#they’re all fucking snitches too

[roachclit]

men in retail management are so fuckign annoying I stg they get one promotion and suddenly they think they’re a god. Like boy we both work at walgreens, you are not better than me. Sit down

[pleaselmhau]

Just imagine the sweet little medic on base, the one always giving those beaming smiles and soft touches is the one who wormed their way into Ghost’s heart. It started with him sitting on the shabby cot, having half the mind to just stitch himself up after waiting so long. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place but infection meant he’d be out of commission and that’s not happening. Eventually the sweetest thing comes sauntering on in and instantly he’s glaring. Of course the universe is taunting him. Why else would it put them in here with him? Their cheesy jokes make him roll his eyes, wanting them to just shut up and finally finishing stitching. He’s surprised though when they do finish rather quickly. The stitches are neat too even though they were yapping the whole time. So now he’s torn between being his grumpy self and his begrudging respect for their skills.

So he starts coming to them whenever he’s busted up, he’s a man of habit after all. Not having to risk whatever medic is assigned to him being more annoying or worse bad at their job is one worry he can tick off. Their cheesy jokes start to work on him, complimenting his dry humor truthfully quite well until he has to catch him self grinning a little and pop back on his scowl. Then their sweet smiles start disarming him until one day he’s just look down at their goofy smile and bright eyes and just thinks fuck.

He starts chatting a little more when he comes and starts seeing them more for smaller injuries. Now all of the sudden he’s stopping by the medbay for bruises and shallow cuts too. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or what he wants, but man does his feet always seem to bring him right back here in front of them. They must notice too as they start tagging along when he’s around base and free, going to the mess hall with him, on his morning walks, even sometimes joining him for training. Until one night they have a few drinks and an hour later they’re under him moaning so sweetly while he’s rutting into them like there’s no tomorrow. Unfortunately for his defenses, there was. He expected the hookup to ruin whatever was blooming between them but nope, they come right back to his quarters a few nights later for seconds, then thirds, then… you get the picture.

Then he’s giving them a spare key to his quarters, not telling them he had to fake losing his own to get the second copy. At that point they should just sleep there every night right? So they do. It becomes his new routine, squeezing his worries and stress away into their soft, pliant body. Becomes an absolute softie at night when he’s sleepy. Grumbling something about not being comfy before plopping down right on them, practically suffocating them with his big meaty self.

Then his team is finding out because they come back late from a mission, two days late, and the medic is barreling right for him, wrapping him up in an embrace. He watches Soap, Gaz, and Price’s brows raise in question but he doesn’t even really have the answers to himself. He just pats them on the back and plants a chaste kiss right on their forehead, telling them to go back to his quarters and that he’ll be up in a bit. Soap and Gaz tease him, earning sharp glares. Price grumbles something about interpersonal work relationships, but Ghost knows the captain wouldn’t snitch. Ghost doesn’t open up to anyone, Price won’t jeopardize his exception. Beneath it all they’re just happy Ghost is becoming a little less tense, still grumpy, but not as constantly on edge as he used to be.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight. 

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you. 

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff. 

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat. 

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin. 

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you. 

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips. 

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life. 

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week. 

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs. 

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him. 

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him. 

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin? 

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale. 

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home. 

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn. 

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent. 

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want. 

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away. 

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear. 

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring. 

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two. 

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been. 

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night. 

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back. 

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all. 

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable. 

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man. 

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod. 

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone. 

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison. 

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek. 

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls. 

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…” 

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself. 

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more. 

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down. 

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?” 

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you. 

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh. 

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death. 

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself. 

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep. 

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice. 

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

[ellecdc]

Poly!Jegulus x Slytherin reader idea

So reader is one of the Slytherin chasers and she gets hurt on one of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor matches (maybe just a sprained wrist, or a concussion, whatever you prefer is good!) and imagine just the two captains losing their cool, its either funny or very chaotic or both, really just craving hurt and comfort

it's so funny because keke and I were talking about this dynamic not too long ago. I fiddled around with the positions etc, hope you don't mind! so glad to have you back mimi 🫶

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who plays keeper for the Slytherin team

It was very clear that Regulus was stressed. You knew he didn’t like having to call you up to play.

“Quidditch players play dirty, amour. Have you seen Barty out there?” he had urged you, earning him a roll of your eyes.

“Good thing I’m not playing against Barty then, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’re playing against the players that are playing against Barty; they’re going to go for blood.”

But this was your job as a reserve player. The Slytherin keeper had a case of mumblemumps and was currently on bedrest, meaning it was your turn to step onto the field.

Regulus had ‘double checked’ your equipment for the sixth time before you swatted him away.

“I’m okay, Reg. I’ve played before, yeah?”

Regulus sighed and looked into your eyes imploringly. “Do not take any unnecessary risks, okay? Especially against those animals.” He muttered.

