourself. But it's okay. If Haechan wants to...

"Just...guide me, okay?" he pleads adorably and soon, you find out he needs no guidance at all.

What he lacks in experience, he definitely makes up for with enthusiasm. He seems so eager to please you, licking and biting and kissing your pussy that you cum faster than you have in...well, ever, actually. You grip his hair for support, panting and chanting his name like a prayer.

"Was that alright?" Haechan feigns a self-conscious smile, though judging by your reaction, his smile is already turning into a proud smirk. That bastard.

"Are you kidding? It was...out of this world," you say honestly. Funny thing about honesty is how something that used to be so difficult for you comes so easily to you when you're with Haechan.

"Glad to hear," he grins widely. You want to kiss him every second till the rest of your life. The thought terrifies you.

"I s-should go," you try to get up. You can't do this. You can't be the one to take his virginity. Considering how this all started. It'd be too cruel. He should be with someone special, someone loves him more than anything, someone who'd never hurt him.

"W-what, w-why?" Haechan asks, grabbing your wrist in a panic, not wanting to let go. "I thought you liked me."

"I do like you. I like you so much. That's the problem."

"It doesn't have to be," Haechan disagrees, pushing you back on the bed. "Please, let me."

And here you thought you'd be the one begging him to have sex with you.

"O-okay," you can no longer find it in yourself to deny him. To deny your growing feelings...

Haechan digs through his jeans and pulls out a condom. His hands are shaking and he's having a hard time putting it on so you help him and pull him out of his misery. You give him a soft, reassuring smile, paired with a quick squeeze of his hand. He smiles back just as fondly.

And then he slides inside you so easily. As if he belongs there. As if he's meant to be yours. You kiss him desperately to distract yourself from the truth. To hide the tears that are threatening to come out.

"You f-feel so g-good," Haechan grunts in your ear.

"So do you, baby," you admit sincerely.

This time around, he lasts longer, fucking you until your release comes for the second time. He cums right after, with his hands touching your cheeks, his lips on your neck and his heart on his sleeve.

"Wanna stay inside you forever," he whispers once it's over.

"That wouldn't be very practical," you chuckle. Though you would like nothing more.

But he gets up to get rid of the condom and then comes back, hugging you tightly.

"Can you be my girlfriend?" Haechan blurts out. "I know you probably don't like clingy guys but...considering you've been pursuing me for the past three months, I thought..."

"I'll be your girlfriend," you agree rightaway, not giving a shit about the consequences. "Of course, I will."

He laughs, the sound so precious and filled with joy it breaks your heart.

Maybe he never has to know how it all began. Maybe you could hide it from him forever. Maybe...you could allow yourself to be happy. Just this once.

Soon, Haechan falls asleep, feeling comfortable around you. You know what you have to do, but you feel like shit anyway. You secretly take a picture of his half-naked figure sleeping soundly. You sigh quietly and send the photo to your stepbrother Jeno.

Then, you put your phone down, trying to forget about the whole ordeal. You cuddle up next to Haechan and enjoy his warmth until you fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake up before Haechan and quickly run out to make him some breakfast. You have no idea when his parents will be home but you don't want this to be their first impression of you. So, you leave the breakfast on Haechan's nightstand with a little note.

See you at school, boyfriend! XOXO, Y/N.

Rushing back home, you are satisfied when Jeno gives you the car keys to his Jaguar without protesting. Your stepbrother may be kinda freaky, but at least he's a man of his word. What gives you the creeps is the slight smirk on his face as he hands you the keys. As if he didn't lose the bet. As if he's the winner.

You try not to think about it too much, as you get dressed for school, excited to see Haechan again. You still can't believe he asked you to be his girlfriend. That pretty, sweet boy makes you so unbelievably happy. You look forward to spending more moments in his sunny company.

Haechan wakes up to the smell of warm pancakes, covered with chocolate and strawberries and accompanied by coffee. It immediately brings a smile on his face, which only becomes wider as he sees the little note you left him. He giddily enjoys the breakfast and then rushes to get dressed for school. You're his girlfriend! He's never had a girlfriend and he's so pleased you're being so nice to him. Maybe you really are better than people say and all that past drama was just everyone being jealous of your beauty and popularity...This is going to be the best day of his life.

But when he gets to school, everything changes. He knows that he's considered one of the "losers" in the hierarchy but usually people just ignore him and don't pay attention to him. He's fine with that, really! But today, whenever he walks by, people are snickering and whispering something. It feels so weird and makes him uncomfortable. He can't quite hear what they're saying and this kind of unexpected treatment is killing him.

He goes to his friend Mark to ask him what's up.

"Bro...I don't know how to tell you this," Mark looks away, as if the thing is so bad he can't even say it.

Haechan impatiently begs him to just enlighten him as to why everyone is giving him weird looks all day.

Mark sighs and shows him a secreenshot. There, he sees a photo of himself, half-naked and sleeping soundly. Fuck, that's from last night. And what the messages between you and your stepbrother Jeno reveal...shocks Haechan out of his senses. No...no way it was just a bet. No way you spent three months courting him for a fucking car?! This can't be true. It's gotta be Photoshopped or something.

"Listen, buddy, I warned you that she likes messing with guys and then leaving them."

"No, she...she really seemed to care about me," Haechan is still in denial as his vision becomes blurred with tears.

He runs away, unable to believe what is happening. He needs to speak to you. Hear it from your own lips. To be sure this is real and not just a sick joke.

When he finally finds you, he grabs your wrist as he did just yesterday. But this time, he's not doing to get you to stay. But because he's furious.

"Is it true? Did you really make a bet with Jeno on whether you can fuck me? Did you seriously do all of that over a car?!"

Your facial expressions are enough of an answer. Guilt. Something you never thought you were capable of.

"H-haechan, I swear I can explain," you beg him to hear you out.

"Explain? How can you explain that?" Haechan shakes his head, letting go of your hand. You try to touch him again but he shoves you off furiously.

"It was just a bet at the very beginning. But somewhere along the way, I really started having feelings for you, I promise," you cry passionately. "I don't care about the car, I'll fucking thrash it, I just wanted to get Jeno off my back."

Haechan takes a step back, feeling so betrayed. So...used.

"Whatever you say, I don't think I can believe you anymore. Was it fun, at least? Was this all just a wicked game to you?"

"N-no, it wasn't, I swear it," you are bawling at this point, feeling so pitiful. You don't care if the whole school sees. You only care that Haechan understands. You never meant things to go this far... "I truly care about you, Haechan."

"Yeah?" he scoffs, annoyed. "You only care about yourself."

And with that he leaves. And you lose the one person you truly, genuinely loved.

This is the worst day of your life.

Throughout the rest of the school year you don't dare approach him again. You know you fucked up so badly. You can't even look at that stupid car, let alone consider driving it, so you sell it. Partly because you're angry at Jeno for spreading the screenshot around the whole school. Partly because you no longer want to have anything that will remind you of the biggest mistake you ever made.

With the money you get for the car and some of your own savings, you secretly sponsor Haechan, Mark and their other friends' singing club. You don't even want Haechan to find out. It just...feels right. They could use the extra help.

As the final year of school nears its end, you begin to imagine a future where you never get to see Haechan again. At least, during the past couple of months you had the privilege of looking at him from a distance. But the idea of a world with no Haechan is like a world with no sun.

So, you decide you have to do something as soon as possible. He doesn't have to forgive you or accept you as a girlfriend again. You just want to be in his life in some form.

As you approach the school's radio booth, you feel all the bad things of your past coming back to bite you in the ass. Maybe you deserve to be forever alone. But you need to give it a try. It's your last chance.

"Hi, Mark," you greet your ex-boyfriend.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he sighs, not at all happy to see you.

"Before I get to that, let me just say how sorry I am for the way I treated you in the past. I'm really happy you're finally with someone who appreciates you for how totally awesome you are."

"That's...unexpectedly nice of you to say," Mark eyes you suspiciously. "We were never right for each other anyway. So, what do you want?"

"I want to apologize to Haechan. Through a message broadcasted to the whole school..."

"Gee, and you couldn't do it the old-fashioned way, face to face?" Mark jokes.

"Haechan doesn't wanna see me," you say, fully convinced.

"How would you know without trying?" Mark asks. Has...Haechan told him something? No, you couldn't allow yourself to hope.

"I just know, okay? Please, let me do this. We're graduating in one week, this might be my last chance to talk to Haechan."

Mark nods, agreeing.

"Five minutes," he takes off his headphones and vacates the seat in the radio booth for you.

"Thank you! I mean it," you have never been more grateful for anything.

Mark shrugs as if it's not a big deal and leaves you to it.

"I want to dedicate this so someone I hurt," you speak into the microphone. "Someone who didn't deserve it. Someone very dear to me. Someone I still care deeply about. Haechan, I'm so incredibly sorry, please, give me another chance."

And you start singing.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

Your voice is off-key a couple of times and halfway through the song you start crying inconsolably, all the guilt and pain consuming you. The whole school is probably laughing at you but you can no longer bring yourself to care. The only thing that matters is that Haechan hears this.

When you finish the song, you leave the radio booth and are surprised to find Haechan right outside the door, willing to talk to you.

"H-haechan," you stammer and barely resist the urge to give him a hug. You don't want him to feel pressured or anything.

"I'll give you a second chance on one condition. I want Jeno's Jaguar," Haechan jokes.

"Too bad, I already sold it and donated the money to your music club so you guys can get new instruments and stuff."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Haechan exclaims. He doesn't sound angry, though, just...shocked.

"Sorry, sorry, I know it wasn't my place. But it was so unfair the football team and the cheerleading team get so much money but no one cares about the arts."

"Okay, okay, I guess this is better than that ugly car," Haechan chuckles. The car is not ugly. Not even a little bit. But you appreciate Haechan all the more for saying that.

"Can you really forgive me?" you ask desperately, eyes still watery.

"I can forgive you but I'll probably never forget," Haechan admits with a sigh. "If you break my trust again..."

"I won't, I swear!" you vow seriously. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and treating you the way you deserve. You're the best person I've ever met, Haechan. If you'll have me, I want to be around you forever."

"Forever is a long time" Haechan muses out loud. "Considering we're going to college...I don't even know where you're applying."

"I'll go wherever you go," you say hurriedly.

"You can't give up on your dreams just for me, though."

"I'm not. You're my dream, Haechan. You're my sun and I want to be in your orbit. If you'll allow me, that is," you can't take it any longer and hold his hand softly, asking, begging for that second chance not to slip away.

"I'll allow it," Haechan smiles sweetly. "Let's run towards our dreams together, from now on."

"I won't let you down," you promise from the depths of your heart.

And you finally, truly mean it.

The End

[tan1shere]

Passion Painting

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: Was watching my show when I got a little inspired by an episode :D kinda quoted a line from it too because it was fitting. I'll make it bold so you guys know ! - I literally need this woman rn (or even a dom in my asks that'll be great too.)

Summary: you get a gift so you and Billie spice things up a bit ;)

Warnings: smut ! Scissoring 🥰 bills being a bit rough 😫 (i personally love how this turned out)

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug

masterlist

The door opens, hearing keys jingle. Billie was finally home and you had missed her all day. But she doesn't come empty handed. You had just come into the room, greeting her. "Hey baby, what's that?" She sets it down. "Well, it's an early Christmas gift from Claudia. She said we can open it whenever? Whatever that means." You tilt your head. "Do we open it now?" She takes her shoes off, looking at you. "I mean if you want to, she didn't say otherwise. So I'd say its fine." She smiles at you, going over to give you a kiss.

"Good day?" - "It was ok, bit slow work wise but apart from that it was good." You say, going to pick up the box wrapped with festive paper. Bringing it over to the dining table. "How's Finn and Claudia? Did you get much done today?" She nods. "They're good, and yeah a little bit thank goodness. Glad to be home, missed you." You go to kiss her again. "I missed you. Right lets see what we have here." You say, ripping the thin material. Reading the box outloud.

Confusion strikes you. "What is it?" Billie asks. You turn it around so she can see, reading out the words to her. "Passion Painting Erotic Art Kit." She makes a face of realization. "So that's why she said to do it at night time and maybe after a date. I was so confused." You look at her. "You wanna do it?" She thinks for a moment, smirking to herself. "What? Slather you in paint and fuck you? Without a doubt babe." You grin widely. "Sounds like a plan then."

Giggles echoed though the house as you open the front door and speed over to the kit. Billie close behind. "I've actually been thinking about this all day." You admit. "Oh yeah?" She comes close to you. "Sitting in your desk at work, clenching your thighs as I smear paint all over your body. Over your curves." Your faces were close to one another, inches away. You bite your lip, averting your eyes to look at hers. They were natural apart from a little liner making them look plump and inviting. You lean in to kiss her but she pulls back.

Causing an annoyed groan to leave you. "Billie." You whine. She chuckles. That fucking chuckle. It was menacing. "Why don't we make this a little challenge." Your head tilts with intrigue. "I'm listening." She goes to unbox it, waiting a moment before she speaks again. "Let's see how long we can go without kissing one another." - "What-?" She turns around. "Don't think you can?" You think for a second. "Fine, let's see who looses." She smirks. "I think we both know who that's going to be." Your eyes roll. "Yeah yeah." But her hand grabs your jaw.

"Such an attitude for someone whos about to get fucked on the floor." Your throat closes up finding breathing to be the last thing on your mind currently. You both spread the canvas out. But in reality, you're going to be the canvas spread out at the end of the night. She'd make sure of it. You pick up the paints. Gold and blue. "Which?" She looks at them. "Hmm blue." You hand her the blue. "Right well I better get out of this." You began, back facing her. Slightly bent over as you stand back up. She smirks to herself grabbing the zip at the top of your dress. And swiftly pulling it down.

You gasp as the air hits your nipples. Since the dress had no straps you went against wearing a bra. Now standing almost fully naked in your kitchen, you two had moved some furniture around so you'd have the right space. "Oops, well I mean now all you need to take off is that tiny. Tiny. Pair of underwear." You had to process how fast she was with the dress you almost didn't register her hands pulling the thin material of your underwear off. It was only then when you realized how cool everything got. A shiver running down your spine. You wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face.

But you couldn't, you had to remember the game. "Your turn." Her smirk stays, grabbing her shirt from the back with one hand, lifting it off her head. Hair becoming messy. She takes off her pants next because she too, didn't put a bra on. There was no need. But you definitely weren't complaining. Your eyes stare for a moment. Maybe if you focused on that and not her really, inviting lips you'd be fine. But God were you wrong. You just wanted to grab her and kiss her. You both stand fully naked infront of one another.

Your nerves getting the better of you as she stalks closer to you. The lid pops off the paint. As she hands you the blue one. "We have to put it on one another." But her words went out one ear and out the other. "Hey." She says getting your attention. "Focus baby." Your eyes meet hers, handing her the gold. There was still some plastic on it so she brings it up to her mouth, getting ahold of it and ripping it off. All while keeping intense eye contact. You were going to be dripping soon. And not with paint. Her lips come to the cap, popping that off and out of her mouth. She squeezes a good amount into her hand. "You're going to be so gold you'll look like one of my Oscar's."

You gulp back saliva, you were almost drooling. Even more so when her hand makes contact with your skin. The paint was a little cold, but her burning hands soon get rid of that. Your body starts to become hot. Nerves coming back more prominent. She rubs it all over your chest, moving down to your tits, having it around most but leaving your nipples free. She had plans. Her movements were incredibly slow, making you more needy. She made sure she got your whole body, minus the places she needed access to. Standing back and letting you take over on hers.

Your shakey hand comes in contact with her neck. "Nervous?" You shake your head. "That's not really an answer huh?" You couldn't look at her, you just couldn't. You were close to giving into everything how was she so God damn calm? Your mind races as you come to her breats, you were hesitant but eager to touch them. "Why so Nervous huh? It's as if you haven't touched them before, when we both know that's not true." She was getting you to break, to give up on the game. "You're making this harder.." You whisper out. "Is that so? Darn, I didn't even realize." You pout slightly. "Can't go on?"

