#inspired by a shirt that my brother actually owns

[moldy-crumbs]

[trashvinnie]

inspired by @where-does-the-heart-lie and given courage by @wolf-eared-fangirl and their own wonderful rendition of the asl kpop au.

i got inspired a whole lot by the notes and artworks from whery but also tried to make it my own by making it increasingly impossible realistically. one of those it’s a fanfic and i can make anything possible vibes.

all of these are just concept notes and ideas i was able to keep down for the past what? two months or so? there are a lot more wips and ideas, and i wanted to see if there was anyone who wanted to bump brains with me or was willing to indulge seeing my messy thoughts/notes.

i made law important because i am obsessed with not only asl but him too. no escape from the brain worms, really. even if he doesn’t really pop up in a lot of my current wips for this au…

i should make storyboards but my brain has latched to grps like exo or atz for like. clothes inspo. i have multiple concert wips that needed me to make an entire fake asl concert setlist so that was fun, considering how i ended up adding eng and jp songs… i cannot contain myself and have been repeatedly editing everything I have on this for months ,,,

[theosbaby]

Brother’s best friend!theodore smut please!! Super soft!dom Theo where he makes LOVE to reader. Perhaps shy!reader as well??

thank you so much for your request! i really loved this idea. i'm sorry that it took me so long to write this, but i've running low of inspiration lately. i hope you like it babe!

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

brother's bsf!theo taking your virginity

NSFW content ahead, +18

you can't believe you're actually making out with the theodore nott, sprawled on your brother's bed with theo between your spread thighs. his lips are avidly kissing yours, playful tongue delving inside your warm mouth as his hands roam over your gorgeous curves, fingers gripping your sides to tug you as closer to him as possible, not leaving even an inch between your bodies.

and you swear you're on cloud nine.

you're whimpering so prettily into his mouth, your body arching against his while you grasp his dark t-shirt between your slender fingers, the sweet flavor of your chocolate birthday cake still lingering on your plump lips as you return the messy kiss with equal fervour. the act is almost sinful —you're mattheo's little sister, for god's sake. not that he cares about it right now, anyways, not when your body molds itself so perfectly to his, like you were made for each other.

theo groans into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your backside to hoist you up against him. you gasp against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you feel him grinding against the junction of your thighs, his own breath hitching as he feels your warmth through his jeans.

your pretty cheeks flush at the intimate contact between your heated bodies, your lips becoming sloppier as you struggle to keep up with him. this is the first time you're actually making out with a guy like this, and you're feeling embarrassed, nervous and excited all at once, which is kinda overwhelming.

he'd notice how your body slightly tenses beneath him. not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable, he slides his hands back to your hips to give them a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure you. he doesn't want to rush you if you're not ready —but oh how bad he wants to fuck you.

the kiss comes to an end, leaving you panting against his swollen lips, agitated. the way you find his deep set, blue eyes looking down at you when you open yours, makes you feel weak on your knees, the blush on your face deepening. he gives you a lopsided smile, his eyes glazed with lust as he brushes your long, soft hair out of your beautiful face.

"you okay, pretty girl ?" he'd ask, his voice husky, just to make sure you're not regretting what's happening. "are you enjoying this?"

the pet name he gives you makes you smile. "yeah," you whisper coyly in response, nodding slightly while your pearly white teeth sink into your bottom lip, which is a bit swollen from all the kissing.

"good," he murmurs against your mouth, "because i'm really enjoying it too." he pauses, his breath warm against your lips. "i was thinking maybe we could... you know... take things a little further?" he leans in and starts kissing your neck softly. "would you like that?

your heart starts hammering in your chest at his words, butterflies fluttering about crazily in your tummy, but you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your throat despite your nervousness.

"we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, okay?" he reassures you softly, his hands squeezing your waist soothingly.

he continues planting gentle kisses on your neck, feeling you relax little by little against him. you let out a sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

"i wanna do it," you admit, not being able to look into his eyes as you do, blushing, "just... don't tell anyone about this, my brother can't know."

you feel him smirking against your throat as he stops the gentle kisses, cupping your face to make you look at him; there's sincerity in his eyes as he says, "i won't, pretty girl."

"pinky promise?"

you'd extend your pinky, waiting for him to intertwine his finger with yours. theo smirks as he tenderly rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek, and he tangles his pinky with yours. "i promise."

he keeps kissing you for a bit more, caressing you over your clothes and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, before he starts undressing you with such care, as if he's afraid of breaking you. and you look so pretty while you're naked beneath him, just like a precious doll.

then, he'd spread your creamy thighs and ask for permission to touch you, eager to get his hands on that gorgeous pussy of yours, which is fucking soaked just for him, your juices dripping down your pink slit and onto mattheo's sheets —that fact has him painfully hard inside his pants. is he a perv? probably.

he's taking his time preparing you, thumb rubbing your puffy clit in tight circles while he plunges his thick, long fingers in your pussy. you're so fucking tight he struggles to push the first one in without hurting you, but after a few minutes, you're taking two of them like a champ, completely soaking his hand in your arousal when you finally cum on it.

theo can't take it anymore, seeing you so flustered and hearing your sweet little moans have him on the verge of bursting in his pants like a bloody teenager, so he withdraws his digits to start taking his clothes off too, and you whine at the loss. but the feeling of emptiness doesn't last long, soon he's pushing his thick cock inside your little cunt.

you're so slick that he slides in pretty easily despite the resistance of your tight walls, his dick stretching you a lot wider than his fingers. and it hurts a bit, but it's a sweet pain that has you whimpering as you beg for more. after a few thrusts, you're cock drunk underneath him, nails digging into his back and leaving scratches that he'll have to hide from your brother for the next few days.

he actually gets you to cum on his dick too, pussy milking him so good that he doesn't even have time to pull out. he spills inside you with a whimper, pounding sloppily into your spasming cunt to ride his orgasm as he stuffs you full of his cum.

more.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　DRESS TO IMPRESS IN REAL LIFE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, Matt's secret girlfriend, participates in the 'Dress to Impress in real life' video.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I added and changed some dialogs that didn't happen on the video, so the fic ended being more complete.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The triplets were buzzing with energy, their house a hive of activity as they set up for their newest video; Dress to Impress, real-life edition. Each round had its own theme, and the first one was Summer Vacation. Y/N had been roped into joining as a surprise guest, and secretly, Matt couldn't have been more thrilled.

The boys had already pulled out all the stops with their outfits. Chris sported a chaotic ensemble: a bucket hat with panels of clashing colors, lime green slides, and denim cargo shorts.

Matt was rocking a relaxed, dad-on-vacation vibe, complete with an oversized straw hat, patterned swim trunks, and a shirt that screamed, 'I don’t care, I’m on island time'.

Nick had gone full beach prep with a striped tank top, sunglasses that were almost too tiny for his face, and a retro cooler box tucked under his arm like an accessory.

As the camera rolled, Y/N was still getting ready in Matt’s bathroom, leaving the boy's to discuss who went better between the three of them.

"Alright." Chris said, pointing a finger at Nick’s cooler. "I’m just saying, if you don’t actually have anything in there, that’s a waste of a prop."

"It’s called committing to the bit, Chris." Nick shot back, adjusting the towel draped over his shoulder. "The cooler is the vibe."

Matt, who was adjusting his sunglasses, glanced toward the bathroom door, his face lighting up as if he could sense Y/N’s presence through the walls.

"Y/N better bring it. I know she’s got something amazing up her sleeve."

Nick rolled his eyes, looking at Matt with a boring expression.

"Why do I feel like you’re already planning to give her every win, no matter what she’s wearing?"

"Because I am." Matt replied bluntly, grinning like the lovesick puppy he was.

The door finally creaked open, and all three boys turned as Y/N emerged. She had nailed the summer vacation aesthetic, wearing a flowy, tropical-patterned sundress, bikini top below it, oversized black Prada sunglasses perched on her nose, and sandals that matched her outfit perfectly. She’d even added a straw beach bag for good measure.

"Okay, Y/N, I see you!" Chris exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Y/N laughed, grinning widely before twirling to show off her look.

"Alright, that’s tough competition. You actually look like you're ready to spend the day at your beach house." Nick gave a low whistle, his blue eyes traveling from her face to her feet and back again. "But I'd say you're in fourth place. You're ready for the beach, not for any summer vacation."

"Fair." Y/N shrugged, take a quick peak at her outfit again before looking at Matt. "What do you think?"

Matt's eyes seemed to be shining like the whole cadence of stars, wandering through every detail of her choice of clothes.

"Are you kidding? That’s... that’s so good. You look like you stepped out of a summer vacation catalog or something." His voice sounded slightly high-pitched with excitement. "Nick's just jealous."

"What? No, I'm not!"

Chris rolled his eyes, already sensing where this was going.

"Oh, here we go."

"Like, if I saw you on the beach." Matt continued, ignoring his brothers entirely. "I’d probably just pass out. That’s how good you look."

"Okay, Matt." Nick said, holding up a hand. "We get it. Obsessive fucker."

The room filled with laughter, Y/N shaking her head but unable to hide the grin spreading across her face, her cheeks heating up.

"Right, first round? I'm second." Matt declared, gesturing toward himself. "Obviously, Y/N was first because, you know, she's Y/N." He gave her a little smile. "Then Nick was third, and Chris was fourth. That’s the average."

"Yeah, unfortunately." Nick muttered, throwing his hands up.

"Well." Chris turned dramatically to the camera and pointed. "They can vote."

Nick, not missing a beat, leaned closer to the camera, his voice dripping with mock confidence.

"Oh, I already know they’re gonna vote for me. Mine’s obviously the best. Unless..." He paused for dramatic effect, raising an eyebrow. "These girls wanna sleep with Matt and vote for him."

"What?!" Matt’s eyes widened in pure shock as he whipped his head toward the camera, looking utterly scandalized.

Y/N’s eyes flicked between Nick and Matt, her lips tightening slightly trying to suppress a laugh. It was impossible not to be amused by Nick’s antics.

She knew Nick wasn’t wrong, Matt’s popularity with their audience also had to do with his charm and, let’s face it, how good he looked on camera. There probably were plenty of girls who’d vote for Matt purely because of his looks, even if one of the other boys dressed better.

Nick continued without missing a beat.

"It’s the straight man advantage! You guys..." He gestured wildly at the camera. "Are gonna discriminate against me because I’m gay, and I don't like 'yall back."

At that, Y/N couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking her head.

Matt, still recovering from Nick’s bold accusation, raised a hand defensively.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second." He looked straight into the camera with that intense, sincere gaze that Y/N loved. "Just for the record, I’m completely off-limits. Completely."

The way he said it, firm and definitive, sent a wave of confidence through Y/N. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she crossed her arms, clearing her throat to contain her reactions, trying to play it cool.

Nick, however, wasn’t done.

"Oh, yeah? You really think they care about that?" He teased, smirking as Matt shook his head in disbelief.

Chris rolled his eyes, still laughing.

"Nick, stop trying to guilt-trip them into voting for you."

"I'm not doing anything." Nick replied with a wink, sending the group into another fit of laughter.

"Now, bring the runway on, boys!"

The camera cut to Chris, who had appointed himself the first to strut down their makeshift runway that started from the stairs.

He walked in quick steps before stopping in the center of their camera lens, dramatically fanning himself with an imaginary hand fan.

"Where did you even get the idea of the imaginary fan?" Y/N teased, laughing with the others.

"Shh, it’s part of the vibe." Chris replied, flipping his bucket hat backward with flair. He strolled toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, striking a series of ridiculous poses. "Yeah, you’re welcome." He said as he walked off-camera, leaving the other three in stitches.

Nick went next, cooler in hand.

"Get ready to witness greatness." He said, lifting the retro cooler above his head like it was the Holy Grail, showing it off.

"You go, queen!" Y/N cheered, nodding her head while watching him.

Nick smiled brightly, placing it down carefully and reached for the towel draped over his shoulder, unfolding it with slow, deliberate movements. Too slow.

"This is taking forever." Matt groaned, crossing his arms.

"Nick, it’s been 30 seconds. Just lay the towel down!" Chris yelled.

Nick ignored them, carefully smoothing out the towel on the floor, his face the picture of focus. Once he was satisfied, he walked down the "runway", throwing some expressions to the camera before almost gluing his face to the lens, taking his glasses off.

"Iconic." Y/N said between laughs.

"Thank you, thank you." Nick replied, bowing before dramatically kicking the towel aside as if to signal the end of his performance, his right hand fanning himself as the last act.

Matt was up next.

"Alright, let me show you how it’s done." He said confidently. Grabbing his sunscreen, he opened the cap and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers, dabbing it on his cheeks like football player stripes.

"Well, you gotta stay protected, I guess." Y/N muttered, smiling with how Chris was rooting like crazy.

Laughter escaped her lips as Matt sauntered toward the camera, showing off the sunscreen like it was a designer handbag. He struck a confident pose, holding the product up, before walking back off the camera with an over-the-top smile.

Finally, it was Y/N’s turn.

"Your move, Y/N." Nick said, gesturing grandly toward the imaginary runway.

"Alright, alright, give me a second." She said, thinking fast.

She reached into her straw bag, pulling out the pair of oversized sunglasses that she had thrown there at some point, dramatically placing it on her face. Then, grabbing a small beach towel she had tucked inside the bag, she draped it over one arm like a sash.

"What’s happening here?" Matt asked, intrigued.

Y/N strolled onto the "runway" with slow, exaggerated movements like a madame arriving at a five-star resort. Halfway down, she pretended to feel the heat, pulling an actual bottle of water from her bag and taking a sip before fanning herself with her hand.

"It has to have the fan move!" Nick applauded, grinning to the scene before being interrupted by Chris’s comment.

"Of course, I created it."

At the end of the runway, Y/N stopped, tossed her sunglasses off dramatically at the ground, and struck a ridiculous pose with one hand on her hip and the other shielding her eyes as if she was shielding her face from the sun.

"That was solid!" Chris exclaimed, clapping.

Matt, meanwhile, was in awe, hands on his head.

"Are you kidding? That was really good. A thousand points. Game over. Y/N wins. Everyone go home."

Nick scoffed.

"Matt, stop simping for two seconds so we can keep this contest going."

"I’m not simping." Matt argued, clearly lying. "I'm just stating facts."

"Shut up, Matt."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For the Mix-Matched Madness theme, the camera panned to the boys standing in a line, proudly displaying their chaotic ensembles.

Chris was clad in a bright red varsity jacket over a striped shirt, camo pink shorts, and mismatched knee-high socks with chunky boots.

Matt decided for plaid shorts layered over one plaid pant leg, a pastel blue and yellow sweater vest, and a floppy dog-ear cap.

Nick went to a plaid jacket layered over a striped shirt with a perfectly coordinated tie, and matching sweatpants and sneakers.

"Guys, I’m clearly superior." Nick started, raising his eyebrows as he adjusted his glasses. "My outfit is actually intentional, look at this synergy! It screams fashion-forward."

Matt groaned, rolling his eyes and looking at Chris with a 'is he serious?' expression.

"Nick, you’re wearing matchy-matchy plaid in a mix-matched challenge. You’ve missed the assignment!"

"It’s ironic." Nick shot back, crossing his arms. "I’m doing intentional matching. If I were in a real runway right now, people would actually like my outfit."

Chris scratched his head, looking between them.

"Isn’t that kind of cheating, though?"

Before the debate could escalate further, Y/N stepped into the frame, causing all three boys to give her their attention.

Her outfit was next level: a bright purple sequined crop top paired with one lime green legging on her right leg and a fluffy, neon orange sock on the other. She wore a skirt made of layered, clashing floral patterns that didn’t quite match the fuzzy checkered cardigan she threw on top. To finish it off, her accessories included a leopard-print beanie - the one she stole from Matt's closet -, oversized sunglasses, and two entirely different shoes, a silver stiletto on one foot and a Croc on the other.

The boys gawked.

"Okay, now that’s mix-matched madness." Chris said, pointing at her.

"Girl, you look like you fell into a thrift store... and it worked." Nick added, looking both impressed and slightly annoyed.

"How can you still look so good while wearing... that?" Matt asked, pointing at her outfit with his hand while shaking his head in disbelief.

Y/N twirled dramatically, holding out her skirt as she grinned at the camera.

"Thank you, boys. I like to call this 'chaos with confidence'." She invented the random name, throwing a quick kiss to the lens.

Chris threw his hands up.

"Alright, I’m officially placing second now."

Nick groaned, shaking his head dramatically.

"No way. She’s great, but I’m still winning. Look at this tie!"

Matt laughed.

"Nick, your tie doesn’t save you from breaking the theme. You’re disqualified."

The scene cut to the "runway", where each of them showcased their chaotic outfits with an equally chaotic performance.

First up was Nick. He confidently strutted forward, reaching for the end of his tie. With exaggerated flair, he lifted it as if someone were pulling him forward, his face a picture of mock shock and drama, stumbling forward.

"Ey, keep going!" Chris hollered, nodding enthusiastically.

The moment he reached the end of the runway, he grinned mischievously, running his hand dramatically through his hair and tossing a sultry look at the camera before taking off his pink glasses.

"Work it, Nick!" Y/N chimed in, her laughter mixing with the chaos.

Nick turned on his heel with a laugh, sauntering back to the start and throwing a praying gesture, ignoring how Matt laughed, mockingly imitating his act.

Next, Matt stepped up, adjusting his floppy dog-ear cap before suddenly spinning it backward.

"Showtime." He muttered under his breath, earning immediate chuckles from the others. He walked to the camera with a cocky stride, crossing his arms and bending slightly to the side.

For the final move, he pivoted and moonwalked his way back to the start, nearly slipping on his mismatched shoes but recovering with a grin.

"Did you see that? Effortless." Matt declared, earning boos and laughs from the rest.

"You almost ate it, Matt." Y/N teased, shaking her head.

Chris stepped up next. And, of course, he brought drama.

"Hold my jacket." He said, then immediately shook his head. "Actually, no. The floor will."

With exaggerated aggression, he ripped off one of his red lobster gloves, throwing it to the ground with flair. The glove was followed by his belt, which he unbuckled and tossed with equal energy.

"Oh my God." Y/N looked at the camera with wide eyes.

"What is happening?" Nick cackled, practically doubling over, slapping Y/N's arm.

Chris wasn’t done. He walked up to the camera with an intense expression, holding his hands out and touching the screen, acting as if zooming in.

"Enhance." He said, squinting into the lens. Then, as if the camera wasn’t worthy, he spun dramatically on his heel, walked back, and threw off his varsity jacket mid-stride before striking one final pose.

"Now that’s how you do it." Y/N joked, looking at the camera. "Like and subscribe if you want Chris to make a strip tea-"

"Y/N!"

For Y/N's turn, she adjusted her oversized leopard beanie with a dramatic flair and tilted her sunglasses low on her nose, revealing a dead-serious expression underneath. She strutted forward slowly, dragging her stiletto along the ground for added effect. When she reached the camera, she whipped her head to the side, making her orange fluffy sock the star of the moment.

But it didn’t end there. Y/N suddenly crouched down into a deep squat, raising one hand in the air and striking a pose like she was ready to pounce. The boys immediately broke into cheers and laughter.

"Yes, queen!" Nick shouted, jumping in the place and clapping, laughing loudly.

"She nailed it." Matt said with a proud grin, nodding his head.

Y/N slowly stood, turning to the side as if the camera had disappeared, and walked off like nothing had happened.

"Thank you." She said nonchalantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the others applauded.

"Alright, I officially retire." Nick said, throwing his arms to the air in a surrender gesture.

"Same." Chris picked up his lobster glove from the floor, grinning.

Matt sighed, smiling at Y/N's figure.

"She’s unbeatable. Let’s not do these challenges anymore if she’s in them."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The scene cut to the next category: Rock Concert. The boys had gathered in front of the camera, each flaunting their edgy outfits.

