#or perhaps a Drabble

[gobliiine]

Am I thinking now about the gestures Dorian has done for Orym since returning to bh in the context of trying to learn how best to show Orym that he loves him without saying it because the word ‘love’ is too big and scary? Maybe so

[zevrra]

is it wrong of me to say that i think jayce(and viktor probably!) is sooooo into dry hü/mping? like especiallyyyyy when he’s had too much to drink, comes home all sluggish and far too hö/rny for his own good. the second he lays his eyes on you, he’s hugging you; kissing your neck while his hands grab your waist. probably mutters something sweet like “want you so bad right now.” into your ear as his hips shift, grinding the front of his body into the front of yours. he’s so needy and desperate— probably doesn’t even wait for a proper answer (you can’t say no to him anyway) before he’s pressing the strain in his pants against you. and he almost shamefully ruts into your body. panting into your ear like a wild dog while he thrusts his clothed cöck onto you. probably grunts that it: “feels good. ‘so good…” and he hasn’t even taken his clothes off yet. and i think he’d continue to dry-hümp into you until he’s at the point where he physically cannot take it anymore; then he’d be a whining, whimpering mess; begging you to let him fück you.

[shuafiles]

MDNI, 18+

CONTENT | jaemin has a big crush on reader, oral (m receiving), in a closet ? not proofread

nerd!jaemin couldn’t believe it when you, the hottest girl in university–his long-time crush, were currently choking on his cock in a random closet. he didn’t think there was even a chance that you knew him, yet here you were, tears brimming your eyes as he fucked your throat.

you were about to skip class because your asshole of an ex-boyfriend decided to break up with you through a lousy text this morning. walking through the crowded halls with tears streaming down your face, you tried to steady your breathing, wiping your face with the back of your hand, when you suddenly collided with jaemin. who better to bump into than someone you knew you could easily get with?

“s-sorry, y/n.” jaemin muttered, fixing his glasses that had slipped down his nose before fixating his gaze on you. your cheeks puffy and eyes red from sobbing. concern was written all over his face.

worried that he was pitying you for crying, you hastily wiped your tears. “i’m fine.” you shook your head, “jaemin, right?”

jaemin’s heart fluttered from the sound of his name escaping your lips. he hadn’t expected you to remember him, you only had a few classes together, and you barely even glanced in his direction. but here you were, standing before him, and you remembered him.

“yeah, we have lit together.”

“i know you.” before you could think of what to say to him, words escaped from your mouth before you could even comprehend them, “do you want to get out of here?” you blurted out, feeling shy, but you needed the distraction, and he was perfect.

“w-what?” jaemin’s eyes widened.

“please?” you pleaded, your bottom lip pushing out, and he cursed himself for being attracted to you because moments later, you were dragging him across the hall with your hand in his.

one thing led to another, you ended up pulling him into a random closet with your lips attached to his.

“wait, y-y/n” jaemin mumbled, pulling away from your lips. breath shaky as he stared down at you, the barely lit closet was not helping.

“jaemin, please, i need you.” your hands reached for the button of his pants, playing with it before leaning closer to him. his back hitting the door, heart pacing when he felt your breath fanning on him, sending shivers down his spine. you were so close, too close, and he couldn’t think rationally.  “do you not want me?”

of course, he wanted you–he wanted you so much it was driving him insane. the sleepless nights he spent with his hand down his pants with the thought of you accompanying him. now, here you were, begging for him. it wasn’t just that you wanted him—you needed him. how could he say no to that?

“i-i do,” jaemin stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i really do.” 

“then kiss me.” that was all he needed before he connected his lips to yours. his hands instinctively finding your waist, gripping it gently, tugging your body close to him. his tongue swiping along your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth, exploring every corner.

you smiled softly against his lips, hands moving with purpose as you undid the button of his pants. once you were done, you pulled away from him. your lips trailed down his neck, jaemin let out a soft groan, his hands sliding up your sides, feeling the heat of your body through your clothes.

you kneeled in front of him, hooking your fingers on the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down to his ankles and freeing his erection from the restraints. you looked up at him through your lashes, but he was already intently staring at you, his lip between his teeth as he watched you.

“word gets around, you know.” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around his length, to which he hissed once he felt your cold fingers on his skin. “heard there was this one nerd who had a crush on me.” he pushed his head back once you licked the tip of his cock. “didn’t know he’d be so down to let me suck his cock in a tight closet.” you pushed his tip into your mouth, stroking the rest of his cock as you sucked on the head.

“shit.” jaemin groaned, shutting his eyes, too embarrassed by your confession. he was putty against your touch. granted, he doesn’t really have anyone to suck his dick, he was too afraid he’d cum immediately if he looked at you. you sank further down his cock until his tip hit the back of your throat. his hands curled into fists as he restrained himself from touching you.

you saw his struggle, so you pulled away from his length, a string of saliva forming from your lips to him. “hey,” you called out, making him look down at you, which he regretted immediately. your eyes were still bloodshot from your previous sobbing, but he imagined it was because of his cock in your mouth, which made it twitch. he swore he could cum just by looking at you next to his cock. “you can touch me, jaemin.”

“o-okay.” jaemin whispered, placing one of his hands on your cheek, caressing the skin softly.

you smiled at him before returning your attention to his cock. you took him in your mouth again, feeling his hand creep up to collect your hair and form a makeshift ponytail. his breath unsteady as you bobbed your head on his cock. his grip on your hair tightened as he guided you down on his length. tears brimming your eyes as you gagged, looking up at him, but he was already looking at you.

jaemin let out soft groans as you deepthroated him, cheeks hollowing as you sucked him. your hands gripping the hem of his shirt.

“fuck, just like that.” you hummed against his cock, the vibrations making him spiral. “want to cum in your mouth, pretty girl.”

your hands slipped to his thighs, rubbing the skin with your thumbs. his cock twitching in your mouth as you fastened your pace. sucking on his length while your tongue glides on the underside of the head of his cock.

jaemin’s breath hitched once he felt his climax come to a close. with a final thrust in your mouth, you felt his cum shoot down your throat. you pulled away from his cock, swallowing every last drop of his cum. you stood up in front of him, his cheeks heating up at the sight of you fresh from giving him head.

he opened his mouth as if to say something but hesitated. his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching for any sign of regret, uncertainty, anything that might tell him how you felt.

instead, you leaned forward and pecked his lips. but his arms wrapped around your waist to pull your body close. he pressed his lips to yours passionately as if he doesn’t want the moment to end.

giggling, you pulled away once you felt his bare skin brush against your thigh. “your cock’s out.”

jaemin’s eyes widened before reaching down and pulling his boxer and pants up his legs.

“we should probably get out of here before someone comes in here.” you ran your fingers through your hair in an attempt to fix it, and you saw his shoulders drop from disappointment. you faced him and cupped his cheeks before kissing him softly. “i’ll see you next time, okay?”

and with that, jaemin watched as you quietly left the closet, leaving him wondering when the next time would be.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him. 

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh. 

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you. 

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly. 

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down. 

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him. 

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?” 

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy. 

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate. 

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be. 

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy. 

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.” 

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words. 

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit? 

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?” 

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust. 

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.” 

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute. 

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room. 

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up. 

you blink. 

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed. 

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?” 

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean. 

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being. 

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on. 

he’d rather die than deny you. 

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

no choice at all.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

for @skeren ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

"Mu-shidi?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang was sitting on a decorative rock in one of Qian Cao Peak's small meditation gardens with his head in his hands. Yue Qingyuan paused, hesitating at the edge of the garden as he watched Mu Qingfang's shoulders heave with a deep sigh.

"Zhangmen-shixiong. In your purview as sect leader, do you believe I have the power to medically relieve someone from their position of authority on the grounds of madness?" He asked.

"Ah, I should have known this was coming," Yue Qingyuan said. He approached and sat next to Mu Qingfang on the rock, folding his arms over his knees and offering a small smile. "Will Mu-shidi finally be requesting this one's resignation?"

Mu Qingfang snorted a laugh and uncurled, but not without rubbing once more at his brow. "Actually, I meant myself."

"You?"