You think for a second, shaking your head. "Im fine." You say as your hands move over the rest of her body. "So shy, sweetheart." You swallow. "N-no I'm not." Her brow raises. "Don't lie." But she softly grabs your hand, moving them over her body. "See like that, not hard is it?" You whimper. "You're making it hard Bills." Your eyes look at her with a pleading glint. "Shame." Her eyes look down at your body. "Think its time we have our fun." She says, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down on the paper. Letting her hands move to your breasts. She had the left a part of your neck blank, bringing her lips to it and kissing.

"Billie.." You breathe out, but she moves her hands and grabs your ass tightly. "Uh uh, say it correct." Your head spins. "Mommy." - "Good girl." Your eyes shut. Trying so hard to resist the urge to kiss her. "Mommy please." You say, grabbing her arms and moving them down to her waist as she begins to move her cunt on your own. Your first moan of the night slips out. "What? Are you all sad you can't kiss me darling girl? You agreed to the challenge no?" You zip it. Hating that you did agree to it, you didn't care anymore. You go to switch positions getting ontop.

"Please let me kiss you please." Her hands rest on your lower back as you desperately move your pussy on hers. "Please Mommy, need it so bad." She smirks. "I can see angel. You've never done that before I guess you truly mean it." You pout again at her, she was playing with you and it was driving you mental. Moving down to attatch your lips to her own. But she serves, loving the little frustrated whines you let out. "You're so mean." Her hand instantly wraps around your throat and in the blink of and eye she was back ontop.

"What was that princess?" Her grip tightens making your words float away. "Hm??" You try to talk but it's no use. "Exactly what I thought." Her hand grips your thigh, hoisting it up to dangle on her shoulder. Her hand remains around your throat while the other is on the paper, close to your head and surely leaving a handprint on the almost covered paper. Your body's making art. Surely a night to remember. Her movements become harsh making your mind race, your mouth hangs open at the feeling of both of your wetness together. She watches your eyes roll back, and slowly seeing your lids drooping.

"there you go, fall into subspace that's it. You beautiful being." You had no thought other than her, the way she was fucking against you. Absolutely no words left. Her hand stays firmly around your throat. Your bodys soon come close together. Your breasts touching, nipples grazing one another and that was it. That was all it took for you two to gush against the other. Her lips come crashing down onto your own, loosening her grip to hear your sinful moans travel into her mouth. She groans as she rides out both of your orgasmns. Flopping on you to catch her breath. "Wow." You say. "Wow indeed."

You had a nice soothing shower together, getting comfortable in your bed. Snuggling up close. Until you grab your phone. "What're you doing?" She asks. "Thanking that amazing woman for even thinking of this for us." She smiles, letting out a laugh. "Thank her for me too." You then smile to yourself. "You do know you lost your own game right?"

"A wins a win when you get to fuck your girlfriend and showcase it on a wall for everyone to see and know that you're all. Mine."

[prentitsluvr]

She Tastes Like Heaven

Emily Prentiss x Reader Warnings: Smut, fingering, mommy kink, oral sex (r receiving) Summary: Emily calls reader into her office after everyone else has gone home Word count: 963

Your pussy throbbed as you watched Emily in her office, leaning her head back and stretching. Your eyes trailed down her neck, mind drifting to an image of you pressing your lips against the soft skin, leaving a trail of marks downwards…

“Y/N,” her voice snapped you out of your reverie. You hadn’t noticed her leaving her office. “My office. Now.”

Shit, she sounds pissed.

Sighing, you stood. It was late, and really you should’ve gone home already, and the only people still there were you, Emily and JJ, who had said she was about to leave anyway. You passed the empty desks as you walked up to Emily’s office, knocking softly on the door.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Close the door, please.” she said, drawing the blinds. Shit, you must really be in trouble.

Closing the door, you tilted your head. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, no.” she smirked, sauntering over to you. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What did you–”

“I saw you staring at me. Licking your lips. Biting them.” she murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear as she leaned in, lips brushing your ear gently. “Do you want me?”

Mouth suddenly dry, you nodded, “Yes.”

“Good.” she smiled softly, her hand trailing down your arm until it enclosed around your wrist, and she pulled you over to her desk – which conveniently was free of all the papers you’d seen there earlier that day.

Wordlessly, she pushed you so that you sat on the edge of the desk, and her hands rested either side of you as she leaned in. 

“You’re so pretty… I can’t wait to feel you squirming beneath me.” she muttered, and you let out a quiet, involuntary moan.

“Do you like that, pretty girl?” she teased, and you gripped one of her wrists, gazing into her eyes.

“Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Kiss me. Touch me. Anything.”

Now with your permission, her lips were quick to attach to yours, and her hand snaked around to the small of your back, slipping under your shirt and splaying across your skin.

Desperate for more of her touch, you broke the kiss and pulled your shirt off, tugging her closer, and you went to unbutton her shirt.

“Uh-uh.” Emily smirked, holding your wrists as she took in your pouting expression, amused. “Not yet, babygirl. Later. Right now, I wanna make you feel good.”

Letting out a soft whimper, you pulled her in for another kiss. Her hand palmed your breast, squeezing gently, making you moan into her mouth.

“Please.” you whined. “Please fuck me.”

Emily let out a soft hum of approval, and kissed down your neck as her hands reached around to unclip your bra.

“If you insist.”

Her lips wrapped around a nipple, and your head dropped back as you bit your lip, trying as hard as you could not to be loud. As she licked and sucked your nipple, her hands worked to unzip your pants and you helped her by lifting your hips so she could slide them down, along with your panties.

She groaned as she slipped a hand between your thighs, pressing her palm into you.

“Fuck…you’re so wet for me, you’re practically dripping.”

Her fingers glided through your arousal and you let out a strangled moan.

“Lie back, pretty girl. Let mommy take care of you.”

The use of the word mommy completely short wired your brain. Laying back, you opened your eyes to look at her, and she grinned up at you as she tugged on your legs gently, pulling you towards her.

“Such a pretty young thing.” she cooed as she spread your legs – and then she leaned in and her lips were wrapping around your clit and it took everything in you not to scream. Emily dragged her tongue through you, moaning and murmuring something about how good you taste.

“In-inside, please.” you begged, and she chuckled softly, flicking your clit with her tongue as she sunk two fingers into your pussy. 

“S’that what you wanted, princess?” 

“God – fuck – yes,” you moaned as she started thrusting her fingers in and out. Soft, wet noises filled the room as you bit your lip hard, and she circled your clit with her tongue.

“You gonna cum for me princess? Gonna cum for mommy?”

“So close mommy.” you whimpered, your hand reaching down to grasp her hair and pull her further into you. She let out a small groan at the noise and that was enough to push you over the edge.

“Fuck – mommy – I’m gonna–” 

Spasms shook your body as you threw your head back, arching your back and pulling her face further into your pussy as you came around her fingers, letting out a strangled moan.

“God, you taste divine.” she murmured as she cleaned up your pussy, dragging her tongue through your folds. You relaxed your grasp on her hair and she grabbed your hand, pulling you up and kissing you softly.

“I wanna take you home with me tonight, is that okay baby?” she asked, and you nodded, kissing her again.

“Please.” you bit your lip. “I need to make you cum too.”

Emily bit back a moan, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She took a breath and grabbed your clothes, helping you get them back on.

“My work is all wrapped up. Head down to my car and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” she instructs, running her fingers – not the ones that were just inside of you – through your hair, smoothing it out.

Heart racing, you kissed her again and left, hoping you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked.

You didn’t catch JJ’s small smirk from the other side of the room as she watched you hurry away.

[tjwritesfanfics]

Stupid (Spencer Reid)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You wanted his attention. Now you had it.

Rating: Mature 18+ only

Warnings: Public sexiness, Reid is a meanie and uses a bullet vibrator, oral (m receiving), degrading, public sex, unprotected sex (guys plz be safe), Reid curses (it is a warning so don't even)

Words: 1.2k

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

AN: This story is mainly for @reidgif I hope you like it!

The buzzing sounds was satisfying to Spencer’s ears. Though not as much as your whimpers and quiet moans.

His fingers play with the feel of the remote of the bullet vibrator in his hand, eyes glued to the case file that he was reviewing.

“Spencer…”

“I am not moving. I told you earlier when you decided to so desperately get my attention and be a brat in front of the others, that you were going to be punished.” His dark eyes flicked from the report to where you were standing by the suspect board. “Now you need to keep working or we will never get to go back to the hotel.”

You let out a sob but turned back to the white board and lifted your hand to shakily write something on it. You knew that when you dragged Spencer on a “lunch break” only to want to eat him.

“Oh fuck,” Spencer moaned, his hands gripping your hair as he guided your head up and down his cock, “you are going to be in so much trouble later, you fucking inpatient slut.”

All you could do was moan around him, not caring at the moment what was coming later. All you wanted was him. To feel him. The taste of him on your tongue.

Your eyes met his, teary and cheeks hollowing out, propelling him towards his climax until he came in your mouth, giving you the “lunch” you wanted.

Now here you were, in a (thankfully) empty precinct, underwear sitting on the table and a bullet vibrator inside you going at a slow steady pace. 

There would be times you would get used to the slow vibration, thinking you could work peacefully, but Spencer was attuned to you and would crank the dial higher, dropping you to your knees in a moaning mess, the pulsing pushing your close and closer to a high you so desperately wanted, one you had been denied for an hour now, only for him to quickly turn it back to the dull buzz.

“I think he is specifically targeting women with blonde hair.” You were able to squeak out something, surprised with yourself that you were able to make it through the sentence without losing yourself.

Spencer let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver up your spine since he was much closer then he was before. When did he get up?

“I can’t believe this has rendered you this stupid,” His finger bumps up the vibration once, a whimper escaping your throat, “since that was something we already knew. Anyone with eyes could tell that they are all blondes.”

“B but-”

“Don’t you even finish that sentence.” Spencer rolled his eyes, stepping back from you and started moving some of the papers from the conference table. “I don’t want to hear it from a crybaby like you. You are so lucky you are so cute because if I had known how stupid you were, I would have just done this myself.”

You knew he didn’t mean the words he was saying, but right now you almost did believe him. You were so horny and wet that it didn’t matter about the case, as horrible as that may seem.

“I might as well get something out of being here with you. Get over here and bend over.”

If you were in your right mind, you would have been embarrassed with how fast you complied with his order. The coolness of the conference table feels amazing against the flush of your skin.

Spencer let out a cruel laugh at your eagerness, but didn’t say anything. No, instead he cracked the bullet up as far as it could go.

A scream ripped from you, the feeling a blessing and a curse, driving you physically up the conference table and sensually closer to your end. Your legs shaking and the only thing holding you up was Spencer’s hand on your lower back, his gentle touch contrasting with the harshness of his actions and words.

“God look at you. Crying from how good that feels huh? Isn’t this what you wanted? My attention? Well guess what you fucking slut,” He leaned in close, his weight pressing you into the table, his sent filling your head, “You have it.”

Whines and cries fill the room, the best thing Spencer has ever heard as you finally are forced to let go of the tension coiling in your gut. Curses flying past your lips as well as his name.

If anyone just so happened to come into the precinct now, they would know exactly what was happening and who was making you feel this good.

Spencer pulled the bullet out of your cunt by the string, throwing it behind him and not even bothering to turn it off. Slumping against the table, bliss completely deafening you to the sound of Spencer undoing his belt.

Next thing you knew your leg was being lifted up to rest on the table and the blunt head of his cock was pressing into you, one swift thrust filling you to the brim.

“Oh shit!” You cry, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks.

Spencer groaned, his lips coming to kiss the back of your neck and up to your ear, his facial hair lightly tickling you. “You are so wet. Feels so good.”

That was the nicest thing he has said to you all day.

Drawing back just enough for his tip to be the only thing inside, you could feel his smirk and knew that the one kind word was the only thing you were getting out of him tonight. He snapped his hips, driving completely into you again.

He repeated this over and over, harsher with each thrust he drove into you. It was so good that all you could do was moan and drool against the table.

His laugh filled the room alongside the other sounds. “Look at you! So cockstupid that you would let me do absolutely anything I wanted. Who’s pussy is this?”

When you didn’t, couldn’t, answer him, Spencer gripped your hair, tugging you back to him and the new angle had him hitting that spot that made you see spots.

“Answer me. Come on. I know you can do it. Who’s. Pussy. Is this?” He accentuated every word with a deep thrust into you.

“Yours! Spencer, all yours!”

“Good girl.”

His thrusts continued assaulting you, pressing and pushing you into the table and into him. All you could feel was Spencer. All you could care about at the moment was Spencer.

“Oh shit.” He cursed, his blunt nails digging into your hips as he cums, painting your walls white.

Spencer stilled for a moment. You whimper and wiggle your hips for him, silently begging him to continue since you were so close. But you should have seen this next part coming. Didn’t make it any less horrible when he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his pants.

“No!” You cry. “Please please Spencer!”

“I’m tired and going back to the hotel. You coming?”

He smirked and you glowered at his double entendre. “Yes I am.”

“Not without me, my stupid girl.”

With that Spencer grabbed your panties, showing you that he was not even going to let you put them back on, and strode out of the conference room.

“Brats don’t get to cum. Maybe you will learn.”

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[nottsdarling]

Delusion

Summary; Finding out that your boyfriend of 3 months has been lying and pretending about his feelings the whole relationship.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

: Cheater!bf Mattheo x reader

: word count ; 1.5k

: cw; cheating, lying, manipulation

: a/n! this is part two!! you can find part 1 here. Enjoy my angels!

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

You heard the footsteps quicken behind you, echoing in the empty hallways, as you tried to speed up, wanting to escape the confrontation that was inevitable. You knew Mattheo would catch up, his determination never letting him fall behind, especially when he was set on something—or someone. But even as his hand wrapped around your arm, you kept your gaze on the floor, refusing to look him in the eye. The grip on your arm was firm yet shaky, betraying the emotions beneath his tough exterior. Mattheo’s calloused fingers, a sign of his roughness and recklessness, felt painfully real against your soft skin. You felt your heart clench, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to show it.

“Y/N… please,”

He said, his voice filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability that you hadn’t heard before. He tugged slightly, as if pulling you closer would somehow mend the gap between you, as if one touch could erase everything that had happened. But you shook his hand off, your body instinctively recoiling from him.

“Don’t touch me,”

You said, your voice strained but steady.

“I can’t do this.”

“Y/N… we were just joking, it was just guy stuff,”

He said, the excuse faltering as he saw the hurt in your eyes. You shook your head.

“Guy stuff? That’s what you call it? Making a fool out of me? Leading me on while laughing with your friends about how easy it is to play with my feelings?”

He tried to speak, his mouth opening to form words, but nothing came out. You could see the regret in his eyes, like he wanted to reach into his chest and hand you the guilt-ridden mess that was his heart. But no amount of remorse would undo the damage. You forced yourself to stay strong, even though part of you wanted to give in to his apology. Mattheo had always been charming, persuasive, the kind of guy who knew just the right words to say. But this time, his silver tongue failed him.

“Please, Y/N. Just… just listen to me,”

He pleaded, desperation coating his words. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to get this far.”

You scoffed.

“What exactly did you mean, then, Mattheo? To keep me around as some toy you could pick up and toss aside whenever you felt like it? I’m not here for your amusement.”

You could feel the bitterness seeping into every word. He looked wounded, and yet that wasn’t enough for the hurt he’d caused you. The silence stretched on, with only his shallow breaths and your pounding heartbeat filling the void. Finally, he whispered,

“What do you want, Y/N?”

For a second, the weight of your feelings pressed down on you, almost making you crumble. But anger resurfaced, becoming a shield you desperately clung to.

“I want you to leave me alone. I want you to go back to whatever you were doing before you decided to mess with my life.”

“I’m sorry,”

He said, his voice breaking.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You laughed bitterly.

“Sorry for what? For playing with my heart like it was nothing? For making me think that maybe, just maybe, you actually cared?” You felt the sting of tears but blinked them away, refusing to let him see just how deeply he’d hurt you.

“Go fuck yourself, Mattheo.”