Chris leaned casually against the wall, dressed in all black with his bandana tied around his head. His sunglasses were perfectly placed, and a Bluetooth speaker hung over his shoulder like a statement piece.

"Clearly, I’m the embodiment of rock concert aesthetic." He said confidently, adjusting his speaker strap.

Nick crossed his arms, giving Chris a side-eye. He was sporting his long-sleeved shirt adorned with skulls and intricate spiderweb patterns paired with black cargo pants and chunky boots.

"Please." Nick retorted. "I’ve got literal death on my shirt. That’s as metal as it gets."

Matt, standing in the middle, smirked. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt, complete with a silver skull belt buckle and leather pants that practically screamed rockstar.

"Yeah, but have you seen my belt?" He argued, lifting his white shirt slightly to show it off. "This is peak rock concert material. I even coordinated it with my jacket."

"Okay, but who do you think the crowd would look at first?" Chris challenged. "The guy with the bandana, all black, and sunglasses? Obviously me. The speaker only makes it better."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"You look like you’re trying to be a cool dad sneaking into a concert." He teased.

"Alright, alright." Y/N interrupted from off-screen, stepping into the camera frame and effectively stealing the show.

Y/N’s outfit was on another level. She wore a black 'Bon Jovi' cropped top with silver detailing that matched the chains on her leather mini skirt. Fishnet tights peeked out from under the skirt, leading down to a pair of knee-high combat boots that added an extra edge to the look. To top it off, she wore a cropped leather jacket with studs on the shoulders and accessorized with chunky silver jewelry and a black choker.

The boys fell silent for a second, staring.

Y/N smiled brightly at them before turning to the camera, raising her right arm and making the 'rock and roll' gesture by raising her pinky and index fingers and lowering the others.

"'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars..."

"Girl, what the fuck?" Nick widened his eyes, looking from Y/N to the camera with a look that screamed 'are you guys seeing this?'

Matt laughed loudly, recognizing the song from one of the TikTok trends that Y/N had been obsessing over the past few weeks, being quick in imitating her position, and starting singing with her.

"... the girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat-"

"Okay, that's enough of that." Chris interrupted the pair, gesturing to them while shaking his head in disbelief. "So, Y/N wins."

Nick groaned dramatically.

"Let's take her out right now. I don't wanna play with her anymore."

Matt couldn’t stop smiling.

"Can we just talk about how she’s nailing this? Like, can we get her to join the band we don’t have?"

Y/N laughed, giving a mock bow.

"Thank you, thank you. Now, let's just be clear, I already won." Y/N said with a sly grin, stepping forward. "You'll all lose time if you keep discussing who's the best between you three."

"How can you be so sure?" Chris crossed his arms, carrying a superior instance.

"Because I actually listen to rock." She said, shrugging like it was obvious. "AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Kansas, Asia... should I keep going?"

Nick groaned.

"Okay, that’s true, but it doesn’t count!"

"Doesn’t count?" Y/N repeated, feigning offense. "I think you’ll find that the fact I actually know rock makes me the winner by default." She turned to Chris. "Tell me. Have 'yall even listened to ‘Highway to Hell’ all the way through?"

Chris hesitated, playing with his earphones.

"Uh... I mean." He looked at Nick. "Probably?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"Thought so." She crossed her arms. "So, I don’t need a skull belt, all-black everything, or death on my chest. I’ve got the actual music taste. Rock is in my veins, boys."

Nick groaned dramatically, throwing his head back.

"She wins. I hate it, but she wins."

"Alright, fine." Chris muttered. "But we still look better."

"Not a chance." Y/N teased, spinning in place again and winking at the camera. "This outfit screams rock goddess."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The boys were now proudly sporting their "Zoom Meeting" outfits. Chris held up his MacBook, Matt adjusted his glasses with a goofy smile, and Nick tugged at his black tie, looking down at his bright heart-shaped boxer shorts with fake professionalism.

"Alright." Chris started, addressing the imaginary Zoom meeting in front of him. "Gentlemen, let’s get to business. As you can see, we’re all clearly dressed to impress."

"Except for Nick." Matt teased, nodding toward his brother's boxer shorts. "The hearts? A little too much, don’t you think?"

Nick scoffed, feigning offense.

"Excuse me, at least I have this tie that says I’m both professional and emotionally available. A winning combo."

Matt rolled his eyes and gestured to his own look.

"Meanwhile, I’ve got balance. Business on top, relaxation on the bottom."

"That’s literally the whole theme." Chris pointed out with a smirk. "You’re not special, Matt."

Y/N watched from her spot leaning against Matt's bathroom door, her legs crossed as she sipped from her mug of coffee that she made while waiting for them to get ready. She was dressed comfortably yet stylishly, rocking an oversized beige knit sweater that draped perfectly off one shoulder, paired with black leggings and fluffy white socks. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face. Despite the boys' chaotic energy, she was nailing the whole "effortlessly cool" vibe.

"Y/N, you’re way too cozy for a Zoom meeting." Chris said, pointing at her as he adjusted his loose white shirt.

"Well." Y/N said with a playful grin. "Unlike you guys, I know how to mix comfy with class. You all just look ridiculous."

Nick gasped, dramatically clutching the box in his hands.

"Ridiculous? Ridiculous?! Look at this tie! I’m the epitome of professionalism!"

Chris leaned toward Y/N, pointing at Matt.

"What about him? He’s literally in boxer shorts."

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipping from her mug to hide her smile.

"You're all wearing it, dumbass." Her eyes lingered on Matt's red boxer shorts for a moment too long. "It’s really interesting that someone would think boxer shorts are appropriate for a Zoom meeting, actually."

Matt smirked, striking a random pose.

"Are you jealous?"

"No?" She said quickly, shaking her head. "I mean, it’s not like anyone else on the Zoom would see them, right?"

The other two brothers caught on instantly, grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Y/N." Nick teased. "Are you saying you wouldn’t let your Zoom co-workers see your boxers?"

"Nick!" She exclaimed, throwing an exasperated look at him. "That’s not the point!"

Chris chimed in, laughing.

"Yeah, Matt. She’s definitely jealous. She wishes she could wear boxers to a meeting."

"I do not!" Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I just... don’t understand why he’d even bother wearing the shirt if he’s just going to go full casual anyway."

"It’s called commitment to the aesthetic." Matt said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, discretely squeezing the exposed skin. "Something you clearly wouldn’t understand."

"Oh, I understand commitment." Y/N shot back with a smirk, meeting his eyes momentarily. "But let’s be honest, none of you are winning any awards for those outfits."

"Excuse me?" Nick said, pretending to be outraged. "I’m clearly the winner here."

"Winner?" Chris scoffed. "You’re wearing socks pulled up to your knees, bro. That’s not even close to a win."

Y/N chuckled as she watched them descend into a full argument over who had the best Zoom look, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering back to Matt’s outfit. Something about the casual confidence he exuded - boxers and glasses - had her feeling just a little possessive and turned on.

"Alright." She announced, clapping her hands to get their attention. "If you’re all done arguing, let’s see who can really sell their look with a runway walk."

The boys' faces lit up, and they quickly got into character.

Nick was up first, confidently sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, arms spread wide like a figure skater. As he came to a stop, he reached for his boxer shorts and dramatically lowered them until they hit the ground, shouting a little "Oh!".

Matt immediately yelped.

"Nick!" He yelled before lunging forward to cover Y/N's eyes with both hands.

"Matt! What are you doing?!" Y/N laughed, trying to swat his hands away while Chris doubled over in hysterics.

"Protecting your innocence!" Matt declared, keeping his hands firmly over her face.

Nick, unfazed, quickly pulled his boxers back up and began walking toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, tugging at his tie and making ridiculous faces as though he were a real model.

"You’re unbelievable!" Chris murmured through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Well, we've got 2 strippers now-"

"Y/N!"

Nick turned dramatically to face her and winked.

"You’re welcome for the show."

Next, it was Matt’s turn. He walked to the middle of the floor, cracking his knuckles with a sly grin before suddenly dropping to his hands and knees.

"Uh, Matt?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What...?" Nick added, genuinely confused.

Then, without warning, Matt lifted his left leg to the side like a dog at a fire hydrant.

The realization hit everyone at once, recognizing the movement from one of the rounds of DTI that Matt and Chris played, and the room erupted into cheers and laughter.

"That was perfect!" Chris shouted, clapping his hands.

Matt stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his shirt with a smirk, and walked toward the camera with crossed arms, striking a serious pose like a model in a high-fashion commercial.

"Okay, that was actually cool." Y/N admitted, giggling as he walked back to join them.

When it was Chris’s turn, he shook his head with a grin.

"I’m sitting this one out." He said.

"What? Why?" Nick asked, incredulous.

Chris shrugged.

"I’m already the main event. I’ll let Y/N steal the spotlight this time."

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, so now I have to go?"

"You got this!" Matt encouraged, nudging her toward the runway.

"Fine." She said, standing up and straightening her oversized sweater dramatically.

Y/N walked off the camera and took the book she'd been reading the past few days from the coffee table, walking back to the frame before delicately putting it on her head like a balancing act. She strutted confidently toward the camera, balancing it all the way, then stopped to pull out her mug, striking a victorious pose before taking a slow, exaggerated sip. The boys erupted in applause.

"You can call me Barbie now." She started, turning to the boys while opening a wide smile before pretending that her hand was a microphone. "On top of the world where I can see everything before me reaching up to touch the sky-"

"Okay, singer girl, pipe down a bit." Nick raised his right hand, exchanging perplexed looks with Chris, who was laughing.

"Okay, she wins." The youngest admitted, shrugging in defeat.

"Unreal." Matt said, looking at her with obvious pride. "You’re way too good at this, Y/N."

"Okay, okay, she wins. No one can top that." Nick nodded at Y/N. "But I think Chris gets second place in this one."

"No, I give you number one." Chris insisted, pointing to Nick while Matt just observed.

"I can't accept that. I'm just happy Matt's wearing his blue light glasses again." Nick's voice turned dramatically high-pitched, clearly imitating the fandom.

Before anyone could react to him, Matt ripped his glasses off of his face, bending it backward until it snapped, small pieces flying everywhere.

"Matt, why would you do that?" Y/N yelled, looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth - just like the other two - before pouting, looking miserably at the shattered pieces. "I liked that one."

"I don't like those stupid jokes." Matt simply replied, looking unfazed at his brothers and Y/N.

Nick and Chris kept looking from Matt to the camera and back, their expressions full of shock.

"You're going to buy another one just like that one, I don't even care." Y/N ordered, crossing her arms and looking directly at Matt, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'dare disobey me.

"Fine." He sighed. "Sorry."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments:

"okay but can we talk about matt literally saying ‘I’m off limits’? someone tell me what’s going on here 🤡"

"nick casually calling out matt girls for voting on matt only bc they want to sleep with him had me SCREAMING 😭"

"why was Y/N blushing when matt said he was off limits? I SEE YOU, GIRL!!!!"

"the dynamic between Y/N and matt is giving major dating vibes"

"wait, why does matt always seem to hype Y/N up just a little more than chris and nick? like, we get it, dude. she’s awesome. but tone it down, or we’ll all start connecting dots 🤨"

"as a fellow rock fan, I have to say Y/N listening to AC/DC and bon jovi automatically makes her my fave"

"not Y/N convincing matt with zero effort to do the rockstar trend with her 🤧"

"I’m not saying I ship Y/N and matt... but I also kind of ship Y/N and matt. the way he looked at her with that dress??? man, I know that look"

"matt breaking his glasses and then Y/N ordering him to buy another one and him ACCEPTING IT???? and saying sorry???? omg that's just girl boss right there 🙏🏻"

[attapullman]

Bob From Pi Kapp | Robert "Bob" Floyd

While this can be enjoyed on it's own, the recommended reading on the syllabus for this class is Bob From Stats before proceeding.

Summary: First he's late to chapter, and now Bob is late to your Stats final. You saved him a seat. But should you also save one for his hobby horse?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY as always, f!reader, no use of y/n, smuttttttt, goofy frat behavior, the other Daggers do make a brief appearance

A Note From Mo: Happy Start of the School Year! It wouldn't feel quite like autumn without checking in with our favourite frat boy-turned-cowboy and what shenanigans the Pi Kapps are getting up to. Can anyone guess what unforgettable moment in TV history inspired this second part to stats!Bob?

It’s unfair how good he looks laying between your thighs.

Sandy hair disheveled, glasses fogged at the rim. Chest heaving beneath thin cotton, catching his breath after a marathon make out session in your cramped dorm bed. There’s still three sections left in the review material, but Bob’s only now coming up for air as an alarm sounds and he reluctantly sits up.

Your hands reach out trying to pull him back into your embrace. He playfully swats them away, unwillingly having to extricate himself. Your fingers catch in the hem of his shirt, twisting in the fabric.

“I have to go!” He jovially laughs, returning your grabby hand back as he wiggles into his sweatshirt. “I have chapter - a non-negotiable, remember?” 

While you sarcastically cross your arms and hmph at him, he knows you aren’t actually angry. Disappointed, sure, but how could you be mad at those big round blue puppy eyes? Especially after he’s been attached to your lips since he swung by after lecture hours ago. You’ve started having a Pavlovian response every time he asks if you ‘want to study’.

Sitting up, you take your study buddy in, straightening his clothes before having to mad dash to Greek Row. He’s all long limbs and sturdy shoulders, the thick tendons of his fingers showing off the strength that he exhibits every time you get him into bed. That trucker hat is already back on his head and your eyes wander to his freshly shaven jaw and neck.

“Bob, you can’t go to chapter like that.”

He stops in his tracks and his brows crease in confusion, glasses highlighting his cornflower eyes. “It’s not a formal thing, jeans are fine. But I gotta go, there’s a fine if I’m late and I have perfect attendance.”

You shake your head and walk him the three steps over to the wardrobe in your tiny dorm, the full-length mirror on the side barely lit by the florescent bulb. Bob fills out the entire view, the mirror barely tall enough to capture above his torso, but just enough for you to gently hook your fingers into the soft heather collar of his sweatshirt. You don’t even have to tug for him to see the glaring concern.

Mottled along the left side of his neck are three mouth-shaped mauve bruises. They’ve only just begun to bloom, but against his creamy skin they stand out like stop signs. You didn’t think you had been sucking so hard. Or bitten so deep.

“I think they look kind of pretty.” He’s teasing, but you’re mortified.

Bob kisses your heated cheek, gathering his hood around his neck. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll hunch my shoulders and no one will be the wiser.” At this point he’s used to his roommates pointing out the signs of affection you leave on him every week.

You’re still hot from embarrassment twenty minutes later, curled on your little dorm bed reading through your organic chemistry textbook. Though part of that may be from the lingering kiss he gave you before promising to text you after. It’s not your fault he’s perfectly adorable and fuckable - you’re only human. 

Beside you, a small ping interrupts your (distracted) studying. It’s a text from Bob, slightly earlier than planned.

BF: They may have noticed 😬

His Pi Kapp brothers not only noticed the arrangement of love bites along his neck - you were lying to yourself if you thought they were in any way subtle -  and the house of frat boys were now taking turns lining up to get photos with Love Bite Bob for posterity. Plus he was a minute late to chapter. 

You’re still giggling to yourself when you turn off the light for the night. The photo of your boyfriend’s cherry red face matching your indecent markings, a swarm of Pi Kapp sweatshirts and backwards baseball caps in the background, and mischievous grins filling every corner of your dreams.

Students mill past you, filing into the atrium of the lecture hall with a buzz of misery and despair around them. Finals Week. Every backpack in sight is heavy with textbooks and over a dozen weeks worth of notes. Your last neon highlighter died last night from overuse. 

Amongst the throng of students also dreading your Stats final, you have yet to see that vintage trucker hat Bob has been sporting since September. It seems off-brand that he wouldn’t be early, broad back already hunched over in that cramped seat with his calculator and an apprehensive smile. 

The last few weeks of sitting next to each other have been exquisite - elbows bumping in his new desk next to yours, thighs brushing in those impossibly close seats. It’s a part of your routine at this point. Bob still lends you a pencil, but you barely take any notes once the toe of his sneaker runs along your shin and suddenly you two are playing footsie like teenagers.

It’s been a horny remaining nine weeks of Stats. It was lucky that Bob was as studious as he was or you’d have gotten nothing done, stealing kisses between flashcards. Not to mention the glorious hour he spent with his head buried between your thighs while you memorized formulas, swearing he’d only leave your clit alone after you could recite them backwards.

And yet he was missing from your very last class together. The last chance to borrow a pencil and brush elbows for an hour like foreplay. Where was he?

Wanting to get yourself settled, you resign to entering the lecture hall and sitting beside Anna in one of the front rows. She gives you a sympathetic look at your dejected grimace. Your dorm room has been a testament to many a study night as of late, the two of you swapping sticky notes and notes like candy. The hall titters with students chatting as you not-so-subtly keep checking the door for latecomers, the seconds ticking down before those heavy doors shut.

The seat beside you is still empty when the teaching assistant shuts the oak doors, signaling the exam’s start.

Your professor stands at the front of the lecture hall holding a tall stack of booklets and gives a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to see what they actually learned about probability this semester?”

A collective groan sounds out and he sinisterly laughs before starting up the ancient projector. The bustle of pens and paper disappear when the loud thunk of the lecture hall doors slam open, bouncing off the sturdy brick walls and turning every head at the latecomer.

Giggles, snorts, and neighing all blend together as the cavernous lecture hall bustles with noise. Your head whips around to catch the commotion, eyes widening in surprise. 

Five men in auxiliary blue Pi Kapp sweatshirts and their own hobby horses (featuring a rather familiar Appaloosa) come galloping down the stairs, heading straight for the center stage. Standing front and center in beat up cowhide boots, a well-used felt Stetson, and tight jeans is none other than your favorite frat cowboy, blue-eyed Bob from Stats. 

His posse of Greek lettered faux cowboys stand around him, jostling each other’s shoulders and pretending to calm their steeds. Your professor patiently waits behind the pulpit, curious how this will play out with the exam he’s supposed to be proctoring. You’re gripping your seat in confusion and anticipation.

Once the raucous laughter has died down, Pi Kapp President Jake Seresin makes a show of steadying his hobby horse once more while three fellow cowboys spread out across the room, casually milling through the aisles with their wooden horses clanging between their jean-clad knees. Looking more like a lamb at slaughter all by himself, Bob calmly holds his own, knuckles rolling over the handles of his ‘horse’. Jake grins at his Pi Kapp brother before turning to his captive audience.

“Howdy, pard’ners!” The blonde’s voice booms in the cavernous hall. Various greetings yell out from all over the rows, Anna throwing in her own Howdy.

This is crazy. Anna looks at you for answers, but you have none. Whatever is going on, Pi Kappa Phi Ranch has invaded your Stats final. 

Their president makes a show of quieting the room, hand hauntingly on his hip. “So, we’ve been traveling all over this here Wild West looking for something.”

Reuben Fitch, a Pi Kapp brother and one of Bob’s roommates, stands tall at the top of the steps and calls back to him, “And what is that something, Brother Seresin?”

“Glad you asked. We’re looking for a cowgirl.”

The name catches your attention. Your blood runs cold and by default your eyes flash to Bob, hoping to find the answers in those wide, truthful ultramarine eyes. But he continues to stare boldly ahead, letting his brothers put on their show. 

Giddily clomping around with the stick of his black mare clacking on the stairs, Mickey Garcia raucously yells out, “So let’s look for her!”

Suddenly the four men are traipsing around the spacious room pretending to ride their horses, the hundreds of seats no match for their speed as they run up and down aisles, zipping through seats and over student’s knees. 