Mu Qingfang turned to look at him. Yue Qingyuan's brows shot up, startled at the absolutely exhausted and frantic look on his face. The healer was pale, his eyes shadowed, and Yue Qingyuan realised for the first time that some of his hair was slipping out from his wooden guan.

"What happened?" Yue Qingyuan asked, reaching out to catch Mu Qingfang's wrist. Mu Qingfang allowed the contact, not protesting at the reversal of their usual position as Yue Qingyuan probed his meridians, which Yue Qingyuan thought was a sign something was truly wrong.

"It's Shang-shidi," Mu Qingfang said gravely, which was not what Yue Qingyuan was expecting.

"What do you mean? Did something happen to Shang Qinghua? Did he—do something?"

"Is Zhangmen-shixiong familiar with the Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry?"

"The one that causes full-body hemorrhaging?"

"No, that's the Crimson Bleeding Heart Berry."

"Oh. Oh, the one that requires oral dual cultivation to cure the deadly fever?"

"No, that's—it doesn't matter! The Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry's sap and flesh is a powerful truth serum. It compels anyone who consumes or comes into physical contact with it to say whatever is on their mind, with complete honesty."

Yue Qingyuan looked around nervously. "We don't have an outbreak, do we?"

Mu Qingfang sighed one more, pushing his hand under his glasses to press against his eyes. "Shang-shixiong came into contact with some when he was on his last mission off the mountain. I have no idea how, since he was assigned to go secure a trade deal to the North East and they only grow in the South West, but—"

"But he was afflicted, and is now compelled to speak the truth?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang slipped his hand from Yue Qingyuan's so he could grip his arms, leaning in intently.

"He is driving. Me. Insane."

—

Mu Qingfang led Yue Qingyuan to one of the nearby patient rooms. Inside, Shang Qinghua sat at a low tea table, sipping at a cup that smelled medicinal and poking at some nuts and seeds on offer. Nothing looked amiss—Shang Qinghua didn't look damaged or ill, and the room was neat and orderly.

When they entered, Shang Qinghua's head shot up.

"Mu-shidi! Zhangmen-shixiong! This one is—not super glad to see you! Not that you're not great. Mu-shidi, I really appreciate how you keep us all alive. Remember that time I accidentally drank ink as a disciple and you had to pump my stomach? Yeah, I so am glad you were there to do that and not let me die. And Zhangmen-shixiong, you're very hot, and I love that, and I find how sad you life is—well, troubling actually, although not enough to do anything about it. You kind of make me uncomfortable to be around. But the hotness helps! Not right now, though. Right now I would love if you would leave, because I really don't want to tell you about anything I am thinking about, because I just got done spending three days sucking demonic dick and I really don't want to answer any follow up questions about—"

Shang Qinghua's eyes went wide. He grabbed a handful of the snacks and shoved them into his mouth, presumably hoping to stem the flow of words. Instead he immediately choked on them and coughed up walnuts and melon seeds over the table.

Yue Qingyuan rubbed his forehead. "Ah. I think I see the problem."

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (this is fluff and like just him giggling and being cute - wk: 0.4k)

the sun is warm, the river is bubbling, and childe is beautiful. he’s everything he ought to be and more: a boy turned killer, a sheep turned wolf. fear turned strength. and yet, through the violence, through the strain and the bloodshed and the fights that haunt his nightmares, he is utterly, captivatingly beautiful.

(you’d never tell him this, of course. he knows he’s pretty, not even as an afterthought, not when he uses it to his advantage, when he knows he can bat his eyelashes at guards and get ushered inside silently, when he can rest a palm on a stranger’s shoulder and have them on their knees offering themselves to him. it makes your stomach tight, even though you know he’ll always blush and wave his hands apologetically and refuse.)

instead, you let your gaze travel across his torso, over scarred shoulders and down the planes of his chest. tracing down well-earned muscles, to where his hips obscure beneath the river water-

“it’s not polite to stare.”

at his voice, you stagger back. there’s a momentary flinch, something you grew up expecting when being scolded, when you’ve done something wrong.

but the strike only comes as a giggle, bright like the asters blooming through the mud. you think you used to hate the way they smelled this time of year, too nauseating and cloying; since you’ve been coming here to swim with childe, you can’t remember why you would have ever loathed something so sweet.

another giggle, and he shifts to reveal an inch more of his waist beneath the current. “i don’t mind, you know, but you at least have to tell me you think i’m pretty.”

at that, your fists clench and your neck burns. there’s a world in which you do tell him, in which you whisper how captivating it is to watch his limbs move as he fights, how he makes violence look graceful, how you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he does his morning stretches, how you would rip the sun out of the sky because it dares to compete with his beauty (and yet still manages to lose - many things lose to childe, you’ve grown to learn).

but not this world. in this one, you groan, and let your open palm splash water at him. it hits his face in droplets and dampens the strands of his hair, now the same shade as the riverbed‘s flowers.

he lunges back at you (a boy well-trained to never run from a fight), and you let him tackle you, let the cool shock of the water tingle your skin as you’re pushed beneath it for half a second.

when you surface, he’s giggling again, and for a moment you want to pick every aster that dares to listen, undeserving of hearing the sound. but instead, you splash more water at him, and he never stops smiling.

a/n: i think he likes swimming whenever possible bc it was too cold in snezhnaya to do it anyways i want to hear him giggle for the rest of my life

[suguwu]

this is the same reader as this post.

—

"i didn't agree to this."

sae doesn't even blink. "you did."

"no," you say, eyeing the pair of cleats he's holding, "i said i'd come to one of your stupid practices. i didn't say i'd play."

"you didn't say you wouldn't."

"that is not the same thing and you know it. besides, i don't know how to put those on."

he stares at you, his teal eyes bright, sunshine through stained glass. "you don't know how to put on shoes?"

you wince. the corner of his lips tilts up, a little bit smug, and you scowl.

"no," you say.

he hums. and then he's kneeling, wrapping one big hand around your ankle and tugging your foot towards him.

"hey!" you yelp, trying to pull back. "what are you doing?"

"helping."

your cheeks go hot. "i don't need your help!"

"apparently you do."

"you're awful."

he ignores you, leaning down; his hair shines in the lights of the field, the red of it deepening, a setting sun. you want to sink your fingers into it. you wiggle your foot—just to be annoying—and his grip tightens.

"ow," you tell him.

he glances up at you. "you're not that delicate."

you bristle. "rude."

he blinks, honey-slow, his long lashes sweeping over the curve of his cheek. one catches against his skin; you watch, hypnotized, as it tumbles down his cheek, a dandelion seed.

you stop yourself before you reach out for it.

"are you listening?"

"huh?" you say. "yeah. i am."

he rolls his eyes. "you aren't."

"i am!"

"what did i just say?"

"..."

"that's what i thought."

"you're so annoying," you tell him.

he's unbothered, glancing back to his work. his lithe fingers flex as he ties the shoelaces for the cleat.

when he reaches for the second cleat, you tuck your feet under the bench, where he can't get at them.

"i'll do it," you say. "give it to me."

he does, getting to his feet as you put the second cleat on. you scowl up at him when you're done.

"now what?" you ask.

"now," he says. "let's see you score a goal."

"what?"

his lips curve, a crescent moon smile. "after all," he says. "it's easy, isn't it?"

[utopiastri]

Hi, hello!!!

May i request sleep deprivation for the fic prompt, pretty please???? To be honest I'd be so happy with any ship (bc im obsessed with ur writing), but mayhaps landoscar or maxcar???🥺🥺🥺

Hope you are having a wonderful day!<3

-💫

💫 anon!!! hi lovely! thank you for the prompt! i hope you're having a lovely day too and i hope you enjoy some maxcar!!!

Of all the people that Oscar expected to bump into whilst walking around Monaco at 5am, he wouldn’t have bet on Max Verstappen.

Or, well, he wouldn’t have bet a lot on Max Verstappen – Monaco’s tiny and Max does live here, so it’s not entirely unreasonable to run into him. But still.

5am.

“Oscar! Mate, hi!”

Oscar does his best not to wince at how cheery Max is. From the way Max’s face falls slightly, he’s guessing he doesn’t do a particularly good job of it.

“Hey, Max,” he says quietly, giving him a tired smile.