You snorted a laugh. “You do realise we’re playing our boyfriend, yeah? The captain of those ‘animals’?”

Regulus levelled you with a glare. “Exactly.”

You opted to ignore Regulus’ worried ramblings in French and hyped yourself up for the game. Regulus had been hoping that the keeper would pull through in time for the game and was only willing to call you up a mere twenty minutes ago, meaning you hadn’t been mentally prepared for this.

Perhaps more importantly, neither had James

“WHAT IN THE BUGGERING FUCK IS SHE DOING OUT HERE!?” You heard James shout as he marched over to the Slytherin’s on the pitch, earning him a warning from Madame Hooch.

“Crawley is still in the infirmary.” You explained simply as James made it to you and began fussing with your equipment and uniform in much the same way Regulus had already.

“So what? He’s got swollen glands and a case of the mumbles, he can play sodding quidditch.” He muttered, tightening your elbow pads to almost painful lengths.

“Okay, James, enough.” You began shoving at him, but Regulus came to your defence.

“I’ve already done all that, James.” He sighed, sounding equally as disturbed about this as James did.

“I don’t like it. Maybe we should forfeit?” James mused aloud, earning him a horrified outcry from Marlene and Sirius.

“Like hell we’re forfeiting just because your girlfriend is playing, Prongs!” Sirius shouted at the same time as Marlene cried “I know she’s got a pretty face, but this is quidditch, Potter!”

“You never get this worked up over playing against Black, Potter.” Barty goaded from behind you, earning him a dark glare from Regulus.

“That’s because he’s busy looking for the snitch and well out of the action, Junior.” James sneered back before returning his eyes back to you. “Oh, my poor girl.”

You groaned and stepped away from the boys at that. “This is ridiculous, let’s sodding play!”

With an unnecessary amount of reluctance on his part, James stalked back off towards his team as everyone got into formation for the whistle.

The game was as fast-paced and intense as any game was against Slytherin and Gryffindor; the intense and deep-rooted rivalry causing the air to crackle with electricity.

As was predicted by anyone and everyone who knew Barty Crouch Junior, he was one lunatic of a beater, lobbing the bludgers at the opposing players with an unnecessary amount of force. The chasers on the other team seemed to be taking that in stride for the most part, save McLaggen who appeared to take each hit personally.

Any anxiety you had prior to the game melted away with the ease and familiarity of your broom beneath you and the rhythm of swatting quaffles away from your goal posts. Though James talked a big game of you being in “the thick of it”, keepers were the only players allowed within the vicinity of the goal posts, contributing to a certain amount of protection for those in your position.

Unfortunately, the seventh time McLaggen was hit by one of Barty’s bludgers seemed to be the undoing of this so-far fair-played game.

In a manner that seemed to be fueled by pure rage, McLaggen managed to bypass Barty and the other Slytherin beater, and beelined it for you. You would have been impressed by his skills and quick manoeuvres on his broom but you realised too late that he had nearly made it all the way over to you.

“Oi! Stay out of my zone!” You called at him, alerting the chaser’s presence to Barty.

With little more than a twist of his broom, Barty was barrelling his way towards you and aiming a bludger for McLaggen. You were slowly backing up towards your posts in an attempt to stay in position to block McLaggen’s quaffle whilst also trying to stay out of the way of his broom when he suddenly dropped altitude as soon as Barty’s bludger left his hand.

You looked down as he smiled up at you, realising too late what that meant for you.

Suddenly, your vision went black as the bludger made impact with the crown of your head, and you tasted iron as the wind ripped violently through your hair.

You could hear shouting and swearing, suddenly aware that you no longer had your broom under you; you were freefalling.

Still without sight, you had only seconds to brace yourself before you made impact with the hard ground below you.

Your lungs were being squeezed by a large fist within your chest and your ears were ringing something fierce.

There was warmth; warmth on your head, by your ear, trailing down your neck. It felt good against the wind that had accosted you moments earlier.

There was pressure at your collar bone, and deep within your chest.

The pressure became too much.

You took a gaping breath and with that, the ringing in your ears made way for the chaos surrounding you to permeate your consciousness.

“Okay, okay. Okay, good; good job amour, keep breathing. You’re okay, okay? Okay, you’re okay.” You heard Regulus chant, his voice taut with emotions. “Breathe amour, breathe.”

You took a few more gasping breaths and tore your eyes open, realising then that the lack of sight wasn’t due to inability, but rather your body’s unwillingness.

“Hi, hi amour. You’re okay.” Regulus said breathlessly, his eyes scanning between the two of yours before flitting up to something above you.

Your hearing was still fuzzy but you could hear something happening out of your line of sight.

“Yelling.” You choked out, coughing through the pain of having had the wind knocked out of your mere moments ago.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, MCLAGGEN? THE KEEPER ZONES ARE OFF FUCKING LIMITS.”