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

Heat creeps along your skin as you feel Jake’s right hand man, Javy Machado, lock in on you, the squeak of his sneakers and thwack of his horse against the ground alerting his arrival. Your eyes bore into the side of Bob’s head - spectacles still facing forward - as every classmate watches the frat boy descend. Javy stops only feet from where you’re clutching the edge of your desk.

“This one here looks like she could be a real ol’ cowgirl!” Javy’s horrible Western accent and shit eating grin are begging to be smacked off his face. He turns toward the familiar Stetson and puts both hands around his mouth as he hollers. “Hey Floyd, found a cowgirl for you!”

That sweet face finally turns to you. Adrenaline floods your nervous system as every pair of eyes in the hall watches his boots clack up the stairs and past the seats until he’s standing in the row before yours, craning over the wooden chair with delicately pink cheeks. From this angle, those cerulean eyes are level with yours. And boy, are they nervous.

His voice is wobbly, but the script is practiced. “Howdy, little lady. Hiding in plain sight, weren’t ya?”

You both know you’ve sat in the same spot since that first day he lent you a pencil.

“Didn’t realize you needed an entire fraternity to find your study buddy.” Your hand waves at the four faux cowboys standing at the end of your row, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Despite the fact that you’re as timid as him under the stares of your fellow students, you can’t help but be a little sassy and theatrical after the production you just witnessed.

That soft grin comes out to play, always amused by your fire. “I do when I have a question for you.”

The smirk on your face wipes clean. A question? There’s a flutter in the air as students turn to each other, anxious to know what quiet little Bob Floyd has been keeping to himself. Even your professor is leant forward on his elbow patches, brow quirked in interest.

You swallow slowly before responding, barely over a whisper, “What do you want to know?”

Time and space stop as he holds your gaze. So soft and affectionate, as if you are the stars in his night sky. The same hazy look he gave you in that hall closet weeks ago that made you unable to ever look back. He licks his lips, warm hand sliding over yours on the peeling wooden desktop. His eyes are so impossibly open. 

“Will you do the honor of being my date to the Pi Kappa Phi spring formal, cowgirl?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Relief tingles through your extremities as your brain starts up again. The pounding of your heart backs up your smart response.

“Only if you let me borrow your boots for dancing.”

Your response settles, then suddenly all around you there’s whoops and hollers. To your left, four hobby horses are whipped into the air and twirled like batons. Mickey yells out, “Yeehaw!”

And yet all you can focus on is the wide grin that’s stretched out Bob’s face, his lean body still bent over the row before yours. You know the same smile is etched on your own jaw as your fingers intertwine. He’s so utterly ridiculous and self-assured. The perfect pairing of endearing. You can’t get enough.

You really wish everyone wasn’t watching so you could kiss him.

“Alright, alright, settle down. We do have a final to get to, if Mr. Floyd would like to take his seat.”

Handing off his trusty steed to his cowboy brothers, Bob takes the hint and makes his way around the row toward you, long legs effortlessly vaulting the nailed-in desks. He stops at the knobby wooden seat next to you and gestures, as if to ask Is this free? The corners of your mouth can’t help but upturn once more as you nod, letting your handsome Bob from Pi Kapp slip into the seat and knock his knee against yours.

You lean in, letting your lips brush against the lobe of his ear. “Not that I wasn’t entertained, but what was all that?”

He shoots you the most blinding grin, the sides of his drowningly blue eyes crinkling behind perfectly straight wire frames.

“My punishment for being late to chapter - they got to choose how I asked you to spring formal.”

Your jaw slackens as your eyes trail over to where his brethren are slinking out the heavy hall doors with their wooden steeds over their shoulders. Those cruel bastards. Your hand reaches out to stroke Bob’s still pinkened cheeks, fingers resting along his jaw to imitate soothing his wounded ego.

“One last yeehaw for Cowboy Bob for the semester, huh?” He guffaws out a laugh and kisses your cheek. 

The stack of little blue booklets makes their way over again and Bob grabs one before passing your way. His eyes are glued to you, unable to stop his affectionate attention after putting himself out on the line like that. You open your mouth to say something, but stop when the significance of it hits you. It’s the last time. 

The words form out of muscle memory. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

The air between you is sickeningly sweet as he reaches down and grabs two from his bag, handing you the sharper point. You give him a gooey smile as your fingers brush. Test nerves and bittersweet affection trickle down your spine. Who would have thought your hardest class all semester would bring such joy?

For the next ninety minutes your eyes stay strictly on your own booklet, but you can’t help but feel the radiant energy off the guy in a cowboy hat and fraternity sweatshirt and his knee that somehow keeps knocking yours.

“Slow down, cowgirl! I need a minute to recover,” Bob breathily begs from beneath you, where you’re still grinding your hips into his, one arm braced on his chest and the other against your peeling dorm wall. That damn cowboy hat is somewhere on the floor and his skin has evolved into an exerted red from the two orgasms he’s already stolen from you. 

You playfully roll your eyes and mutter something about bucking broncos before stilling, still so full of him. You delicately press a kiss to his sweaty cheek, your bare chest against his, timpani heartbeats synchronized. 

“While I have you,” you start, and he booms out a laugh, his cock still nestled tightly inside you. “How were you going to ask me to spring formal before?”

He’s so cute when he plays dumb. “Before what?”

“Before the guys made you publicly humiliate yourself to the point you can never take a Stats class again.”

Bob presses his lips together, warm hand smoothing over your hips as he weighs his response. Which is hard when you smell like sex and sweat and that fragrance he can’t quite identify the undertones of but has him dizzy. It’s a miracle he can pull himself away from you sometimes.

“You can’t just be happy knowing that I can never show my face in that building again?”

You reach down to the floor and pick up the worn Stetson, plopping it on your own head. You give him a stern look, stabbing your finger into his chest. He has a hard time being intimidated when his vision is centered on your breasts pressed together so deliciously. “Tell me or I’m sending you to cowboy jail.”

He raises his neck and pecks the tops of your breasts, just how he knows you like. With a joking frown, you grab him by the nape of his neck and stare him down. 

“Fine, fine,” Bob laughs deep from his chest. He looks so joyous, the whiff of sex and amorousness coloring him so beautifully. “If you really want to know.”

As you settle in to listen, the reality is that it doesn’t really matter his original plan. It’s that he even wants to go with you, that he’s just as far gone as you’ve been the last fifteen weeks. That one silly pencil would start something worth delaying a Stats final fifteen minutes and continue to another semester.

You just hope one day he’ll get you your own hobby horse.

Massive shoutout to all the Internet besties who keep the stats!Bob brainrot fresh - wouldn't get anything done without all you amazing peeps!

taglist: @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jaguarthecat @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @m3ndacious @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @smoothdogsgirl @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @spidervman @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @tastefulregularthots @theamuz @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

[gretavanlace]

Breña

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, oral sex (m rec), illusions to oral sex (fem rec), fingering, etc.

Inspired by this delicious ask and blurb that was sent to me ages ago. I promised I’d get to this one, and I did, I’m just sorry it took me so long. Forgive me 💕

Loosely edited, but what else is new?

“Get fucked, Josh.” Jake barks with such venom your head snaps in his direction. He rarely speaks unkindly, even if it is only his twin brother, who will love him anyway, on the receiving end.

For his part in the exchange, Josh merely smooths a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt with an airy chuckle. “Maybe you should take your own advice, brother. Seems like you need to get laid. Awful testy, darling.”

He means it as a joke. A laugh to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, it doesn’t land and you watch on in shocked silence as Jake slaps his glass of whiskey down on the coffee table before him, and then stalks from the room without a word - his absence solidified by the sharp slam of his bedroom door.

”You shouldn’t have said that,” your admonishment is quiet, issued tepidly while you stare down into your glass of wine. You feel intrusive, yes, but you feel worse for Jake, and that wins out.

”I know,” he agrees with the decency to at least sound repentant, “But I didn’t mean it that way. And besides, it's been months. He just needs to get on with it.”

”He loved her.” Your standpoint certainly doesn’t come from a place of loyalty to Jake’s ex - you loathed her, but instead, for Jake and his clearly wounded heart.

”He didn’t love her,” Josh corrects, and likely rightly so “He loved the idea of her. There’s a big fucking difference.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t insert yourself, but you’ve never been great about biting your tongue. ”Maybe give him some time to figure that out for himself, then.”

Josh rises with a smile that tells you your candor hasn’t ruffled his feathers. It’s so difficult to rile him up that it often feels like some twisted challenge, “Don’t you ever get tired of being right all the time? Seems exhausting to me. You should try being a fuck up…I could give you lessons.”

He drops a kiss upon the crown of your head and trips off to place his glass in the sink. “I seem to have worn out my welcome here at Jacob’s Tavern on the Green. You want a ride? I only had the one.”

”No,” you wave him off and nip at your glass, “I might just crash on the couch. The A/C’s out at my place again.”

”Alright, then,” he shrugs on his jacket and pats at his hair as if he’s prepping for a night out rather than the quick drive home, “Don’t poke the bear though, doll face. I’d like to keep you unscathed. Kinda like you.”

”That’s funny,” you deadpan, “Because I can’t stand you.”

He wrinkles his nose, offers a quick wink, and then out the front door he slips.

The couch remains your lighthouse for a time, but everyone knows Josh gives terrible advice, so if he has warned against poking the bear, that’s obviously exactly what you should do.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, just before knocking softly on his bedroom door. “Jake?”

Your call is met with silence, but just before you turn to leave, feeling dejected and meddlesome, the door cracks open to reveal him, now barefoot and shirtless…a pair of sweats resting so low on his hips your mind wanders into dangerous territory “What’s up? Bored of my idiot brother already?”

He’s presenting a brave face, but you can see the anguish in his eyes, and also, something else that you can’t quite place.

”He left, actually.” Why do you suddenly feel so stupid? “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seem…I don’t know, on edge?”

He reaches out and gives your arm a friendly squeeze, “I’m alright, sweetheart. He just dances on my last nerve, that’s all.”

And while that’s not a total lie, you also know there’s a lot more to it, so you gently push him along. “You sure, Jake? You can talk to me, you know? I’ve been there, I understand how hard it is to miss someone you shouldn’t.”

Searching your face for something you can’t identify, he lets a stretch of quiet carry on a beat too long, before finally shaking his head, holding the door open a little wider in wordless invitation.

Once you’re perched awkwardly at the foot of his bed, hands clasped and ankles crossed, he speaks up “I don’t miss her, necessarily. It’s just hard. Especially the way it ended. I just…”

God, he looks so small and walled off. “You just what?”

Slumping onto the bed beside you, he sighs “I just wish it had ended differently.”

”It never ends well,” you flop down as well, and stare up at the ceiling as though constellations might appear to dazzle you. “Everyone always hates the ending. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

”Do you miss her?” He asks, staring up at that bright, blank white just as you are.

What an absurd question. Why should he care? And were you really that great at pretending to like her to spare his feelings?

The moment seems to scream for honesty, so you hand it over. “No, I don’t. I never cared much for her to begin with, and then she…” you falter and search for a kind way to describe it, “and then she did what she did to you, and I— no, I don’t miss her at all.”

”It’s alright to just say it. She cheated on me.” He laughs a little. “Fuck, how pathetic does that sound?”

Rolling to your side to face him, you blink away his self deprecation, “It isn’t pathetic, Jake. Not on your end, anyway.”

“I suppose I just wonder what I did or didn’t do, you know?” He chuckles quietly to mask his vulnerability, “What did he do that I didn’t? Why wasn’t I enough?”

“I don’t think that’s really how it works,” you assure him, turning to stare up at his ceiling once again, but now reaching for his hand. “Besides, I can’t imagine you not being enough.”

He returns your encouraging squeeze and makes a half-whispered joke, a verbal mask to hide behind. “Maybe I just wasn’t good enough in bed. I swear I know where everything is, and where things go…mostly.”

”Shut up,” you laugh softly so as not to disturb the calm that has settled. “I have zero doubts about your abilities, Jake Kiszka, in bed or otherwise.”

Now, he is the one rolling to his side to face you. “And what does that mean?”

”I don’t know,” you shrug, suddenly feeling extremely on display. “It’s just…well, in my experience, men like you don’t often disappoint in that department.”

”Men like me?” You have perked his interest and plucked at that mildly conceited chord that lives within him. “And what type of man am I exactly, sweetheart?”

”I’m not going to stroke your ego, Jacob. Though if you’d like to do it yourself, I’d be happy to leave the room.”

He laughs at that, “If I planned on stroking something you’d leave the room? Another devastating blow to my pride.”

You groan in mock exasperation at his tactless humor, earning another chuckle from him. You love the sound of his laugh, and you love being the one to make him laugh even more.

”It’s not like it would matter anyway.” He sighs, nuzzling against his duvet to get comfortable. “Stroking something, I mean.”

”Jake!” Your head whips to meet his scandalous gaze.

”Oh, grow up.” He grins, eyes flashing with mischief, but still something else that you can’t place.

He’s right. You promised him he could talk to you, so you shake it off and start anew. “What do you mean?”

”I just…can’t…” he pauses, searching for his resolve. “Not since she left.”

You’re shocked, and unfortunately, not hiding it well. “You haven’t had sex since then?”

It doesn’t seem possible. He’s gorgeous and charming, charismatic and dripping sex. Women crawl for him everywhere you go.

“I haven’t done anything since she left.” He corrects, dodging your stare. “I can’t. No matter what I do. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Every time I get anywhere near I—“

He abruptly cuts himself off, “I’m sorry. This isn’t cool. I shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

“No,” the last thing you want him to do is shut down. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”

He closes himself off again with a clipped shake of his head ”You don’t want to hear this shit.”

Alright, that’s it, he can’t have it his way. He can fight you tooth and nail, but you’re going to march on anyway and drag him along, kicking and screaming.

“So you haven't gotten off since the split?” You ask as if it’s no big deal…and maybe it isn’t.

“Jesus, babe…” he teases, “such a mouth on you.”

Interesting choice of words, Jacob.

”It’s just surprising to me, that’s all.” It’s a leading comment, and you damn well know it.

”Why?”

”Because you’re you, Jake.” Now you’ve spun to face him again as well. “You just walk around like living, breathing sex all the time. And you’re also a liar with your ‘mostly’ bullshit. You know where everything goes and then some. I can tell.”

”You sound terribly sure of your analysis, sweetheart.” His voice has grown quiet and it makes you long to squeeze your thighs together.

“Am I wrong?” Oh, you seem to have grown quiet as well. When did that happen? “Because I don’t think I am.”

He ignores your question, “Living, breathing sex, huh?”

”Again, I can leave the room if you’d like to sing your own praises.”

His fingers reach up to smooth an errant lock of hair away from your forehead, “You are the one singing my praises. I’m simply enjoying the attention.”

You’re further hushed at his touch ”You’re a smug little shit, you know that?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I do know that…it’s just been a bit since I could remember why.”

You want this. You want this so badly you might even be inclined to beg for it. Instead, you seize the opportunity with feigned confidence. “I could help you. If you wanted.”

His fingers are still caressing your forehead, lulling you so softly, “Help me how?”

”I don’t know,” you’re toying with the chain around his neck now, avoiding his eyes, “I could…try.”

”Try what?” There’s a smirk ghosting at the corner of his beautiful mouth, and it betrays his intentions. He knows exactly what you mean. He just wants you to say it.

Now or never. “I could get you off. If it would help. I mean, I’d like to…I want to help.”

The strong column of his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and then there is his nose, nuzzling against yours, the closest to his kiss that you have ever been ”You want to make me cum?”

The way he speaks of it, as if you two have been here a thousand times together before, is so sexy your head is suddenly spinning.

You offer a tiny nod and then hurry on before you lose your nerve, “You could just lie here and I could…”

Every ounce of confidence seeps from your bones when his eyes, cinnamon sugar and blown wild with lust, catch your own.

”You could what?” He presses the gentlest kiss against your cheek.

”I could use my mouth…I…” fuck, you can hardly breathe, and the room feels too small, crowded up with tension and long repressed desire.

A needy, hungry groan rumbles out of his chest as he pulls you a little closer. “You would do that for me?”

”Of course I would.”

His eyes are on your lips now, agonized and desperate. “Have you thought about it before, or do you just feel sorry for me?”

He knows the answer. There’s that smugness you spoke of.

”I think about it all the time.” You whisper honestly. “Do you?”

”No.” his hands fist into your hair. “I don’t think about my cock in your mouth,” oh god, the way those words tumble off of his pretty tongue, dripping saccharine but so dark “but I do think about my face between your thighs…how you’d sound. How you would taste. How you might rock your hips against me when I got you close.”

In response, you’re on your knees before him in a breath, fingers curled into the waistband of his sweats, imploring him with your gaze for permission.

He nods with a hitching inhale and that’s all the confirmation you need. Pulling them down, there it is. Stunning and achingly hard, thick and pulsing for you. As breathtaking as an obscene symphony. He looks so ready, leaking opalescent droplets into the soft dusting of hair below his belly button. You doubt you’ve ever wanted anything more.

The flat of your tongue runs warm and wet from base to tip, nudging harder at that special spot just below his velvety head. How did you know? He wonders as he twitches against your kiss.

After such a long stretch of fighting to get off, he’s now frightened he just might embarrass himself and cover your lovely face before you’ve even had a chance to suck him in.

But suck him in you do, without warning, and so deeply he can feel the silken back of your throat. Lurching forward, curling in on himself against the pleasure, he chokes out a humiliating sound and grabs at you…one hand tangled in your hair, the other clutched around the nape of your neck. “Oh my god, baby, please…”

You nod your understanding and swallow around him, sweeping your tongue back and forth. He sounds blissful but pushes you away without warning. “M’gonna cum,” he murmurs through his panting breaths, “just give me a second.”

How has he gotten here so quickly? It’s horribly humbling, but he wants it so badly his heart is resting in his throat, thrumming savagely, pulse-points pounding a fierce and uncontrollable beat.

”That’s the fucking point, Jake,” you fist at his wet cock and drink him back down once before pulling back, “You need it, I can feel it. Cum in my mouth. Please?”

Your please, so sweet and innocent while asking for something so filthy, snatches a growl out of him that flushes you with unbearable heat.

Both of his palms find either side of your head tentatively, “Can I stand?”

You nod eagerly around him, and then gaze up at his face once he is hovered above you like a deity soaked in depravity. There is a pink blush painted across the bridge of his nose and cheeks that makes you feel as soft as warm cotton.

“I want to use your mouth,” he hushes, “Is that alright?”

Again, you merely nod with your mouth stuffed full of him.

”You give me a little shove if you want to stop…” he coddles your cheek, and speaks like a lullaby as you blink up at him in consent.

When he drives inside of you, it is a vicious invasion, but one that you’d plead for over and over again. He is buried so deeply inside your throat you can scarcely breathe, but the threading of his brow and the steady moans dripping from his lips are all you’ve ever wanted.

He’s twitching already against your tongue, slipping deeper into you until you’re fighting a gag that only wrecks him further.

One, two, three, thrusts and he is reduced to whimpers, “Shit, oh god, please, I need it. I need it so bad. I need to—“ a pained grunt, through gritted teeth, interrupts his babbling, “I’m cumming, sweetheart…”

The taste of his release dances across your taste buds as you struggle to swallow him down.

He is shuddering and cursing above you, holding you still as he shakes his head violently in apology, “I’m sorry…” his voice is but a phantom of itself, “It’s too much, I shouldn’t have…not in your mouth…oh fuck, fuck…”

And you’d tell him if you could, that it is a privilege…his offering, a gift. Instead, you allow every drop to roll down your throat as you suckle gently for more until he is shivering in overstimulation.

Finally, you allow his cock to slip from your mouth as his thumbs sweep over your cheekbones. “I— goddamn…thank you, sweetheart. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

”You’re welcome, Jake…” your thumbs find their own place to sweep against - his thighs. “Thank you.”