“What are you doing up so early? I wouldn't have guessed you were a morning person.”

“Just, um, going for a walk, I guess.”

Max frowns. “Hm.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. Oscar prays that the street lighting is dim enough for the dark circles under his eyes to stay hidden.

Eventually, when it becomes clear that Max isn’t going to say anything else, Oscar says, “Right, uh, I’ll see you.”

Oscar’s barely even turned around to start walking in the opposite direction when Max calls out, “Wait! What are you doing after your walk?”

Living the Monaco high life, Oscar thinks to himself, going back to bed and tossing and turning for another six fruitless hours.

“Nothing much,” is what Oscar actually says. In fairness, it isn’t exactly a lie.

“I was just finishing up my run. You should come back to mine for some breakfast,” Max suggests.

Oscar gives Max an assessing look and notes that he looks more like a person about to go for a run than one just finishing one up. Max folds his arms and raises an eyebrow, as if daring Oscar to call his bluff.

On another day, maybe Oscar would. But he feels so tired his bones are heavy with it and giving in is the much easier thing to do.

“Yeah, ok.”

-

Oscar doesn’t realise that the breakfast invite is a trap until he’s blearily blinking his eyes open a few hours later. Or, maybe ‘trap’ is the wrong word. ‘Trap’ implies that there was some trickery or persuasion involved. Max didn’t exactly have to do much convincing to get Oscar to take a seat on his sofa. And Max certainly didn’t have to do much convincing to get Oscar to let his eyes flutter shut, since they were very much doing that of their own accord.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Max calls from the kitchen. Oscar slowly begins to register where is. He bolts upright when he realises that he managed to fall asleep on Max’s sofa when the poor man had only invited him in for a pastry and some coffee.

“Shit, Max, I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to stand up from the sofa and only managing to almost fall flat on his face, his legs getting twisted in a knitted blanket Max must’ve thrown over him. His face flares bright red and he refuses to look in Max’s direction.

Unfortunately, Max has other plans. He feels Max’s gaze burn into the side of his face until finally Oscar looks up and meets Max’s eyes. He’s smirking ever so slightly.

“No apologising. You needed sleep and, for whatever reason, you cannot get it at home. So you slept on my sofa.” Max says it so matter-of-factly that Oscar almost finds himself nodding along.

“No, wait,” Oscar shakes himself and reminds himself that this is ridiculous, “Max, it wasn’t fair, or, I mean, it was rude of me to fall asleep on your sofa.”

“No, it wasn’t, I didn’t mind.”

Oscar groans slightly. “Well, maybe, you should mind.”

A calculating look appears on Max's face. “To clarify," he says, "You object to the part where you fell asleep on my sofa?”

“Yes,” Oscar says firmly.

“Fine. I agree you should not fall asleep on my sofa.”

“Good.”

“You should fall asleep on my bed.”

“What?” Oscar splutters staring at Max, “Hang on.”

However, Max is too busy grabbing Oscar by the arm and frogmarching him through his flat to take heed of Oscar's request for him to hang on. Oscar’s so bewildered by this turn of events he doesn’t even fight the manhandling that much. Before he knows it, he finds himself sat down on Max’s giant bed, staring up at him.

Max is smirking again.

“There, problem solved. You can’t fall asleep on the sofa if you’re asleep in my bed.”

“Max,” Oscar starts.

Max raises an eyebrow ready to counter whatever Oscar’s next argument will be. Oscar sighs.

He knows when he’s beaten. Max smile grows even wider.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me." He turns to leave but Oscar, almost without thinking, grabs his hand before he can.

His skin starts tingling where it's touching Max's and he does his best to ignore it. Oscar swallows. “Stay?” he asks, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Oscar thinks he might have found the one thing to say that would catch Max off-guard, even if that wasn’t his intention. His expression doesn’t shift, but Oscar can just about make out two dots of pink high in Max’s cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“Stay,” Oscar repeats, less of a request and more of a command.

Max takes a second but eventually nods and crawls into the other side of the bed. Oscar carefully arranges his body so it's not touching Max's at all and then has to do his best not to react when he feels Max reach out and gently interlock their fingers. “Sleep,” he whispers.

Oscar convinces himself the kiss he feels pressed to his forehead is purely induced by sleep deprivation.

[megalomaniacz]

Need to know your thoughts on toxic Vi fucking reader with a strap

nsfw!

do you know that her thrusts sound like gunshots 😭 guys i’m scared…

toxic vi the type to FLING you into different positions, but, she loves it when you’re ass up face down for her. strap teasing your entrance, slowly getting covered in your slick. she also will not let you prepare, one second her thumb is circling your clit next second she’s full force fucking the mario coins out of you.

she also loves holding yours wrists back, says it helps her rhythm but really she likes to tug you back so your arch is to her liking. and of course, it’s got her constantly hitting your sweet spot. she doesn’t gaf though she loves when you’ve got tears running down your face all snotty nosed because she’s fucking you so so so good. and next she’s gonna fuck you missionary so she can laugh at you when your eyes roll back and you’re begging her to let you adjust. “it’s all too much vi please i-“ aww look who’s all fucked out and can’t speak anymore lmao.

[crguang]

this jane doe thing wouldn’t leave my mind so here it is

when making out with jane in a dark alley at midnight is a regular occurrence but that’s the only time you ever see her because she refuses to cross the imaginary line she’s drawn that would put the both of you in deep, deep trouble

\\

“What’s a pretty one like you doing out here at such a late hour?”

Jane presses you up against the wall with a playful smirk and effortlessly corners you to the dark, cramped space of the narrow alley near Random Play, the video store where you usually can be seen wandering around after sunset. She takes up all the room in your personal bubble with her chest flushed to yours and her nimble fingers firmly gripping your wrist, pinned to the rough brick wall like the rest of you. Her tail teasingly slithers up your torso, brushes over your collarbones then wraps around your other wrist to completely incapacitate you. You’re at her mercy, a prey caught in the palms of deft hands, and she is everywhere; caging you in, her presence is anything but as oppressive as it should be because those clear blue eyes are taking you in with obvious delight, quickly flitting over your facial features before settling on your parted lips, the remnants of your surprise.

It’s just a little over midnight, the streetlights don’t fully reach the place you both find yourselves in and so you can only see some parts of Jane’s body pressed close to you. The darkness does nothing to dim the life in her eyes, however. They glimmer with satisfaction at the compromising position you both find yourselves in and your total lack of struggle against your restraints.

“Clearing my mind with a walk,” you easily answer her previous question with a half-truth that she catches on immediately, if her widening smirk is anything to go by.

Two manicured fingers tilt your chin upward to meet her gaze. With her platform boots on, she towers slightly over you and doesn’t shy away from using her height as a weapon to corner you into submission. Jane doesn’t do things directly, never really tells you what to do, she simply takes away all of your options until the only one left is what benefits her most.

“Oh, really?” She plays along with your white lie and lightly drags a sharp nail across the underside of your chin. “There must be quite a lot in that cute head of yours to wander the streets at midnight.”

You smile. “Just you.”

The corners of Jane’s eyes crinkle with pleasure at your blatant flirting.

“Besides,” you continue, “this neighborhood’s pretty safe.”

“You sure?” Jane moves even closer to you, her warm breath just barely grazing the skin of your cheek. Some strands of dark hair caress your face as she leans in until her painted lips brush your earlobe with every spoken syllable, and her voice lowers to a sultry, confident purr. “After all… I’m right here. And I happen to have caught a helpless little bird.”

Her tail suddenly tightens around your wrist while the tip leisurely traces the life line of your palm. An air of cold danger laces her otherwise vague words, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise in response. Her tongue swiftly wets her upper lip. You’re brusquely reminded of all that you don’t know about her, the missing puzzle pieces that could complete your portrait of Jane Doe— this enticing mirage who disperses into the wind when approached too closely. But for all her mysteries, the woman before you is made up of little quirks and preferences unique only to her, and those are enough for your desire to know more to simmer hotly in the pits of your belly.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you, Jane?”

You both know that’s a question you can answer yourself. Jane’s airy laughter tickles your ear. She leans back to look at you, purposely grazing your cheek in a feather-light kiss as she does.