The words tore out of you, laced with every ounce of anger and betrayal you felt. You turned away from him, feeling the satisfaction of letting go and the agony of what might have been. Mattheo stood there, shoulders slumped, the pain in his eyes mirroring the ache in your heart. He looked down, defeated, as if your words had hit him harder than he ever expected. The silence between you both felt like a chasm, one that he couldn’t cross. But he didn’t walk away. Instead, he stayed there, his voice a quiet murmur that you barely caught as you began to walk off.

“I didn’t deserve you,”

He said, so softly that it was almost a whisper. You paused, something about his tone stopping you in your tracks. Against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed red with an emotion that even he seemed unaccustomed to showing.

“I never deserved you, Y/N,”

He repeated, his voice a raw confession.

“I know that. I thought I could keep things casual, that I could pretend it didn’t mean anything. But it does. It means everything.” His words hung in the air, pleading with you to believe them. You turned back to face him fully, though your arms remained crossed, your posture defensive.

“Why are you telling me this now, Mattheo? After all that’s happened, why now?”

“Because… because I can’t lose you,”

He said, his voice trembling.

“I can’t let you walk out of my life without trying to make it right. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I need you to know that none of it was a game to me. I acted like an idiot because I was scared. Scared of how much I cared about you, of how vulnerable you make me feel.”

You stared at him, processing his words, the sincerity evident in his voice. For the first time, you saw past the bravado, the layers of sarcasm and charm he’d built around himself. You saw the boy who was terrified of rejection, of losing the one person he finally let himself care for.

“And now?”

You asked softly, feeling your anger slowly unravel.

“Now, I’m asking for a chance. Just one chance to prove that I’m not the jerk I’ve been acting like,”

He said, his gaze locking onto yours with a steadiness that took you by surprise.

“I’m asking you to let me show you that I can be better. For you.”

The rawness of his confession left you speechless. A part of you wanted to walk away, to protect yourself from being hurt again. But another part, a deeper part, remembered the moments you’d shared with him, the glimpses of vulnerability he’d shown, the times he’d made you laugh when you thought no one could.

“Mattheo,”

You started, your voice wavering,

“You can’t just expect me to forget everything.”

“I don’t expect you to,”

He replied, taking a cautious step closer.

“But I’m hoping that maybe, with time, I can earn your forgiveness. That maybe I can make things right.”

You hesitated, letting his words sink in. Could he change? Could he truly prove to you that he was willing to make amends, to become someone worthy of your trust? After a long pause, you finally spoke.

“One chance, Mattheo. That’s all you get. And you have to earn it.”

A flicker of hope lit up his face as he nodded, determination replacing the despair.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,”

He promised, his voice steady and resolute.

“I won’t let you down this time.”

Over the next few weeks, Mattheo set out to prove his sincerity. He showed up for you in small, consistent ways. He was there to walk you to classes, to bring you coffee in the mornings, to listen when you needed to vent about your day. Slowly, he chipped away at the wall you’d built around your heart, his gestures becoming more genuine, more heartfelt. He wasn’t just charming or persuasive; he was present, dependable, and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. Gradually, you found yourself softening, the anger dissolving as you saw the effort he was making. He was trying, truly trying, to be someone worthy of your love. And with each passing day, you felt yourself falling for him again, but this time, it was different. This time, you were certain he wasn’t hiding behind a mask. One evening, as the two of you sat beneath a starlit sky, he turned to you, his expression nervous but hopeful.

“Y/N, I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to hear it again. I love you. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it, until I prove that I’m here for you, and only you.”

You looked at him, seeing the man he’d become, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I believe you, Mattheo,”

You whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I believe you.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you knew that this time, it was real. You knew that he was yours, and that you were his, in a way that felt like coming home. The past hadn’t vanished, but it had given way to a new beginning. Together, you found a love that was honest, true, and unbreakable, a love that had grown from the ashes of hurt and transformed into something beautiful. And in that moment, beneath the stars, you knew that this was the happy ending you’d both been searching for.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Reblogs, follows etc are appreciated!!

Do not upload my work onto other platforms without permission and/or credit.

Have a wonderful day and/or night my angels, mwah!!

[mynameismckenziemae]

Mix It With Rum

Tyler Owens x Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI! Adults (18+) only! Smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, exhibitionism (kind of), a single slap on the ass, dirty talk, creampie kink, etc.

Request from @lexixstewart

Song is Rum by Brothers Osborne

﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏

“Oops,” you giggle as you set the drinks down a little too hard, creamy liquid sloshing over the side.

No one can see you in the little outdoor shower attached to your room so there’s no qualms about licking clean what spilled over your hand.

“Yum,” a sigh escapes you as the cool, sweet flavors of pineapple and coconut hit your tongue. It tastes better than the first one you had earlier, putting you on the right side of tipsy.

After starting the shower, you turn on Spotify and strip off your bikini top, tossing it over the top of the wood surround, and smiling because you know Tyler can see it from the pool where you left him when he’d gotten distracted by a bachelor party talking football.

The most fitting song begins to play as your bottoms join the top and you slide under the lukewarm water, humming along as you rinse the sunscreen and sand from your slightly pink skin.

We came out here to do a whole lotta nothin'

And we're doin' pretty good I think

It was the first full day of your weeklong honeymoon and between wedding planning and storm chasing, the two of you hadn’t had a chance to relax in months. The hot sun, even hotter sex, and beautiful beach are just what you need.

Your hips start to sway as you hum along, pausing only to take another swallow of the addicting drink.

The only one thing we need to worry about

Is fillin' up when the ice cubes clink

After the shampoo is rinsed, you lather your body while the conditioner’s in your hair, your skin so soft and smooth from the sand.

Dippin' our toes in the water

I don't care if it gets any hotter

There’s a loud, wet slap and you whip around to a grinning Tyler, his cheeks flushed from rum and sun.

“Tyler James,” you chide, rubbing the burning handprint he left on your buttcheek, “the pool is right there! Anyone could’ve heard that.”

It's you and me rememberin' how to have fun

Let's put our hearts together

He sings you the words as he drops his swim trunks, his cock thick and hard between his muscular thighs as he takes a long drink from the glass next to yours before stepping through the water, back you straight against the cool, damp wood.

“You’re gonna much more than that later tonight for sneaking away on me, Mrs. Owens,” he smiles as his hands find your ass, taking a handful in each before squeezing tightly; a promise for later. “The only other group out there left when I did,” he continues, leaning close to brush his lips over yours before giving you a teasing kiss, “I made sure it was empty so I could do this.”

“Do wha-oh,” you cut off with a sigh when he drops to his knees, lifting your thigh over his sun-kissed shoulder before he surges forward.

Two parts love and a pinch of good weather

And top it all off with the sun…continues in the background as he unhurriedly and messily uses his tongue, lips, chin, and nose to devour you.

When you nearly knock both half-full glasses off the shelf to steady yourself, an idea comes to mind.

The chilled drink is cool against your heated skin as you slowly pour it over your breasts. Tyler’s eyes have fallen closed so he doesn’t even notice until it hits his tongue.

“Taste so good,” he moans, eyes full of lust as he takes in the view, “nothing could get better than this; my wife’s sweet pussy,” he licks a thick stripe through your arousal, “mixed with my cum from earlier,” his dirty words make you whimper as he wetly laps up the sweet concoction sliding down your stomach, “and piña colada. Fuck.”

He slides one hand up through the mess and the other goes between your thighs as he zeroes in on your clit with his tongue. He taps two fingers on your lips, pushing them inside to suck on when you open your mouth while two slip into your pussy to curl against your g-spot.

And mix it with rum, mm, mm, mm, mm.

Already toeing the edge of your release, the vibrations as he hums along is all it takes for you to fall over; your sounds of pleasure are muted by his fingers.

Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to recover before he rises; your legs wrap around his waist by muscle memory alone when he lifts you.

The low, drawn-out groan when he sinks inside your still-clenching body makes you shiver before he sets a quick, unforgiving pace with his thrusts, revealing how just worked up he is.

“Never gonna let you outta my sight again-fuck!” He grunts against your neck when you tighten around him, “Gonna stay in the room the rest of the trip so I can fill you up any time I want,” he angles his hips to catch your clit with each stroke, “anywhere I want, and any hole I want.”

“Yes,” you breathe, tugging him up by his hair to give him a biting kiss, “Please Ty. I need it-need your cum.”

He groans into your lips as his hips slow into a grind, cock twitching as he releases deep inside you; his triggers yours with a soft cry that he doesn’t bother to muffle.

“Love you,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you too. And I want you to have me in any and every way you want,” you smile softly, give him a sweet kiss, “but I’m not staying in the room for the rest of the trip.”

“Alright,” he agrees with a laugh, “so a blow job at the beach and anal in the cabana?”

﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏𓇼 ﹏❀﹏𓇼﹏❀﹏

A/N: If you’re wondering where this came from…I would like nothing more than to be a little tipsy, a little sunburnt and a lotta fucked at a beach right now. 😏

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love knowing what you think in the comments/reblogs.

Tagging who I think may be interested (ignore if you don’t want to read this, I just don’t have a ‘Tyler Owens’ taglist yet):

@lexixstewart (thank you for the idea/prompt 😘 I hope you like it!)

@shanimallina87

@dizzybee03

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@bellaireland1981

@blindedbythelightt

@hookslove1592

@seitmai

[delulupunk]

How the batboys react to you only speaking in meme references:

Dick Grayson

This is the Robin who used to unironically use turns of phrase while busting crime lords with Batman, so of course he’s going to match your energy. If you say “What the fuck Richard?” He’s just going to reply something even sillier.

“They are my crocs.” He does this in the most deadpan tone and these two memes aren’t even related to one another.

He loves it though and finds the funny way you react to situations similar to his demeanour so you bounce of each other very well. It leads to the pair of you having meme wars- you try and outdo each other in how many memes you can reference.

“Bethany I made BiScUiTs!”

“Look at all those chickens!”

“So no head?”

The pair of you now have inside meme jokes that you say to each other, that earn you weird looks from everyone else when you say them to each other. Mainly because the combinations barely make any sense. However it brings you two closer and sometimes helps break the ice after an argument.

“It’s Wednesday my dudes…”

…

“AHHHHH!”

Jason Todd

Jason isn’t much of a social media person anymore. He tells everyone he finds it jarring and that it’s like peer pressure on steroids. He only uses Pinterest for book recommendations. So you can only reference memes that went viral before his death, at the beginning of your relationship otherwise he just ignores you.

When he does recognise a meme he’ll either roll his eyes or give you an annoyed, yet affectionate smile. Over time though as he notices you making more relevant meme references with your friends, he finds himself getting jealous. Jason wants to experience that with you.

So he pushes aside all his reservations with social media and watches as many meme videos as he can. Eventually he tries incorporating them into your conversations, albeit sheepishly as he’s unsure of himself.

“Brother Eugh?” He’ll state in a reluctant tone and you’ll just laugh and say it right back.

Tim Drake

Tim is far too focused on being a detective to watch memes, instead the way he relaxes is by doing something that still stimulates his brain in a way, so he’s a fan of puzzles.

“You look like the polite cat sometimes.” You told this to him once absentmindedly and he looked at you like you’d grown two heads. He immediately researched it and saw some similarities. You continued the meme reference when you bought him a puzzle of the polite cat for his birthday. It was safe to say he wasn’t that impressed. However he finished it in record time.

Whenever you quote any memes though he gives you a factual answer, “Roadworks mean that construction workers are fixing the road.” In retaliation you begin sending him all the memes you reference and then one day he just starts saying them. At first you’re shocked and he doesn’t do it often, but he’ll have a smug smile on his face every time.

Damian Wayne

Due to Damian’s harsh upbringing from the league of assassins he isn’t well versed in meme culture.

“What is aura? How have I lost -10,000? What was my starting amount?” He takes your meme references too literally, but when you offer to show him some and explain them he accepts. He’ll scoff and tell you he was only doing it to humour you, but in reality he wanted to regain some of his childhood and he felt this would be a good way to do it.

This bitch empty… yeet!

“She could have hit an innocent bystander with that.”

“I think she did Damian.” You play the video back a million times just to see whether or not she had.

He doesn’t ever reference memes back to you or say them in the first instance. Despite this he learns when you’re most likely to quote them and which one it would be. If you choose not to he’ll raise an eyebrow and ask you why you hadn’t. He wants to make sure you haven’t stopped because of him, he likes it he’s just not sure how exactly to show it.

When you do quote memes to him, he’ll have the ghost of a smile on his face. You’ll only see it if you look closely.

[sturnstars5]

i love you, i’m sorry-matt sturniolo

you and matt swore you were done, but are you?

warnings: fluff, swearing, happy ending

*there is a flashback in the story it’s in blue!*

empty. emptiness was what you felt. it had been two weeks since you left the love of your life, matt. you try to tell yourself, “well, it was his fault” or “i’ll be better off without him, it’ll just take time”, but nothing worked. you missed him.

you sat on your couch, something you had been doing more than usual lately, and stared outside through the window. you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than overthink. you would replay the moments of you and matt’s breakup argument in your mind, like it was a movie on loop 24/7. and just when you would feel a sliver of joy, the movie would start again, leaving you to drown in self pity.

it was getting late, so you picked yourself up off of the couch and laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t exactly on your side.

it was about 1:30 am, and you were still awake when you heard your front door creak open.

what the fuck?

you sat straight up and froze, paralyzed in fear, not knowing what to to next. normally, matt would take control and go see what was happening, but he wasn’t there. he was gone.

you hear the persons foot steps get louder and louder until you hear them stop right in front of your bedroom door.

the door opened slowly, revealing a puffy eyed, sad looking matt.

he looked awful to say the least, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. his face was all swollen, his eyes bloodshot with dark bags under them. his face was glistening with tears, and his nose was runny.

“matt,” you say.

“i know, i should’ve called, im sorry.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack! do you know what time it is?”

“yes, i know, okay? i said im sorry.”

“why are you here matt, i thought we were over.”

“i know that’s what we said, but i cant stop thinking about you, about us.”

“matt,”

“i know, y/n, i know what i did was wrong. going to that party was a whole wrong decision in itself. but i still love you, y/n.”

“but matt, you pinky swore you wouldn’t cheat, and you broke it! how am i supposed to trust you now?”

“i don’t know, i just hope you can find it in your heart to give me one more chance.”

you think back to the night you found out about the party…

1:00 am, 2:15 am, 3:40 am, matt still wasn’t home. he said he was filming with his brothers, and you believed him. you called him, and he didn’t answer,m. you then called nick and chris, and they didn’t answer either. you give up, just telling yourself that their phones died, and you go scroll on instagram in your bed. nick posted a picture of himself and chris at a party.

where was matt?

you look harder, only to see matt’s lips pressed against another girl. her hands threading through his soft brown hair. matt was yours, so why was he with her?

matt arrived home, drunk, stumbling lazily into your shared bedroom.

“hey baby.” he says with a smirk.

“don’t call me that, matthew.”

“what the fuck is your deal, y/n?”

“this!” you say, throwing your phone in his face. you’re zoomed in on him and the other girl, matt looking at the photo. even his drunken state cant cover up the guilt and regret in his mind.

“who’s that?” he says, lying.

“that’s you, matt! who else would it be? you know what you did matt, and i know too. i’m not as dumb as you think i am.”

“it was just one kiss, so what? it was a party, and we were needy and drunk.”

“have you lost your fucking mind, matt?

“no i haven’t, but clearly you have, bitch!”

“i’m not gonna be talked to like this by my own boyfriend, so get out.”

“what?”

“i said, get. out. matt. we’re done.”

“come on, don’t you think you’re being overdramatic?”

“get out! now!”

“y/n?” you hear matt say softly.

you snap out of your memory, taking a second to focus back on reality.

“listen, y/n, i’m not asking for you to let your guard down again and take me back, i just guess i want you to know that i love you, and that im sorry.”

matt stares at you, his face full of desperation and vulnerability, and most of all, regret. a single tear rolls down his face, dropping on the floor as it falls off.

“do you promise to be loyal, matt?”

“yes, of course i do. i wont screw it up this time.”

“i’m serious matt, i cant take that again. i cant go through that again.”

“i promise.”

“okay then.”

“so, what now?” matt asks.