His lips part to protest, but pull back into a snarling hiss when you wrap your hand around his length “You’re still hard.”

He looks half-bashful, “I’d say it’s been a while, but I think it’s just you.”

”Yeah?” You rise from your knees and nip at his chin, “Have I made you hard before?”

”Does someone have a bit of a praise kink?” His grip sinks into the dips of your hips beneath your shirt, “Do you like knowing you’ve made my dick ache?”

”Maybe,” you shimmy your shoulders nonchalantly, “or maybe I’m just a cock tease.”

”Get on the bed.” He demands, in lieu of an actual retort, while tugging at the button and zipper of your jeans. “Everything off. You may lay however you’d like, but I want that pussy on display for me…let me see her.”

You may? Well…there’s that bit of dominance you had imagined hidden away inside of him more times than you care to admit

Dropping down on the bed, completely bared to him for the first time, you close your eyes against his appreciative scrutiny, “You’re fucking perfect,” his words are nearly vibrating, “Stay just like that and let me look at you.”

Demurely, you do as he says.

”Legs a little wider, babe…lemme see that sugary little cunt,” oh, he’s deliciously dirty.

”Hi, pretty girl,” he coos when your knees press against the sheets.

”Hi.” You murmur back softly.

He ever so gently waves you off, “Not talking to you, sweetheart. Mind your own business.”

Your cheek kisses linen as you nestle your face into the bed, content to allow him to have his private moment with your pussy. If that’s what he wants, that’s what he gets

His fingertips are there now, curling so lightly over your swollen clit, pretending like they just might nudge inside you now and then, until you’re writhing with want. “Please, Jake…” a tremulous, tiny mewl escapes you. A vexing little sound that heats your face and betrays your need.

His eyebrows quirk upward, “Inside?”

”Inside.” You nod earnestly.

Without warning, you’re filled with his middle and ring fingers. They search along your walls as his gaze clocks your expression until you cry out. “Right there, baby?” He pouts, mocking your whine. “Is that the spot?”

”Faster,” the blood in your veins is rushing at a feverish pitch, the taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue has broken you wide open.

“No,” he shushes, the soft pad of his thumb nudging at your clit “Nice and slow, sweetheart. Relax for me.”

You do your best and fill your lungs to the brim with air that smells of sex and him before releasing it slowly.

“Good girl, baby.” He praises, fucking you gingerly with his hand as if this is all either of you will ever do for the rest of your days…no rush. “When you cum, can this pretty princess make a mess?”

”Hmm?” You’re a million miles away, drifting through his sea, you’ve barely registered him speaking to you.

“If I make you cum,” he clarifies, pressing up into that place that makes you whimper and half-squirm away. He holds you down firmly, but with such tenderness. “Stay still, for me. If I make you cum just right will you soak my hand all sweet and warm?”

”I can’t…” you flush with inexplicable shame, “I don’t do that.”

”That’s alright…you just let me take care of you.” He sounds like he’s coddling a wounded bird just before he begins curling and massaging inside you with a tiny smirk on his face that seems to claim he knows something you don’t.

Never before has anyone’s touch dismantled you so perfectly, and you’re soaked and dripping; wet, heavenly sounds filling the room to mark your pleasure.

“No messes for my sweetheart? Just a neat and tidy little baby?” He taunts as your thighs begin to tremble, “I think you’re lying. maybe not with someone else, but I know you’ve worked this pretty, wet cunt just right…ruined your sheets, had to fight to stay quiet so no one would hear—“

With a cry that could be mistaken for agonized, you let go…barely there-tiny bursts of slick sprinkling across his palm like a spring mist. Were he a garden, he would bloom so beautifully under the kiss of your meager shower.

“There we go, sweetheart,” your eyes are locked in on his arm, watching the muscles turn and twist as if you’ve been hypnotized. “C’mon, just a little longer, relax, sweet girl, relax…”

It’s like lying in too-tall grass on a breezy day. Warm and gentle like an embrace, and his voice is ferrying you through it all so sweetly. How could she have ever given this up?

When you begin to tense against his ministrations, he pulls back delicately and pats the inside of your thigh, huffing the softest sigh of a laugh, “And you said no messes.”

“Jake,” your hands are instantly hiding your eyes, face sparking heat with a euphoric fluster.

“You did good, baby.” He whispers, kissing a path along your shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about that for a very long time.”

“Please,” your entire body is still inwardly writhing and you can’t manage much more.

“Please what?” His hand, so gentle and soft, drags yours downward to wrap your fingers around himself. He is thick, throbbing rhythmically, and so hard, “You want that?”

He sounds in control, but it’s all there for you in his eyes, he wants this badly. He needs this. He needs you…and not simply because it’s been months.

Grabbing his free hand from where it is resting beside your head against the mattress, you guide it down until his fingers are stroking delicately across you, wetting his touch, warm and silken, “You want that?”

He visibly falters, face ducking to find solace in the crook of your neck, “I want you,” he whispers so airily you aren’t even sure you’ve heard him, “I want you so fucking badly. Please, baby…”

His voice is hushed, dragging across your skin hot and wet, desperate and hungry, you couldn’t deny him even if you were crazy enough to want to.

“You don’t have to beg,” you promise, hands now petting through his hair. “You take what you need, Jake…it’s all for you.”

”I need to get off again first,” the words sigh warm against the shell of your ear, “I’m too close. You’re so pretty and warm, and you smell so good. My sweetheart.”

”Well, look who gets soft when he’s this hard.” You tease, gently stroking the cashmere tip of his cock against your clit. “You cum as fast as you need to, let me do this for you.”

Again, his beautiful face drops to hide away, mouth sucking chills into your throat.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He confesses, sounding shy in a way you’ve never heard before. “I want to get you there, too.”

You reach down deep and find your nerve, “Is this a one time thing? It’s okay to say yes.”

At last, his stare finds yours, “I certainly fucking hope not.”

”So, you’ll owe me one.” You shrug with a cheeky smile to soothe his nerves.

”No.” he shocks you with a fervent shake of his head as he lines himself up, nudging in gently with his pillowy soft tip, “I’m gonna get you off, baby…right on my cock.”

Dirty fuck, who would’ve thought?

”Deeper, Jake,” you’re whining already, fingernails sinking into his shoulders to pull him in closer. “Fuck me.”

”Say it again.” He orders, kissing a path along your jaw.

”Fuck me,” you repeat as though you know nothing but how to follow him into the woods, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please…”

His cock is right there teasing at you, barely inside, working your entire body into a frenzy, you want it so badly.

”Please?” His nose Eskimo kisses yours, “You’re begging very sweetly. You sound like an angel.”

“Haven’t I begged enough?” The words pant out of you warm against his lips and that - the taste of your aching need, shoves him over the edge.

Hips rolling, he slides into you like he was made to fit. The stretch is a lovely, stinging heat that claws a blissful cry from deep within your lungs. It's his favorite sound, he decides in an instant, and he wants to listen to it for the rest of his life.

As if the two of your were created simply to share this together, he fits inside of you perfectly, nestling against that sweet, hidden spot over and over until your back has arched away from the sheets and your nails scratch at him for purchase.

”So soft and tight,” his praise is but a breath, “You feel so fucking good.”

”I’m close,” you whisper back, cunt gripping at him violently, “don’t stop.”

”Wait for me, sweetheart…” he sounds filthy and angelic all at once. “I’m almost there, just…fuck, just wait for me.”

”Inside,” have you even made a sound? “Do it inside, Jake.”

”Are you sure?” He slurs, drunk off of you and ready to melt.

”Yes,” you nod frantically against the pillow, knotting your hair, “Do it. Fucking do it.”

Lost for words, he replies with a growl that takes that tightened coil deep in your belly and snaps it into pieces.

”Oh fuck,” his body tenses against you, thrust losing rythym as you flutter and clench around his twitching cock. “Gonna cum, baby, yes…you feel so…fuck…”

You watch in awe as his face twists gorgeously, eyes rolling back before squeezing closed, lip curled into a delicious snarl - and then, with a drawn out groan of your name, he collapses against you, kissing gratitude and love against your throat until the tickle of his hair makes you giggle.

”Get off me,” you laugh, shoving at his shoulders tenderly as he rolls to his side, smiling prettily at you like a kid in a candy store.

”You have magic between those pretty thighs.” He sighs, smoothing your hair. “I’m gonna tear solos up about it. Write the dirtiest riffs and licks all about that perfect pussy.”

”You’re fucking disgusting,” you sigh back, attempting to chase down your breath, “and such a guy.”

He pulls you in close, tucking his body, slick and hot, into your own, “Shh, you love me.”

Maybe he doesn’t mean it that way, and maybe you don’t either, just yet…

…but maybe you will.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama

[ecstarry]

"The one with only one bed" for you baby @malchai, for always inspiring me

“James, this is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to live in a book,” Regulus quipped as he stared at the only bed in the middle of their hotel room. 

“I swear this was an honest mistake,” James said, though his words were far from convincing as laughter filled the room.

“I’m not sleeping with my brother’s best friend,” Regulus said firmly, except his mind couldn't help but entertain the scenario of a night sharing a bed with James.

“You should never say never, Reg,” James replied with an exaggerated wink. “It’s just one night. Get over yourself. Besides, you’re not my type.”

“Fuck off, Potter. I’m everyone’s type,” Regulus said, a cocky grin spread across his face. 

“Not mine, though.” James was clearly trying to start a game with Regulus. He knew it, but Regulus Black was prideful, he was always hungry for a victory. 

“Really?” Regulus dropped his bag to the floor, and slowly walked towards James. He could tell that even closing the distance was enough to make the mighty James Potter blush. 

“Yeah,” James said with a sudden shy voice. 

“So you don’t mind if I take my shirt off, right? The weather is kinda shit here.” Regulus stepped closer, their proximity was a territory they had only ventured into while drunk, never sober and never alone.

“Yeah.”

“Since when are you a man of few words, Jamie?” Regulus grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, ruining his perfectly arranged curls, almost as if someone had run their fingers through them.

“Are you getting hot too? You look flustered,” Regulus said as his eyes traveled to James’ crotch, he was wearing a pair of sweats that did very little to conceal the bulge forming underneath. 

James took a deep breath and looked back at Regulus with a challenge, or a proposal even. Regulus couldn’t tell yet, but he was curious enough to see where this went. 

“Actually, I am hot. I think I also need fewer layers.” James was wearing a linen white shirt and, instead of giving Regulus the satisfaction of a quick reveal, he slowly started unbuttoning it, allowing Regulus’ gaze to savor every detail of his body.

The sight of that god-like body was enough to make Regulus forget what the game even was. Any coherent thought left his mind as the last button of James’ shirt was undone, revealing the most delicious man he had ever seen standing shirtless in front of him.

“Eyes up here, love,” James teased with a low voice. 

Before Regulus could even process James’ comment he heard a knock on the door, he quickly avoided meeting James’ eyes and walked over to open the door. 

“We are truly sorry for the misunderstanding, we have a room that matches the description you asked for, if you would-”

“This one is fine, thank you,” Regulus replied and closed the door. 

He turned around and saw James waiting eagerly for any sign that confirm exactly what Regulus’ last words meant. Regulus returned to his previous spot, close to James and reached for his own pants and started unbuttoning them, an action mimicked by a very excited James. 

“Rethinking the ‘not sleeping with your brother’s best friend’ thing aren’t you?” James teased. 

“Rethinking the ‘you’re not my type’ thing aren’t you?” Regulus quickly snapped back as James pulled him closer and held Regulus’ face between his hands. 

“Just let me fucking kiss you, Reg.” 

I win, Regulus thought. 

[miniwheat77]

Alibi. (141 x Reader HC’s.)

You guys see those edits floating around tik tok with that Alibi song? (you know what I’m talking about.) so here’s a fic inspired by it. !nsfw, violence, mental health issues, death, blood, mentions of suicide, NO MINORS!

Can you remember when the last time was you felt safe in the dark?

All of the ways reader is valuable to 141, more than just as a soldier.

When I’m out of breath, she’s my vitals.

His heart is thudding in his chest. He can’t seem to calm down. Blood rushes from the knife wound in his side and he’s stressed. He knows he shouldn't have taken it out. He knew better and still did it. He doesn't know what he was thinking. He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. He’s alone, his radio is broken and he can’t call for help. He can’t walk because he can’t stop his racing heart.

Just when he thinks he’s going to die alone, you come running. “I got you.” You breathe. Skidding to a stop, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. He’s sitting up against a building. You shove his shirt up, grasping his hand and forcing him to hold it over his wound. “Look at me, you’re bleeding too much because you’re too stressed.” You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re gonna be alright Gaz, look at me. Breathe with me okay?” You take in a deep breath, your imitation tactics will work on him. He stares back.

He takes in a deep breath, the feeling of your hands on him. Knowing that if he dies right now, he won’t die alone. It already calms him.

After a few deep breaths, he’s calming down. His heart has settled a bit more in his chest. You move his hand, seeing that he’s still bleeding but not nearly as bad. “Keep breathing like that Gaz, I’m gonna patch you up the best I can.” He nods his head, keeping the steady intake of oxygen. Medivac was on their way.

You look up at him. Smiling. "It's not happening today. Not like this." He laughs. Wincing slightly. "How are y-you always there ah?" He laughs. You look at him confused. "Anytime anyone is hurt you always know and you always come running." He laughs.

"I just do. You're my brothers. I'll always come running. I got you.” You breathe. “Keep breathing for me. Medivac is coming. I’ll be by your side no matter what alright?”

When I need to rev, she’s my ride or die.

Your teeth are gritted as you watch the scene unfold in front of you. The new recruit doesn't know you're there and she's been a total bitch to him since she started, but would only do it when no one else was around. When he brought it up, she called him a liar. She didn't know you were here and neither did he. "You know you're the weakest link of this entire task force? I mean really? I don't even know why they keep you around." She snorts. You let her dig her own grave but you can see him and he's fuming. Getting more and more angry as she keeps going. You're worried he might actually explode. You need the perfect moment to show yourself.

"You know I could say you hit me and they would kick you off of this base so fast because no one would believe you."

That was your last straw. You start walking into the room, your footsteps can be heard. The moment she sees you, she's got that same look on her face. The crocodile tears start. "Y/N thank god. He was just threatening me." She cries. Making her way toward you. "Is that true?" You look at him. He says nothing. Expecting you to take her side. You've always been ride or die for everyone and he doesn't know what so suddenly changed when she came around. He is clearly pissed.

"Look. Maybe we can talk this out. In private. Let's go outside and talk." You mumble. He rolls his eyes but knows he has no choice. The both of them follow you outside and the moment the door is closed, you grasp her shoulder and spin her around. Before she has time to react you’re punching her in the gut as hard as you can. His eyes widen. "Jesus!" He mumbles. You clamp a hand over her mouth before she can yell out. Backing her into the wall. "Not a word or I'll put a bullet in your fucking head and than there will only be one side to this story." You growl. He's standing off to the side. Surprised at how quickly this had escalated. "Everyone on this task force. Even him. They are my brothers and if you fuck with them, you fuck with me." You have her pinned. Right in the blind spot where cameras don't see it, which now he realizes was your plan all along.

You take another swing at her, busting her nose. Blood rushes from it. "Go to your room and clean up and if you say a fucking word I'll have your head. Understand?" You seethe. She nods her head.

She rushes away from you.

"You knew?" He asks. You snort. "Of course I knew Johnny." You laugh. Shaking the pain from your fist. "I always know."

"Thank god." He sighs. "Not just my word against hers anymore." He sighs. "Nah, we'll talk to Price and get her out of here. Let's go get a drink, calm you down." You rest your hand on his lower back, seeing the weight has clearly been lifted off his shoulders.

When I’m out of faith, she’s my idol.

It's times like this he wishes he hadn't taken on the responsibility of being a Captain in the military. He has to be someone these people look up to. But he doesn't feel worthy. He feels like he means nothing, sometimes he feels he leads them in the wrong directions. Sometimes going as far as getting them injured or killed. He doesn't know how to combat these feelings.

Some days he wants to give up. Wants to call it quits and leave this all behind. But he knows he has people relying on him. Even if he thinks they'd be better off without him. He sighs. Taking a drink of the flask he had in his hand. He's got the gun in his waistband. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. For some reason, his mind keeps travelling to you. Your smiling face despite being in the worst situations known to man. How you always seem to be so happy and keeping a good attitude. He wishes he could be that positive all of the time. He wishes he could be like you in a lot of ways but doesn't understand it.

He hears footsteps and quickly tries to hide the flask until he sees it's Gaz. "Garrick." He nods. "Cap. Something going on?"

"Ah. Same old. Wish I could change things I can't." He snorts. "Feel you there. Y/N asked if I could come find you, says she needs to ask you something." He nods his head. He wonders what you could possibly want this late. He stands up. "That girl. Swear. No matter what she's always so happy." He laughs. "Yeah you got me. I don't know how she does it all of the time." Captain Price laughs. "Wish I could be like her in a lot of ways."

"That's funny. She says the same things about you." He laughs. "Really?" He asks. He nods. "Yeah. When you're not around she tells stories. Talks about how you're basically her hero. Tells everyone all kinds of cool stuff you've done. Swears up and down that you're the best superior she's ever worked for in the military. Says she doesn't know what she'd do if something happened to you." Captain Price laughs. Shocked at hearing that you've said such kind things about him. "Such a sweet girl." He shakes his head. "Thanks Gaz. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He nods. He's going to go find you.

Right after he returns this gun to his nightstand.

I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.

Ghost sits in his house. His hands shake violently. He fucked up. He fucked up bad this time. He doesn't know how he'll talk his way out of this one. The man had gotten slick with him at the bar after what he’d done. He shouldn't have went in the first place. He should've stayed home. He doesn't know who to call, but you're the closest person to him. He's got no other choice.

You come running at the tone in his voice. He's clearly scared about something. When you arrive, you walk right into his house. "Simon?" You ask. He looks up. "What's going on?" He asks.

You had an idea of what it was. You'd seen the news this morning.

"A man was found dead in the back alley of a bar this morning, footage showed a man wearing a skull mask."

"I.. I don't know what got into me. He..." he trails off. "He corned this girl back there and I didn't know what to do. I just hit him. I couldn't stop."

You press your hand to your lips. Silencing him. "Listen to me-" A knock at the door is what startles you. "Go answer it and don't say a word about where you were until I'm down there okay?" You force him to look at you. You grasp the mask on his face and pull it off of him. He nods. Listening. He makes his way to the front door.

You look around the room, you know what you're looking for. You look across his boots and other shoes that he might've been wearing but they're all clean. Everything is all clean until you spot the gloves in his bathroom. You quickly shove them in your pockets and make your way to him. He's let the officer in. "I really was just wondering where you were last night?" He's got a little note pad in his hand and a pencil in the other. "Is something wrong?" You ask. Stepping into the room. "Oh uh.. just routine questions. Nothing serious ma'am." He smiles. "Oh.. we just got back from a black ops mission a few hours ago, did something happen?" You ask. "Uh.. well we're just investigating a death at a bar last night. Folks say they saw a man wearing a skull mask and we heard from around that you sometimes wear them." He looks at Ghost.

"Oh.. uh. I usually only wear those when I'm on missions to hide my identity. Don't want people knowing who I am and retaliating against my family." Simon explains. The officer explains. "Do you guys have a superior I can follow this up with? Just to double check?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah of course. I have his phone number right here." You nod. Drawing your phone out of your pocket. You relay the number and Ghost only hopes Captain Price will cover for the both of you. "You mind if I take a peek around?" He asks. "No. Course not." You answer, seeing the fear rise in Simon's eyes.