“And risk ruining this pretty face? C’mon, I would never.” Her forefinger runs down the column of your neck, its nail against your throat, and it stops above your hammering pulse. “Don’t believe me? Your heart’s racing… I can smell it on you, you know.”

As if to illustrate her point, her head dips to the crook of your neck and her nose presses close to your skin. Your breath hitches, your head tilting to the side almost unconsciously to give her better access to your body. Jane makes a show of inhaling long and slow, filling her lungs with the scent of you, then she releases it all in a warm exhalation over your pulse point. Your stomach clenches pleasantly at the sensation.

“Oh, maybe I’m mistaken,” the tip of her nose slowly travels to the junction between your shoulder and neck, each word spoken directly into your skin, “it’s not fear, but something much more intoxicating…”

She inhales a second time, quieter, and breathes out in a manner she means composed but that is underlined with the one trait she refuses to show you.

“And what’s that?”

In an instant too quick to compute, Jane’s lips are brushing yours with her next reply and the blazing heat of her stare fans the desire within your veins. “Something you probably shouldn’t feel for someone like me.”

“Why not?”

You think there’s a hint of something wry and cloudy in the sky of her eyes, past the playfulness and self-assurance. “Might not end well for you.”

“Already thinking about the end? I thought we were having fun.”

“Everything’s fun until you get cut.”

A warning that you readily ignore. You lean impossibly closer, sharing her breath for a suspended moment, and capture her parted lips in a gentle kiss. It’s soft and chaste, lasts only a second, and you’re pulling away before she can reciprocate.

“I don’t mind playing with knives,” you murmur into her mouth.

“…Foolish,” Jane smiles. Her tongue darts out to swipe over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth, putting a name to the sweetness she briefly caught a taste of in your kiss. “You shouldn’t eat chocolate so late at night. It’s bad for your teeth.”

You let her change the subject, pretending to buy her deflection. “Says the one whose entire diet consists of instant noodles and energy bars.”

“Heh, touché. I never claimed to be an example to follow.”

“I’ll follow you anyway.”

The charged words leave you automatically but you stand your ground, unblinking. Jane’s reaction comes a few seconds too late for it to be fully genuine; her pupils constrict in a flash, her smile briefly wavers at the left corner, and her tail grips you tighter for just a second— then her eyelids droop flirtatiously and she’s chuckling in amusement, her free hand cupping your cheek. She strokes it using her thumb, right over the dark eye bags etched on your skin.

“Are you trying to get into my pants? Right here in this dark, cramped alleyway? How naughty~”

If she notices your dampening enthusiasm, she says nothing. It’s hidden behind your irises, a light flickering shut like something she can’t take back, and she feels some genuine part of you slipping through her fingers. It’s too bad, it’s what she likes most about you. And if that does anything to her, she doesn’t show it. Jane clings onto what is left, this game of knowing cat and willing mouse you’ve been playing for months now, and does what she’s good at: meaningless seduction.

“Careful what you wish for, pretty bird…” she mutters, “I just might give you what you want.”

She steals your next reply with a firm, insistent kiss. Her lips meld with yours and she swallows the muffled sound of surprise that escapes you, her body now completely flush to yours. You’re trapped between her soft form and rough brick, her callused fingers over your pulse, her tail absentmindedly caressing the skin of your wrist and the lines of your palm. The tip traces the short bones of your fingers, one by one, while Jane kisses your lips as if they hold answers she’s afraid to hear but long to anyway. Her fingertips tentatively slide upward, over your palm and between your own until your fingers are laced together against the wall. She exhales into your mouth and her breath is yours, it sits on your lungs like something precious before you give it back to her just as readily. Her tongue runs across the seam of your lips then eagerly pushes past them to swirl around yours. You chase the invading muscle for some time, neither of you caring for the telltale sounds of locked lips the breeze carries into the deserted alley. Heat rushes to your chest and spreads to your guts in such a pleasant, familiar way you can’t help the faint moan that tumbles from your mouth directly into hers.

“Already… mmh… making those cute sounds for me?”

Jane means to tease but can barely pull away from you long enough to utter this sentence. You can’t respond even if you wanted to, she’s unrelenting in her assault and fills each of your senses with her presence. She’s impossible to ignore and would be even more difficult to escape were you not exactly where you want to be.

“Mnh, ah,” you pant hotly between kisses, “relax… m’not going anywhere…”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.”

You barely contain a squeak when her strong hands lift you up by the thighs and hold you pinned to the wall, her grip tight. Your legs close around her waist and you’re finally free to link your arms around her neck to bring her infinitely closer. Jane tilts her chin and parts her lips wider, capturing your lips once more. Her kisses are deep and urgent like she’s running out of time or indulging in a treat she rarely gets to taste. Her tail brushes your shoulder, your cheek, your nape; it never strays far from you. You roll your hips, seeking relief from the growing throb between your thighs, and Jane smirks against your mouth.

“Need something?” Her kisses move to your jaw and down to the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin with sharp teeth and leaving her mark near your racing pulse.

“Yes,” you reply breathily and cup both of her cheeks to pull her in another kiss. “Need you.”

“Ooh… say that again.”

Lust clouds your minds and you both forget yourselves for a moment that seems to stretch on for an hour, in a back alley of a narrow street darkened by the midnight hour. Jane kisses you and you return each one with simmering passion you’re unable to express with words in fear she scurries away somewhere you can’t follow. Your body is warm despite the cool air and greedily seeks more of her firm touch, your hips grinding into her for the sweet friction it provides. Jane squeezes the back of your thighs and lets out a low moan against you.

“Hah… Jane…”

Just like that, her name on your tongue— so tender and needy— is a harsh return to reality. Jane withdraws from your lips, mouth wet and open, chest heaving, and you’re too slow to see the flash of panic in her hazy gaze as she lets go of your thighs and forces you to stand once more. Her eyes flit to the side and back to you like a cornered animal desperate for an exit, and she takes a step back while clearing her throat. The sudden loss of contact makes you blink rapidly. You lick the corner of your mouth where some of her saliva has gathered, your mind lost in a fog of confusion and desire.

“Um, are you okay?” You ask uncertainly, not knowing what to do with your hands now that she’s rejected you so brusquely. You wipe your palms on your thighs.

Jane adjusts her jacket and runs her fingers through her hair. “Yeah, of course.”

She seems to regain her composure quicker than you, a smug smile gracing her lips as she meets your gaze. Her skin is hot, her cheeks flushed, but she stands straight and confident while you’re still blinking the confusion out of your eyes. The air between you is made awkward in record time with your silence and her refusal to explain herself truthfully. She walks towards you and casually brushes some hair out of your face, her familiar flirtatious tone back in her voice.

“You’re a mess,” she smirks, fingers trailing down the side of your face to lift your chin up, “and just after a few kisses too. I wonder how you’d look if I touched you properly…”

You’re getting whiplash from her hot-and-cold behavior, but you manage a reply, “Come over and find out.”

Jane clicks her tongue. “Sorry, I still have some stuff to take care of. But I’d feel bad if I didn’t at least walk you home, it’s pretty late. Don’t want you roaming outside on your own.”

“Oh.” You slowly push her hand away and she lets it fall to her side then stuffs them both in her front pockets. “That’s not necessary. I don’t live far from here.”

She simply regards you for a moment, and you can just glimpse the reflective sheen of the walls she puts up around herself before she shrugs lightly and it disappears into the wind.

“If you say so.”

She usually insists until you cave in and quietly walk side by side down Sixth Street, the breeze in her hair and your eyes to the distant sky. This time though, she lets you off the hook without a fuss. Your chest feels heavy and you don’t dare to look at her, focusing on a discarded candy bar wrapper lying on the ground. Jane doesn’t let the tension reach a boiling point, she sighs contentedly and turns her back on you.

“I’ll see you around, then, pretty bird.”