“It’s okay, amour. Don’t worry about that, just keep breathing for me, okay?” Regulus urged, placing a gentle hand on the juncture of your neck and shoulder causing you to wince in pain.

“Mr. Potter, you need to calm down.” Madame Hooch could be heard from behind you.

“I’ll do no such thing! He fucking orchestrated that! YOU LET YOUR BEATERS TAKE CARE OF OTHER BOTHERSOME BEATERS! YOU’VE BEEN PLAYING QUIDDITCH FOR SODDING YEARS, YOU KNOW WHAT JUNIOR IS LIKE.”

“Oi! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

“You’re off the team. You’re DONE. Get the fuck out of my sight.”

You heard what sounded like McLaggen storm off towards the locker rooms as Madame Hooch let out a sigh.

“The game is a draw, Slytherin is forced to forfeit with no keeper. Everyone off the pitch.” She droned in monotone.

“Jamie.” You whimpered, your sinuses suddenly swelling painfully.

“Hey! Hey babylove, I’m here.” He said quickly, quietly, gently; his voice a dramatic change from the way he’d been speaking to his team moments ago.

“I’m okay.” You stated, though it sounded more like a question with the way your voice tilted upwards at the end.

“Of course you are, you’re such a strong girl.” He agreed readily, offering you a sad smile. You chuckled self-deprecatingly and lifted your hand to wipe your tears as they trailed into your hairline, grimacing when your hand came back bloody.

“Just a bump, yeah?” James said lightly, causing Regulus to sniffle.

“I think she hurt her collarbone too.” He whispered as if speaking any louder would cause his voice to break and the tears to fall.

“Okay, alright.” James said as Madame Pomfrey arrived with a gurney. “Head injury and possibly injured collarbone.” He relayed to the matron. 

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. Mr. Black, I’ll take over now; please step aside.”

But Regulus didn’t seem able to let go.

“Mr. Black.”

“Come on, Reggie. We’ll follow her up, yeah?” James tried gently, pulling at Regulus’ shoulder so that the matron could levitate you onto the gurney. 

“We’re right behind you, okay sweetheart?” James called after you as he held Regulus to his side, and you let unconsciousness pull at you with the knowledge that they were following you back to the castle. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him, Pads. I’m going to skin him alive and put his head on a spike on the Gryffindor stadium.” 

You heard Sirius chuckle at the sound of James’ dramatics, though he never bothered to argue with his mate. 

“How is it that you’re such a lover boy and my brother is such a gremlin; but anything happens to her and the two of you trade personalities?” Sirius taunted. You heard a shuffle, a grunt, and then an ‘oi!’ before the sound of Remus’ voice permeated the infirmary.

“Alright, alright. Pads, get off your brother.”

“And then, and then! I’m going to mail his ear to his mother with a note saying “you raised a fucking wanker”.” James continued as if no one had said a word.

“Y/N?” You heard Remus ask, causing the shuffling of your boyfriend and his brother, and the musings of your other boyfriend to come to a halt as they waited with bated breath for you to open your eyes.

“There she is.” James sighed in relief as his eyes met yours, his smile only at a fraction of its usual wattage, though it was still enough to brighten up the grim infirmary.

“Hi.” You croaked, wincing as your stretch was impeded by a sling on your arm.

“No, don’t.” Regulus whispered, brushing your elbow with a touch that was barely there. “Madame Pomfrey reset your collarbone, you’ll be in the sling for a few weeks.” He explained.

“Gives us all the more of an excuse to fuss over you, yeah?” James offered, clearly trying to keep spirits up.

Though you knew James was likely just as worked up about your injury as Regulus currently was (if not more, if his threats of murder and mutilation were anything to go off of), he was making an effort to be strong for both of your sake’s.

“Reggie, I’m okay.” You pressed, taking Regulus’ hand in yours that wasn’t currently pressed to your side. 

“I know.” He whispered back.

“So are you.” 

Regulus’ face crumpled at that and he slowly lowered his head to rest on your abdomen.

“Glad to see you up and at’em, Y/N.” Rem smiled at you as Sirius shot you a wink before patting Regulus on the shoulder and leaving the three of you some privacy. 

“Reggie, babe.” James murmured, moving to stand behind Regulus and rub at his shoulders soothingly. “You’re going to get tears and snot all over our poor girl’s jumper.”

“Sod off.” Regulus mumbled into your stomach, causing you and James to chuckle. 

Regulus’ head popped up at that, and he looked at you shyly from red rimmed eyes behind black curls falling over his forehead. 

“You promise me you’re okay?” He whispered, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth over your knuckles.

You nodded and offered him a small smile. 

Regulus sighed and sat up, rubbing at his face. “Good.” He said simply as he stood.

“I’ve got a Gryffindor to kill.”