The officer disappears for a few minutes before coming back. "It doesn't look like I'll have to follow up after all. Someone made report that he had attacked a female and the person acted in defense for her. However we would like them to come forward anyways. So if you happen to hear about any of this, please give me a call." He passes a card to you and you take it. "Thanks officer." You smile. When he leaves, you lock the door behind him. Tugging the gloves out of your pocket. How fast you had acted.

How fast you were willing to cover for a murderer? What other lengths would you go to. To defend the task force?

"You owe me, Riley."

[chleem]

Not a big deal pt1

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament. 

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex, etc.

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

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

♡⸝⸝ (pretend drew is 24 in this one) | p2 | p3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You never thought this day would come. 

The day you lose your virginity. 

You’re in a frat house party miles away from your home, kissing an attractive stranger. Not your ideal way of losing your virginity, but at least you were doing it with an attractive guy. 

His name’s Drew. Yeah. That’s the only thing you know about him. 

And also that he’s a great kisser. 

He’s also the second guy you’ve ever made out with.

You try kissing him with the same pace he is, but that just makes him pull away, looking down at you with hooded eyes and parted lips. “Slow…just relax,” he whispers, and you nod, making him smile. 

You feel his smile against your lips, and you actually listen, slowing down and kissing him at your own pace. You tilt your head back into the pillow, and Drew takes the opportunity to kiss you deeper. 

His hands go under your skirt, massaging your bare thigh. His lips move down your neck, kissing your collarbone and cleavage. 

“Drew…” you moan softly, hands tangled into his hair. 

He pulls away from you, and you immediately miss the warmth of him. But he pulls his shirt off, and your eyes are blessed with the sight of his upper body. You also don’t miss how erected he is. “Your…shirt,” his eyes move to your chest. 

You sit up slightly, and reluctantly pull your top & bra off. Now you feel really, self-conscious. It’s your first time being naked in front of someone, and it felt…unnatural. Is he…going to judge you for your chest size? Or the freckles on around your chest area?

“Beautiful,” he whispers, which surprises you. You feel your entire body going an entire degree hotter than it already was. He then chuckles. “Beautiful,” he repeats again, before leaning in and kissing you. 

You smile against his lips, and lean back into the pillow. Your wrap your arms around his neck as he moves down your chest, and starts kissing around your breast. 

He leaves wet kisses around on both of your breasts, unwrapping and wrapping his mouth around each. Your soft moans drives him to suck on your nipples harder, giving each the right amount of attention. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, when he’s done. He kisses down your stomach, stopping right above your skirt. You look down to meet his hooded eyes, a small trail of drool on the corner of his lips. You shyly smile, knowing you got this insanely attractive man on top of you, making you feel good. “Hey,” you breathe out.

“Hey,” he smiles softly too, his fingers playing with the ribbon on your underwear. He then looks down at your skirt, and pulls the underwear off. Cold air hits your pussy, but you like it. “I wanna fuck you in this skirt.”

Shit. Then he palms your pussy, causing you to arch your back. His free hand pins you back down, as he spreads your legs for him. “You’re soaking wet already.”

“Drew…” you softly say, wrapping your hand around his, the one around your waist. You want him to fuck you. Like, right now. You didn’t care if he found you weird for getting wet just from kissing; you just want him.

He lowers his head between your legs, and you feel his hot breath hit your pussy. Swear, you feel like an orgasm is near. “Lemme eat you first,” he says, kissing your inner thigh. Then, he presses his tongue flat against your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you moan, your hands tugging at his hair. You feel him chuckle lightly, before he starts devouring you. Drew’s tongue was good. He’s eating your pussy, as if it’s his last meal on earth. Maybe you’ll cum just on his tongue alone. 

You feel two of his fingers entering you, and you gasp loudly. It feels good, and really tight. It reminds you again that it’s your first time. Drew plants a kiss on your inner thigh, his fingers moving slowly. 

“You’re…really tight,” he breathes out, and you look down at him, between your legs. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the corner of his lips slightly curled up. “This…you’re not a virgin, are you?”

That comment catches you off-guard. Should you…lie? Tell the truth? Shit. Is he gonna…back out once he knows you’re a virgin? So, you lie. “Been a long time,” you breathe out, his fingers still in you. 

He chuckles, kissing your jawline. “Sure,” he sucks on your collarbone, his fingers starting to busy themselves by thrusting into your hole.  

“Shit,” you curse, breathing heavily. He thrusts his fingers deep into you, stretching you out for him. He makes sure to go deep-deep with his fingers, and you’re pretty sure you’re at your limit. 

He groans at how tight you are, moving back down between your legs. He then plants soft kisses at your pussy, his fingers slowing down. Fuck. You want him to keep going. “Drew…I, I want you,” you voice out, even though the air was practically knocked out your lungs. 

“All yours, babe.”

He pulls his fingers out of you, and gets off the bed. He strips out of his pants and underwear, his erected dick standing tall and proud. Fuck. He’s big. You’re not sure you can take it. 

Drew walks to the nightstand, opening each drawer. He gets lucky in the last drawer, finding a box of condoms. He quickly checks the expiration date, before joining you on the bed yet again. You sit up, watching in anticipation, as he tears the pack open and wraps it around his erection. 

Shit. This was really happening.; You're about to lose your virginity.

You gulp once he’s done, wondering how he’s going to fully fit inside of you. “Drew, that’s-“

“You’ll fit,” he cuts you off, softness in his voice. He pecks your lips, intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning you back down to the mattress. “You’ll fit, and it’ll feel good.”

You nod, trusting a total stranger. 

You watch him adjust his dick to your hole, but only he’ll see since the skirt covers your view. But you feel his tip against the entrance, and you want to squeeze your thighs together. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he compliments, before looking up at you. Butterflies are flying crazy in your stomach. 

He then sticks himself in, and you moan loudly. “Shit,” he kisses your jaw, and you thought that was his whole thing, but then he pushes deeper, his entire dick now nested inside you. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, your free hand scratching Drew’s back. This… this is a completely different feeling compared to just his fingers. It’s a hundred times more thick and…and rough. You’re breathing heavily, and so is Drew, his hot breath fanning your forehead. 

He then moves out, and then thrusts in. You moan, your grip on Drew tight. “Too much?” You hear teasing in his voice, and you look up at him. Sure enough, a small smirk is on his lips. 

You pull him down, and you kiss him as a reply. He kisses you back, and thrusts into you once again. This time, he thrusts harder, making you gasp into his mouth. “I don’t think… I want to go slow on you,” he whispers against your lips. 

Fuckkk. Does he know how hot he is?

“Go ahead,” you breathe out, and his hand squeezes yours tightly after hearing that. His smile is all smitten, kind of matching yours. 

He thrusts into you roughly, and picks up the pace after each one. Your moans are his motivation to keep going, as well as the sound of skin-slapping in the room. The kisses that he trails along your body just serves as a bigger help to your orgasm. 

He even takes one of your legs and hoists it upwards, to get deeper into you. He hits a spot that takes your satisfaction levels to a new ground, pretty sure that he’s hit your g-spot. “Drew…” you moan, the pleasure fogging your mind up. “You… you’re…”

“Mmh?” He groans, biting down on his lip. 

“I think I’m…fuck,” words are hard to form now. 

Was sex suppose to feel this good? Or is it just Drew that makes it feel like you’re in heaven? Either way, it feels so fucking good. 

And with your orgasm near, you’re a bit disappointed that this was ending. Who knows when you’ll find a guy who’ll have sex with you again, or if you’ll ever see this sexy guy again. “I’m close,” you finally say, looking at Drew with hooded eyes. 

“Cum on my dick, babe.”

He kisses your forehead, cheeks, jawline while giving you a few more thrusts. And when he gives you a sloppy kiss, the knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum all over his dick, just like he told you to. 

Drew continues to thrust into you, but slower this time, as he helps himself to his own orgasm. Your body goes limp, so you just watch as he uses you to cum. He moans in your ear when he finally cums, his moan like music to your ears. 

He rests his forehead against yours, the both of you breathing heavily. 

Drew’s the first one to talk. “Told you you’ll fit.”

“Yeah. And… and it was great.”

Shit. As soon as those words leave your mouth, you regret it. Who says that after sex? ‘It was great’. Are you some kind of psycho? Oh my gosh. This guy is probably rethinking all his life decisions, and hoping he never even kissed you. You’re such a stupid-

“Sensational,” he cuts off your thoughts. “It was sensational.”

You stare at him with doe eyes. What? You couldn’t help it; you burst out in laughter. His word choice is funny. He’s funny. And cute. And handsome. 

He chuckles, probably from hearing your laugh. “Just saying.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. You can’t believe that you just lost your virginity to this guy. This…guy who uses the word ‘sensational’ to describe the sex.  This guy who’s insanely handsome with a perfect body. This guy…who, who’s only looking for a hook-up. 

This guy, who you’ll never see again. 

And in this moment, you told yourself, that you'll never make yourself forget about this man.

——

You hate the jersey Luke forced you to wear. 

You didn’t even want to come to this boring basketball game, totally fine with staying at home. But, your parents insisted, since it was the ‘final championship game for regional colleges’. Yeah. Your horrible brother was able to make it to the championship game, and if he won this round, his college student debts would be payed off, or something like that. 

Well, Luke was stressed out enough to not bother you this entire morning, except making you wear his jersey. 

You don’t hate your brother; he’s just very annoying. You grew up with him always teasing you, and never letting you know peace. 

“Did you even wear pants underneath?”

You roll your eyes, lifting your jersey to show the shorts below. “Of course not,” you reply, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. You don’t know why your parents left you alone with Luke, when you didn’t even want to be here at all. 

The commentator for the game announces there to be ten minutes left until the game starts. You look around, and the opposite team is not even out of the locker rooms. Only your brother’s team seen practicing or chilling by the side. Weird. 

“Who are you guys competing against?” You ask, signaling Luke to scoot over on the chair. 

He does; and you sit down beside him, looking onto the court with his teammates practicing. “Um, WCU.”

Why does that college sound very familiar? “They’re…not here yet,” you comment the obvious.

“Fuckers…trust me, y/n, they’re going to lose,” Luke cockily says, leaning forward. 

You furrow your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you turn to your brother. “You score an average of ten points per game.”

“Thirty points. Per game. No wonder you’re so stupid,” he corrects you, and you roll your eyes. You knew your brother was good at basketball, just his attitude cancels out all his good parts. “Hey, I’m not captain for nothing.”

“Wow, so impressive,” you mockingly say, and he slaps your knee. You flinch in pain, even though he only slapped lightly. “Ouch! I’m telling mom.”

“So mature,” Luke rolls his eyes, turning to the court. 

The commentator then asks your brother’s team to gather up front, to shake hands with the opposite team. Some kind of mannerism to show before the game. Problem is, WCU players haven’t even come out of the locker rooms. 

“They think they’re the guests, so they can wait till the last fucking minute,” Luke suddenly complains to you. “Tell you what, their cheeky asses are going to lose so badly-“

“Hey, maybe something happened back there,” you say on purpose, cutting your brother off. He’s rude and egoistic, and you’re embarrassed to admit that you’re related to him. He gives you a ‘what the fuck’ look, and you just shrug. “Who knows.”

“You’re so fucking naive, it’s cute,” he…insults you? Is that an insult? Whatever. He stands up, before turning to face you while stretching. “Watch me beat their asses, y/n. I swear, you’ll see me holding the MVP cup-“

“Let’s welcome… the Western Carolina university! Going against Eastern Carolina university! For the regional basketball championship!” The commentator interrupts, and music starts to play loudly. 

You look over at the court entrance, that’s connected to the locker rooms. 

The players come out in single file, their supporters cheering loudly for them. Their uniforms are white, with red & yellow stripes. All of them are tall (of course) and all have this…dominating aura around them. 

You look at each one of them as they walk onto the court, facing the crowd and waving at familiar faces. You scan their faces, playing a game of smash or pass in your head. 

But when your eyes land on the last one to come in, you couldn’t believe it. 

No fucking way. It was Drew. The Drew that you lost your virginity to, in a frat party at West Carolina. The frat party that your friend convinced you was worth the five hour drive. The frat party, where afterwards, you left without asking for Drew’s number (to be fair, before sex, you both agreed to it being a one-night stand). 

You rub your eyes, hoping you got the wrong person. Nope. It was Drew. Standing there, hands behind his back, emotionless as his eyes scans the crowd. Wearing the basketball team uniform, a bandana keeping his hair back. His face, the same handsome features you stared at when being fucked by him. 

“Look at them, a bunch of losers, right?” Luke sits down beside you, not even trying to lower his volume. 

Oh fuck. “Hey, you alright?” Luke suddenly asks, making you peel your eyes away from Drew. Is it written all over your face that you fucked Drew?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You smile nervously. Your brother would freak out if he found out that you slept with his rival. Wait, he would freak out that you even lost your virginity in the first place. “why…you should go join your team.”

“But you seem-“

“Captain of the Eastern Carolina university team, please make your way to the court!” The commentator announces. 

“That’s you!” You say nervously, patting your brother’s back. 

He looks at you, with worried brows and confused eyes. “Okay…” he gets up, scratching his hair. He gets ready to join them, but then turns back to you again. Luke looks at you mischievously, before saying, “You didn’t give me a good luck kiss yet.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, glancing at Drew. Oh shit. He’s staring at you! Does he recognize you? Of course he does, otherwise he wouldn’t be staring. “Fuck off, Luke,” you embarrassingly say, knowing everyone is waiting for him. 

“C’mon, lil sis,” he pokes his cheek. 

Fuck. Why can’t he ever just fuck off? You roll your eyes, before standing up and giving your brother a peck on the cheek. Why does he always want to embarrass you? Why is he such a pain in the ass?

“Thank you. Although, I never needed luck,” he grins, before running to join his team. You wanna kick him in the balls so hard right now. 

You turn back to Drew, who’s still staring at you. His brows are furrowed, lips in a frown, and head tilted slightly to the side. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is so awkward and embarrassing. You want to disappear into the floor right now. 

You get up and look away from him, walking to the seats behind. Your parents wave at you, and you just smile awkwardly as you walk up the steps.

Please, let this game end quickly. 

——

Whenever Drew scored a point, he would look over at you with a small smirk on his face. Which was, almost always. He must’ve scored over a half for his team (you were exaggerating, but he did consistently score).

And as for your brother, they were behind. Behind by more than twenty points, and it was the last quarter. It was humiliating, and stress was written all over Luke’s face. You’ve never heard your brother yell at his teammates as much as right now, or yell in such a harsh manner.

The last minute of the game. ECU is definitely losing the championship. 

Some of the crowd continues to cheer, and most definitely, the ECU students are bowing. Either at WSU or their school, you’re not so sure anymore. 

Thirty seconds left. You watch as a team member on court starts cheering, wanting Drew to go along with him. But Drew ignores him, saying something serious to him. He listens, and wipes the smile off his face.

Twenty seconds left. Your brother got the ball. A teammate nearby waves to him, wanting to get his attention to pass the ball to him. Luke ignores him; traveling through the court; he wants to score all by himself, just to boost his ego. 

Ten seconds left. Drew defends against Luke, getting close and blocking his way of scoring. 

Five seconds left. Luke jumps at the same time Drew does, and Drew manages to block his ball away, the ball knocked out of your brother’s hands. 

To you, it all happens in slow motion. 

Still in mid-air, your brother pushes Drew, hard. He falls, missing the basketball hoop-pole only by a few centimeters, landing on the hard floor. Shit. 

The bell rings, and the crowd around you all stand up, cheering loudly. Confetti also dropped, further making it hard to see. Fuck. 

“Your brother tried his best,” your mom says, standing up and clapping. 

You furrow your eyebrows at her, standing up beside her. “What? He got a lot of penalties, yelled at the referee, and pushed Drew. He did not play well.”

“Who’s Drew?” Your mom asks, turning to you confusingly. 

Your eyes widen, and you turn away to the court. Shit. “I said crew, mom. He pushed one of the crew from the other team,” you lie. You get to get a glimpse of Drew, who gets up with the help of his teammates. He's rubbing his lower back, pain on his face. Fuck. That fall must’ve hurt. What was your brother thinking?

You watch as the two teams are called to shake hands again, your brother and Drew, standing close to each other. Luke, having a cocky smile on his face, says something to him. Drew says something back, before holding his hand out. Your brother shakes it, his smile now gone, and his expression turned mean. 

What did they say to each other?

After everyone finished shaking hands, ECU went off the court, and WCU was cheering with each other. Luke looked like he wanted to murder someone.

Someone in a suit presents the championship trophy, handing it to Drew, who takes it with a proud smile on his face. Cute. 

Another trophy comes, and the commentator introduces it as the MVP award. It’s handed to Drew too. But he hands the championship trophy to someone beside him, who immediately raises it up high in triumph. 

Then, you make eye contact with Drew. He’s smiling at you, and he holds the trophy near his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, butterflies are forming in your stomach right now. 

But the eye contact breaks when his teammates pull him by wrapping an arm around his neck, urging him to celebrate. You watch as he laughs at something they say, reminding you of that night, when he chuckled after hearing you laugh. 

Fuck. The urge to run down here and talk to him is beating loudly in your mind. 

But you don't. You were nobody to him; just someone he fucked on a random Friday night.

Same goes for you; just someone you lost your virginity to. No big deal. Not something really important. Just...not a big deal, right?

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

word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing this! (ignore my mistakes plsss) there will be a part two, so look forward to it <3 and these next two months i will be very happy, since obx s4 is out (won't stop smiling). also, wondering if anyone has any suggestions on what /who they would like me to write about! (recently thinking of jungkook bts & nicholas chavez)

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 5

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Thanks for all the ideas you guys have been sending in! They're all so wonderful it's hard to choose what to write next haha Hope you guys like this chapter, inspired by some of the ideas sent in

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Excessive drinking, swearing, slow burn, fluff

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

“What are you wearing?”

You look up from your spot on the couch to see Jake standing at the entrance to the living room with a slightly bewildered expression. You grimace at him and then look down at your shirt. “Oh,” you respond with a laugh, remembering that you’d changed a few hours ago after spilling tomato sauce on your tank top. “It’s one of Bradley’s band tees.”

“No,” Jake corrects you, taking a single step forward. “It’s one of my band tees.”

You watch him steadily. “Okay,” you say slowly, not really sure what his problem is. “Do you want it back?” You rise from the couch and start pulling the shirt upward when you realize that you aren’t wearing bra. “Oh shit!” You clap a hand to your mouth. “You almost got a show,” you say with a laugh.

Jake’s eyes, which had drifted down to your bare abdomen as you were lifting the shirt, slide back up to your face. He doesn’t appear nearly as amused as you. On the contrary, he looks like he might pass out. “You – you’re wearing just my shirt?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically brittle.

“Look, what was it doing crumpled up on one of our kitchen chairs, anyway?” you say defensively.

Jake licks his lips uncomfortably. He’s still holding your gaze but he isn’t responding.

You roll your eyes. “Oh god, don’t tell me there was another encounter in my house.”

Jake releases an unsteady sigh. “Would you call strip poker an encounter?”

“Jake!” you exclaim. “You have your own place!”

“It was a double date,” Jake responds sheepishly.

You shake your head. “Well, I hope you enjoyed seeing my brother’s ass.”

“Actually, your brother is surprisingly good at Texas hold’em.”

“Regardless!” You groan in frustration. “How do you walk out without wearing a shirt, Jake?”

Jake purses his lips. “I’m a little hazy on that part, to be honest.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“Well, you look ridiculous,” he counters.

You scoff. “I do not. I can totally pull off” – you drop your chin to examine the front of the shirt – “Pantera,” you finish with a slight cringe.

“Don’t make that face,” Jake says, pointing a cautioning finger at you.

You shrug. “You’re the one who said I look ridiculous.”

“Only because you’re drowning in in.”

“It’s not my fault you’re twice my size,” you retort, noticing that the hem of the t-shirt hangs so low that it hides the shorts you’re wearing underneath.