She makes a farewell gesture with her index and middle finger and walks in the opposite direction of where you’re heading. Your hand curls into a fist. The rejection hurts even after you’ve told yourself this is simply how Jane is, the fondness that belies her teasing words doesn’t mean a thing, and neither does the vague sense of longing you sometimes can feel in her kisses. She’s Jane Doe, the closer you get, the less she gives. Clinging onto the person you catch fleeting glimpses of behind her carefully crafted mask is both pointless and ridiculous, you know that. And yet…

You’re too engrossed in your thoughts as you make your way back to notice the sharp eyes tailing you from a safe distance the entire walk home. When you shut the front door behind you and flick open the light in the entryway, Jane crosses her arms and leans on a nearby building, eyes glued to the warm glow of your transom window.

[bisexualmcqueen]

so i figured out the funniest possible way to do the 'salqueen babies' trope

he then finds someplace better (cave)

cuddle pile time

she's framing that.

they are a crazy but happy family <3

[beomiracles]

darkish thought because I love mentally ill love yandere horror tropes and beomgyu, so why not put two and two together?! >3< (fyi this is my first time writing lols..)

imagine beomgyu as the quiet, intimidating kid at school. no one dared to approach him because he just gave off this unsettling vibe—except for y/n, who was always so cheerful and saw the good in everything. beomgyu didn’t understand how someone like her could exist, so pure, so sweet. it frustrated him. it consumed him. he wanted to be the one to destroy her innocence, to ruin her from the inside out. his obsession spiraled until he couldn’t take it anymore, so much so that one day he snapped and ended up kidnapping her, having her all to himself, to do as he pleased. <3

y/n woke up in his basement, tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, completely at his mercy. if feeling the tip of a knife gliding down y/n's trembling bare thighs wasn’t enough, her heart completely dropped when she heard that all-too-familiar voice.

"dumb girl~ haven’t you learned not to trust everyone?" beomgyu chuckles darkly, almost mocking. "lucky for me though..." he let the blade glide further up, earning a muffled squeak from her as it grazed against her most sensitive spot ''..now you’re right where i wanted"

you cappin, ain't no way this is your first time writing gawd lawd.. I mean you've basically done all the work here, but I shall indulge nonetheless.

tw, kidnapping, beomgyu is very unstable but what's new in these thoughts, use of knife, implied violence and blunt force trauma, nonconsensual bondage, hints at further sexual advances

the weird kid of class D, that's what they called him. with long and dark hair, shielding his sickeningly pale face. his hunched posture and strange attire making him a laughing stock all around school. ― still, people knew to stay out of Beomgyu's way. it was kind of common sense by now, for all except one.

you didn't think beomgyu was much different from anyone else. perhaps it was why you'd joined him in the cafeteria that day; your tray nudging his as you squeezed in next to him with a wide grin. ― it doesn't bother you when he ignores your advances, when he turns away and mutters a few curses under his breath.

your persistence doesn't waver, and soon you find yourself by his more than your own friends. and even though he rarely talks to you, or even pays your presence any mind, he doesn't make a move to shake you off.

naive as you were, you thought that beomgyu only needed an opportunity, a chance to show his worth. you feel almost heroic when you think about the fact that you were the one presenting him with it.

had you if only once stopped to look around, to see what was actually happening around you, maybe then you would've noticed how everyone else seem to draw back whenever you walked alongside him. perhaps then you would've caught their hesitant faces and worried glances.

"will you come to my house this Friday?"

you had practically squealed when he first asked. excitedly jumping up and down as you accept his invite. ― this was it, you were finally breaking through his thick shell. weeks worth of effort finally paying off !

it did not feel rewarding to wake up cold and confused in complete darkness. in fact it felt utterly terrifying. frantically your head jerks from side to side, unable to see through the thick blindfold that covered your wet eyes.

with your wrists bound behind your back, the ropes around your skin burned as they tightened with each tug you gave. your ankles felt sore, bloody like someone had beaten them, they, too, were tied. ― something large and round keeps your jaw locked in an uncomfortable position, drool running down your chin as you struggle to speak.

footsteps echo in the dark and you emit a muffled scream as you try to retreat. the failed attempt at fleeing merely ends with your barely dressed body pressed against a cold stone wall. ― with your breath caught in your throat you listen as someone approaches, the presence looming before you as it exhales a deep breath, sounding almost like a hum.

"look at you.." the voice speaks, it's dark and menacing, upholding a mocking tone. your blood runs cold as you recognise it. beomgyu. but that didn't make any sense why was he... when did this..

your whiny protests come out as incoherent nonsense around the gag and beomgyu chuckles, it's sinister rumble echoing against the four walls of his basement. ― "dumb girl~ haven’t you learned not to trust everyone?" he's crouched down before you now, you can feel his warm breath on your face, it makes you recoil.

Beomgyu's fingers are harsh and unforgiving as they seal around your arm, keeping you in place. "lucky for me though..." he drawls, pausing to listen to the hitch of your breath as something cold comes in contact with your tender flesh. a knife.

''..now you’re right where i wanted"

the knife glides along the inner part of your thigh, it's pointy edge poking at your soft skin and you whimper as you shake your head. beomgyu lets out a short breath, like he wasn't believing his own eyes, and with one flick off the knife he cuts your panties in half.

"don't worry", he quickly shushes your scream with false sympathy, "if you promise not to scream, I'll go easy on you"

[zevrra]

jayvik x reader smut - jayce and reader trying to pump up viktor to give a presentation to a crowd,,, possibly making him read out the presentation while giving him various ✨distractions✨,,, just desperately need to see vikky-boy get the praise he deserves ✊

includes: [nsfw!!] fem!reader and jayce help vik “focus” for a speech!

ft. viktor x reader x jayce

extra: thank you for the request!! i hope you enjoy this and hope you request again soon! <3 (also did not proof read this forgive me for any errors jshsjsh)

“no. i refuse.” viktor huffs annoyingly as he walks across the lab. his cane taps against marble flooring as he moves to lean against the large desk he’s spent countless hours at, disapproved by what you and jayce ask of him. “jayce, you should do it. i-i cannot.”

“no can do, v.” jayce replies as he stands at viktor’s side, a soft gaze landing on his partner’s face.

“the council asked specifically for you to speak vik.” you add as you slip right up on the other side of viktor. you reach with a gentle hand to reassuringly touch his shoulder.

viktor sighs, running a hand across his slender face. amber eyes scanning the floor for any excuse he can use to get out of public speaking. not that he hated it but he…kind of hated it. jayce was always better at speaking to the masses as he was far more charismatic than viktor so why the council wanted him to speak, he didn’t know why and had a sneaky suspicion it was thanks to you two…but he couldn’t prove otherwise.

seeing the slight worry in his pretty eyes, you look over at jayce with your own concerned look but he seems to know exactly what to do to calm both of you down. “why don’t we help you practice vik? i’ve written a speech already so you can just read from it, yeah?” jayce brightly says, retrieving the notes from somewhere in his jacket, handing the folder off into viktor’s hands. “just pretend we’re the audience!”

you smile fondly at jayce. thankfully, he was always so prepared and this worked out perfectly for viktor to get a little practice in before he was supposed to give said speech.

that is until viktor gets half way into the first paragraph before he gives up, pressing his head into his hand. “this is ridiculous! i can’t do this.” he grumpily says, pressing the papers into jayce��s chest to give them back to him.

jayce takes up the papers along with vik’s hand as he holds it gently in his own large hand. “no, come on v! you were doing fine.” jayce states in a matter-of-fact tone and you nod in agreement on the other side of vik.

you take vik’s other hand and place a sweet kiss against it. “he’s right viktor. you just need some…encouragement!” you exclaim with a smile. viktor and jayce give you a puzzling look as to what encouragement you could have in mind. “how about for every paragraph you get through i’ll…take off a piece of clothing.”