“do you wanna, maybe try again?” you ask softly.

“yes. i swear i wont fuck it all up this time.” matt replies.

you and matt hug, and for the first time in a while, you feel genuinely happy and loved.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too matt.”

kind of a rushed fic but wtv!!

[puck-luck]

May I please request for 1 of Clubs with Trevor Zegras, my sweet Andy? You already know I had to pick my sweet Trevor

Requested by Miss Brynn (@sweetestdesire) <3 xo hope you enjoy

Warnings: dumbification, choking mentioned, angry Trevor, unprotected p in v, MEAN Trevor, degredation, name-calling, mentions of praise ofc bc i love to mix the two <3 WC: 1,026

When Trevor is angry, he stays angry as long as he can. He’s wont to hold a grudge and to come home stewing, especially after a game where he lost or where he felt he didn’t perform well enough. Fortunately, after so much time spent together, and very compatible sexual habits, you know exactly how to react to his bad moods.

It was a surprise the first time it happened– Trevor had been close to coming, his hips pumping into yours at an unreal and unrelenting pace. His hand was squeezing your throat in the way you’d always loved and begged for. You were lightheaded, eyes rolling back just a bit, and Trevor was taken with the look on your face. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You like it when I fuck you stupid, baby?” 

And God, you do. You love it when Trevor gets rough and takes control, barking out orders and then doing it himself when your mind takes just a little too long to process what’s going on. After the first time he mentioned it, it became a regular trope in your escapades: Trevor doing everything he can to render your head empty, then gloating about it. 

Which is how you got here today. Trevor got into a few verbal spats with a guy on the other team, which eventually culminated in a brawl in the third period that left Trevor’s feathers ruffled. He came home stewing, mumbling about this guy who had it personally out for him from the get-go and he doesn’t know why. You were in the crowd at the game, so you saw something similar and you didn’t know why either, until one of your more hockey-friendly friends texted you and said that Trevor’s enemy had played for the Ducks one upon a time. You didn’t know if they ever overlapped– and it turned out that their careers didn’t. So the anger and resentment didn’t make much sense to you, even at the end of the night. 

What did make sense to you was that you were in for a long night. You shouldn’t have felt as excited as you did. You shouldn’t feel as excited as you do.

You’re in the midst of it now. Trevor has you bent over the kitchen counter– you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom. He’s fucking into you from behind and the skin of your behind is warm from the number of times that Trevor’s palm has made contact with it. His slaps are harsh and mean, even. He knows your boundaries, so he’s not pushing past them. His frustration has always been welcome in this way– while his cock is inside you, or when it’s about to be. 

“Put your leg up,” Trevor commands. 

You’re already on your tiptoes, trying to find leverage against the counter. Your mind is delaying like you’re listening to a different language that you don’t quite understand. After a minute, you lift your leg and try to hook it along the counter. The surface is slippery, so your leg falls and you have to try again. 

Trevor helps, just a tad. His strong hand goes to the back of your thigh, pressing your leg into the hard edge of the marble. There’s no give and it’s digging into your skin, likely leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The new angle has your vision turning spotty from pleasure.

“Pathetic,” Trevor spits out, although the insult sounds much more like praise in your deluded mind. “Look at you. You can’t even do what I ask without help.”

You moan his name wantonly, acknowledging his words with the sound. 

It’s too quick of a response for Trevor– he hasn’t rendered you dumb enough. He wants your mind to lag for even longer, so he delivers another smack to the globes of your ass before bringing his hand to the back of your head. He pushes your head until your cheek is flush against the cool tile, the sensations competing in your mind and confusing you further. All the while, Trevor is working his hips faster and harder. His cock plunges into your heat with lewd noises and brutal meetings of your g-spot and his tip. 

“Shut up,” Trevor growls. “The only thing I want to hear out of you are screams, baby. I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty little head. I’m going to make you come so hard that you can’t even fucking speak.”

He pushes your head once more before pulling back and securing his hold on your waist, able to keep you in place to better meet his thrusts. He bends at the waist enough for his lips to meet the curve of your shoulder. He kisses in a moment of sweetness before he mouths over your skin, scraping his teeth along and biting down as you try to push yourself up and lean into his touch. He’s going to leave a mark, and better yet, you want him to.

“Fucking cock-dumb,” he mutters after he unclenches his jaw. He lathers his tongue over the bite, then stands so that he can use his whole force to fuck into you. You’re close and he shows no signs of stopping. 

You know that even when you come, he’ll keep going until you’re releasing over him again and again. It’s lucky– you’re able to clean the tile floor much faster than your bedsheets. In fact, just when you think you’re done, Trevor will probably fuck you senseless again, on your hands and knees on the kitchen floor. But that’s all still to come– for now, there’s a sting in your shoulder and burning heat across your ass. There are still some words floating around in your brain, but they slowly, slowly, slowly evaporate into atomic-sized particles. There was something here, once… before Trevor started fucking you. It’s hard to remember what. You’re all consumed by the boy behind you, with his biting words and lethal thrusts. It’s only once he’s said that you’re good, his good girl, that you understand that you’ve come underneath him for the first time and soon, you will again.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Damn this was a rollercoaster okay here we go

Almárea was not scared of them, which surprised you. In fact, she approached them and kept asking them a million questions as the Orcs were growing a little frustrated with her curiosity. They were, however, answering all her questions patiently. You cracked a smile at that. She was still a child – curious and so full of life.

I’m just imagining the Orcs sweating their asses off thinking ‘must not upset the boss’s daughter if we make her cry we die be nice be nice’. She’s such a little menace just by existing and she doesn’t even know it🤣

“I shall not allow him to hurt you, uncle. I shall not, I promise,” you kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead and your uncle looked up at you with hazy eyes and a loving smile. “You have endured and suffered so much because of him already. But no more, no more, uncle… Now you must rest.”

THANK YOU for not killing Celebrimbor in this one. This is still tragic af but honestly I don’t see how reader would have forgiven Sauron if he had done to her uncle what he did in canon.

Long silence occurred. Sauron laid his cold and empty eyes upon you, sitting on the floor with your back pressed to the wall and crying silent tears.

“It is her choice,” he answered, softly, “but I doubt she wants to go with us.”

AAAA when I got here without knowing the end of the fic I was like: is he genuinly hoping she will follow him for him as well as their daughter? Is there quiet yearning in this or do I just want him to be yearning so it hurts me more in all the best ways??

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

Again I was like STOP DON’T GIVE ME HOPE. Same with when he kept leaving her little gifts on her bed. I would have folded so fast it’s not been funny😩

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

Okay this is hilarious. Kid, you have no idea the shit storm you just started. Brilliant🤣

“I miss you,” you confessed. “I miss being close to you,” you added.

“You miss Annatar, not me,” he shrugged his arms and looked out of the window again.

*chanting to myself* I must not feel bad for him I must not feel bad for him

Fuck I feel bad for him😭 especially after THIS:

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

TELL ME HE IS HONEST MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT OTHERWISE

I mean it seems like he is in this fic but I have such deep trust issues with Sauron I’m always scared he’s gonna flip the tables out of nowhere😅

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

Oh no there will be MULTIPLE MINI SAURONS RUNNING AROUND👀👀👀 but the balance thing is beautiful and I’m gonna pretend like maybe Middle-Earth isn’t still totally screwed (it is but who could resist him when he talks like that?😩)

His love is so twisted but all of this was delicious. We the Sauron girlies thank you for the good food🤭❤️

— BLESSED (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You have no choice but to follow Sauron and your daughter to Mordor because you do not want to abandon her. As time passes, you find yourself being lured by your husband's charm once more as the memories of his cruelty in Eregion begin to fade away.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — And here we are go with the last part! I know I probably write Sauron's relationship with his daughter in a very idealistic way – that in canon he would be most likely way worse. But writing it like that would bring me no joy. 🤷🏻‍♀️ It's a fic for dad!Sauron and I want him to be at least a bit decent while we're at it! 😤

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Sauron, Sauron being a very mid dad who manipulates his daughter and teaches her how to be evil like him, child in danger (nothing happens in the end), murder (of the Orcs), Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, immaculate conception (yes, again!)

WORD COUNT — 4,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (III)

Celebrimbor was out of his mind again. Your heart ached for him as you were sitting next to him and caressing his hair softly as if he was a child. He had spent centuries taking care of you and now it was your turn to return the favour. You kept sobbing, feeling angry at yourself that you could not protect him.

Sauron was gone. After finding out where The Rings were, he had left in a hurry, leaving you with a few Orcs that had come to the forge in the meantime. They wanted to plead their allegiance to your husband and the very first task they had been given was to watch over you, your daughter and your uncle. To make sure none of you would escape.

Almárea was not scared of them, which surprised you. In fact, she approached them and kept asking them a million questions as the Orcs were growing a little frustrated with her curiosity. They were, however, answering all her questions patiently. You cracked a smile at that. She was still a child – curious and so full of life.

So full of light, too. You could not let the darkness win within her.

“I shall not allow him to hurt you, uncle. I shall not, I promise,” you kissed Celebrimbor’s forehead and your uncle looked up at you with hazy eyes and a loving smile. “You have endured and suffered so much because of him already. But no more, no more, uncle… Now you must rest.”

“Your daughter…” He mumbled out and you looked down at his face with a sad smile. “Is she not the most precious? She is the exact copy of you, sweet (Y/N). You were a girl like her once, running around this very forge.”

“I remember, uncle,” you sobbed. “I remember it vividly. My father and you working together, my mother still happy and full of life, before she began a lifetime of mourning. I remember…”

You pulled him closer and tried to come up with an idea how to save him. Even if Sauron would not kill him – he had made this promise to Almárea when she had revealed to him Lady Galadriel had been the one to have The Rings now and you wanted to believe he would keep that promise – you still had a feeling your husband would use Celebrimbor somehow or hurt him. 

“Almárea?” You called out for her and she turned around to lay her eyes upon you. You beckoned her over and she nodded at the Orcs before running up to you. “Almárea, do you want uncle Celebrimbor to be safe?”

“Of course, mummy,” your daughter’s eyes widened.

“Can you distract them as I walk him out of here? I will be right back,” you whispered as you pointed at the Orcs with your chin.

“I do not know, mummy… Last time I listened to you, daddy was very angry…” She looked down, nervously.

“Almárea, please. Do you love uncle Celebrimbor?” You asked.

“Yes, of course,” she nodded.

“Then, please…”

“But will you come back to me? Truly?” She lifted up her eyes and looked into yours with a hint of anxiety.

“My darling, always. I shall never abandon you,” you promised, truthfully. Your heart ached at the thought she was not as sure of it as you were.

Eventually, she nodded as she turned around towards the Orcs once more. She ran up to them joyfully and kept asking them questions. When you moved up, dragging Celebrimbor with you, they did not even flinch, which meant that your daughter’s deception was working.

You felt bad for leaving her with them even for a short moment but at this moment it was your uncle who was the most vulnerable and who needed you more. You owed him that, at least.

You walked him out of the forge and hurried to the secret tunnel below the city. The Orcs who had taken over Eregion were feasting now in havoc in the courtyard, which distracted them enough to make it possible for you to lead your uncle safely to the passage.

You walked inside with him and he was following you like a trusting child. In the middle of the passage, you bumped into Herald Elrond. Your heart was in joy to see him and to know that he was safe. He had been some sort of a cousin to you – his father had also been a friend of Celebrimbor and he also was a half-Elf. You had many things in common and you had been close friends in your youth.

“(Y/N), thank the Valar,” he sighed. “Where is your daughter? I was sent here by the High King to make an attempt to rescue you and–” He began.

“I must go back,” you shook your head with your eyes full of tears. “Take uncle Celebrimbor to safety. Heal his mind. Forget about me,” you pleaded and he furrowed his brows.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “Where is Almárea?”

“Please, Elrond. You must not know,” you insisted before kissing your uncle’s forehead once more and caressing his cheeks to tell him goodbye.

“(Y/N)!” Elrond called out for you when you turned around to go back to Eregion and to your daughter.

“If you love me and respect me,” you began. “If you love Celebrimbor… Just take him away from here. That is all I ask for,” you insisted and hurried back to Eregion. “Do not follow me!” You exclaimed after hearing him trying to rush after you.

He eventually listened to you because he had a huge love for Celebrimbor and he could see the state of him was not the best. You heard the sound of their steps subduing as you went back to Eregion. 

You went back to the forge, feeling a bit more peaceful on the inside, knowing that you managed to save your uncle from Sauron. You nodded at Almárea and she nodded back at you, visibly relieved to see you coming back to her.

Her father came back not long after, too. He was wearing a breastplate and holding Morgoth’s crown in his hand, which was dripping blood – you could feel from afar its purity and light. It was Elven.

“Have you killed her?” You whispered with widened eyes.

“Sadly, no,” Sauron answered with a smirk. “But I got The Nine,” he added and you looked away, feeling defeated. “Speaking of, where is Celebrimbor?”

“Far away,” you mumbled out, expecting him to lash out.

Surprisingly, he did not. He shrugged his arms.

“Whatever. He is no use to me anymore. Almárea, we are leaving,” he extended his free hand and nodded at her.

“You cannot take her away from me!” You turned your head around again to watch what she would do. She hesitated but then she ran up to him and squeezed his hand, which felt like a punch straight into your heart.

“Where are we going, daddy?” She asked.

“To our new home,” Sauron answered and turned around, dragging her behind him but she remained still. “What is it?” He asked with an irritated sigh.

“We are taking mummy with us, right?” She asked.

Long silence occurred. Sauron laid his cold and empty eyes upon you, sitting on the floor with your back pressed to the wall and crying silent tears.

“It is her choice,” he answered, softly, “but I doubt she wants to go with us.”

“On the contrary. I have no choice,” you gritted your teeth, clumsily standing up. “I must go where she goes. Even if it is a path I hate to follow.”

“Do you truly realise who I am?” Your husband titled his head at your words. “All the stories they have told you about me when you were a child – I am worse than any of them.”

“I am fully aware,” you approached him and held Almárea’s free hand. “And that is why I must go to make sure you do not turn her into a monster like you.”

It took you a few days of travel with the filthy army of Orcs to get to Mordor. You and Sauron did not exchange a single word during this trip. Almárea was riding with you on your horse for half of the day and then she would go to ride with her father. You made no stops on your way, so after arriving in Mordor, you and your daughter were exhausted.

The land was dark and barren, full of fire and ashes. It looked like hell but you decided not to complain because you realised you were on thin ice already – Sauron did not treat you like his consort in any way. Apparently, you would be nothing but a mother to his child from now on. Any sign of disobedience could be punished with exile and that was the last thing you wanted. You needed to be close to your daughter.

He ordered the Orcs to build him a grand fortress but until then, you resided in a big mansion that had once belonged to a rich human family of The Southlands. You had an awful view of Mount Doom from there and the rooms were all beautifully decorated but also dusty and worn out.

Once again – you did not complain. You did not dare.

You followed Sauron to the chambers he had decided would be yours and Almárea’s. He was carrying her in his arms as she was half-asleep already. You watched him put her to bed and caress her head as you sat down on the chair next to the bed. You held her little hand and squeezed it lovingly, watching her drift off to the land of dreams. Those past few days had been difficult and exhausting for her.

Sauron straightened his back and looked down at you with a bit of contempt but also affection – mixed together, they made you feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Do you remember?” He asked, speaking his very first sentence to you in days.

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him, questioningly. Your husband extended his hand and touched your cheek with it.

At that moment, your vision got blurry and you felt yourself go back in time a few years to one, specific memory. One of the most beautiful days you had ever lived.

You were sitting by the river, in a field full of flowers. Almárea was about a year old and clumsily taking her first steps. You watched Annatar helping her and chuckling at her harmless but funny falls as she kept giggling and blabbering, excitedly. The sun was slowly setting and you felt at peace. You truly believed your whole life would be just like that.

When Sauron took his hand away from your face, you found yourself back in Mordor, stripped of any faith and any dignity.

“Why did you show me that?” You asked him, angrily, as your eyes filled with fresh tears.

“It was the only moment when I felt that I should, perhaps, abandon my old life and remain in Eregion as Annatar by your side forever,” he confessed.