He placed a gentle kiss to your temple and stalked out of the infirmary before your horrified glance moved to James who stood passively at the end of your bed.

“James!?” You asked, gesturing with your good arm towards the entrance.

James shook his head and waved you off. “Don’t worry; Pad’s and Moony are on watch out there. We knew once you woke up he’d be on a warpath.” 

You let out a surprised laugh as James casually took Regulus’ vacated seat beside you and picked up your good hand.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Just sore.” You offered with a nod. 

“Well, I don’t like that you got hurt, but I do like getting to take care of you.” He said salaciously, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. 

You shared a soft smile with James before you heard screeching. 

“I need a healer!”

James brows furrowed as he turned to see 1) McLaggen holding a jumper to his face leaving a trail of blood droplets behind him and 2) Regulus, Sirius, and Remus walking back towards your bed far too nonchalantly for your liking. 

“You were supposed to stop him!” James shouted at Sirius as he gestured to Regulus.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we did.”

James let out a surprised scoff. “Then how’d he manage to maim McLaggen?”

“I didn’t have to.” Regulus replied simply, sitting on the end of your bed and pulling your feet into his lap as he massaged them through the blankets. “Barty got to him first.”

[neuvistar]

poly jingren x reader has been on my mind 4 so longgg.. ITS SO BADD. please give me more thirsts or thoughts abt poly!jingren x reader i’m lovin them rn | hint of fluff, mostly nsfw

short lil thirst ! jing yuan + blade x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), big dick jing yuan + blade foreal, reader implied 2 be shorter in height, degrading terms (whore, slut, etc), mentions of squirting, mating press + full nelson, SIZE KINK!! SIZE KINK!!, blade’s a lil mean but it’s ok bc it’s blade!, cum cum lots of cum (sounds funny but it’s okay </3) | overall suggestive content minors do not interact

poly!jingren who would have different tolerance of your brattiness. jing yuan having the highest patience for u n blade having the least! you always run to jing yuan whenever blade talks abt punishing u n he thinks it’s soso cute :(( he’s always protecting you, nuzzling against his chest with your arms wrapped around his huge body, ur so cute! a darling you are..

jing yuan always tried dodging the idea of you wearing short skirts in public, why? you would make his dick hard, easy. but, you decided it was a good idea to wear the shortest skirt known 2 mankind one day, paying him a visit at his office. imagine this, jing yuan would be at his office doing work at his desk n all of the sudden you walk in looking all slutty, a short skirt that just barely covers your plushy thighs and ass, he would brush it off at first up until you purposely drop the pen on his desk bending down to pick it up. once you stood up, you would already be bent over his desk. that’s what you wanted, after all. “are you trying to tempt me, dove? because it sure is working.” jing yuan has zero patience whenever you’re acting like a whore in public, he would plant kisses all over your back and pound into you like there’s no tomorrow, his big dick stretching you out :(( choked moans would leave your throat, rambling on about how rough he was being with you, and that people might hear you and walk in, but he didn’t care, infact that was the last of his worries. he savoured the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around his cock, cumming inside and cumming on your panties too! i hope u’ll enjoy the stickiness between your thighs <3 (he’ll snitch to blade too abt it, what a bitch)

poly!jingren would be protective over you, even though they’re a pain to be with sometimes due to their constant arguments and disagreements, dating them does have its benefits. they would stand on either side of you, one on your left and one on your right. geez, you look so cute compared to them, it’s like you were walking around with two dogs on your leash, reading to pounce at anyone who dares speak ill of you or touches you. speaking of size.. i feel like they’d both have a size kink, you’re just so short compared to them they can’t help but fantasize about bending you over and fucking you in different positions, i feel like they both each have their favourites on that.

jing yuan loves putting you in a mating press, he likes it becuz it makes him cum quicker! not even a few thrusts and he’s already cumming inside, loving how you squirt all over his cock. he would press your knees against your chest, folding you in half almost. he would gently draw circles on your knee while the tip of his dick kisses your cervix, he’s so sweet to you though.. whispering praises in your ear. he would catch you off guard sometimes due to how sweet he was with you, not noticing how much he came, staring down at the mess he made in your cunt w cum seeping out </3

blade would absolutely love folding you in a full nelson, bro has sm strength it scares you sometimes. he would hook his arms under your knees, thrusting his hips into you. “sucha’ whore for my cock, aren’t you? you like it when i fuck you hard like this, don’t you?” mmm also also maybe if he’s feeling it, i bet bro would let jing yuan would join too, but he wouldn’t impale you with his dick like blade is, no.. he would rub his cock against your slit, placing kisses on your legs. honestly, jing yuan is your saviour atp. cuz everytime blade folds you in a full nelson, he’s always concerned that he’ll break you, so he tries telling him to ease it up a bit with you <3

poly!jingren would have god like stamina and strength, great speed n strength comes w great consequences! whether it is in a non sexual way or not, i feel like their stamina n strength would be useful in your relationship, its a lil cute since ur kinda shorter in height n they would always tower over u n help i get things from the high shelf or cabinet, it’s so cute! <33 but yet.. it’s a lil scary in bed cuz they can last so long w u and fuck you until you forget your own name, but it’ll be fine!! you can handle them!