“w-what!?” viktor gasps, blinking at you with wide eyes as if you’re nothing but serious about it. “and how is that…going to help me?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, mirroring jayce’s shocked face as they both stare at you; dumbfounded.

you shrug, moving to stand in front of the two men, hands on your hips. “i’m not sure but it can’t hurt to try.” you remark.

jayce laughs a little but nods along, handing vik back the speech he’s to work on, before moving to stand beside you where he then rests a hand on your lower back. “i’ll help.” he adds to your provocation, sliding his hand along your waist until he lays a hot hand against your hip as he bends down to place a kiss against your neck.

viktor stares for a moment in silence, debating in his mind but ultimately the thought of you stripping wins him over. his eyes move over the words of the speech in his hand as he begins to repeat them aloud. his voice is a little smaller but ultimately calmer as he begins to actually read the speech. after the first paragraph he eagerly glances up at you and jayce from over the edge of the paper. and you both keep your promise, jayce removes a piece of your clothing.

he starts with your shirt, fingers gripping the hem tightly before ever so slowly he pulls it up. and he easily removes your shirt up and over your head; tossing it onto the desk beside viktor, before he returns to placing kisses against your neck. his hands smooth along your semi-exposed body as viktor stares longingly at the two of you.

he quickly returns to reading the speech. reads through 3 or 4 more paragraphs worth of the speech with a calmer, more focused tone than he previously had been. presents himself with more confidence than before; as the last piece of your clothing is being taken away by jayce. you help him by shifting your legs a little, lifting your feet to help him discard your underwear.

viktor stares as all of it happens. “i don’t think i can focus anymore...” he mutters under his breath, laughing a little as he lowers the paper.

“only a little more to go.” jayce hums in response towards vik as his hands trail along your body. warm fingers groping your skin, showing you off like a prize he’s won as viktor watches with hungry eyes.

“you’re doing so good though sweetheart.” you add with a smile, trailing your hand down the front of vik’s chest, stopping at the edge of his belt. “keep going. i love listening to you v.” you whisper while your fingers work on undoing viktor of his pants. you slide your palm against the front of his underwear, moving to kiss along his jaw.

one of jayce’s hands follows your own to vik’s lower half as he joins in on rubbing vik through his underwear while his other hand slips between your thighs. his fingers press right up against your cunt, rubbing slowly as he kisses the back of your neck.

viktor gasps softly at the hands groping him, fingers slightly trembling as he watches everything going on before him. jayce’s hands on you, your hands on him, the kissing at his neck, his breath hitching as you slip your hand beneath his underwear and give him a swift stroke. “mmph this is!” viktor whines, pressing his full weight onto the desk.

you smile as viktor stumbles over his words, unable to really speak as you and jayce’s hands wrap around his stiffening cock.

“if you finish with the speech quickly vik, i’ll let you fuck me.” you respond with another stroke, chuckling as vik gasps again. but it’s cut short as you instead deeply groan when jayce’s fingers press inside of you, a shiver runs down your spine.

“she’s wet just from thinkin’ about it.” jayce sweetly hums, fingers flexing inside of you while his other hand moves along vik with your own. “your voice is so nice vik. it turns her on.” jayce adds, spilling any dark secret you may have tried to hide.

you pout at his words and if he could see your face you’d roll your eyes at what he says. instead you press into him, feeling his own stiff cock grind against your body. “you’re one to talk jay. you’re as turned on as i am.” you respond now with a grin. listening, and loving every second, as jayce groans as you rub up against him. “you love listening to him too. you’re so hard right now…”

“please uh, now is not the time you two.” viktor remarks, interrupting you two, as a red hue settles vividly on his face. clearly, he had not realized the two of his lovers had enjoyed his voice so much and the embarrassment is staining across his pale skin now. he clears his throat while pressing a hand against his lips in an attempt to hide his face from your watchful gaze.

jayce and you suddenly connect a few dots that maybe viktor really, really liked being complimented and praised. “mmm, i really enjoy it when vik talks about the work he does in the lab. he’s always so charming when he speaks.” you say as you move to viktor’s side, glancing at jayce as he flanks to the left. your hand moves slightly faster against vik’s erection while jayce follows in your direction. you rub against vik’s tip, returning to kiss at his neck, while jayce mimics everything you do.

“mhm. i love hearing his voice when he orders me around too.” jayce comments with a chuckle against vik’s skin.

vik in return half moans, half whimpers at the sudden praise. the speech now long forgotten, set off to the side, as vik closes his eyes in pleasure. “you two…”

fuck the speech, the crowd, the council, and everything in between the only thing you wanted to do now was viktor. and it seems like jayce agrees with you as the two of you share a knowing look. your watch as jayce turns viktor towards him, watching as the two lock lips in a heated make-out. you shift vik’s underwear down and finally pull him free, scraping your teeth along vik’s pale neck.

“let’s see just how pretty his voice can get, hmm?”

[cruel-hiraeth]

Every ten years, two young adults from your village are offered to the King of Curses as human sacrifices.

A pair of souls plucked at peak ripeness is all that will appease the mythic monster. Otherwise, the selection process is random—or so the elders claim; you suspect that happenstance alone isn’t why the chosen are always orphans. There’s no harm in throwing away the lives of those who have neither social status nor loved ones.

Who will mourn their loss?

Since you were a knobby-kneed child, you assumed you would have to forfeit your existence for the “greater good” (though you never believed your meager life would account for much). Whispers have followed you like a shadow for as long as you can remember.

Rumor holds that your parents abandoned you to the elements because you consumed your twin in the womb; you were born a demon, a cursed child. The only reason you walk the earth today is because a monk took mercy on a wretched babe, delivering you to an orphanage for a life of isolation and servitude.

It’s a somber morning when it occurs: inky clouds are a funerary shroud over the earth. Your breath remains steady when a procession arrives at the door of your master’s home, announcing that you bear the honor of representing the village this year. Unable to so much as gather your few belongings—what does a spirit require in death?—you leave the residence immediately, heart heavy with foreboding.

The next several weeks are a blur. You reside in a crumbling temple on the outskirts of the village where you begin the purification process—an endless cycle of fasting, meditation, and ablution. Here you meet your companion on this journey to premature death: a fellow orphan named Itadori Yuuji. To your knowledge, you have never met him before; you’re positive that you would remember him if you had.

He’s too striking to forget.

Itadori is tall and broad, his skin sun-warmed and tawny, with freckles smattering his shoulders and face. His eyes are swirling pots of honey, smoother and richer than anything you have ever seen—is the gilt nectar as luscious and sweet as they claim? The shock of hair atop his head is a coppery gold, more befitting of royalty than a poor farmhand.

But perhaps his most distinct features are the identical, crescent-shaped scars that outline his eyes. You wonder how they got there and what they mean. Are they an omen? A generational curse? A mark of death? You never muster the courage to ask him, though, as the day of your offering is upon you.

The wind whips the hem of your silk robes, the chilly air seeping into your bones, a shiver wracking your frame. You wobble to you knees before the shrine as you begin reciting the sacrificial rites—the elders standing back at a safe distance—waiting for the King of Curses to claim you. Your heart is a storm: sorrowful rain, vengeful thunder, thrilling lightning. Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, Itadori grasps your left hand, his palm dwarfing your own.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers.

You glance at him in your periphery; a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips. What makes you so sure? you want to cry out. You taste the words on your tongue as his scars crack open to display another set of eyes a bloody claret, dark tattoos unfurling across his face and limbs. He now speaks with a gravely voice, much deeper than he ever has before:

“This isn’t the end, brat—it’s merely the beginning.”

[itsjaywalkers]

nada que perder

jegulus microfic (not really micro tho you guys know me lmao) | 3.4k | very questionable age gap (it's left ambiguous in this one but reg is 17 and james is . 31) (nothing actually happens between them but just in case), unrequited love (or is it..), loosely based in this spanish show i've been obsessed with lately

James climbs up the rusty stairs of the building as he rolls his shoulders lightly, in an attempt to get rid of the sense of unfamiliarity hanging off him. He supposes that he just needs some time to become used to the new place, but he spent years and years of his life coming over to Alphard’s old house. And besides, this flat isn’t exactly an upgrade from the little estate where the man had been living in less than a month ago. 

But, then again, this development is partly James’ fault, so he probably shouldn’t be sharing his opinion on the place, or the new neighbourhood for that matter. It’s already bad enough that he, Alphard and Frank have all been transferred to Orion’s station. Shitty flats and mildly dangerous neighbourhoods are the least of their worries. 

He rubs at his eyes, fingers slipping under his glasses, before he lets out a soft sigh. Honestly, this whole thing feels like a fucking joke. If it weren’t for Alphard and Frank, James would’ve already quit. Sure, he loves his job—most of the time, at least—but not enough to bear this kind of torture. He has to answer to Lucius Malfoy now, for fuck’s sake. The thought of it is almost enough to make him nauseous. 