“Perhaps you should have,” was all you answered, in a whisper nearly inaudible as you watched him walk away with tears streaming down your cheeks.

You had cried out so many of them recently that you were starting to feel hollow and empty.

Weeks passed, maybe months. You had lost track of time since all your days were the same. You were given quite a lot of freedom because Sauron was sure you would never leave his side as long as Almárea was there. You were allowed to walk around the mansion and even take walks although you did not crave them at all since Mordor was not the perfect place to spend time outside.

You were barely exchanging any words with your husband and you seemed to avoid each other. However, he was making sure you were not short on anything. Once in a while there was a package waiting for you on your bed. Inside it you would find gifts – books to read or new dresses. And yesterday you had found an embroidery set, which filled your heart with joy.

You missed embroidery and you even considered it quite thoughtful that he had remembered about it. So, you were sitting by the window and focusing on your craft, trying to recreate Mount Doom, which your daughter loved for some reason. You wanted to make her happy.

You were focused on your work when the doors opened loudly, making you misplace the needle and hurt yourself as you hissed and looked up at your husband.

“Where is Almárea?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Is she not with you? Are you not teaching her your craft of treachery and deception like every day?” You asked with a sigh, defeated.

Sauron rolled his eyes but decided not to comment on your remark.

“I told her to go back to her mother about two hours ago,” he informed you and your heart skipped a beat at that revelation.

“Why didn’t you walk her here yourself?” You asked.

“I had an important matter to attend to and it is not like she is a toddler, is it?” Sauron clenched his jaw but you spotted a glimpse of panic in his eyes. “Where is she?”

“How can I know?! I thought she was with you!” You stood up instantly and put your embroidery set down before rushing out of your chambers. “Almárea!” You called out. “Almárea!”

“Have you seen Lady Almárea?” Sauron asked one of the Orcs walking down the hall.

“N-no, my Lord Sauron,” the Orc shook his head and you watched your husband sit his throat just like that. Usually, you found this behaviour of his dreadful. But now you were too scared and worried for your daughter to care

You kept searching for her all over the mansion, calling out her name, leaving a pile of dead Orcs behind because none of them could answer Sauron about Almárea’s location.

“I think she must have gone outside,” you said after bumping into your husband in the corridor. You watched his eyes widen even further in terror and concern. You snorted at that. “What are you? Scared of losing your precious tool?” You asked him with contempt.

That only angered him further as he grabbed your arm and squeezed it so tightly that you were sure there was a bruise forming already.

“Do not ever say that again,” he drawled out through gritted teeth right into your face. “Do not speak of matters you have no idea of.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Despite everything between you two – it seemed like you shared a thread together and that was love for your daughter. And because you were a worried mother, you regretted inflicting any pain upon a worried father.

“Forgive me,” you whispered and he let go of your arm.

“Do you have any idea where she could go?” Sauron asked you and you shook your head before freezing as you realised.

“Mount Doom,” you whispered. “For some reason, she adores it,” you explained.

“We must not waste any moment then,” Sauron grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind him as you two ran out of the mansion.

The forsaken volcano was not very far away from your home but it still took you quite a while to get there. The air was poisonous around it, making you choke and tear up. You were no mortal, therefore you were in no danger, but it was still an inconvenience. 

“If anything happened to her, I shall be the one to kill you, whatever it takes!” You threatened your husband and he did not even say anything to this. He let go of your wrist and proceeded to climb up.

You followed him but in many places the ground was slippery and you needed his support. His hand would grab you each time you stumbled and pull you up.

Breathing heavily, both covered in dirt from the ashes, you stood there, petrified, seeing Almárea sitting by the edge of the volcano and staring at it spitting out fire. She seemed to be content with her position. You looked up at Sauron with terror in your eyes and he left you behind to approach your daughter with extended hands.

“Almárea, what are you doing here? Have you not been told to never go outside without me or your mother?” Sauron asked, carefully.

“Ugh, daddy, I know, I am sorry. I was just so curious about this mountain and guess what? It is even better than I have imagined,” she confessed with a smile. “Do you know what it reminds me of?”

“What, Almárea?” He asked, taking a few more small steps closer to her.

“A forge,” she answered. “I miss uncle Celebrimbor’s one and this place makes me feel as if I was back there. Oh, daddy, can you imagine all the beautiful things we could craft here?” She asked with a smile.

Sauron froze for a moment as you watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He looked around as if he had just realised something brilliant.

“Yes, I can, my darling. And we will,” he assured her. “But please, come to me and mummy now, will you?” He extended his hand even further and she nodded, eagerly.

You both gasped watching her stand up because one little wrong move could cause her to fall down the volcano. She, however, seemed to be oblivious. She skipped along towards her father and Sauron picked her up in an instant, squeezing her tight and caressing the back of her head.

Your heart swelled inside your chest at the realisation that he truly cared for her and truly loved her  – even if it was not enough to save her from making her play a part in his schemes.

“Can we go back home, please?” You pleaded and it was the very first time you called that awful place your home.

Sauron nodded at you and you began your walk down the mountain. You were still shaking slightly and holding onto his sleeve to make sure you would not fall. Just like in the old days, he was bringing you comfort and safety – he was making you feel protected even if it was only being protected from a fall.

When you reached your mansion, Sauron took Almárea to the chambers she shared with you. Her skin and robes were dirty with mud and ashes, therefore you prepared her a bath and helped her to undress and get inside the bathtub.

“Call for me if you need anything,” you told her as you placed a new dress on the chair for her to dress herself into after the bath. “Be careful, my darling,” you smiled at her and left her alone in the bathroom, although you left the door ajar just in case.

Sauron was still inside your chambers and staring out of the window at Mount Doom. You sighed at the sight of his back turned on you and you decided to approach him softly.

Your hands acted before you allowed them to and they placed themselves on his arm softly. Your body ached for him and his presence; it was too used to his touch.

He flinched a little and turned his head around to look down at you with a puzzled expression.

“I miss you,” you confessed. “I miss being close to you,” you added.

“You miss Annatar, not me,” he shrugged his arms and looked out of the window again.

“Was Annatar not you? From the very beginning, my husband was Sauron. I only chose to be blind to see it,” you whispered and he looked back at you again, surprised to hear your words.

“Do I not repulse you?” He snorted.

“It does not change the fact I love you still,” you sighed and pressed your cheek to his arm. You both remained dirty from the ashes but you did not mind that all because today’s shared experience of fear and concern for your daughter had brought you two close together once more.

“Your love differs from mine,” he pointed out, a little harshly.

“It has not escaped me,” you let out a chuckle and nuzzled your face deeper into his sleeve. “But it is alright that we love differently. I do not want to be your Queen, I do not want you to share your power with me. All I want is to–”

“Have a family with me,” Sauron finished the sentence softly and you looked up at him, gently. It was the very first time in a long time when your eyes filled with affection for him again. “I was never keen on the idea of having offspring,” he admitted. “But then you made me realise what a blessing children might be,” he cracked a smile and raised his hand to caress your cheek. “I was terrified of my potential child stealing my powers and overthrowing me but Almárea… Her powers and her mind terrify me in the most exquisite way. Do you know why she is so perfect?” He asked and you shook your head. “Because she is half you. She is half light and half darkness. The perfect balance and what else could possibly heal Middle-earth?”

You hated yourself but you found yourself falling for his beautiful words once again. You could never be sure after everything that had happened if his sweet nothings, promises and love declarations were ever genuine. Perhaps, you would forever wonder about it. But despite all of that, the dreadful memories of Eregion’s downfall and his behaviour then were becoming blurry with time and you were ready to move on; to start another chapter with him.

And, as usual, you had an excuse for your husband, too. He had been nervous then. Of course he had been the worst version of himself. But it did not mean he would always be like this. Right now he was not.

“Come here, my love,” Sauron pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, how I have missed you, too, my darling. And even though it brought me great pain, I knew I had to wait for you to come to me out of your own free will.”

“Here I stand,” you whispered and a single tear streamed down your cheek.

“Almárea asked me about us,” Sauron put his hands on your arms and moved away slightly to be able to look at your face. “She wonders if we still love each other. I told her it was complicated.”

“I told her the very same thing,” you smiled sadly.

“But it is not, is it?” He raised an eyebrow and you shook your head, laughing nervously through your tears.

“No,” you admitted. “It is not.”

“It is true that I had my reasons to choose you out of all Elven maidens. And it is true that I was scared of having a son with you because I thought that the chances of a son overthrowing me would be higher,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “But you have become the most dear to me, the most precious,” he confessed and turned you around, making you look at Mount Doom as his hands lowered themselves to your abdomen.

You knew what he was about to do. You flinched at first, torn on the inside if it was truly what you wanted. Last time you had been deceived but now you would willingly allow it, despite knowing the true nature of the man who was your husband.

You looked down at his hands resting on your womb. He was still wearing a golden ring on his finger that you had put there on the day of your wedding. And you were still wearing yours because you still loved him despite hating yourself for it. You still wanted to be around him as if he was something addictive that you could not live without. And your womb was still open for more of his offspring.

You relaxed and when he sensed your consent, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his hands and filling you up, forming a new life inside of you.

You put your hands on top of his and squeezed them for courage.

“A son,” he whispered into your ear with lots of satisfaction and excitement.

“Another tool for you to use,” you pointed out.

“Another child for you to love and spoil,” Sauron brushed your hair strand and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Another thread of love binding us together.”

“Mummy? Daddy?” Almárea’s voice made you both turn around. She walked out of the bathroom in her new dress and kept looking at you two with a big grin. “Does it mean you are in love again?” She asked, full of hope.

“Oh, my darling, we have never stopped being in love,” you assured her and opened your arms to allow her to give you a hug. You did not want her to know all the details about the nature of your relationship with her father. She had already seen and witnessed way too much.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tight, which only made her smile grow even wider as she looked up.

“I am going to have a sibling!” She exclaimed, happily, after sensing the new life inside of you.

“You are going to have many,” Sauron spoke as he reached his hand out to caress her hair. “And each of you will get their own kingdom to rule over in my name and their own Ring,” he shared his new plan as a shiver went down your spine. “And all Middle-earth will be healed at once for your mother’s light and my darkness combine like two precious metals; balancing and amplifying everything I could ever be on my own.”

“But… But you will still rule over us all, right, daddy?” Almárea asked hopefully, as if she was already scared of the responsibility that one day would be put upon her shoulders.

“Oh, of course, little one,” Sauron smiled lovingly at her. “I shall always bear the biggest burden of power for that is a father’s one to carry.”

He loved her – of that you were sure now. But no amount of his love could protect her from his schemes and his manipulations. Therefore, he had to love you as well and no amount of cruelty he had put you through contradicted it.

That was the way Sauron loved. It was a cursed devotion but also a blessed one.

MASTERLIST

[medlarmeadows]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a cc!charlie/gn!reader where they have a friendly sleepover BUT as the night goes on it get more and more romantic :3c and may there be cuddling and kisses please and ty.

P.s have a nice day/night ^-^

i'm so sorry i took basically a whole month to get this done! i hope my writing has done your request justice :) hope you're having a nice day/night!

(also i wrote this with charlie's Another Crab's Treasure vod playing in the background. it was a huge distraction, i don't know why i did that)

-

can i kiss you sleepover?

cc!Charlie Slimecicle x gn!reader

Warning(s): light cursing, one piss joke, they kiss.

Word Count: 1.25k

masterlist | request guidelines

Sleepovers at either Charlie’s or your apartment were pretty common. With the two of you living on opposite sides of the city, all it took was a movie night ending too late or a drink too many in someone’s system to get one of you to announce that a sleepover was in order.

(It was to prevent either of you from having to travel home in the middle of the night, and absolutely not because you both wanted an excuse to spend more time together.)

The night started as most nights did, with you popping over to Charlie’s place for dinner. What surprised you, though, was that instead of your usual takeout, he had decided to chef it up in the kitchen.

“Whoa,” you said when you arrived, inviting yourself in and dropping off the snacks you had bought on the kitchen counter. “So, this is why you didn’t want to grab snacks with me today.”

“I had a lot of ingredients I had to use up,” he replies nonchalantly, giving you a one shoulder shrug. “Thought a change in our routine couldn’t hurt.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaning against the dining table while he sets the food down. You try to ignore how pinpricks shoot up your arm when he brushes against your arm.

“Is this how our friendship has devolved? You’re throwing your leftovers at me?”

Charlie nearly trips on the way back to the table with two wine glasses in hand. You double over laughing, and thus fail to catch the way the tips of his ears turn red.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

You spend dinner catching up with each other’s weeks, with a few jokes thrown in courtesy of Charlie attempting to serve wine as professionally as he can. It contributes to the slightly romantic atmosphere of the dinner, but you choose not to acknowledge it.

After dinner, you force Charlie out of the kitchen so that you could clean up (it was the least you could do to repay his romantic well-prepared dinner). It’s a few minutes later that you join him in the living room for the official start to your movie night.

Usually, you sit side by side on the couch, not too close and not too far from each other. But the couch feels a little small today as you’re forced to share one blanket (“Sorry, the other one’s in the washer.” “What, did you piss on it? Little piss boy?” “Fuck off.”).

Charlie fidgets throughout the first movie, but you don’t mind it. When the second film starts playing, he moves one arm to rest on the couch behind your head. The hand that rests next to your next starts fidgeting with your hair, making the flesh of your neck goosebump when his fingers get close.

You distract yourself from his antics by stuffing your face with crisps. You were close friends who were comfortable being physically close to each other. You hugged all the time. You spent a lot of time together.

You try to convince yourself that it wasn’t that deep.

Several hours later, it was to no one’s surprise that, when you finished watching the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean film, Charlie announced that it was too late for you to Uber back home.

“Dude, I can’t believe it’s already 3 am,” he comments as he gets up to throw the empty crisp packets.

“Is it?” you ask between yawns, stretching out over the cushions he had previously occupied. Your eyes are halfway closing when he comes back to unceremoniously yank the blanket off you.

“What the hell!” you yell at him, throwing a pillow at him in hopes to wipe off the cheeky grin from his face.

The pillow didn’t deter him from coming closer, prompting you to pick up another pillow to smack him with. However, he catches you off-guard by snatching the pillow from you. You reflexively tighten your grip on the pillow, causing you to stumble right into Charlie.

Stunned, you look up at him, his wide-eyed gaze meeting yours.

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly.

“Hi,” he replies, a mischievous grin lighting his face up.

Charlie lightly shoves you away from himself, bending to grab the first pillow you had thrown at him. With a declaration of war, he chases you around the coffee table, the movie credits still rolling on the TV screen providing some dramatic background music.

You feel your inner child light up inside you as you evade Charlie’s grasp, letting out cheerful yelps despite it being the middle of the night and you might get noise complaints. However, caught up in the gleefulness of your mini tag game, you trip on the edge of the coffee table and send yourself hurtling into the couch.

“Holy shi- ”

Behind you, Charlie’s unable to stop his momentum. In a split second, he’s sent tumbling on top of you, the pillow that he was holding somewhat cushioning his fall so he didn’t full body slam into you.

There you lie on Charlie’s couch, caged by his arms which had mercifully landed next to your face and not on it. His messy hair looked even messier after running several rounds around his living room, and you resist the urge to run your fingers through them.

You’re captured next by his blue eyes, still shining with something familiar, but with an added emotion that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. You’re so close to each other you’re practically breathing in each other’s breath, and you can’t help your eyes from straying to glance down at his lips.

When you glance back up to his eyes, you catch him shifting his gaze as well, causing your breath to hitch. You catch the moment he clocks that you’d done the same thing he did as he moves just an inch closer to you.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” your response is just as breathy.

Charlie studies your expression carefully, almost as though drinking in your features he had never seen so up close before. Then:

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink once. Then twice. Then:

“Yes, please.”

Charlie crosses the space between you two within the blink of an eye. His lips capture yours, and you finally understand how people could describe a kiss as sweet. Because now that you’ve tasted Charlie’s lips on yours, you’re not sure even honey could compare.