poly!jingren both probably didn’t realize they had a size kink until they got intimate with you, it was probably the last of their worries up until one night. blade would probably notice a cute little bump on your stomach, noticing just how small you rlly are compared to them, jing yuan would too! honestly they both just love how their huge cocks slide in and out of your pussy, the bulge on your stomach going down, up, down up, over and over again! you’re just so.. cute they can’t help but stretch your little pussy out a bit.

“cmon sweetheart, you got this. you’re so cute, mhm.. you can handle more right?“

“sure she can, she’s strong girl. if shes— mmp.. squeezing around us like that, i’m sure she can handle more.”

“mm.. mhm. i can see that.” jing yuan leaned down, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “do you like it when we stretch you out with our cocks like this, baby?”

“fuck yeah she does, look at her. she’s creaming on our cocks already. s’ messy.”

poly!jingren who would both try their best to be gentle to you, sometimes it backfires but you don’t seem to mind! what’s very true about them is they both don’t want to hurt you in anyway, sure they fuck you hard enough and punish you but their intentions r never to hurt u, they would always ask you if you’re okay, even if they see the slightest hint of discomfort or pain in your face. especially jing yuan, he’s rlly rlly sweet n same goes to blade but he shows it in his own way. u know that blade doesn’t mean half of the things he says (he knows ur a slut for their cock tho but that’s besides the point) n sometimes he can get carried away but he would apologize with a simple “sorry.” and ask you if he was too rough on you, both r sweethearts yk

[yandecifi]

sex isn't about have to's

aizawa/reader

~4500 words

mild smut, angst, hurt/comfort

cw; implied rape/noncon, implied incest, implied child abuse

You've managed to avoid nights at the house by running the door at a local strip club. The bouncer you usually work with, Aizawa, is a sarcastic, unusually tall smoker. He's sweet, sweet enough to drive you home most nights — and to pick up on your subtleties.

“Hope all the girls are as hot as you.”

It’s twelve in the morning and your dress is short enough that you’ll flash everybody if you bend over. You don’t mind, though, because that’s kind of the idea; the all black, skin tight nature of your chosen work uniform is meant to draw attention to… well, the parts that matter.

You laugh sweetly as you scan the young man’s ID. Your coworker, Aizawa, looms behind you, eyeing up the crowd in front of the club and rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He’s one of the better bouncers you work with, if not your favorite — not only does he actually do his job when things get rowdy, but he doesn’t snitch on your rather immoral side hustle.

“Oh, trust me, they’re even better,” you say, passing the ID back with a flick of your fingers. You shift your weight so that your breasts squish together a little more. “Wanna come and tell me about it after?”

You flutter your lashes. Distant club music swims through your body. The guy grins and nods.

That’s gotta be at least forty bucks. Score.

You turn to flash Aizawa a little shit eating grin. He just shakes his head and takes a puff of his cigarette.

You don’t bother wearing perfume. Why would you when Aizawa’s always got smoke curling up from his lips and fingers? A year into this job and you can’t even scrub the scent out of your hair anymore. When you grumbled that you stink thanks to him, he just said you’re welcome and held out a cigarette, half-lidded eyes full of mirth.

He takes that dry approach to just about everything. Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you, what with his inky, messily tied hair and rough stubble adorning his chin, but he doesn’t care about much aside from his paycheck and getting home. You’ve seen him take a punch to the face and just sigh with annoyance.

Still smiling up at your coworker, you ring up the next guy in line.

“Y’know, I think this is gonna be a good night, ‘Zawa.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You stay ‘till close?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice — oh, yeah, you’re good to go in — I’m here ‘till close, too. Think you could drive me home?”

“Uh-huh. Focus on the customers.”

“Oops.” You whip around to see an older man holding out his credit. You take it with a laugh. “Sorry, sir. I’d make it up to you with a kiss, but you’ll get plenty of that inside.”

“Ha! Didn’t expect the service to start out here. I’m paying for all five of us, by the way.”

“Of course.”

You blow a kiss at the men as they pass you, their loud laughter ensuing. Aizawa blows smoke into your face. You cough and smack his arm.

The monotony of greeting and ringing up, of flirting and scanning, continues. This is how most of your weekend nights go; clock in at nine, run the door with Aizawa (usually) and dick around with him until three, and then give a blowjob or two before heading back to your apartment. It’s a pretty good gig for somebody like you — it doesn’t clash with your other jobs while still making enough cash.