Jake takes another few steps forward, chuckling. “It’s actually pretty fucking cute that it goes all the way down to your knees,” he says, placing his hand over your head to ruffle your hair. “Keep it,” adds, and then drops onto your couch with a tired sigh.

“I can’t keep it,” you say. “People are going to ask me if I know any of their music –”

Jake waves a hand. “I’ll show you,” he says. “You’re gonna love it, trust me.”

You plop down onto the couch beside him and cross your legs. “Seems a little backwards.”

Jake looks over at you with a grin. “Suits your vibe.”

You smack him on the shoulder and he laughs. Then, there’s a knock on the door and you gasp. “Oh my god, I completely forgot to change for my date!”

Jake’s smile falters instantly. “You have a date?”

You give him a flat look. “Like you don’t.”

He shakes his head.

“Well, give it a minute, I guess,” you respond sarcastically, getting up.

Jake smirks and rises after you. “Maybe he’ll like your new look.”

You let out a nervous whimper and head for the door with Jake right on your heels. You pull open the door and nearly hit Jake with it because he’s so close behind you. You shake your head at him and then greet your boyfriend.

“Hey,” he responds hesitantly, his eyes darting between yours and Jake’s faces. “What’s going on?”

“Not much, come on in,” you say.

Jake remains silent, waiting to be introduced.

“Wow,” your boyfriend says. “What are you wearing?” He tilts his head to examine the shirt. “Pantera? Is that Spanish for panther? That's a lot of skulls.”

You notice Jake making a face at the back of his head and you give him a warning look. “I was just about to change,” you say with a tight smile.

Your boyfriend nods. “Good.”

Jake narrows his eyes and steps around your date to face him. “Hey there,” he says in a loud, exaggerated baritone. He holds out his hand in a gesture that seems more aggressive than polite.

You roll your eyes and rub your forehead irritably. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, eyeing your boyfriend apologetically as Jake throws you a massive grin.

You run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as Jake begins grilling your boyfriend about the last time his vehicle was serviced.

You pull Jake’s t-shirt off and toss it in the hamper, and then you find a cute, backless top that looks great with your jean shorts. You glance at yourself in the full-length mirror before heading back down and smile. You’re a catch. Even if Jake Seresin will never see it that way.

You rush down the stairs just as Jake finishes instructing your boyfriend on how to check the pressure in his tires. The latter is watching him with a dubious expression.

“Alright, let’s roll!” you say, bouncing off the final step and charging the space between them.

Jake steps back as you crash into him, forcefully shoving him aside. “What time will you kids be back?” he asks as you hook your arm through your boyfriend’s and lead him out onto the porch.

You glance over your shoulder crossly. “No clue,” you say curtly, in response to which Jake gives you a once-over, as if he’s just noticed your attire.

When his eyes meet yours again, he’s wearing a more genuine expression. “Be careful,” he calls.

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction and turn to face your date, who is repeatedly checking to see if Jake has retreated into the house. “Is that your brother?” he asks.

…

Several hours and seven tequila shots later, you’re suddenly feeling extremely unwell. You stagger down the hallway, zigzagging between the walls toward the bathroom and, once you’re inside, you lock the door behind you and slide down the wall onto the floor.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, and it flies right out of your hand. With a groan, you crawl forward to pick it back up. You blink to focus your eyes on the screen, your thumb hovering over your brother’s name. You would call him, except that Bradley has been at the Hard Deck every night this past week, trying to woo the bartender. So, he probably isn’t in any condition to come and pick you up.

You sigh, squinting at Jake’s name in your contacts list. If you call him, he will never let you live this down. But the longer you wait, the faster the room spins around you and, by the time you tap on his number, you feel like you are on death’s doorstep, laying your back down on the cold, tiled floor.

“Hello?” Jake answers. “Y/N?” You can hear the edge in his tone despite the sounds of the bar in the background.

“Jake,” you say weakly.

“What’s going on?” he asks urgently as the background noises fade away. You hear the ring of the door as he steps outside. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hm,” you lie. “I’m just very, very drunk. And I think I’m dying. The two are probably related.”

“Where are you?” he asks sternly and you hear the beep of his car as he unlocks the door.

“I’m at a house party,” you croak. “On the first floor. In the bathroom down the hall.”

You hear Jake sigh and then his car door slam when he pulls it shut. Next, you hear the engine. “The address, genius.”

“Oh,” you say. “Fuck if I know.”

“Drop a pin.”

“’Kay, hang on.” You lift the phone away from your ear and hold it up to send Jake your location. Only, your grip falters and your phone comes crashing down onto your face. “Ow!” you moan.

“Y/N?” Jake’s distressed voice is muffled by the fluffy bathroom mat on which your phone has landed.

You whimper and pick it back up. “Can you hurry?” you say, bringing the phone to your ear again.

“Y/N, I need you to concentrate, okay?” he says, steadily. “I still don’t know where you are.”

You let out a soft sob. “I’m in the bathroom!”

“For fuck’s sake, Bradshaw! Pay attention!” he yells and you flinch, nearly dropping your phone all over again. “I need the address!”

“Oh, right!” you exclaim. “Hang on.” You sit up and try again. “Did you get it?”

There’s a pause on the other end while Jake checks his phone. “Yeah, I got it. I’m ten minutes out.”

“Okay,” you respond with a slight whine. “That’s a very long time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be there in five.”

“’Kay, don’t speed,” you mutter, closing your eyes as you lay back down onto the floor.

You hear Jake chuckle. “Did you forget who you’re talkin’ to?”

You sigh softly, too tired to actually laugh. “Jake,” you say. “I feel like I’m on a carousel in the middle of the ocean.”

“Hang in there, shorty,” he says. “Where’s your boyfriend, anyway?”

“No idea. Last time I saw him was when he lost at beer pong. Such a sore loser.”

“Classy,” Jake remarks. Then, after a few moments of silence, he says. “Keep talkin’, darlin’, I’m almost there.”

“I’m just going to take a little nap,” you say sleepily.

“I’d rather you keep talkin’, so I know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you reply. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks.

“You know what my favorite color is,” you say with amusement.

Jake chuckles. “Fine. Tell me about your plans for the weekend.”

“A nice, quiet funeral,” you say, willing the ceiling to stop rotating above you. “You’re invited.”

Jake snorts. “You any good at poker?”

“I’m not playing strip poker with my brother, Jake.”

“We can keep it PG for you, kiddo. Besides, Bradley might be too busy for us, anyhow.”

“Aww, did he get a date with the barmaid?”

“He got a date with the barmaid.” You can hear the smile in Jake's voice.

“But he’ll miss my funeral.”

Jake laughs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, cupcake, but I’m here. So, we’ll have to postpone that funeral, if you don't mind.”

The knowledge that he’s close by is a such relief that you let the phone slip out from your hand. In less than a minute, he’s knocking on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” he says cautiously.

“Yeah,” you respond, rising unsteadily to your feet and unlocking it for him.

He bursts in and you stagger backward, so he grabs your hand and pulls you forward, and you sway right into his arms. Jake holds you tightly as you try to regain your footing. He lowers his face to get a good look at you. “Having a good night?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

You strike his chest with your palm half-heartedly. “Don’t be mean,” you murmur, resting your head on his solid pecs.

He smells fresh and warm and you detect a trace of cologne still infused into the cotton of his shirt; smooth and velvety with a hint of citrus and a hefty dose of ‘I’m about to rip your clothes off’ sandalwood.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” you say, bringing a hand over your mouth.

“It’ll probably make you feel better,” he says, gesturing to the toilet in the corner of the bathroom.

You shake your head, refusing to throw up in Jake Seresin’s presence. “Let’s just get out of here,” you whimper.

Jake leads you carefully through the house, making sure you aren’t bumping into any people or walls. Your boyfriend, of course, is nowhere to be found. Jake brings you outside and steers you toward his car. Without letting go of you, he opens the passenger door and helps you into the seat slowly. You drop your head back and close your eyes as he brings the seatbelt over your chest and buckles you in.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Wow, you smell like a distillery,” he notes with a laugh.

You smile and open your eyes. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why would I be mad?” he asks, still leaning into the passenger side of the car.

You shrug. “Because I’m irresponsible,” you try to say, however the words come out very slurred.

Jake chuckles. “You’re probably the most responsible person I know,” he says. He reaches up to tuck back a strand of your hair, his fingers drifting down the side of your face and lingering for a moment at your cheek. “You deserve a night off.”

You stare into his eyes, all the feelings you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling up in your gut, together with your nausea. What’s worse, your head is spinning even harder, if that’s possible. If only Jake knew how much you longed for him. If only he know how much you wanted him to kiss you.

“Cheer up, buttercup,” he says with a wink, pinching your chin affectionately. “You’re going to feel so much worse tomorrow. In fact, we should probably save your introduction to heavy metal until after your hangover.”

Read Part 6

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[italian-lit-tournament]

Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

[astaroth1357]

The OM Cast as Househusbands

Inspired by my recent rant about domestic Solomon.

Contents: Pure fluff and unhinged roasts.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

A-tier. Generally a solid choice skill-wise.

Cooks decent, cleans well, budgets FANTASTICALLY, has a good list of connections/spells for all home repair, and even has a stern (but caring) parenting-style if so desired.

In short, Lucifer can run a house very well. He practically already does! Hope you like having a big, extended family because the brothers are coming with.

Really, the biggest downside to Lucifer is that you'll be constantly worried that he's bored... Man can run a house and then some. He probably has the daily chores done by noon, and then what?

He just has so much extra potential, is what I'm saying. Very "big, beautiful bird in a cramped cage" energy. But then again, maybe making him chill the fuck out and have a low-maintenance lifestyle for once is better for his blood pressure in the long run. Your call.

Mammon

B-tier. He ain't perfect, but he can learn quick.

If you can give Mammon anything, it's that he's a capable guy when he wants to be. He may not be good at cleaning up, cooking, or anything like that on his own, but with some encouragement...?

Big improvements made practically overnight! Shower him in praise and "thank you's" for every little thing he does and he'll start get greedy for it. Then he'll do even MORE around the house and he gets better each time.

Show him how to cook what you like, and he'll never forget. Remind him to fold up the laundry, and he'll get it done. Praise him for keeping the floors clean, then suddenly he's nagging YOU about tracking dirt on the carpet...

And he'll get so proud about it too... Like, he's your first man and you NEED him now. What would you ever do without him?? Now hand over your shirts because he has some ironing to do, dammit!!

The only downside is you'll have to handle the finances... The words "Mammon" and "budget" go together about as well as "grainery" and "match." He'll blow through it and then some. Earners beware.

Leviathan

Hovers around C-D tier. Levi can play the role of good househusband for a VERY particular kind of partner, otherwise he's a lost cause.

He is a surprisingly decent househusband ONLY when sufficiently motivated and playing out his "domestic slice-of-life" fantasies are that motivation.

He can cook (anime-inspired dishes), he can clean (if you convince him to treat the house like he does his figurine collections), he can even sew/mend (though the majority of what he makes may be cosplay related)!

He won't leave the house to shop, but deliveries are fine. He also can't keep to a budget that doesn't include a MASSIVE chunk carved out to maintain his otaku lifestyle. He'll throw a fit otherwise.

Really, Levi's biggest problem is that once those "domestic fantasies" become mundane, he'll get bored and go back to his shows and games again.

Anyone with him would need to keep feeding into his role with new "quests" or different tropes to try out like a DM running an irl campaign. Could be fun for a little while, but it'll be too much trouble for you both long term. Best give him a skip.

Satan

S-tier. Very good choice, and he's proud of that fact.

Cooks well, very conscientious of your needs, knowledgeable on many topics from recipes to home repair, actually knows how to do laundry in a timely manner... a very good man indeed.

100% the kind of husband who sees that it's going to rain, so he treks out to wherever the hell you are to make sure you have an umbrella. Can't have you getting sick.

Get him a cat and the house will become his own slice of the Celestial Realm. He'll even text cute pics/updates on what your cat is doing like they're your literal child.

Only downside is cleaning. He's a book horder and will argue until he's blue in the face to keep Every. Last. Pamphlet. An in-house library is a MUST and expect to need expansions. Otherwise, perfect man. Much approval to be had.

Asmodeus

B-A tier. Another decent choice, just a little eccentric at times.

Asmo is that partner who will happily play the part of the trophy househusband buuut he absolutely won't do anything too strenuous or dirty.

Cooking? Totally fine! He isn't amazing, but he's not awful either. Laundry? Say no more! Your clothes will never have a wrinkle again. But cleaning...? Like the floors, attic, or ESPECIALLY the bathroom??

Nope. Nuh-huh. His cute-ass hair and his cute-ass nails in his cute-ass clothes will not stand for it! He's going to beg for a maid immediately.

I guess in exchange you'll be hosting some killer dinner parties, though! Asmo has that "suburban wife who flaunts her amazing life" energy. Also keeping his influencer game alive with tutorials galore.

In short, Asmo is willing not just to spoil you, but elevate you as well. You just need to give him a little pampering in return, kay?

Beelzebub

B-tier. Most of his problems are, predictably, food related...

Beel really, REALLY tries but you are probably never going to have a meal on time (if there's somehow any food left at all).

It isn't that he won't cooking, arguably, he spends TOO much time cooking because he'll spend just as much time eating! Or running to the store because he ate the ingredients again...

Surprisingly, though, he's actually very good at cleaning and caring for another person. That's because it's what he does for Belphie. You think the seventhborn is picking up their room AT ALL? Don't kid yourself...

Probably a good time to point out that another downside (or perk??) of husband!Beel is you also get Belphie! But he's just as spoiled as ever so... Hopefully Beel's overwhelming amazingness will make up for that.

If you like Belphie and don't mind an empty cabinet, Beel is a good choice. If not, there are better options available, I promise.

Belphegor

D-tier. Shit househusband. Doesn't even try.

Won't clean, won't cook, won't shop, can't fix, can't budget, and don't even get me STARTED on the state of the sheets!!-

He is a decorative plant of a househusband. Meant only to make the room look nicer by his presence. I've seen dogs more capable and self-motivated to maintain a household than this man will ever be.

Should you somehow get him to exert the effort, he will whine and complain the entire time. And even then, he won't do much more than put some things away and order takeout.

The only upside to Belphie is that since he's always asleep, it's not like he's making the house any dirtier. Vacuuming around his unconscious ass is home life now. At least you probably get Beel too.

Diavolo

C-B tier. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

So... he basically can't do anything but since he's never had to, you can cut him some slack. He loves the idea of TRYING though, so you have an eager student!

He finds cooking to be a fun challenge and he isn't terrible at it. Cleaning is a drag but he likes to see you happy. You'll have to teach anything laundry/clothes related, unfortunately, and sending him to the grocery store without a very detailed list may result in him buying an entire aisle if he doesn't know what to get.

At least he'll genuinely love to hear about your day and have the biggest smile and warmest greeting for you every time you come home. He's like a big'ol puppy, just thrilled with your existence!

(Honestly, if something has him stumped, he'll call for Barbatos to help. He'll try to hide it because he wants to show that he can do things himself, but at the end of the day your happiness wins over his pride. Now let the butler fix your plumbing.)

Barbatos

SS-tier. So good, it's literally not fair.

He's been caring for another person for centuries. He has every possible skill he would need permanently etched into his DNA. He is the Grand Master of Domestic Life that all others should strive for.

Meals are at perfect temperature by the time you sit at the table. The house is so spotless that you could eat off the broom closet. Anything that breaks gets fixed/replaced within the day. He even leaves words of encouragement in the little notes packed up with your lunch. You'll start to wonder if he's an angel who's infiltrated too deep....

Barbs also seems to have a sixth sense for whenever you've had a bad day. You come back dragging from exhaustion? You favorite meal is already cooked, the bath is ready to be drawn, and would you like a shoulder rub on top of that? Feel free to vent, he loves to listen to whatever stories you have to share!

There are only two downsides to Barbatos: the first is that you are absolutely sharing him still with Diavolo and the young master is his top concern. So sorry.

The second is that moment he gets even the hint that there may be a rat in the house, he'll nuke the place with all of your stuff still in it. So keep some traps out and keep'em fresh, yeah? You'll be fine.

Simeon

S-tier. He even comes with pre-installed parenting skills! (If you're into that kind of thing).

Simeon may not have Barbs' "live to serve" mentality, but he is truly an angel to a fault. The man already acts as Den Mother of Purgatory Hall, so what would you expect?

He cooks well enough to own his own business and you can't run a business without being good with your cash. He probably has book royalties too... Plus, he cleans up after Solomon's messy ass in canon, so-

He's gonna be that husband you take to the office party and nobody will leave you alone about him for the next week. People are going to ask if he has a brother or some shit (give them Raph's number, I dare you)

Admittedly, home repair (especially of the electronics he's guaranteed to break) should probably go to someone else. Also, he is a package deal with Luke. That child is your unspoken son now, and you'll just have to deal with that.

Otherwise, he's trophy material. Marry him and carry him over that threshold! He's worth it, truly.

Solomon

I've already ranted about Solomon here. But if you aren't aware, he's D-tier saved only by the fact that he's really trying his best.

800 year-old bachelor be like: "Oh, you're supposed to change those...? They don't smell that bad after a month."

"Of course those dishes are clean! Yes, I can see that there's still food on them, but I washed them with soap. That's what makes them clean."

"What do you mean, 'Don't set the table with beakers on date night?' Isn't this one your favorite??"

"Dinner's almost done, honey! Just let me finish clubbing this octopus!" 😁

Disaster husband. Just leave him to his delusions and get used to takeout...

[allbark-no-bite]

Maniac || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: she’s dancing in the kitchen while Rafe’s falling in love

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ smut

author’s note: inspired loosely by Macklemore’s ‘Maniac’

He's laughing now, low and attractive, his pearly teeth on display. His crossed arms bounce against his chest as it rumbles. From the radio sat on the counter, music bounces through the expanse of the kitchen.

"I am not dancing with you."

"C'mon! Get over yourself, Cameron!"

Warm, lemon yellow light slowly creeps across the white kitchen walls, and it makes her hair flash a rich golden color as she twirls through the sunbeams.

Rafe remembers exactly when he fell in love with her because it was a moment similar to this one. She's half dressed, dancing in the kitchen in her tube socks. Her hair is a mess, falling out of the already sloppy bun it's been thrown in, and he's not even sure she's wearing anything under the billowy mass of his shirt. The buttons are misaligned and he's half hoping it will fall further down her shoulder just so he can prove his theory.

God, does she get on his nerves. "Of you? Or looking like an idiot?" Rafe braces himself against the countertop, his lean body relaxed.

Right now he's just content to watch her, socked feet sliding against the white kitchen tile as she does what he has to admit is a fairly decent impression of the moonwalk. Thankfully he doesn't speak too soon because she stumbles over her own feet at the end, catching herself just before she hits the floor.

Rafe just shakes his head, blue eyes shining with a light that only she can put in them. "You're a maniac." His heart hurts. He wishes this wasn't so complicated.

Rafe met (y/n) through Topper, his best friend since grade school. Consequently, Topper was also (y/n)'s older brother. Now, he wants to make this point clear, he never set out to fuck his best friend's kid sister. Shit just happens. He had always liked her, of course, but everyone did. She didn't rat out anything they did at parties, and she was always down to hang out and do... other things. His favorite of those things being the time they had sex in the backseat of Topper's jeep. They'd emerged an hour later, faces hot and clothes rumpled, and returned back to the party as if nothing happened.

Rafe is sure Topper knows he's doing less than decent things with his little sister — they did leave his car reeking of sex for the whole next week — but for the most part, they keep whatever is between them under wraps. She says it's because she doesn't want to hurt her brother if things go south. Rafe knows it's because she's seventeen and doesn't want to commit to anything she doesn't have to.