James sighs one more time, and then he finally knocks on the door. He hears some shuffling inside nearly immediately, and some muffled yelling that drags a little smile out of him. 

The door opens less than twenty seconds later, James being greeted with a pair of steely eyes and tousled black curls. 

His grin widens. 

“Oh,” the boy mumbles, leaning against the doorframe. He doesn’t reciprocate James’ smile, but he visibly brightens, gaze turning soft around the edges. “Hi, James.”

“Hey,” James greets him back with a slight tilt of his head. “Is Regulus now, right?”

The boy nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah,” Regulus replies, suddenly sounding a little shy. He averts his eyes, and James has to bite his tongue to stop himself from poking fun at him. “You like it?”

“‘Course,” James says without missing a beat, and he truly means it. It took a bit to get used to, that’s why he refused to visit Alphard for a couple of weeks, until he was sure he wasn’t going to slip up. But he believes it suits the boy perfectly. “It’s really pretty.”

“You think so?” Regulus questions, staring up at James with big, shiny eyes. There’s a soft pink spreading all over his cheeks. 

“Absolutely. And I can still call you Reggie.”

“Always,” Regulus agrees with a tiny nod. The corners of his mouth twitch, and even though his lips don’t completely curl upwards, James still takes it as a win. “Do you want to come in?”

James chuckles gently. “That was kinda the plan, yes.”

The blush on Regulus’ face worsens, but then he’s stepping aside, turning his head away from James. Still, the tip of his ears are red, and all that colour seems to spread even down his neck and to his collarbones, which are peeking from his white shirt. Regulus doesn’t seem to be wearing anything apart from his briefs under them, so James assumes he must be getting ready for school.

“Where’s your uncle?” James asks as he begins to make his way down the hall before Regulus slides in front of him, halting his advances. 

“Why? Are you here to pick him up?” Regulus arches an eyebrow. James represses a snort at the way the boy has to crane his neck up to look him in the eye. He thinks Regulus might be trying to appear intimidating. 

“Yup. First day on the new station and all, figured it would be nice,” James says with a shrug. “Also, he’ll end up being late otherwise.” 

Regulus huffs. “That is if he even shows up.”

“Oh, he will. I’ll make sure of it, trust me.”

“Good. Andy will kill him otherwise.” 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t yet,” James admits, amused.

“She nearly did, when my uncle first dropped the news,” Regulus sighs, tucking a curl behind his ear. “She wasn’t very happy about moving. And seeing the flat definitely didn’t help.”

James clicks his tongue, eyes roaming briefly around the hall, and even though there isn’t much to see just yet, he understands Andromeda’s reluctance quite well. The walls are stained near the ceiling, and most of the paint is chipped. He catches sight of a box at the end of the hall, probably because they still haven’t had time to finish unpacking. The carpet looks old and worn-out and like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. James has to make an active effort to not turn his nose up at the sight of it.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” James mutters, avoiding Regulus’ eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. “It has a—a certain charm. It’s sort of, um, cosy? In a way? Yeah, ah, very cosy, and, and welcoming—”

Regulus lets out a little snort, but before it can develop into a proper laugh, the boy covers his mouth with a hand, pressing harshly and schooling his expression into something more serious. 

“Shut up,” Regulus murmurs, gaze downcast. James can only smirk at him, before he attempts to pull the boy’s hand away from his face. He doesn’t get far, because Regulus swats his fingers, but it’s worth it nonetheless, if only because of the roll of eyes and the tiny smile it earns him. “You’re not funny.”

“Really? Because you were laughing,” James teases him cheekily, crouching slightly to take a peek at his grin.

Regulus turns his face away, but James doesn’t miss the way his lips spread a little wider. 

“Barely,” the boy sniffs. “This place fucking sucks.” 

James feigns a gasp, clutching dramatically at his chest. “My god, Reggie,” James scolds him halfheartedly. “The mouth on you. What would your uncle say?”

“Please, my uncle is even worse,” Regulus scoffs. James can only chuckle under his breath because, well, yeah. Alphard swears even more than James, and that’s saying a lot. 

“Still. You used to be so proper with your words,” James points out, raising both eyebrows. “Such an obedient boy.”

“Well, not anymore,” Regulus retorts with a defiant raise of his chin. He’s still blushing, however, so it doesn’t have much of an effect. Not like Regulus could ever inspire in James anything apart from fondness. Maybe exasperation too, on occasion, because he does love to be difficult just for the sake of it. “I’m almost an adult now, you know.”

James snorts loudly, a furrow immediately appearing in Regulus’ brow. “Is that so?” 

“Are you mocking me?” Regulus inquires, voice tight, his mouth twisting into a pout. 

“Never.” James places a hand over his heart, shaking his head as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep his grin at bay. “It’s just—you’re barely seventeen, Reggie.”

“Like I said, almost an adult,” Regulus insists with a firm nod. 

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“And you know what that means, right, James?” 

Regulus’ expression shifts as he takes a step closer, until there’s nearly no space between their bodies. Regulus watches him from under his lashes, eyes wide and bright and puppy-like, the red on his cheeks still very much there, and James tenses up almost immediately. 

He considers stepping away, but ultimately decides against it. Showing any kind of reaction will only get Regulus’ hopes up, regardless of rejection. James must remain either indifferent or mildly amused. The boy will see anything else as a possible open, and James can’t have that. Not when they’ve been treading this very thin line for nearly a year. 

James had hoped that this… change, or discovery, or whatever Regulus prefers to call it, would help with his silly crush on James, but apparently coming out as a boy hasn’t diffused Regulus’ feelings. If anything, it only seems to have made him bolder. 

“Sure,” James replies, shrugging one shoulder, his tone casual. “It means you’re gonna be eighteen.”

Regulus exhales loudly through his nose, and James has to repress the sudden urge to coo and pinch his cheeks. 

He looks so disappointed. James hates to be the one to put that sort of expression on that adorable face, but he refuses to entertain his delusions, no matter how much he cares about him. 

“Yes,” Regulus agrees, stilted. “Legally an adult.”

“You’re always gonna be a kid in my eyes.”

Regulus’ frown becomes even more pronounced, and his pout comes back full force. James’ heart gives a painful flip at the sight, and he can’t help but hate himself a little because of it. 

“Anyways, are you gonna let me through, or…” James says, scratching at the side of his jaw, at his stubble. “No offence, Reggie, you know I love our chats, but—”

“In a moment,” Regulus mutters, squirming a little in place before he puffs out his chest and meets James’ gaze head on. “You haven’t greeted me properly.”

James blinks at him, and then raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure I said hi as soon as you opened the door—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Regulus protests, and for a second, James is convinced he’s going to stomp his foot. “It’s just—you’ve always been more affectionate, and I, I haven’t seen you in weeks, and because now I look like—like this, so different, then maybe—”

“Reggie, love, it has nothing to do with that, you hear me?” James cuts him off a bit more sharply than intended, one of his hands twitching with the need to reach out. “Nothing. You’re still the same to me, and the care and affection I feel for you—that’s never gonna change, okay?”

“Okay,” Regulus responds in a whisper, gaze so filled with adoration James nearly has to look away.

He sighs. “Fine, what do you want? A hug? You missed me that much, Reggie?”

“Yes, I did,” Regulus tells him without missing a beat, and James’ teasing smile falls slightly. He swallows. “And I was thinking about a kiss, actually.”

“Reg,” James says, the warning clear in his tone. 

“On the cheek!” Regulus rushes to clarify, blinking rapidly at him, all innocent and genuine. James knows better than to believe him, though. “You used to kiss me on the cheek constantly.”

“Yeah, when you were, like, fourteen—”

“Didn’t you say I’m always going to be a kid in your eyes? It shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“I guess, but—”

“Come on, Jamie,” Regulus insists, whiny and needy and so sweet, always so painfully sweet. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I know, Reggie, and I missed you too, I really did, but I’m just not sure if that’s a good idea—”

“Please,” Regulus murmurs, pressing even closer, to the point James can feel the warmth radiating from the boy’s body. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of his state of undress, of the fact that he’s only wearing briefs under his school shirt.