The line dwindles as the night goes on. Eventually, ten minutes go by without a group, and you’re squatting and fixing the straps of the stilettos you’re wearing. An unlit cigarette hangs between your teeth. Goosebumps run up your arms from the night air as you chat about everything and nothing.

“No, yeah, I haven’t seen her since. Do you think she got fired?”

“Probably.” Aizawa’s leaning against the wall, lighter in hand. “People show up high all the time, but not that high.”

“Yeah. I swear to God she was turning blue.” The strap you’re fiddling with slips from your fingers for the — what, fifth time? You groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Aizawa scoffs. “What’d I say? You’ve gotta —“

“You’ve gotta stop wearing the fucking heels, I know, I know!”

You’re kneeling now, knees scraping the concrete. Every time you jam the strap into the buckle it comes right out, no matter how much your nails wedge it in tight. You sigh and resign yourself to the floor.

“This is what I get for thrifting shitty shoes.”

Aizawa hums in agreement and yet squats next to you. He squints at your bratty straps. Then, he hands you his lighter.

“Try putting your leg out straight.”

“Okay,” you murmur, butt hitting the ground as you lean back on your hands and straighten your legs. “I’ll literally love you forever if you fix this.”

“Uh-huh.”

He fiddles with the strap, one hand wrapped around your calf to hold you still. Now that he’s this close, you realize you’ve never been this equal in height to him. Like, the guy is built like a damn tree. His jawline is pretty nice, too, and his hands are warm —

“Lighter.”

“Oh, yeah, here.”

Aizawa brings the lighter to your strap and fiddles some more with the flame. Then, he stands up, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette, though he manages to catch himself.

“Oh my God,” you say, rolling your ankle around and around. “You actually fixed it. What the hell. And with the lighter, too.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, holding out his free hand. You take it with a grin.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

He huffs. “Watch it.”

You laugh and the two of you separate, only to come together again — you lean towards him so that he can light the cigarette in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, breathing the smoke out.

“For making you stink,” he responds, breathing the smoke in.

The two of you loiter around the doors. They open occasionally, drunk men stumbling out to catch their Ubers. One guy vomits across the street. You look away with a grimace.

“Ew.”

“You should be used to this by now.”

“It’s still ew.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long have you worked here that you don’t care about that sorta stuff?”

Aizawa rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and all the joints there. “I’ve been here three years. Had other places before, though.”

“Haha. Old.”

“I’m thirty-nine. I’ve seen you hook up with guys in their fifties.”

You shrug, pass your cigarette to Aizawa. “They pay better.”

“Mhm,” he hums, breathing the nicotine in. He’s kinda pretty when he smokes. It’s something about the veins in his hands. “Your parents don’t care that you’re doing this?”

Your face scrunches up. “My parents?”

“Yeah?”

“How old do you think I am, dude?”

“I don’t know. Eighteen?”

“Excuse you, I’m nineteen.”

He lets out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, sticking the cigarette back out at you. You take it and smoke, face hot.

“That’s basically the same thing,” he says, laughter dead.

“Yeah, whatever, jeez. They don’t care.”

Aizawa nods slowly. You watch your smoke dissolve in the air.

“Just be careful with it,” he says.

You sneak a glance at your coworker. He’s leaning against the wall of the strip club the both of you work at, arms crossed, his black dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.

You cough and look down at your stilettos. “Thanks.”

“Your dress is riding.”

“Fuck.” You bite on the cig and yank your dress down. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t, uh, mean to,” you mutter.

“I know.” He clears his throat and nods towards the door. “Your guy.”

Just like Aizawa says, the young guy from earlier is coming out the doors with his group of friends. They’re snickering as he says bye and splits off towards you. You’ve always been kind of a joke to everybody else, but Aizawa’s never laughed at you.

You get up with a stumble, adjust yourself. The guy reaches you and you snatch up his hand, snuff your cigarette out on your thigh with a sizzle. You can feel Aizawa’s eyes on you as you drag him around back.

Maybe it’s because you’ve done this since you were a kid, but sucking off guys like the one you’re kneeled in front of doesn’t make you feel or think as much as it probably should. It goes by fast, actually, which you don’t mention (you’ve learned that ruins the mood), a blur of motions and groaning and zippers. He gives you some cash and you’re alone, standing behind your workplace, wiping cum off of your face. It’s quiet except for the muffled music.

You pass Aizawa on your way to the breakroom. He’s checking the IDs of some guys — your responsibility, fuck — and spots you as you try to rush past. You’re wiping off the mess that’s your lip gloss, manicured fingertips running circles around your mouth. He gives you a once over, like he always does, but this time he lingers on your fingers.

The guy called you some names during it. They ring in your ears as you brush your teeth in the employee bathroom. Slut. Whore. Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You spit into the sink. You wash your face. You don’t recognize yourself without your makeup. You rummage through your ziploc baggie of product, reapply everything. You fix your hair. Your mouth never does feel clean.