"We aren't dating, Rafe. You know that."

He's just proposed that they go with Kelce and his girlfriend to the golf club tomorrow.

"Bullshit," he laughs, grinning from ear to ear. She was bad for him, her and her flighty indecisiveness, but so were a lot of other things he did. Rafe figured there were worse things that could kill him.

"You'll get over me eventually. I promise."

He's really grinning now because he knows she's all talk. "Sure," he relents, playing along for the sake of the conversation. "And when I don't?"

She's rolling her eyes now but still smiling as he takes her hand and twirls her around, her toes twirling delicately across the kitchen floor. "You're just like my brother. You'll find another Sarah Cameron and move on with your life."

He actually scoffs at that. "I'd rather not think about the things your brother does to my sister."

"I'm sure Top feels the same way," she refutes, sidling closer to Rafe until they're nearly pressed chest to chest. The collar of the shirt has slidden off her shoulder, well below her collarbone, and still there's no bra strap in sight. He swallows, a hand sliding up the back of her bare thigh to cup the curve of her backside and pull her closer to him.

She must notice his tentativeness because she offers him a cheeky look, cupping her hand over his own. "No need to be shy. If you're going to touch me then get going with it."

Rafe's blue eyes flit to hers, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a shy smile, as if he's been caught contemplating and she read his mind. His other hand glides up her shirt, reveling at the warmth of her skin before sliding home. The bud of her breast pebbles under the swipe of his thumb and she shivers.

"What's wrong with being shy?" he mumbles, his head ducking to mouth at the cavern of her collarbone. Her body is warm and impossibly alive in his hands. There are often times like this one that he cannot fathom the fact that like him, she is a living, breathing person. He can feel her heart thumping under the weight of his palm, almost unbearably alive.

The tent in his pants must betray him because she laughs. "Rafe Cameron, you have never been shy a day in your life." Her hips grind up into his and he muffles a groan into her skin. He would say she knows him too well but really there's no hiding what's happening in his pants.

His fingers tug down at her shirt as he cranes his neck lower to mouth at the tender swell of her breast. A pleased sound escapes her. Before she can grip him through his shorts, he swiftly grabs her wrist, placing it instead on his waist. "Later," he huffs. His dick can wait.

When her hand again slips past the waistband of his boxer, his teeth catch her skin, reprimanding her. "Later, dammit," Rafe scolds, but there's no bite to his voice. He's smiling again as he kisses the welp better. His hands are on her waist, thumbs digging in below her hipbones to pull her body into his. Her fingers are in his hair, tickling his scalp and making him sigh into her skin. Rafe smoothes his tongue over the hickey forming on the top of her breast, making sure to attend to the other side as well.

With her hands still in his hair, Rafe drops to his knees on the kitchen tile. He is very, very pleased to find that she is not wearing panties. Narrowing his blue eyes, he shoots her a knowing glare. "You're nothing but trouble, kid."

Her hands tangled in his hair push his head back down. "You sound like you're trying to catch a case calling me that."

Rafe laughs at her impatience. At first he had been painfully aware of their three year age gap. She was Topper's litter sister for god's sake — practically a baby when he was a senior in high school. That number has faded over the years but it doesn't mean he doesn't like to tease her.

Grinning, his nose drags along the tan of her bikini line. She smells like sun tan oil and something he can't quite place. He would like to linger a while longer to figure it out but he's afraid she'll get too impatient with him.

Palms griping the backs of her thighs, he licks through her folds. The contact makes her body jump, but her fingers tighten as much as they can in his cropped hair, forcing his face closer. He just knows his jaw is going to ache tomorrow. Is it actually good head if it doesn't? He doesn't think so.

Rafe drags his tongue up to her clit before sucking at it. She squeaks at this, legs quivering beside his head. Just when he thinks she's going to lose her balance, she thankfully grabs on to the counter behind her before they both topple to the floor.

"Holy..." she begins, but doesn't even finish her sentence.

Grunting, Rafe has to force his wide shoulders in between her knees to keep them open as he laps at her. His tongue dips further into her, causing his nose to nudge her clit each time his mouth explores her further.

Eventually he becomes more insistent with his actions, lapping at her clit until she's whimpering, sensitive to the point that he doesn't know if she's more keen on shoving his head towards her or pushing it away. She comes with a cry, squirming in his hands as his tongue finishes the job properly.

"Oh god, I love you. Please. Fuck, you're— Right there."

Rafe pulls away just a fraction to breathe. "What'd you say?"

He's sure she can still feel his hot breath against her weeping cunt. There's arousal leaking down her thighs and he can feel it dripping down from his chin to his neck.

Panting, her cheeks are flushed as she looks down at him, but he has a feeling it's not from him. "What?" she stammers. "Nothing."

He grins cheshire-like up at her. His hands rub the backs of her thighs soothingly before squeezing her calfs. "You said the "L" word," he accuses.

Her eyes widen in realization. "No. No, I didn't," she protests.

Rafe rises to his feet, hands trailing up her body as his smile grows wider. She's trapped between his body and the counter and has no choice but to try and dodge him as he tries to catch her eyes. "What was it?" He taunts, laughing. "Say it again, baby?"

She tries to cover her face with her hands but with Rafe's overpowering strength, the attempt is useless. Even hiding halfway behind her arms, he can tell she's smiling. "I didn't! I didn't say anything!"

"C'mon! Baby. Baby, look at me." Rafe pulls her her rigid arms away from her face and holds them out to either side of her head. "Hey, I said look at me."

Leveling his gaze with her, they lock eyes for a moment, neither saying anything. Although her expression is fairly calm, if not a little pensive, he can tell she’s searching his face for a reaction. Timidly, he presses his lips to hers, stealing a chaste kiss before pulling away again.

“I love you too.”

[yanderederee]

The head-canons that could be written for this on new canon info is too great—

First order of business: Hakkai is #1 Mitsuya Fangirl with idol lights, headbands, tee shirts and everything

Angry as drummer makes so much sense. He doesn’t know what he’s doing half of the time, he just has that good of beat awareness and rhythm control.

Kazutora BEEN knowing how to play Guitar. He and Baji tried learning together, but Baji kind of got bored of it.

I could write guitarist Baji headcanons for days, but my first line of thought is that playing couldn’t keep his interest.

Kazutora has naturally long fingers that make reaching all the notes really easy. He’s very good, and learns all his favorite songs as practice before the band was even put together.

Akkun thought learning base would make him look cool, initially. He liked the deep cords and also caught on pretty fast.

Akkun’s always has spare guitar picks on him, which is great when Kazutora always forgets his.

Mitsuya…….. now Mitsuya-

He just naturally has beautiful vocals. He’s written a lot of solo songs where he can express his vocal range.

Luna and Mana Love listening to their brother, and often he will sing them lullabies of his own creation to sleep …

The Band is definitely more Punk Tone.

They all try to write songs together, but they can never agree on anything when working collaboratively like that.

They all actually get along really well, and don’t fight often. It’s just that while they play great together, they’re not often on the same page with collaborative ideas.

Just how Angry just flows well with whatever beat Akkun and Kazutora give him, Mitsuya will just listen to them play and come up with genius lyrics to match

Kazutora does better when he’s given a script, or cord inspiration.

“Play something close to Asterisk*, and we’ll go from there.” “Okaaay!”

Idk that’s all I got I know it’s silly and nothing but.

If you come up with more headcanons pls tag me in them ♡ preferably something with more Angry !!

[mistressroxielove]

Hey everyone~ I'm back, and this time with a new fixation!

Long story short, I've discovered the new Fairly Oddparents reboot, absolutely loved it and was inspired to make this AU idea for the show! With a slight reimagine/redesign of the characters as well. And the first one I decided to do was Peri!

Here's some more info about my AU:

Fairly Odd Parents AU/Rewrite

Au Name: FairlyOdd Brother

Summary:

Perri (previously known as Poof) recently graduated from Fairy Godparents School and is eager to start granting Wishes for his very own godchild! Only problem is that with his lack of experience Jorgen is weary of giving him an assignment and keeps finding excuses/reasons to not give him a godkid. Realizing it might be a 1,000 years before they give him a chance to be a Fairy Godparent, Perri decides he needs to be a little bold and perhaps, bend Da Rules, to get his foot in the door so to speak. And his answer comes to him from a new neighbor in his human home, a family with a sweet shy 10 year old girl who is absolutely miserable. Perhaps Perri might be able to offer this girl a little comfort and fun as her new Fairy Godbrother!?

(Basically the same premise of the show, except Perri’s first godchild is Hazel, and through a technicality in the rule book, becomes her god brother instead of her godparent.)

ALSO please note this AU is more of a slight reimagine of the original show, meaning I did tweaked / changed some of the characters personality to match the new story I made for them. Nothing majorly different, but again just a heads up before you read on. Hope you like it~

Name: Hazel Wells

Age: 10

Sex: Female

Physical Description: 

Basically the same as the show's design, I slightly changed her shirt to become a sweater with a turtleneck. I sorta did that by accident when drawing her, but I ended up really liking the look and thought it matched the semi new personality I gave her so I kept it. 

Personality: 

-Hazel is a very sweet and kind person with some quirky interest, more or less similar to the canon version of her in the show

-The big difference between my Hazel and the shows is that she’s much more shy and awkward than in the actual show

-Feeling very out of place in a new city/school with her brother off at college and her parents working much more than usual has left the poor girl more shy and anxiety ridden than usual. 

-She still likes rocks and manga like in the show, but in her old school she was bullied and made fun of for her interest, so she’s more shy/embarrassed to admit what she likes

-But she still tries to be a good person and do the right thing whenever she can, just again she hindered by her shyness and fear of being bullied and made fun of, just wants to fit in and be an average kid

Other fun facts:

-Was bullied a lot in her last school, her parents and teacher tried to help her but despite their best effort it did little to stop the problem. It wasn’t until her older brother Anthony started to walk her to and from school that helped deter the other bullies from picking on her. Though Anthony meant well for helping his little sister, his method of helping her did little to teach Hazel how to actually stand up for herself and how to deal with bullies in general. Now without him around and her parents busy with their work, she is unintentionally thrown into a new situation with no social skills on how to defend herself from other people or how to even make any friends (she didn’t really have any of those back home). But perhaps with the help of a certain periwinkle fairy she might be able to learn to socialize and how to defend herself from bullies, and hopefully become just an average kid with friends and learn to thrive in the new city. 

-Essentially Peri is the one to teach and encourage her to be more bold, as he’s the one to really get her to make wishes freely and to try new things and to teach her to not be afraid of anyone or anything, slowly with his help she becomes more and more like the canon version of Hazel in the show. As Peri ends up being a good role model to her.   

Short summary of how she ended up with Peri:

Moving into a new city feeling all alone. Since her parents are excited to be here with both of them finally getting their dream jobs, Hazel tries to act ‘mature’ about the situation and tries to put on a brave face for her parents. But in reality is having a hard time in her new environment, as she finds herself in a new school and too shy to make friends, let alone talk to anyone. The only person talking to her is Dev who is supposedly ‘famous’ or something. (she doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t really acknowledge him, much to Dev’s surprise). 

If that wasn’t bad enough her parents are working much more at their new jobs and have essentially left her to be watched by the neighbor next door, a strange though friendly guy named Peri. She and Peri get along okay, and she’s mostly pushed through with the reminder that her brother will be visiting this weekend, and surely once she talks to him she’ll know everything will be just fine.

But things fall apart when being watched by Peri she gets a call from her brother stating due to the weather he won’t be able to visit this week and won’t be able to come up until at least his next break, Which is a couple months away! Distraught by this news Hazel prepares to pack up and leave to try and somehow get to her brother on her own, only to be stopped by her ‘babysitter’ who tries to reason with her and talk her out of it. Despite his usually persuasive ways she’s simply too upset to think straight and in a fit of frustration wishes she could just fly to Anthony. Which, similar to the actual show's first episode, causes Peri to turn her into a fly!  

The part of the episode happens similar to the original first episode, with Peri trying to get Hazel home before her parents come back from their work. He eventually does but again similar to the first episode Hazel gets stuck in a venus fly trap as Peri tries to get her to wish to turn back into her original form. After the talk with the ant Hazel realizes her mistake and finally wishes to become human again before her parents could discover what went wrong.

After the commotion, Hazel goes to Peri’s apartment to question who he is and what the heck just happened. Peri tries to deny it but during their conversation he realizes that technically speaking…..Hazel did have good and caring parents. They weren’t the reason why she was sad and miserable, she was miserable because her brother wasn’t with her anymore and she desperately missed him. And technically speaking, there was no rule or need to ask Jorgen or the fairy council to become a kids Godbrother. He only needed their permission to be a Godparent. And besides……..he more than understood the feeling of missing a big brother.

After talking and realizing just how miserable this poor girl was, Peri decides to take a gamble and formally introduce himself to her as her new Fairy Godbrother! In similar fashion to how he introduced himself to Dev in the original show. Making a promise to take Hazel from being a shy and scared girl into a brave and bold kid with lots of fun and magic along the way. 

Hazel, after the smoke and glitter shimmers away for the first time, feels pure joy at the sight, and for the first time feels confident and even excited for the future, and what this city and the people have to offer her! 

Sooooo ya, tell me what you guys think! Any questions or suggestions for the AU I would love to hear, good to be back!

Previous - Next

[avatar-saiki]

Mammon's First

*Inspired by Nightbringer Lesson 3-17*

Mammon/Reader, 5.3k words

Summary: NSFW, 18+ (put simply, you're the first to go down on the Great Mammon, enjoy~)

After that day…

It was hard to want to get up again.

Mammon sighed, scrolling through random apps on his D.D.D., searching but not really looking for anything in particular. Just wanted to forget… to not think… to not feel like…

Stupid.

He was so stupid.

He tossed the device aside and buried his head under the pillows.

Worthless.

No.

Worse than worthless.

If he hadn’t—

Knock knock.

“Mammon?”

He groaned and pulled the pillow tighter over his head, trying to drown out the sounds of outside. 

Just go away.

He couldn’t… find the energy…

Knock knock.

“Mammon, I know you’re in there.”

“Yeah, and I ain’t comin’ to the door,” he muttered under his breath, “so take a hint.”

The knob jiggled, but you soon found it to be locked.

“Mammon, open up.”

He lifted his head and frowned over his shoulder at the door. Were demons always this pushy or was it just you? Most the other ones he’d met didn’t give a shit, so why were you taking your job as an attendant so seriously?

“All right… fine,” you said, your footsteps finally retreating from the door.

Good.

He relaxed and laid down on his arms again, sulking. He didn’t want someone to be around him while he—

BANG!

Startled, he whirled around just in time to see the door rattle again with another massive kick.

BANG!

“If you’re not going to answer, I’ll just break the door down!”

“Wait, wait hold on!” He yelled back, falling out of bed. Demons were insane! Who the fuck tries to break down a door?! “Gimme a sec!”

He kicked a discarded shirt off to the side on his way to the door and opened it a crack, “What’re you doin’ here? I didn’t ask for a—”

“Finally,” you said, grabbing the door and pushing it even further. “What do you think you’re doing? It’s rude not to answer.”

“I—” he stared at you, perplexed. “It’s rude to bust my door down!”

You laughed and leaned against the door with a hand on your hip. “It got you to answer, didn’t it?”

This demon. This attendant. You were… so confusing.

But…

He sighed and stepped aside to let you in, “You just can’t help stickin’ your nose in other people’s business, can ya?”

“Nope~” You hummed, sauntering in with a wink. “I am your attendant after all, it’s my job.”

“I don’t think that’s what an attendant does,” he muttered, turning his back to you to click the door shut. 

“Well, it’s what this one does,” You teased, and well, you was right. You’d been the first… he didn’t even know what to call you. Friend? Was that stupid? The only demons he’d really interacted with after falling were the king, Diavolo, and Barbatos and none of the other demons really trusted them or had their own grudges. But you…

He glanced over his shoulder at you, considering.

Did you… actually care?

You smiled at him, almost like you could read his mind and he turned away again.

“Okay,” he said quietly, leaving the door unlocked for you. Even if you were just doing it for some job, you were still… “Look, I’m just gonna talk and you might just happen to hear something but it doesn’t mean anything, got it?”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back against his pool table and crossing your legs at the ankle. “Makes sense to me.”

He watched you through the corner of his eye. So… calm and unfazed, like this was no big deal to you at all. 

Maybe you didn’t have to care.

You just had to listen.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said gently.

“I don’t even know what I wanna say,” he admitted. Or where to start.

“I just want to know what’s on your mind,” you said, and he felt his eyes sting a little.

Why?

“I… I just…” He clenched his fists, unable to look at you again. “What I did for my younger brothers… trying to tame Cerberus… I just…”

Just wanted to help.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the door, feeling the weight grow heavier and wishing he could just sink into the floor.

“Life’s different here. I didn’t even think about what it meant to become a demon, or what the folks here would think. Or…” Or how hard it was for the others. Asmodeus was always so cheerful, but it felt less real now, like he only dabbled in the surface rather than show his genuine side. And the twins…

The twins he felt like a real failure. They both acted fine now, but they… they hadn’t…

What kind of older brother was he?

He didn’t even know what was going on until it was too late.

“I know I said we all chose to follow Lucifer here,” he said, feeling his voice thick in his throat. “I know I said we all had our reasons doing what we did, but…” He swallowed, only to feel his throat getting tighter. “The truth is… I think it was like that for the others, but…”

He couldn’t.

“Are you okay?”

He tensed, your question so soft when he felt so raw.

“Y-Yeah,” he said, stepping back from the door and tilting his head up, keeping his eyes closed. “I just… I didn’t have a special reason. No great purpose. Nothin’ like that.” He smiled at himself, such a pathetic excuse. “I just tagged along without even thinkin’.”

“Well, not everything has to be done for a reason or great purpose,” You said with a shrug, “Plenty of people do things for no reason at all.”

“Yeah…” he chanced a glance at you, “Though, if we’re bein’ honest I would’ve followed him anywhere he went, so long as it meant I got to stay with him. I didn’t even give it a second thought really,” he shrugged, walking over to you. “I knew I was going to go with him, but maybe I should’ve thought about it, y’know?”

You nodded, eyes focused on your shoes. “So you’re saying you have regrets about what happened? About being here?”

He shook his head immediately, “No. Even if I did think about that stuff, I still would’ve gone with Lucifer I know that much.”

You giggled a bit. “What’s the big deal then, if you know your choices would’ve been the same?”

“Well because—” He caught himself, then let out a frustrated sigh and shifted his weight to one leg. “Because… when it comes down to it, I’m worthless on my own. I can’t do anything right.” Just like in the Celestial Realm, he’d never been that good at taking the lead or guiding younger angels in anything. It wasn’t even until Lucifer that he got promoted at all.

“He just showed up and saved the day,” he said, feeling low again. “And I… I couldn’t even figure out how to move. I froze up… how lame is that? It’s like I… like I’m worthless on my own. I can’t do anything right.”

Your expression softened and you reached out to him, but he stepped back with a laugh.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve always known that. But it’s like… I just got hit with a fresh reminder is all, y’know?”

Celestial Realm or the Devildom, didn’t matter. All he could ever do was screw up or completely miss when his little brothers needed him. He could never be the brother Lucifer was, could never even come close.

“Ughhhh,” he groaned, “Everything sucks.”

“Mm…” You hummed in thought, crossing your arms. “That’s interesting.”

He forced a laugh again. “Interesting? S’that what you have to say about me?” What? Too nice to just agree?

You nodded, “Well, I can’t say you’re wrong for how you feel, but…” you reached behind yourself and pulled out a folded up paper from your pocket. “I just see things differently I guess.”

“Huh? What’s that?”

“Just a page that came out of today’s paper,” you said, unfolding it and holding it up for him to see. The headline was written in the Devildom’s demonscript, a picture of Cerberus front and center.