You’re not sure how long you stay locked in each other’s embrace. One of your hands come up to gently thread through Charlie’s hair, eliciting a sigh from the man. When you come up for breath, the movie credits are no longer rolling.

“Wow,” you say, breathless.

“Definitely wow,” he repeats, breathing just as heavily as you are.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” you ask in between a yawn.

“I don’t know.” He takes a second to smile fondly at your yawn. “Sleepy?”

You nod, further relaxing into his hold. “Between the movies and the running around, I’m pretty tired out.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgement before getting off you to stand. Suddenly, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you yelp and loop your arms around his neck.

“Charlie!”

“It’s snuggle time!” he crows, carrying you to his bedroom.

The night ends with you and Charlie snug under his blankets. The weight of his arm around your waist and the feeling of his heartbeat against your back slowly lulled you into what could’ve been the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

[ipleadbritney]

could we please have ↻ FLIP FLOP for the first kiss scene in three-sixteenths???

thank you dear!!! 💕

- kitty 💕 (aka three-sixteenths’ biggest fan)

for @utopiastri who's really the sweetest!! ask game post here thank you for letting me revisit three-sixteenths in oscar's pov!!

3/16 the first kiss, flip flop

“Uncomfortable?” Lando repeats. 

“With my magic. I don't want to make you throw up, or, you know.”

Oscar himself is one wrong move away from throwing up, actually. Yesterday threw him in for a spinner. Every time he blinks, he conjures up the walls of Monaco around him, waiting and waiting. 

He hoped to get some rest today, to let his magic stretch over the new place. Nico Rosberg mentioned in an interview once how telekinesis in Monaco is different. Everything's lighter. Oscar wouldn't mind trying it. 

But Lando called, and, well. Oscar was already skimming teleportation crash guides in the middle of their call.

Lando and curses is a horrible combination. It's taking everything in Oscar not to panic.

Lando clears his throat. “I asked you to come here so you could probe at it. And I'm not throwing up. Magic reflects the person, right? I answered your call for a reason, and I'm glad I did.”

How can Oscar not panic when Lando just says the sweetest things like it's nothing?

But someone has to be calm between the two of them, and Oscar's not going to pass the responsibility on the person who's cursed.

He rubs at the empty space where his suppressor usually is. Calm down. “I'm glad you answered my call, Lando. I really am.” 

Better him than anyone else. If Oscar's right, then—

True Love's Kiss is a powerful spell that has wavered in popularity in recent decades. Most historians agree it is common for any spell to have crests and troughs. This particular case, however, has stumped some of the wisest living magical minds. 

Has humanity polluted our world to the point of a Great Spell extinction? Do we even need True Love's Kiss anymore?

Oscar forces a smile, ignoring his thoughts. Not much a textbook can help them with, right?

Lando smiles back. Oscar loosens up. 

Maybe it's not True Love's Kiss. 

What if it is?

It doesn't have to be. Oscar can just kiss Lando right now. Fix the curse after. Free Lando's wrist. Explain somehow along the way that he like Lando enough to think he'd break True Love's Kiss if it came down to it.

It won't. 

Lando's phone vibrates and lights up with a text notification. Oscar barely makes out the name Charlie. 

“Aren't you going to read that?” Oscar asks.

Lando shakes his head, still smiling. Dazed. “No, it's probably a stupid notif—” he checks his phone “—fucking finally, Charlie's awake.”

He's mouthing the words as he reads them, something that hasn't escaped Oscar. Cute, of course, but also. The text can't be that long. 

Lando sits up straighter. He's re-reading the text. Again and again.

Worry's bubbling up inside Oscar. Unfortunately, his worries have a nasty way of materializing through his magic.

So does Lando's. There's buzzing in the air, like static TV.

He tightens the control on his magic. He won't be of any help to Lando if he's a mess on his own.

After what must've been the 20th re-read, Oscar asks, “What did Charles say?”

“I need to kiss someone Italian. To break the curse, I need to kiss someone Italian.”

Lando all but throws his phone to Oscar for him to check. Charles’ texts confirm Oscar's suspicions, or at least part of it. Being right is such an overrated emotion. 

Can TLKs be bound by other conditions apart from the whole yeah you're my one true love? Kiss-curses that aren't TLK are even rarer. Leave it up to the Monaco Grand Prix to attract generational magic users who can randomly cast a kiss-curse.

What if Charles misheard it? Misunderstood. Mistranslated. 

What if he didn't?

“I hoped it would be different,” Oscar starts. “Not that you'll have a hard time finding someone Italian to kiss, no, but uh, Sophie will have our heads. Because it'll cause a riot, maybe. Then they'll resurrect us so Sophie can have our heads again.”

Please let the floor swallow Oscar whole.

“Thanks, I guess?” Lando says, and his face is so open, you can see every single emotion he's feeling right now. 

Oscar wonders if Lando can read him the same way. Like how he's no longer surprised when Oscar sticks close to him in public, anticipates it. Leaves a little bit of space for Oscar to slide through. It's the type of understanding and clarity Oscar's always wanted.

“You know, I'm 3/16 Italian,” Oscar blurts out. 

Lando half-splutters, half-laughs. “You don't have to cheer me up, Osc."

“I didn't say it to just cheer you up. I'm here to help. That's why I'm here, yeah?”

For the first time since coming here— which is the first time he's ever been in Lando's apartment and everything is Lando Lando Lando —Oscar's mind is clear. 

“Reckon it'll work?” 

“Won't know if we won't try."

Oscar can still backtrack. He can salvage the threads of their professional relationship. Nevermind that their professionalism has turned into Lando practically sitting on his lap during meetings because his seat doesn't “seat right”. 

But Lando's beaming. “Sure. Let's do it.”

Huh. It can't be that easy. It can only be that easy if Lando likes Oscar back. He doesn't. Probably. “Oh, okay.”

Nothing happens. Is it up to Oscar? Well, Lando's handcuffed to his bed, so. Oscar needs to, good God. Oscar needs to.

“Do you think it's supposed to be, like…” Oscar took three magic-related electives and none of them talked about breaking possible kiss-curses.

“Kiss on the mouth?” Lando’s smile grows even wider. Does he? Like Oscar back? “You're the magic nerd here.”

“I'm really not.”

“Go big or go home,” Lando says.

Suddenly Lando hooks a finger on Oscar's collar and pulls him closer. Oscar kneels in front of Lando, one of his legs bracketed by Lando's thighs. Lando's pretty like this, looking up at Oscar. 

Oscar touches Lando's cheek. “This okay?” he murmurs.

Lando closes his eyes and leans into his touch. Nods.

Oscar presses a soft kiss on Lando's mouth. The buzzing's gone, has been for a long time, maybe. 

He pulls back just the slightest, but Lando's kissing him. Oscar is reeled right back in, deeper this time. Lando holds him by his waist. Gentle but secure.

Oscar's dreamt of this before, but those didn't. Get the details correct. Lando's sighs. His taste. His magic.

Fuck, Oscar's own magic. He can feel it slipping out of his control.

Lando parts open his mouth, a permission for Oscar to take. How much can Oscar take? How much is he willing to take?

There's a clicking sound and a wash of strange magic, bursting then fading away.

The handcuffs. Oscar almost forgot about that. 

They move apart, which is a bit hard with Lando's fingers curled up in his shirt.

The curse leaves behind a cloud of gold and green glitter. A few specks land on Lando's nose then melt off. 

“I'll call you first if I ever get cursed again,” Lando says, laughing. There's a halo surrounding his head. Oscar's magic. 

“I'm 1/16 Chinese.” He returns to his spot at the foot of the bed. “Call me even if you're not cursed?” 

“Don't jinx it, mate.”

Oscar's not going to jinx it. No hexes or curses or any love spells, either. He doesn't trust his magic to not influence Lando. He puts his suppressor on, and it sucks the fucking air out of the room. 

“Sorry,” he tells Lando. “It's, I've got my suppressor back on.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Broke the curse already, didn't we?”

Lando tilts his head, assessing. “We did.”

What do they do now? 

Lando takes the lead, as he usually does. “Want lunch? I'll reserve us a spot, so don't leave. Give me, like, 15.”

As if Oscar would ever say no to lunch with Lando. “I'd like that, sure. Let's get lunch.”

If it hadn't been a kiss-curse, they would've probably kissed some more. Oscar tries not to be too hung up about it.

[leoisstillalive]

>800 word intro to a fic im writing. it's completely unedited and unbeta read and is also just kind of me playing with uccio and vale like ken dolls. i have never uploaded a draft like this before so be gentle on me.

Valentino nursed himself on the porcelain coffee mug, mouth running along the hot lip of it, hands shifting around and around until they reached the handle once more.

“Long night?” Uccio quirked his lips as he plopped down in the seat opposite Vale with an espresso.

The breakfast hall was empty, save for them and two employees who were still preparing the buffet stands. It was quarter to six in the morning, the Autumn sun had barely risen, and the hotel staff had thrown the two men a collection of surprised looks when they emerged from the hallway doors an hour before breakfast.

They had hurriedly served them coffee before retreating to the kitchens to retrieve more food.

Vale nodded solemnly, closing his eyes against the sudden light that flooded through the drawn curtains. He received flashes of memory plagued by splitting headaches and a wave of nausea. Dark brown hair, even darker brown eyes— everything dark and hazy and sickly in his throat.

He blew a sharp breath out his nose and let the steam burn his cheeks.

“Come on, then,” His friend urged with a delighted tone, “Confessional. How’d you humiliate yourself this time?”

Uccio had been unlucky enough to have team matters to attend to the night before, something boring about contractual negotiations for the approaching year, so he could not make it to the celebrations. Which meant he wanted a full debrief. Which meant confrontation was unavoidable- something that did not usually worry Vale. But the previous night had been—

Valentino groaned and planted the mug on the table, palming his eyes.

The other man frowned a little, playfully, “Why? What’s wrong? You’re… uncharacteristically ashamed of yourself.”

Vale said nothing, but huffed a laugh.

“Was it bad?” 

“Oh, yeah,” He brought a lanky hand to the pot in the centre of the table and snagged a packet of white sugar. It was trembling with the quakes of his hangover. And probably the pressure of the interrogation.

Alessio scoffed, “Who’d you fuck?”

They needed to spend less time together.

“How do you know?” Vale frowned accusatorially, fumbling with the paper between his hands.

The man shrugged, “You wouldn’t get like this over doing something stupid, and you say stupid shit when you’re sober. So who did you fuck?”

“Just… someone.”

“Nothing new there.”

“Someone I probably... shouldn’t have.”

Uccio nodded with mock sombreness because they were getting somewhere, but nowhere worth all of Vale’s grumbling.

“Okay. Also, nothing really new.”

“Well— So…” Valentino could not find it in himself to say it. He reduced to silence once more.

“Come on, you’re boring me,” Uccio took a sip of his espresso, “Don’t make me guess.”

Vale caught his eyes and nodded once, curtly. It, annoyingly, could work. Also, it could make things enjoyable enough to relieve a fraction of harshness from Uccio’s eventual judgement.

His friend laughed incredulously and it would have been a nice sound if Valentino did not feel like his brain would implode any second.

“Alright. Fine.”

He settled his elbows on the table and planted his chin on his folded hands.

“The King of Spain.”

And that was a strong start. Vale huffed a laugh.

“Worse.”

“Worse?” Uccio exclaimed, “Than the King of Spain?”

Vale nodded.

“The Queen of Spain?”

Vale shook his head.

“Oh, good. So, at least we’re not evading the police.”

A beat. And then:

“A cartel member—“

Head shake.

“—‘s daughter?”

Double head shake. And Vale was getting a bit dizzy with all the shaking.

Alessio thought for a moment and his eyes turned slightly furious.

“My sister?”

Valentino shook his head profusely and smiled when Uccio blew out a breath of relief. 

“My mum?”

Vale chuckled and nodded.

Uccio reached across and flicked Valentino’s forehead without hesitation.

“You’re not even taking this seriously.”

“You said it,” Vale rubbed at the spot the man whacked because it actually kind of hurt, “But, no. Worse.”

“You’re busting my balls here, bro. How could it be worse than my mum? Did you like— did you fuck another rider?”

Valentino froze, blood shooting cold down his spine, eyes locked to Uccio’s face as his gaze wandered the room for fresh ideas, before returning to the (marginally) older man.

He shrugged, his own words having slipped his mind in their inanity, “What?”

Vale nodded almost imperceptibly. 

Uccio seemed to be reviewing what he had just said, turning the words over and over with a confused curve of his lips. And then his face cleared and Vale braced his hand on his bouncing thigh.

The man’s smile dropped like a pin, “What?”

“I know.”

“Vale,” He leaned forward in his seat, “What? Who?”

Valentino shook his head and dug his thumbs into his eye sockets.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Yeah, I am! Who the fuck was it?”

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions of child abuse. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

Master List

Chapter Ten

You knew from the moment Billy left that there was nothing stopping you from going into the bathroom and removing your cum-stained panties. But you didn’t. In fact it only crossed your mind as a fleeting thought, not because you were scared Billy might find out and certainly not because you felt like you had to obey him, but for some other third, more nebulous reason.

As uncomfortable as you were, as much as you hated it, some part of you... enjoyed it.

It was that same strange and conflicting mix of emotions that you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him; that feeling that you weren’t supposed to enjoy rough sex as much as you had. Shame. That was it. You felt ashamed, but every time you thought about your panties, you remembered the way you’d felt, bent over the table and at his mercy. You remembered how good it had felt.

So, you didn’t remove your panties and you didn’t think twice about slipping into the bathroom after closing while Jenna emptied the cash register. 

It took you a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to stand in front of the mirror and pull up your skirt to snap a picture, though it took you a lot less time to grip your phone in such a way that you could flip him off in the process. When it was done and sent, you deleted the photo from your phone and, once again, found yourself glad that you still had Billy’s number blocked.

That feeling of conflict, of knowing how you should feel versus how you did feel, followed you home and had your stomach tying itself in knots when you thought about his other demand.

At first you told yourself that you wouldn’t call him, slipping out of your clothes and straight under a hot shower, but the longer you were left to think about, the more your stomach seemed to coil itself in knots. 

Did you want him to show up? Did you want to finish what you’d started with him earlier? 

No.

Yes.

Fuck.

Finally, you settled on calling him - but you were only going to allow it to ring three times before you hung up. If Billy missed the call, that was his own fault.

Unfortunately, he answered on the second ring, as if he’d been sat there all night, just waiting for your call.

“Hey,” he said, and you could almost hear his smile in his voice, “you get home safe?”

“Yeah,” you answered, wanting to keep things short and sweet.

“You’re late.”

There wasn’t any accusation of malice to it, it was just a statement of fact; the bar had closed almost an hour ago and you only lived a few blocks away.

“I needed to take a shower.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Billy said.

You were grateful that he held back his laughter, but you didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.

“How was your night?” He asked.

“Really? That’s really the game you want to play?” You said, unable to stop the irritation from filing your tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This - getting me to phone you, feeding your ego, thinking you can make me do whatever you want. I -”

“That’s not why I asked you to call.” He interrupted.

“You didn’t ask, Billy. You told me to. You threatened me.”

There was another few seconds of silence and then you heard a sigh from him.

“Fine, whatever, but that’s not why I wanted you to call me.”

“Then why?” You asked, barely biting back a sigh of your own.

“I wanted to know that you got home safe.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that strange feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach again, but you did your best to tamp it down. You were confused. More than that, you were still angry with him, even if you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reasons anymore. 

Because he kept pushing, kept taking you by surprise.

Because one minute he was sweet and gentle, and the next minute he left you wanting to strangle him.

“Why?”

“I told you. Because I care about you.”

The comment caused the feeling in your stomach to get worse.

“How can you care about me? You hardly know me...”

In the moment of silence that followed, you steeled yourself for whatever argument he’d try to make, hoping that you could finally take some control of the situation. 

“I’m trying to get to know you, kitten, but you’re not exactly making it easy,” he said. You remained silent, so Billy decided to push the matter. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You let out a forced and particularly loud sigh, sinking back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, not sure what you could tell him or if you even wanted to tell him anything at all. He’d been right earlier when he’d said you didn’t like honesty - you didn’t like anything that let people get too close.