James traps his lower lip between his teeth, and he pretends that he doesn’t notice the way Regulus follows the movement with his eyes, pupils dilating. 

He should refuse. James knows he should refuse. This madness has been going on for far too long, since Regulus was fifteen, and what James used to believe was sort of cute and natural, something that would pass on its own after a few months, has been growing to the point James feels like it’s getting out of his control. And now that Regulus seems to be feeling confident enough to do more than glance longingly at him and blush whenever James is close, he knows he ought to put a definite end to it. Nip the whole thing from the bud. Even if that means breaking Regulus’ heart. It’ll be better for him in the long run.

The problem is that James has never been good at denying Regulus anything. He’s always been his only weakness, and that hasn’t changed. James doesn’t think it ever will. 

“Okay,” James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, but his mouth twitches helplessly when Regulus beams at him. “But only one,” he reminds the boy, raising a finger and pointing it at Regulus, who nods quickly. “And on the cheek. No games, Reggie, and I fucking mean that.”

“I swear,” Regulus assures him, nodding once more. He’s getting on his tiptoes a second later, and James exhales softly, staying put, allowing Regulus to go for it.

At first, Regulus does keep his word. He presses his lips softly to the high of James’ cheek, and automatically, not giving it much thought, James wraps an arm around Regulus’ waist, hand resting on the small of his back. He feels the boy’s smile against the side of his face.

Regulus lingers there for longer than necessary, but James indulges him, endlessly endeared. And besides, he did mean it when he said that he had missed Regulus. He adores the boy, and putting some distance between them wasn’t an easy choice. It’s been hard on James, too, even though he’s aware that he’s doing the right thing. Having Regulus in his arms once again feels good, and James wishes it could always be like this. Easy affection and sweet touches. 

James squeezes lightly and Regulus finally pulls away, a big smile taking all over his expression. However, he doesn’t go too far, and after looking at James for a couple of seconds, he dives in again, although this time, his mouth changes trajectory, the intentions behind the movement clear. 

He manages to avoid it at the last second, turning his head enough for Regulus’ lips to press against the corner of his mouth instead. James stiffens up, fingers spasming where they’re resting on Regulus’ back, on his waist. The scent of strawberries fills his senses, making James slightly dizzy, urging him to bury his nose in those lovely curls, to pull the boy even closer.

James makes sure to swat the idea away before it can take root, before his body can think of listening to it.  

“Regulus,” James hisses in warning. 

The boy giggles against his skin, but he obeys, stepping away, a mischievous grin curving his lips. James pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and wills himself not to yell. 

He still has his arms wrapped around Regulus.

“Oops,” the boy comments, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “My bad.”

“You can’t do that shit, Reg,” James tells him sternly, and yet, his voice doesn’t come off as angry as it probably should. “We’ve talked about this. You know better. Fuck, this isn’t—”

“Okay, okay,” Regulus huffs out, still smiling, raising his hands in mock surrender. He can be such a menace. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, yeah? I promise.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you after what you just pulled—”

“Don’t be a baby, Jamie, it was nothing—”

“You and I both know it’s not so simple—”

“Regulus!” a voice exclaims from somewhere behind the boy. Andromeda. “Who is it!?”

“It’s just James!” he answers in the same tone.

James lets go of Regulus as if burnt, and he also takes a few steps away from him, just in case, his heartbeat quickening to the point he can hear it rumbling inside his head. Regulus watches him with his head tilted to the side, blinking at him with feigned confusion. 

He squints his eyes at the boy, his jaw clenched, but before he gets the chance to open his mouth, Andromeda’s head is poking out from the end of the hall, smile pulling wide at his lips the moment her eyes settle on James. 

James forces himself to reciprocate the gesture, swallowing back down the bile that tries to climb up his throat. 

“What are you doing, standing there like an idiot?” she huffs out, visibly amused. “Come in! I bet you haven’t had any breakfast yet.”

“I had a coffee,” James argues, adjusting his belt and the holster attached to it. “And a fag.”

“Typical,” Andromeda scoffs. “Luckily for you, there’s more than enough food for you too. I had a feeling you were gonna be here today.”

“You know me too well.”

“That, and Alphard has been whining all morning about how he refuses to go to work.”

James lets out a resigned sigh. “Figures. Don’t worry, Andy, I’ll drag his stubborn ass to the station myself.”

“Good,” she chuckles, and then he’s focusing on Regulus, his expression shifting into something more serious. “And you, go get dressed! It’s nearly eight already, you’re gonna be late at this rate and you haven’t even finished your breakfast yet.”

“Fine,” Regulus groans, rolling his eyes so hard his head tilts back. He turns around, beginning to make his way towards his cousin, but not without throwing one last glance at James over his shoulders, giving him a cheeky smile. 

“Hurry up,” Andromeda urges him, swatting him with the cloth she’s holding when Regulus walks past her. “If we get another call about your tardiness you’re gonna be grounded for a bloody month.”

“But I already missed the bus,” Regulus complains. “I’m gonna have to walk again—”

“Fuck, Regulus, you’re a mess.” Andromeda shuts her eyes briefly, massaging her temples. “This is why you should’ve agreed to leave with Sirius, he could’ve given you a ride—”

“Over my dead body,” Regulus snarls, hands curling into fists.

Andromeda clicks her tongue, and James arches an eyebrow at her, the question clear in the gesture. 

“They’re currently not speaking to each other,” she explains, deadpan. “Again.” 

James isn’t quick enough to suppress a snort, and he has to purse his lips to keep more from coming when Regulus turns to scowl at him. 

“What happened this time?” he asks her, despite all his attention being on Regulus.

“None of your fucking business,” Regulus snaps as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Sirius is just being a prick, is all.”

“Language,” Andromeda scolds him, but it’s weak, half-hearted. She focuses on James a second later, and she seems to light up a little.  “Oi, James, could you drive Reg and Tonks to school? Please?”

Regulus visibly perks up at this, and he gives James a pleading look, the puppy-like kind, the one James has always been unable to resist. 

“Uh,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, avoiding both Regulus and Andromeda’s gazes. “I don’t know, Andy, it’s the first day on the new job, and me and the guys can’t afford to—”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Andromeda insists. “Reg won’t make it in time otherwise, and he can’t afford to be late again. And Ted can’t drop Tonks off at school today, he had to leave early for a meeting—”

“Fine, fine, okay!” James interrupts her, cursing himself internally. “But we need to leave in ten, yeah?”

“Thank you!” Andromeda says, rushing down the hall to hug James so tightly he swears his ribs crack. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Honestly, what would we do without you?”

“I ask myself that question every morning,” James huffs with a shake of his head. He raises his head, gazing at Regulus over Andromeda’s shoulder. “C’mon, Reggie, go get ready. And bring Tonks too.”

Regulus nods, and the grin he offers James rivals the goddamn sun. “You’re the best, Jamie.” 

He disappears around the corner right after, and James feels a pull at his stomach he attributes to its emptiness. Perhaps Andromeda, with all her nagging, is right. She does tend to be, after all. 

“I owe you one,” she sighs, pulling away. She squeezes James’ arms gently, smiling up at him, and then she’s grabbing him by the wrist and pulling, dragging him with her down the hall. “Now let’s get you something to eat, you have time for some toast before you leave.”

“Don’t be silly, you don’t owe me shit. You never do. I’m happy to help, Andy. You’re family. All of you are,” James tells her honestly, barely repressing a wince. “I won’t say no to some toast, though,” he adds a bit cheekily. 

Andromeda throws her head back and laughs, and all of James’ worries vanish with the sound. 

Or at least, the ones that don’t concern a certain black-haired boy do.

[starryeyedjanai]

“Thanks again for letting me stay for the holidays, Mr. Munson,” Steve says.

“I told you to call me Wayne, son.” Steve's ears turn red at that. “Where’re your parents this year?”

Steve doesn't remember. “Some island, I think.”

It’s the second Christmas he’ll be spending with the Munsons and he can honestly say he doesn't miss the holidays with his parents.

He doesn't miss the lavish gifts or the stilted conversations.

He’d much rather spend this entire week curled up next to Eddie, watching the game with Wayne, having dinner with actual conversations, surrounded by people who love him.