Your lip wobbles. You keep running your fingers through your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror.

When you make it back to your post, the night air biting your calves, your coworker is alone at his usual spot on the wall. You stand next to him with your arms crossed. His voice comes out startlingly even compared to the voices in your head.

“You were in there a while.”

You nibble on your lip. “It got in my hair.”

He hums.

“Sorry for making you do my job,” you whisper.

“It’s boring out here. I don’t mind.” A car drives by. Somebody laughs loudly from inside the club.

“Okay.” You want to swallow but you spit instead. “Thanks.”

Slut. Whore. Slut, slut, slut.

It hits three in the morning and you’re giggling with Aizawa in his beat-up car. A cheap air freshener hangs from his mirror, twirling about as he drives you home, an empty energy drink rattling in one of his cupholders.

“Okay, um, would you kill your cat to end traffic?” You ask, smiling, watching him as he rolls his eyes from the driver's seat.

“You’ve asked me this already.”

“Just answer!”

“No, I wouldn’t.” He taps his cigarette ash out the window, his other hand guiding the steering wheel. “Anybody who says otherwise is a psychopath.”

“Okay, yeah, I agree. What if it was a dog?”

“Still no.”

“A fish?”

“Maybe.” He narrows his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

“Why?”

“You ask the weirdest questions.” He cracks a smile as he says that, shaking his head. “I guess I feel like the fish wouldn’t care as much.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He’s taking you into your neighborhood, now. It’s the kind of place that’s pretty obviously subsidized — it’s all one-story apartments, lawns that are either dead or severely overgrown, and potholes or cracked asphalt. Aizawa slows to a stop in front of your parents’ apartment, puts his hazards on. You should unbuckle your seatbelt and say goodnight with a giggle but you’re stuck.

The lights are still on. Your windows are glowing like eyes.

“Um.” You glance at Aizawa and he’s looking at you funny, fuck. Your fingers fumble with the seatbelt and undo it with a clack. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says slowly. You need to get out of the car, you’re gripping the door handle, all you need to do is open it.

Your father is awake and he shouldn’t be.

You’ve done this hundreds of times, thousands, even. It’s not even the act that’s the worst part anymore. It's looking at your apartment, knowing what’s going to happen, and knowing you can’t do anything about it. No, no, not even — it isn’t even that, it’s that you won’t do anything about it. You will do nothing. You will walk in and let it happen.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

You open your mouth to say something more — another apology, maybe — but you just let out something like a whimper. Your back hits the car seat, you smile, you frown, you shake your head and take a sharp breath. Open the fucking door.

Aizawa turns off his hazards and you’re rolling past your apartment. On and on the two of you go, further into your neighborhood, until you can’t see your windows anymore.

“Anywhere else you want me to drop you off?”

“Uh.” You can’t catch up to all your thoughts. You’ve always been slow; the hot, dumb bitch, the whore, the slut. “What?”

“Do you have a friend you can stay with or something?”

Friends? You? You dropped out of school over a year ago. All you ever do is work.

“I mean, no.”

He takes a moment to look at you instead of the road. His jaw clenches. He passes you his nearly done cigarette as he loops the roundabout at the end of your street.

“I have a couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You’re speechless for a second because nobody has ever, ever said to you what he’s saying.

“Uh, no, no. It’s okay. I can go home.”

He grips the steering wheel with both hands, squinting at the road. He seems to be rolling your words around on his tongue, considering, analyzing.

“You can,” he offers, “but you don’t have to.”

Your brows raise as you stare at the dash. Your lips pull into a frown. You know that, you’ve thought it every single time, but it’s so different hearing it out loud.

“Okay. I — yeah. Yeah.”

And he’s pulling out of your neighborhood. You smoke until you’re burning your fingertips. He merges onto the freeway.

Aizawa lives in a concrete apartment complex the next town over. He’s on the third floor, number three-hundred-fifty-three. You stand behind him, your backpack slung over your shoulder. Your hands wring behind your back. His keys jingle and jangle as he unlocks his front door. He’s got a chibi cat keychain.

The door swings open and bounces off a wall with a thud. The first thing you notice is that it smells like citrus air freshener mixed with weed and cigarettes. Aizawa closes the door behind you, toeing his shoes off.

“You can put your shoes over here.” He gestures to the little closet by his front door. It’s empty aside from a coat or two and a few pairs of shoes. You nod, unbuckle your stilettos. Aizawa grows in height as you step out of them.

You smile a little. “How’s the weather up there?”

He sighs. “Very funny.”

His vinyl floor is cold on your feet as you follow him further into the apartment. It’s simple: a kitchen, a living room with the couch you suppose you’ll be sleeping in, and then two doors that lead to his bathroom and bedroom, respectively.