The longer the silence dragged on, you knew you had to say something.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you felt the need to talk just to fill the silence and placate Billy, or if it was because you felt shitty for refusing to answer when he was making such an effort to get to know a little more about you.

You took a breath, not sure what you wanted to say until words started to pour from your mouth. And, by the time you realised what you were doing, it was too late to stop yourself.

“When I was twelve, my dad died. My mom had no money and there were debt collectors just waiting to take everything away, so she took my and my siblings back to her family home in Virginia.” You took a breath, stomach churning. “Her family was loaded but my mom had been cut off and taken out of the will for marrying my dad.”

Billy remained silent, as if he was hanging on your every word, so you continued.

“Our grandfather was a cruel old bastard - or so our mom told us. Her plan was to win him round, but she couldn’t do that with kids in tow. So, her and our grandmother hid us in the attic. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days while she fixed things with her father, but... we ended up stuck up there for three years, never allowed to leave the attic until we eventually managed to run away.”

You hated yourself as you finished speaking and, this time, allowed the silence to hang in the air. Billy let it linger for almost a minute before speaking again.

“Nice try, kitten, but that’s the plot to Flowers in the Attic.”

The worst part was that he didn’t even sound angry about catching you in another obvious lie. He just sounded resigned, almost hurt.

“You’ve read Flowers in the Attic?” You weren’t sure why that was the question you chose to ask. 

The feeling in your stomach continued to get worse, as if some part of you felt bad about lying to him and pushing him away. The worst part was you weren’t even sure why you did it, why you couldn’t just offer him some watered down version of your past, something that was true but only to a comfortable extent.

“What can I say? I’m a man of hidden depths.”

“Yeah?” You asked, doubling down on your course of action. “They have a lot of VC Andrews in the prison library.

“No, I came across a copy on base in Afghanistan,” he answered, pausing for a beat before; “... have you just been assuming I was an ex-con all this time?”

“Wouldn’t exactly be the only one to drink at Sam’s,” you offered, feeling a little silly at your assumptions. Military made more sense, though you supposed you’d only given fleeting consideration to him being an ex-con as yet another reason not to get close to him.

Again there was a silence and, then, another soft sigh.

“Why do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Lie like that?” When you didn’t answer he continued. “What is it about your past that has you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you said automatically, like a reflex kicking in. You weren’t weak. You weren’t going to let him think you were weak.

“Then why have the go-bag?”

You felt a chill run through your body when you thought about the backpack nestled in your wardrobe. You still hated that he’d seen it, that he understood what it was.

“It’s in case I need to get away from my stalker who spent weeks breaking into my apartment without my knowledge,” you answered coldly. 

“Cute, but I know it’s been there longer than that.”

He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask him to explain, already knowing you wouldn’t like any answer that he had to give you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he said softly after a few moments of quiet.

“I don’t need protecting, Billy. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He asked and you were sure his lips were pulling into a smirk on the other end of the call.

“I could kill someone if I had to.”

“Really?” His tone shifted and that hint of playfulness that you were used to started to creep back in.

“I’ve killed before,” you said casually, leaving him to guess if it was just another one of your lies.

“Did he deserve it?” Billy asked, not seeming at all bothered that you might potentially be a murderer.

“Who said it was a he?” 

“Educated guess. So, did he deserve it?”

“Yes.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

You heard the sharpness slipping back into his voice as he asked the question.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it.”

Your mouth felt dry and you could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, practically knocking against your ribs. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a response like that.

Again, there was a pregnant pause while you tried to think of what to say.

“Is it really that black and white for you?” You asked.

“No one who hurts you should ever get away with it,” he said, quickly adding; “but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve got me for that.

“Right...” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Honestly, you should have expected that answer from him.

“You never asked how I hurt my hand,” Billy said, seemingly changing the subject.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking the time to wonder if he was trying to set you up and walk you into a trap.

“How did you hurt your hand?” You finally, reluctantly, asked.

“I paid a visit to the guy that spiked your drink.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and a part of you worried that Billy could hear the way your heart was racing through the phone. Even though it had only been two days since it had happened, you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about what had almost happened.

And, now, you didn’t want to think about what Billy might have done to protect you.

“Is he -” you started to ask, words coming out as little more than a whisper.

You weren’t even entirely sure what you were asking and, worryingly, you weren’t sure what you wanted his answer to be. It was hard to care too much about the fate of someone who’d spiked your drink, someone who might have done it to other women before you and planned to do it to other women after you. He didn’t deserve any sympathy. 

But that didn’t mean you wanted Billy to be hurting people in your name.

“He’s still alive,” Billy answered. “He might be eating through a tube for a while and, if he’s lucky, he might walk again, but I don’t think he’s ever going to think about messing with someone’s drink again.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that sent a shiver down his spine and, when you didn’t respond immediately, Billy asked; “you okay, kitten?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “Besides, I couldn’t let him keep doing that to people. He needed to be stopped.”

There was that edge in his voice again, a pain that you were certain he didn’t realise gave so much away. Maybe it didn’t around other people, but to you it was a punch to your gut, a feeling of like recognising like.

“Someone hurt you,” you said softly. Again. 

All Billy offered was a grunt.

Another lull in the conversation had you rolling onto your side and letting out a sigh, the phone still clutched tightly to your ear - though when you’d started holding the phone like that, you honestly couldn’t say. Despite how you’d felt when you’d dialled his number, there was no part of you that wanted to hang up now.

Later you might blame it on exhaustion or loneliness, but right then, all you wanted to do was keep talking.

But Billy wasn’t saying anything and that left it to you to fill the void.

“When I was nine my mom started dating her dealer,” you offered quietly. “She moved us into his place. He used almost as much as my mom did, and when he was wasted...”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat, forcing you to stop.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy finally said.

“You said you wanted to know me.”

“I do, but not if it hurts you.”

Again, the butterflies took flight in your stomach, and the feeling was enough to prompt you to continue, to finally share a piece of you that was real.

“He was violent. With my mom and with me,” you continued, hearing the way Billy’s breath caught through the phone. “Then, one day, my mom went out and didn’t come back. She just upped and left me with him. About a week later, he got wasted and I... I hid from him in the basement.”

Billy didn’t say a word, you couldn’t even hear him breathing, but you could picture the look on his face; that expression of barely contained rage.

“When I refused to come out, he locked the door from the outside, and left me down there.” At some point your voice had turned quiet, almost like you were whispering a secret to Billy, something that you needed him to guard with his life. And, somehow, you knew that he would. “I was trapped down there in the dark and cold... with the spiders...”

You heard a sharp inhale.

“There was this sweet old lady across the street... if she hadn’t called social services, they never would have found me...”

“How long?” Billy dared to ask, though you knew that wasn’t really the question that he wanted to ask you.

“Four days,” you answered. “Felt like longer.”

You expected more questions, pity - or one of those perfunctory I’m sorry’s that those kinds of events tended to garner. Instead you were met with nothing but another gentle sigh.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for telling me. It means a lot to me.”

Despite being on the phone, your response was to nod, pressing your head further against your pillow.

“I should let you sleep,” Billy continued. “It’s getting late.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep soon.” He said and you were almost disappointed that he didn’t offer to come see you (though that thought was definitely one you’d chalk up exhaustion). “Goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

And, like that, the line went dead.

For the longest time after the end of the call you stared at your phone, some part of you expecting it to light up with a message or for him to call back, even though you knew you still had him blocked.

It was strange, you felt somehow lighter for having been honest with him, even if what you had told him had only been scratching the surface.

Falling asleep, you felt like things had finally reached a turning point.

But you had no idea just how right you’d turn out to be.

The next evening you arrived at the bar to find it mostly empty, save for a well dressed woman sitting at the bar, talking to Jenna. The suit she wore screamed law enforcement and the subtle look that Jenna flashed you confirmed it.

It wasn’t often that cops dared set foot in Sam’s, and it definitely explained why the place was so empty. But you and Jenna had dealt with this sort of situation before, and you knew exactly what to say. Or what no to say, as the case may be.

You took your time ditching your coat in the back before stepping out to start your shift and getting a proper look at her.

The moment her eyes lifted to meet yours and she cast you something of a forced smile, you changed your mind. Definitely not a cop. Her clothes alone looked like they were worth more than you made in a year. And she was - well, stunning was the first word to come to mind. 

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she said, flashing you her ID before placing it in her pocket again.

You offered your name. Just your first name.

“What can we help you with?” You dared to ask, ignoring the roiling sensation in your stomach.

“Yeah, no offence, but having a cop sat at the bar isn’t exactly good for business,” Jenna added.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, lifting her phone from the bar and bringing up a photograph. “Have you seen this man? His name is Billy Russo. There have been reports placing him in the area.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at the photo; it was him, but it wasn’t. Those dark eyes were unmistakable but his hair... his face. The man in the photo was every bit as beautiful as you’d assumed Billy used to be when you’d first gotten a good look at him.

Without the scars he had been perfect but, somehow, you found you preferred your Billy more. There was something about the eyes; the man in the picture looked soulless, but your Billy... his eyes gave away so much.

Despite your shock, your face remained neutral.

You spared Jenna a glance and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in here, but we get a lot of people passing through.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agreed, taking a closer look at the phone. “Though I’d remember serving someone that hot. What did he do? Looks like one of those Wall Street guys...”

“He’s wanted in relation to several murders,” Madani stated,  and you damn near threw up in your mouth.

“Several murders? Is he a serial killer or something?” Jenna asked, keeping Madani’s attention away from you while you regained your poker face.

“No, not as such...” she shook her head, dropping her phone back into her pocket and placing a business card on the bar. “But if he comes in -”

“Is he dangerous?” You asked before she could finish.

“Extremely.”

“If we see him, we’ll be sure to call,” Jenna was quick to answer.

There were more words exchanged and you simply nodded along, feeling like you were spiralling into some dark abyss that you might never escape from. The Homeland agent kept glancing between you and Jenna but, if she noticed you were freaking out, she didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, neither you nor Jenna spoke for at least a minute.

“Fuck,” Jenna said, “you don’t think -”

“No,” the word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about it. “No, it - I mean... she must be wrong. He couldn’t...”

“Wow, not like you to jump to his defence.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on her lips, instead focusing on the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

It felt wrong, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. You’d always assumed that Billy was dangerous, that he could hurt people if he wanted to - hell, he’d put someone in the hospital for spiking your drink - but murder? Murders, plural?

“It’s just... you don’t think he’s -”

“A serial killer? I doubt it... unless he’s really good at hiding how much of a psycho he is,” Jenna answered.

Ah. That was it. Billy was good at hiding it, at pretending to be some sweet and charming guy to everyone while simultaneously stalking you.

“But, look... maybe you should stay away from him until we know for sure?” She carried on, and you nodded.

Jenna was talking, saying something, and you barely even realised you were stepping back.

“I... I need to -”

You didn’t even finish the thought before heading into the back and pulling out your phone, calling Billy. As it rang, you steeled yourself for him to answer and for all the questions to start pouring out. Part of you felt betrayed, lied to, while another part just couldn’t accept anything that Madani had tried to tell you.

It felt like you were falling, like you’d been hanging off the side of a cliff for so long, looking for something stable to cling to. The last few days had made you dare to think that maybe Billy could be that for you. But, now, the rockface was crumbling beneath your hands and you were falling.

“Kitten?” 

His voice was a dry rasp, like he’d just woken up, and just hearing him again had your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“You - you can’t come to the bar anymore, Billy. It’s not safe for anyone and I just think -”

“What? Kitten, slow -”

“There was a Homeland Agent at the bar. She was looking for you,” you tried to explain, word fast and frantic, almost running into one another. “She said you killed people, Billy. She’s looking for you, and we can’t -”

“Hey-hey, take a breath.”

You did as you were told but it didn’t help. Your heart continued to pound wildly in your chest while you struggled between what you thought you knew about Billy and what the Homeland Agent had told you.

Was he capable of murder?

Yes.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Billy could and would kill someone if he had reason to. That alone should have been enough to make you end the call, enough to go home, grab your bag and leave the city. But, really, were you in any position to judge him?

“Tell me what happened,” Billy said, breaking through your racing thoughts.

There wasn’t much to tell really, just that the Homeland Agent had been there and she’d told you and Jenna that Billy was a killer, that he was dangerous. But you also made sure to tell him that you and Jenna hadn’t said a word - though you had no idea why that piece of information felt so important to share.

Then came the pregnant pause, the silence that you couldn’t stand.

“Did you do it? Was she telling the truth?” You asked in little more than a whisper, not sure you even wanted an answer.

“I...” he trailed off into an uncomfortable sigh, “I don’t know. I still don’t remember.”

You nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t me or that I had a good reason but I don’t remember,” he continued. “Fuck. I wish I remembered, just so I knew, just so...”

“I... I think you should stay away from me, Billy.”

“Kitten...”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to stay away, how many times you’d told him to leave you alone but this was the only time you’d heard him sound so broken about it, like your words had finally hit home. Just hearing the pain in your voice had you wanting to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn’t.

“Even if you didn’t do it, I... I can’t have cops - or Homeland Agents - sniffing around,” you said, and there was no hiding the way your own voice seemed to want to break and betray you.

Billy paused and you dared to hope that he was actually thinking about what you’d just said, thinking about how he could ruin your life if he persisted. 

“I can’t,” he said softly, “please... don’t ask me to give you up.”

“You said you wanted to keep me safe. You being around me, bringing law enforcement to the bar - that puts me in danger.”

Silence fell again and you heard Billy take a ragged inhale and it reminded you of the panic attack that you’d witnessed him having, and it made your heart ache all the more.

“I can’t,” he said again. “I won’t. I’m sorry, kitten. I won’t let any of it come back on you, but I can’t let you go.”

“Billy -”

The line went dead.

He’d hung up on you.

You felt sick and you spent the rest of the night feeling like your stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots. Of course, Jenna noticed and tried to talk to you about it, tried to help convince you that it was probably for the best if you didn’t see him again until everything blew over. If it ever blew over. But all you could think about was Billy and how he’d sounded on the phone.

Jenna tried to convince you not to worry and that, one way or another, the truth was bound to come out.

There were so many questions and thoughts, but no answers to be found. If he didn’t remember, was he even the same person who’d done it? Was it fair to blame him for things he couldn’t remember? Were you in any position to judge him? Is that why he’d been hurt so badly by a man who’d been his best friend?

Each question only brought with it more uncertainty, and you had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. All you knew was Billy, the person he was when he was with you.

Jenna offered to let you stay with her that night but you turned her down, not wanting to spend the night being scrutinised every time you mind wandered to Billy and the chaos you’d invited into your life.

No, you just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, hoping that in the morning everything would be back to normal.

Some time around four a knock at the door startled you awake.

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, staring at the door, your heart beating a mile a minute. For a second you expected the door to be knocked off its hinges and for armed cops to swarm your apartment.

The second knock had you tensing, ready to grab your go-bag and make a break for it down the fire escape.

But then you heard him.

“Kitten, it’s me.”

It didn’t exactly make you feel any better that Billy was at your door at four in the morning, but you still let out a sigh of relief. You kept the chain on the door as you opened it and heard him sigh.

“Let me in, kitten.” It wasn’t quite a demand but you already knew that saying no wouldn’t end well.

“It’s four in the morning,” you said, not moving. “What do you want, Billy?”

“I want to see you.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you answered back.

“Just let me in before I kick the door down and disturb all your neighbours,” he said. As firm as his demand was, he sounded tired but, given the time of night, you didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t just an idle threat, you knew him better than that now, and you couldn’t risk your neighbours calling the cops. So, with a frustrated huff, you took the chain off the door and took a few steps back, making sure there was plenty of space between you and him.  

His movements were slow, closing the door and locking it behind him. He looked tired, exhausted, and it was almost enough to spark a hint of sympathy inside you. 

Billy immediately took a step towards you, unhappy with the space you’d created, his eyes taking in the sight of you and the light blue satin slip you were wearing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “you’re gonna drive me crazy, kitten.”

“What do you want, Billy?” You asked again, folding your arms in an attempt to cover the way your nipples were poking through the silken fabric. “I told you... you need to stay away from me.”