“What…” He took it from you. The article read that the beast Cerberus had been tamed by seven demons, listed by name: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor. They had been accompanied by an unknown eighth demon who bore witness to the events, giving praise and remarks for all of them and their efforts.

“What… I… I don’t…”

You pushed off the table and stepped forward, tapping on the paper. “I told you I saw things differently, it’s all right there. Sure, maybe Lucifer did swoop in at the last minute but you know what?” Your eyes met his, a fierceness to them that made his heart… feel…

“You did that,” you said, reaching out to poke him in the chest for emphasis. “You were the one that made it happen.”

Tight.

“No I didn’t,” he said, pushing the paper back in your hands and walking away. “I just had a stupid idea, that’s all.”

“No, you didn’t.” You said, leaving the paper on the table to follow him. “Mammon, I don’t think you realize the impact you have.”

He laughed, “‘Cause I don’t have one, I—”

“Stop it.”

The sharpness in your tone caught him off guard and he turned again to see…

You…

Why were your eyes…

Did he upset you somehow?

“Do you really not know how special you are?” you asked, “Or how much you make people care?”

“I-I… well…” he glanced away, “Carin’ about something… isn’t really something I’m good at. Just ‘cause I do, doesn’t mean I—”

“Mammon, look at me,” you said, cupping his cheek and drawing him in. 

“Lucifer wouldn’t have bothered with Cerberus if it hadn’t been for you,” you whispered, “No one would’ve even known Cerberus actually existed if you hadn’t pursued the legend.”

“Maybe… but he wouldn’t have had to save us if I coulda done it myself,” he said with a stubborn, wry smile.

You sighed in disappointment, “You…”

Yeah, he’d heard this part plenty of times before.

“You…”

You held his cheek, tilting your face up.

Only…

You were… a lot closer than…

Than…

“W-W-Wait what’re you doing?!” he asked, stepping away and bumping into the couch, the shock knocking him backward. His arms shot out to catch himself and he looked up at you in disbelief. “D-Don’t do that! You and I almost k-k-kissed!”

You tilted your head again, gazing down at him with a subtle smile. “And would that be so wrong?”

“N-No!” He said, scooting back further as you rested a knee on the armrest.

“Do you not want to be kissed?” you asked, leaning forward with one hand on the back of the couch and the other on a cushion, effectively placing yourself over him.

“N-No, I didn’t say that,” he said, scooting further up. “You just- you just surprised me’s all.”

“Did I?” You sighed and lifted a hand to grace over his hip, “And here I’d thought my admiration was obvious.”

He shivered, your touch light as you traced small circles along his side.

“W… well yeah,” he said, trying to play it off but it tickled. “But I didn’t think ya meant it like tha-hah~” 

You held his hip and rubbed deep with your thumb, the tickles no longer dancing up his side and instead tickling further down.

“I can mean it in more than one way,” you murmured, eyes gliding down his body. “I admire so much of you, in fact.”

The way you were looking at him…

He swallowed.

“Is.. Is this a demon’s seduction?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, glittering with amusement. “Is that your way of calling me charming?”

Heat rushed to his face and he lifted his gaze up to the ceiling, your laughter making it hard to even think of what to say.

“And you’re somehow surprised I’m into you,” you murmured, settling in between his legs and holding his hips, your thumbs gently stroking. “It’s… almost cute.”

“Oi, don’t call me cute,” he huffed, lifting one of his wings to gently flap, cooling himself with a gentle breeze. You were making him too hot… it… made it hard to think…

You giggled and your hands ran up his sides, palms soft and warm against his bare skin. “Is this okay? Touching you, I mean.”

“Yeah? I don’t see why it wouldn’t b—”

“Oh, good,” you purred, letting your hands drift up higher to rest on the armrest at either side of his head, your face filling his vision. “What about being close like this?”

“I—” His breath caught in his throat, the subtle breeze doing nothing to cool now. “Y-You—”

“Your face looks so cute right now,” you murmured, eyes lidding as you leaned in closer. “So…”

So… what…?

He almost wanted to find out, your lips were… so close again…

But you stopped.

And smiled.

“Tell me… do you know what’s on my mind, Mammon?”

“I—” Flustered, his wing flapped once, kicking up enough air to tousle your hair. “I know what kissing is!”

You grinned and placed one of your hands on his chest again, “And do you… know what comes after kissing?”

Your hand was resting just over his heart, its steady rhythm growing erratic.

“Of course I do! I ain’t stupid!”

“Oh~?” You mused, “And here I thought angels were supposed to be pure~”

He scoffed, “Angels fuck, of course they do. Purity ain’t got nothin’ to do with—”

“Oh, good,” you said again, laying your body flush against him. “So you know what I want to do with you?”

“H-Hey-!” he tried to sit up, but moving meant— he could- he could feel your warmth, your belly just resting over his—

“Mm…” You rubbed yourself over him, eyes sultry and coy. “Seems like you do~”

Heat rushed to his head, making it feel light.

“Q-Quit it, you’re makin’ me—”

Mercifully, you lifted your hips to lift yourself off him, only to dip your head down and breathe down his neck.

“Making you what?” you asked, brushing your lips against his skin so light and sweet.

It… tickled.

“W-What’re you tryin’ to do?” he asked, clutching at the couch. He… couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

It had to be a trick. Some ruse. Something to mess with him, or tease him until you were done.

“Mm…” Your hum glided up his neck, a kiss pressed to the corner of his jaw. “What do you want me to do?” 

Fuck.

That one tickled A LOT.

He swallowed.

“D… Don’t tease me.”

But do it again.

“Tease?” you repeated, your warmth leaving him as you sat up. 

No-

Dammit.

“You think I’m teasing?” you asked with a slight pout, your hands resting on his sides.

“I- well… aren’t ya?” 

You said nothing, your expression unreadable. Did he offend you in some way maybe? But your hands were still on him, and you wasn’t moving off him, so—

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you.”

The way you said it like it wasn’t even a question was just—

“I-I’m not— I wouldn’t say it l-like that, I just—”

Your eyes gleamed with glee when you grinned.

“Sh-Shaddup,” he grumbled, lifting himself up on his elbows and trying to scoot more out from under you, embarrassed. “It ain’t like I dunno what you’re doin’, I just dunno h—”

Your palms ran down his sides to his thighs, expertly avoiding him while lovingly rubbing around him as they came to rest on his inner thighs.

“Mind if I’m your first?” You asked coyly, your thumbs reaching to brush against him and inadvertently stroking his balls.

Or…

Judging by that smirk, it might’ve been intentional.

He swallowed again, afraid to look down to see just how obvious your touches might be affecting him, but you sure as hell seemed to know what you were doing.

“We don’t even know each other that well.”

“Aw~ so you’re a romantic~” you teased, making him feel even more flustered.

“Shut it, I dunno if I am or not I haven’t thought about it!”

“You’re so cute,” you mused and he scowled.

“I ain’t cute. I’m a demon too y’know.”

You smirked, but nodded. “Right, of course. You’re a demon too~ one of the Seven Rulers in fact.”

“Would you quit makin’ fun—”

“Mm… Great Mammon,” you asked, holding your hands on his hips while you leaned in closer, his name so seductive on your tongue. “Would you like to know something more about demons?”

His heart started to pick up again, you were so close… so… warm. 

“Wh-What about ‘em?”

Your eyes glinted of mischief, but you let your hands slide of his sides onto the couch again as you spoke. 

“First, a demon’s charms are only meant to lure and captivate, seduction has more to do with the individual’s charisma rather than some spell.”

“O-Oh…” Not what he expected, but… good to know?

“Second,” you leaned in closer, your lips a breath from his. “Have you heard of succubi and incubi?”

He couldn’t find it in him to speak, only nodding instead and wondering what your lips would feel like.

“Other realms seem to confuse the terms, but…” your bottom lip brushed against his, soft and light. “What they actually mean is rather simple… you see…” you drew back, gazing into his eyes, “A succubus draws out your pleasure while an incubus derives pleasure from you.”

Pleasure.

You’d said it so simply, so nonchalantly, but the word sent shivers down his spine.

He wanted…

Pleasure.

“I’d love to be both for you some day,” you continued, letting the words caress the corner of his jaw. “If you’d have me~”

He wheezed out a low laugh, “But there’s plenty of others that’re stronger or smarter than me…”

“Doesn’t matter,” you murmured, kissing his neck. “I want you.”

He laughed again, “But you know I’m not—”

A sharp pinch caught his breath in his throat and he moaned.

You bit him!

“H-Hey what was that for?”

“I admire you, Mammon. You’re the one I want, and you can’t change my mind,” you said, sitting back again. “But I understand if you don’t want me back, that’s okay.”

He reached up to hold his neck; even if you were being sincere you had to enjoy messing with him with how much you were making his head spin.

Somehow, though, it seemed like you might be aware of that because you sat back again with a small, less sassy smile. “Do you mind if I show you what I mean? Just a little?”

“Why’re you actin’ like I’m gonna say no?” He asked softly, your eyes lighting up again. “I… I mean I ain’t sayin’ yes either, but… but I’m not sayin’ no…”

“So you’re interested?” You murmured, trailing your fingertips across the hem of his pants, tickling him again. “Tempted, even?”

“M… Maybe…” he admitted softly, eyes transfixed by the way your fingers dipped just under only to drift away, like you knew just how much to tease to leave him wanting.

“Maybe…” you repeated quietly, reaching for his buckle. “What if I showed you a glimpse of my admiration? Would you be interested in that?”

He swallowed, lips parted as he watched you undo his belt and unbutton the clasp, his pants loosening a little but still so restricting.

“I’ll stop at any time,” you continued, unzipping his fly. “I’ll leave too, just say the word.”

His heart started racing and he began to fan himself, the compression so freeing once it’d been lifted. Watching you gently tug his pants down his hips, even… lifting them a bit to help you…

“What… what’re you gonna do?” he asked, afraid speaking might make you stop before he found out.

You hummed in thought, walking your fingers up his leg. “Mm~ well, it looks like I may have excited you a little, haven’t I?”

His wing fluttered in response, the heat of you teasing never far away.

“It’d be rude of me to just leave you…” you continued, your hand reaching the top of his thigh again as your palm ghosted over the front of him. Not touching, but hovering.

He groaned under his breath.

“If you’d like… I could… take care of you.”

He breathed out a laugh, “Take care of me? How? You mean like—”

You palmed over his cock, stroking its length through his boxers while he tipped his head back with a groan. Your giggles teased him again, but he hardly cared, your touch was so soft.

“You’ve never been touched by someone else, have you?”

“Shut it,” he muttered, and you hummed again.

“I’m not teasing, honestly~” Your fingers hooked around his waistband and pulled them down, exposing his cock to the air.

“W-Wait—” He sat up again, embarrassed. “It’s not—”

“Look at you,” you whispered, eyes… hungry. “You’re so hard already.”

Flustered, he could only look at the way you looked at him, his cock standing tall under your gaze, pre-cum already weeping from the tip.

He turned away. “Can ya blame me? All that attention… it ain’t like I can h- help i-i-”

Your hand was so warm around him, palm cupped around the base with your fingers gently holding his girth.

“I’m flattered,” you murmured, your other hand slipping into his boxers to cup his balls so soft. “It’s like a compliment, you know? To turn someone on like this~”

“H-H-hh…” He chanced a glance down and fuuuuhhhck…. Seeing you hold him was way hotter than he expected it to be.

“Is this okay?” you asked, giving him a single, gentle stroke while your voice took an oddly innocent lilt. “It doesn’t hurt does it?”

He wheezed out another laugh, “I think you know damn well it doesn’t hurt.”

You grinned. “Yes~ but it’s your first time, I don’t want you too nervous to enjoy yourself.”

“I ain’t nervous! I just—”

You stroked again, stealing a moan from his lips.

“Just what?” you asked, grinning up at him coyly again and waiting for his answer.

“M… More…” he said under his breath, “Could you… do that more?”

Your eyes glittered and you nodded, stroking him gently while your palm fondled his balls with care.

It…

It was…

He relaxed, letting himself lay back in the couch while you touched him. Sure, he’d done it with himself loads of times, but… with your touch it… felt…

“More,” he whispered only to moan as the strokes picked up their pace.

“Ohh fuck do more,” he moaned louder, eyes rolling back as blood rushed to his groin. You’d started so gentle, working him harder until his cock stood strong, pulsing hot in your hand.

So good.

You were so good.

More…

He gripped at the couch and bit his lip.

“M—”

Before he could even finish something wet touched his tip and he gasped out in ecstasy.

“Wha—”

He lifted his head only to see your eyes alight with glee as your tongue circled his head, sending signals shooting through his cock and tingling deep within his gut.

“Wh… what’re you—?”

As if you’d let him finish.

He groaned, a soft and wet warmth surrounding him as you took him into your mouth, your strokes slowing only to send him spiraling as your tongue continued to swirl, savoring him like he was a delicious treat to suckle.

“Oh fuck…” he moaned, feeling weak but unable to look away as more of him disappeared beyond those lips.

Your eyes closed and you pressed the flat of your tongue just under the head, humming contentedly in a way that tickled so fucking nice—

“F-Fuhh—” he whined, wing starting to flex out again, hands clinging to the couch.

Too good.

You were too good.

“M-More- please I—”

Warmth answered his request, the tightness of your throat stealing his breath.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

“Hey, Mammon you feeling okay? Lol you sound like you’re dying and I just—”

The door opened suddenly and he froze just as you popped off his dick so fast he could almost cry.

Levi stalled at the door, staring at the two of them with a look of absolute shock. Then his face started to turn a deep shade of red. “Wh-What’re you two doing?! You were supposed to tell him it’s his turn to feed Cerberus!”

“Oh yeah,” you hummed, still holding him without shame and even giving him another little stroke. “I knew I forgot something.”

“M-Mammon, WTF!”

“He’ll be down in a minute, do you mind closing the door?”

The door slammed so fast, Mammon still had to process what just happened.

“I- Wait- Levi- I-It’s not what it looks like!”

You laughed and gave him a gentle squeeze, smirking up at him. “Poor guy, he should’ve knocked first, huh?”

Flustered, he looked down at you. “An’ what about you? What’re you doing?”

You blinked, then raised a brow. “Same thing I was doing earlier?”

“I- but he just-”

He couldn’t even make sense of it, but your eyes glittered again as you stroked him gently. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, but—”

You smiled and kissed his length, letting go of his sack to guide him to lay down again, lovingly rubbing across his abdomen. 

“Just relax… it’s harder to cum if you’re tense.”

“B…but…”

You gazed at him, keeping eye contact while pressing the flat of your tongue against him and slowly dragging it down the side of his cock from tip to base, then up again nice and slow.

“F… fuuuck…” he whispered, and you smiled.

“Maybe some other time…” you said, kissing along the head with a gentle suckle, “right now’s all about you.”

“Y… you really wanna make me cum?”

You nodded, kissing down his cock once more. “Very much so, yes.”

Damn, he could get used to watching you all day…

The thought sent shivers down his spine.

“Okay…” he laid back again, “Just try n’ be quick, I dunno if he might say somethin’ to the o-ah~others—”

And quick you were, that sinful tongue returning to dance around his head, so soft and wet. It circled around, teasing him as it glided over such sensitive skin, only to taunt him further with the heat of your breath with every pulsing twitch.

That tongue…

He had no idea that a tongue could feel so…

“So… good…” he moaned, tentatively reaching down to touch you. That was okay, right? You had his dick in his mouth, surely it’d be okay if he…

“Mm…” you hummed, taking his hand and rewarding him with another pleased stroke. “Mhm~”

“Y… You…” he murmured, “Could you… a little faster?”

Just a little more, he just needed a little more, that’s all.

That couldn’t be asking too much, right?

You hummed again and placed his hand on your head for… some reason, then took hold of him in both hands once more.

Ah…

To stroke him faster…

Smart.

He gave you a tentative smile, only to realize you had other plans a moment too late.

He should’ve known.

That fierceness in your eyes.

That tightness of your throat as you swallowed him whole.

“O-Oh fuck!” He gasped out, pleasure plunging so deep in his gut only to rise up with his hips as his cock disappeared down your throat.

“S-Sorr-”

Your eyes rolled back in your own ecstasy, moan vibrating around him in such an erotic way he almost did it again.

“Was that…”

He hesitated, your eyes glassy and lustful.

“Did you… like that?”

Your only response was an attempt to swallow around him, your tongue pressed flat against his dick as you lifted your head back and took him down again.

He shivered, clutching at your hair.

“I… don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispered, earning himself a muffled chuckle.

“But I…”

You closed your eyes and began to bob, working him with both hands while saliva began to pool over your knuckles.

You really were enjoying him like he was some special treat!

“F… fuck—” he grit his teeth, trying to keep himself calm but it felt so fucking good, his hips began to move of their own accord. 

And when you moaned again…

“Fuck,” he whispered, tipping his head back and thrusting up into this… this feeling. This ecstasy. This…

“So… warm…” he moaned, finding the perfect spot to rub himself against your tongue. “Ohh… fuck… it’s so… warm.”

Your bobs slowed, but your hands held him steady, letting him fuck your mouth without worry. Just…  

Pleasure.

“More,” he whispered, bracing himself on the couch as best he could, lifting his  hips up higher to chase ecstasy. “Oh fuck~ yes… more.”

More.

So hot.

So wet.

So warm.

Your muffled moans and spurts only added to his ecstasy, reminding him of the mere fact you were sucking him off.

“M’gonna cum,” he murmured, clutching at your hair, “M’gonna cum so hard…”

Whether it was meant in warning or a silent request, he couldn’t say but when your head dipped lower he knew—

“F-Fuck—” he gasped out, then groaned as he felt pressure give, relief pouring into your mouth in a way that left his head spinning. Even as he came, he couldn’t help rocking his hips, chasing the high until it ebbed away, only then did he settle back against the couch, still holding you nice and close.

Cumming… in something… so warm… was…

“Mm,” you grunted, motioning to sit up and he snatched his hand back.

“Shit- Sorry, I… I  didn’t mean…”

Fuck.

That was probably rude, right?

He should’ve asked if that was okay.

You merely hummed again, lifting yourself slowly until just the head remained enclosed in those luscious lips, swallowing again before sitting back with a pleased grin.

“What’re you sorry for?” You said, “I got exactly what I wanted~”

Flustered, he just stared at you, speechless. You… you just…

“Did you have fun?”

“Y… Yeah…”

“Mm~ good, I did too,” you teased, moving to lean in closer. “And you know what?”

“Wh… what?” he asked dazedly, unable to look away from your lips until you kissed him, his taste still on his tongue.

“I rather enjoy being your succbus~” you purred as you leaned back, that coy smile returning yet again. “But if you’re ever interested, I think I’d enjoy being your incubus too.”

“Wh… what…? Like, right now?”

You laughed and shook your head, standing up to stretch. “Oh no, not now~ I think you’ve been through enough today and we have to feed Cerberus, don’t we?”

Have to feed…

“Oh shit, Levi.”

He stood up and pulled up his pants, fussing with his belt while you giggled again and walked away toward the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

“Wait just a sec, I’ll go with ya.”

“Nah, you take care of Cerberus, I’ll handle the otaku,” you said, turning on your heel. “Oh, and Mammon?”

He finally got his belt back on and gave himself a quick once over, hoping it wasn’t too obvious what had just transpired. “What?” he asked once he was satisfied.

You winked at him, “Thanks for letting me be your first~ you taste delicious.”

His face heated so fast, he could only sputter as you laughed and stepped out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind you and he stood there in his room, stunned.

Then he looked down at himself and cupped a hand over his junk, the other reaching up to touch his lips, your kiss still lingering there.

“Th…thanks,” he mumbled after you, grateful you was already gone and couldn’t hear him. “It… felt good…”