“I can’t. I needed to see you.”

“It’s four in the morning. What could you possibly want to see me for?”

“I -” there was a noticeable hesitation, something you’d never really seen from him before, “- I want to stay the night. With you.”

“No,” you answered flatly. “No, I’ve told you, I don’t want -”

“Just to sleep,” he interrupted before you could complete your rejection of him. “I just want to sleep next to you.”

“Billy, they think you’re a murderer,” you said, hugging yourself all the tighter. 

“I don’t remember,” he told you, equal parts frustration and pain. “I don’t know what I did or why I might’ve done it. All I know is that I’d never hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing you could say. There was no figuring out the truth of the matter and, if there was one thing you did believe, it was that Billy wouldn’t lie to you and he’d never hurt you.

“Please,” he tried again, “I’m... I’m so tired, kitten. If I knew about any of it, I’d tell you. But it’s all still jumbled up. And I - I don’t even know if I’m that person anymore. This - me, now - I’ve never been like this before. That Agent, Madani, I think we used to sleep together... she used to visit me in the hospital, used to taunt me every single day... I don’t know why.”

The more he spoke, the more confused things became, but Billy made no attempt to move any closer to you.

“I just want to sleep,” he said again.

Common sense told you to say no, to stick to your guns and tell him to leave but, seeing the state of him, the thought of turning him away made your chest ache regardless of all the uncertainty surrounding him. Without a word, you sighed and turned back towards your bedroom, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over your face.

You heard him slowly follow after, heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor before you felt the mattress dip behind you. Billy waited a moment before shifting closer, pressing himself against your back and draping his arm over you. He let out a soft sigh as he buried his face against the back of your neck.

He felt warm against you, cosy - though you tried to ignore it as best you could.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked quietly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“No, I mean why are you doing any of this?” The million dollar question. “Why me? Why are you dragging me into this shit, Billy?”

“Because you’ve been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you,” he told you, his fingers softly tracing patterns on your stomach through your slip. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about that night in this bed with you. You’re under my skin, you haunt me.”

“It wasn’t that mind blowing,” you muttered.

“Right,” Billy grumbled, sounding half-asleep already “‘cause you still want to pretend that I’m the only one that enjoyed it...”

“Why would I lie?” You answered back, not willing to give him the last word.

“‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you like the way I touch you,” he answered. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you might actually like me.”

“I don’t like you. All you’re doing is making my life more difficult,” you huffed. “I must be fucking crazy to have you in my bed like this, not knowing if you’re some psychotic killer...”

You didn’t expect him to pull away, to roll on to his back behind you and let out a sigh. More than that, you didn’t expect to feel the loss of his embrace so acutely.

Had you managed to hurt your stalker’s feelings?

And why did it bother you if you had?

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you tried to ignore the feeling of awkwardness that was starting to gnaw at you, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew he was right there, not when you didn’t know what was running through his mind.

You weren’t even sure what was running through your own head anymore. It was almost enough to make you laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was; you had a man who was wanted for murder in your bed but, still, you felt safe with him, comfortable in a way you hadn’t for a long time, despite what your protests might have suggested.

And he was right. You were scared that some part of you liked him - that some part of you still liked him, even after everything you’d learned.

It was all such a fucking mess and you had no idea how to deal with any of it.

But, now there was something, some feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt so wrong but, at the same time, it felt like it was the only thing in your life that made any sense. 

Cautiously, you rolled over, your heart skipping a beat at the way the heel of his palm was pressed against his eye. It was another headache. He’d come to be with you because he was in pain, because he’d needed comfort and, for whatever reason, you were the only person he thought he could find it with.

Everything you knew about him seemed to twist and alter, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Without a word, you got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, running a washcloth under the cold water before returning to him.

Billy hadn’t moved, he didn’t even look at you as you climbed back into bed beside him. His eyes didn’t open again until he felt you press the cold cloth to his brow. A relieved breath slipped from his lips but, the moment he looked like he was going to say something, you silenced him.

“Don’t say a word.”

Defiance flashed across his face, but exhaustion quickly overtook it. His eyes shut and you continued to gently press the cloth against his forehead, trying to soothe him, watching as the tension slowly seemed to leave him and he fell asleep. 

Once you were certain he was asleep, you laid back down beside him, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, not sure what the morning would bring.

End Note : 😅 this is slowly starting to move towards the endgame now, I think there's about four chapters left? Maybe five depending on how I decide to do the ending.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

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[formulapookie]

🩵❤️

Torino capitale peccocele, 2.5k words

Cele comes hug him after his win, he’s still on the bike, Cele still shining from his victory, he looks so happy, he deserved it so much, coming back after two weeks spent being declared unfit, a really badly place plaque in his collarbone, and a breathtaking quali, the win was his already, and the amazing start he pulled just confirmed it.

Cele looks at him with pride, yells “Bravo” and another string of words he doesn’t really understand, too focused on the feeling of the arms he’s come to call home wrapped around him, focused on Cele’s laughter and his black curls escaping the containment of the cap, he smiles back, they look at each other, then Pecco rides to Parc Fermé.

He’s happy for the win, of course he fucking is, 10 victories in 19 races, he holds up both hands to show it, smiling under the helmet, but the other thought starts settling in.

Minus 24. Minus 24. Minus 24.

He is 24 points behind Jorge. It’s almost impossible for him to win it this year. What a fucking joke really, 10 wins out of 19 races and he’s loosing the Championship.

Mathematically, he’s still in for the fight, but realistically? He lost it. He knows Jorge won’t make a mistake, he knows that even if he wins he will not achieve the Championship. And if he does achieve it, it’s because of Jorge’s mistakes, not because he did something brilliant. That’s what’s running around his head, when people hug him, tell him he’s great, a Champion in their heart.

Everything following is something he does almost robotically, talking to Jorge, taking the Valencia flag, walking to the podium, then trophy, anthem picture, no champagne, another pic, down the podium and media duties.

On SkyItalia they ask him if he would cancel the Sprint Races for the following year, of course he would, and he says that, loud and clear, he tries to hold up a mask, something, because inside he’s just empty now, an empty shell with bones, but he has to speak, and bones don’t speak, so he forces out a polite smile, a polite answer, analyzes the fight, then he goes.

And he’s back to being a sack of bones.

The walk to his motorhome is strangely quiet, both outside and inside his mind, he doesn’t even have the strength to hate himself for losing.

He just wants his space, wants to go back home, to the person he calls home, he needs to be with Cele, alone, far from everyone, feel his heartbeat and his presence.

He doesn’t want to call him tho, he doesn’t want to bother, because no matter how many times the boy tells him he could never bother him by calling he’s scared he would, because Cele won, and he has to be happy about it, after the injury most of all, and his negativity won’t do him any good.

But when he enters his rider’s room Cele is there, sitting on a chair waiting for him, and the brightest smile appears on his face when he sees Pecco. He gets up and goes to hug him, tight, almost as if he knows he can’t hold himself up alone, he keeps telling him “bravissimo, sei stato bravissimo”, whispering it in his ear, keeping him close, and Pecco can’t hold his tears in anymore, he just goes numb in the embrace and cries quietly on Cele’s shoulder.

He spends around ten minutes there, calming down gradually as Cele strokes his back, reassuring him, calling him “campione” an awful amount of times. Cele has been out of the racing gear for hours now, and he helps Pecco change into normal clothes, a pair of shorts and an academy t-shirt.

When Cele manages to sit pecco down on the couch they’re both much more relaxed, Pecco’s head went from quiet numbness and absence of thoughts to a buzzing hive full of hateful comments towards himself, first of all for losing the Championship, and secondly for holding back Cele from going to celebrate his win.

“Celin you don’t have to stay here, you won you should go celebrate, get wasted with Bez, not here with me sulking” “Don’t give me bullshit Francesco, I’m not leaving you alone with all you have running through your head, I prefer being with you and know you’re safe rather than go get drunk with Bez and ending up throwing up in a bin somewhere in Sepang” “No Celin you have to go out and have fun not solve my issues” “Say all you want I’m not leaving you here, so hop hop let’s get to the hotel so you can rest and break away from this place ok?” “But-” “No buts, let’s go”

Pecco gets basically dragged out the garage into Cele’s rented car, who drives the short five minutes from there to the Hotel with an unusual calm, and Pecco finds himself staring at Cele’s profile, more than he usually already does, lingering on the shape on his lips and his nose, which Cele always says it’s ugly but Pecco always found to be pretty and unique, giving Cele a sort of vibe that made him look like he came straight from a 19th century painting.

They park in the reserved area and get in, avoiding fans who somehow found out where they slept and decided to camp outside to snap a pic of their favourite riders.

They get to the fourth floor and into Pecco’s room, they both prefer to be at his “place” after or before a race, it makes Pecco more relaxed and Cele feels welcomed.

They both go straight to the bed, sitting on it and Pecco curls in Cele’s arms once again, as the younger strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

Pecco tilts his head up and locks eyes with Cele, and he slowly comes up to kiss him, like he always does, slow and gentle, and one of his hands rests on Cele’s thigh to hold himself up. Cele kisses him back, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him more against his chest.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, Cele’s free hand going to tug at Pecco’s hair and Pecco letting out a soft moan at the action.

Cele breaks away pretty quickly tho, and Pecco fears he did something wrong, maybe Cele doesn’t want this and he’s forcing him, oh God what if he’s forcing Cele? 

“Stop thinking so loudly Pecco I can hear your thoughts, I stopped because I need to ask you something” “Ok ok” “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation and if you’re not in the mood that’s more than ok” “No no I am in the mood, are you sure you are? I know we usually - after your wins we celebrate a bit more - you know what I mean” “Yeah I do I do, I don’t care if we don’t do it like other times, slow is fine you know that”

Pecco blushes, Cele is so sweet and understanding with him he doesn’t get how someone can keep up with him and all his paranoias without getting bored at some point.

Pecco opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, the blush on his cheeks increasingly becoming redder.

“Can you - like can you - Celin can you top this time? I just want to get out of my head” “Of course, whatever makes you feel better amore” “Thank you”

They resume kissing, Cele takes the hem of Pecco’s shirt in his hands and pulls it up, discarding it on the floor beside the bed, doing the same with his shirt, before resuming the kiss and moving his hands to unbutton and unzip Pecco’s jeans, cupping his erection through the briefs.

“Celin”

It’s a broken plea, coming from Pecco who’s bucking his hips in Cele’s hand to try and get some pleasure, while Cele lays him down on the bed tugging down his pants and boxers, leaving him naked surrounded by soft sheets.

He gets up to grab the lube they left in the older’s backpack, coming back immediately to a whimpering Pecco who’s stroking himself in the wait, and it kinda makes him proud, how he managed to get him needy and hard in so little time.

 Cele gets on the bed, and gently opens Pecco’s legs, squirting some lube on his hand and heating it up, then slowly pushing one finger in, it’s been a while since Pecco bottomed, but he always enjoys it when the older lets go of his mental restraints and gives himself like this

Pecco whines already at the first digit, but tells him to go on, so Cele resumes his movements, pushing the finger inside until his knuckle meets the rim, then pulling out, thrusting it a few times, then adding a second finger, scissoring them to get Pecco adjusted to the stretch.

He’s a bit rushed, but the older gets it, Cele is 23, he just won and they rarely switch, so he excuses his lack of absolute control, mostly because to get out of his head he knows it’s gonna have to be the kind of sex where he melts completely, so it’s no use being fake gentle now.

When a third finger gets pushed inside Pecco grips at the sheets, parting his lips to let out a louder moan, Cele clearly aroused by the state he got Pecco in, rutting slightly against the bed.

“I’m ready Celin I’m ready”

The younger’s eyes sparkle when he hears those words, he’s getting harder every second more and rutting against the mattress is not helping in the slightest, so he sits up and unzips his jeans, tugging them off, one leg getting stuck, a string of curse words leaving his mouth before he removes his boxers as well, throwing them on the edge of the bed.

He aligns himself with Pecco’s hole and starts pushing inside, grabbing his hips with both hands to keep him still, stroking his hip bones with his thumbs.

He lets out a deep groan once he manages to get inside all the way, Pecco feels tight, not an uncomfortable kind of tight, but he needs to move or he’s pretty certain he’ll die by just staying there.

“Gonna move ok?” “Yeah do it do it”

The first thrusts are more controlled, tentative, soft almost, because despite wanting to go faster and harder Cele also wants to keep himself in check not to hurt Pecco. But the older clearly either doesn’t care or simply doesn’t feel that pain because he immediately wraps his legs around Cele’s waist and forces him to go deeper.

“Don’t hold back I want to feel you all the way” “Ok fuck you feel good” “You feel amazing”

And both are true, Cele might not be thick like Pecco, maybe just a bit longer, it’s not like they told eachother their exact lengths, and he manages to make him feel so fucking good.

As soon as his thrusts become deeper and faster Pecco is moaning, one hand gripping the sheets and the other thrown over his eyes, occasionally shifting to comb back his hair, curls falling over his forehead, sticky from the heat and uncomfortable.

Cele picks up the pace once again, Pecco’s string of thoughts getting replaced, going from words of self-despise to just pleasure. He can only think about that, how Cele feels inside him, how their moans get mixed together in the silence of the hotel room, how he can let himself be just him and not some persona for the media, how Cele cares for him.

The younger shifts a bit to get more comfortable, moving his hand to go look for the one Pecco is gripping at the sheets with, locking their fingers together, thrusting deeper, feeling Pecco squeeze his hand with force, the older’s legs pulling him even closer, tightening their grip on his waist.

He barely has manoeuvre space, but the one he has is enough to get Pecco closer with each thrust, finding his prostate takes a bit longer than he’d like, but once again, he hasn’t topped in a while and he gets overwhelmed by having Pecco in bed with him.

Sometimes he still can’t understand how he gets to have him. Like- this one right here moaning under him is a 3xMotogp world Champion, he’s now a 10 times gp winner in a single season, he’s won so many races, and he’s the one he looked up to as a kid. When he was younger he always said “I want to be like Pecco when I grow up” and now he finds himself fucking him into the mattress of a hotel in Malaysia after they both won the race and Pecco is begging for him to go harder and harder.

When he shifts his gaze from Pecco’s face to his dick he sees it basically shiny with precum, hard and red, the vein he usually passes his tongue over when he blows him being the first thing he notices.

“You’re so hot”

The only answer Pecco gets out is a moan, arching his back slightly, mouth in a perfect o shape as Cele keeps fucking him with the same intensity as before, their moans getting mixed with the sound of skin slapping.

Cele moves the hand he’s got on Pecco’s hip next to his head to lean in and make out with him, swallowing all the pretty sounds he’s making, slowly moving down, kissing his jaw, then onto his neck, leaving a few bruises he’ll watch proudly for a few days, never stopping his thrusts, because they’re both getting closer to the edge, Pecco especially, looking anything but the composed and put together version he shows media and fans.

Pecco’s free hand goes to tangle itself in Cele’s mop of hair, so unruly he found himself many times having to comb them somehow, they’re still wet now, from the race, the sweat, the heat.

They’re as messy as him, and Pecco loves to run his hands through them when they’re laying on his couch, Cele’s head on his lap as they watch a movie.

A harder thrust gets him back to the present, the feeling of Cele hovering above him, hot breath on his neck, he still smells like a race, the acrid sting of leathers and fuel on both of them, attached to their skin.

The younger almost glistens with sweat now, he looks like a vision.

Cele can’t hold on anymore, he’s so damn close, he needs to come, so he wraps a hand around Pecco’s dick, stroking it fast, not in time with his thrusts, much faster, and Pecco comes like a fucking fountain all over Cele’s hand and his own abs, as Cele thrusts a few more times before coming inside him, moaning his name directly into his ear, before pulling out and immediately laying beside Pecco, resting his head on his chest.

They’re panting hard, now the smell of sex joining the one of racing, Cele leaving kisses on Pecco’s chest, taking the older’s hand in his again, while Pecco plays with his hair as he always does. They’ll think about getting cleaned up later on, right now they just need this, a moment to themselves, to be just them, close, in the post sex haze where they feel like one and not two people, where both feel at home.