It’s not as dirty as your place. His kitchen is kept tidy, the sink empty and dry, the counters littered with spices and cooking instruments but well taken care of. He doesn’t have trash piling up or mold lining the backsplash. He doesn’t have empty beer bottles sitting on his coffee table, just an ashtray. A weighted blanket is folded neatly on his couch.

“You have a nice place.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.”

“No, seriously.” You set your bag on his coffee table while he hunts through the fridge. “I’ve got black mold, like, all over my bathroom ceiling.”

“That’s disgusting.”

You laugh, sit on the couch. “I know.”

Aizawa brings you a tall glass of water. You sip at it, tug down your dress. He averts his eyes.

“I’m going to go shower.” He undoes his hair as he speaks. It falls down to his shoulders, all fluffy and rather tangled. He rakes a hand through the blackest of it. “I have some leftovers in the fridge, help yourself. I have extra towels if you’d like to shower, too.” Then, he pauses, opens and shuts his mouth, his head cocked at you. You can’t help but lean back and giggle.

“What?”

“Are you fine with sleeping in that?”

You look down. He’s referring to your dress that, even now, you can’t help but fidget with.

“I can give you some of my pajamas.” Aizawa blinks tiredly at you. “If you want.”

Your face warms. “Uh, yeah. That’d be great. Thank you.”

Aizawa disappears into his bedroom and then returns a couple moments later with a large black t-shirt and some sweats. He hands them to you, all folded neatly on top of one another.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You’re really sweet.”

He heads towards the bathroom. “Just knock if you need anything.”

It feels weird to change in the middle of his living room so you go into his bedroom. You close the door, lock it just in case, and then lay his pajamas on the bed. It isn’t made, the comforter folded back like he just rolled out of it. He’s got shelves with a variety of books and knick-knacks on one wall, a desk with similar items against another. His closet is open, his wardrobe basically all black. How emo.

The pajamas are comically large on you. The t-shirt ends at your midthigh, the sleeves at your elbows. The collar goes off your shoulder. You had to tie the sweats’ drawstring tight around your hips so that they wouldn’t slip.

You slap your hands against your face. It’s definitely better than flashing him every five seconds, but why the fuck did you have to end up in his clothes?

You fold your dress up and exit the bedroom, the sound of the shower running filling the apartment. Sitting back down on the couch, you stuff your dress in your bag. You don’t have any makeup remover with you, but a wet paper towel or two from the kitchen works well enough at removing your makeup.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The shower runs and runs. You don’t have much else to do aside from sit on the couch and sip at your water.

And think.

Slut, whore. Slut, slut, slut.

But what is sex, anyway? It’s the same as everything else if you think about it. You rub each other like you’re petting a dog, get close like you’re hugging, and kissing is kind of like eating. Nobody cares about holding hands or bumping into one another, so why isn’t it the same with sex? It’s just touching. It’s just touching until it’s over.

Aizawa emerges from the bathroom an unknowable amount of time later. He’s dressed similarly to you, though his pants are plaid and it all fits better. His hair is damp.

“Did you eat?” He asks, eyeing the unchanged kitchen counters.

“I’m not really hungry.”

He trudges over to sit on the other side of the couch, picking up his pack of cigarettes on the way. “You should still eat.”

“You say that while grabbing your lighter?”

He lights up with a snort. “Don’t use me for reference.”

You roll your eyes. You outstretch a hand and make a grabby motion towards him.

“No.” The smoke seeps out of his mouth and nose as he speaks. “You’ve smoked enough for a day.”

You groan. “Literally every time I see you you’re smoking.”

“What did I just say?”

You cross your arms, look away. Aizawa leans back into the couch cushions and continues blowing smoke. You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He’s doing the same thing.

He sits up. “Are you feeling better? Oh.” He blinks a little, gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back and stands in front of you, holding out some bandaids and a disinfectant spray. You just stare at them.

“For what?” You glance between the items and his heavily lidded eyes.

“You put out a cigarette on your leg earlier and your knees got scraped when you went with the guy.”

You take the bandaids and spray. You lay them in your lap, stare at them. He just continues to smoke, peering down at you, unmoving. Then, you let out a little laugh, your face crumpled despite your smile.

“Y’know, if you want a blow job, you can just ask.”

“I do not,” Aizawa blurts loudly, “want a fucking blow job.”

He drops to a crouch in front of you. He sticks his cigarette in the ashtray, pushes the legs of your sweats up to your knees, grabs the disinfectant off your thighs.

You sit and watch stupidly. Of course you do, you’re stupid. You’re stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he want something like that from somebody like you? What’s wrong with you? You’re not a hot bitch, just a dumb one. Nobody wants somebody that’s been with their own dad. You’re disgusting.

Your face is hot, head hanging while Aizawa sprays your knees. The scrapes tingle and burn. He peels the bandaids free and tears are dripping onto the sweats he gave you.

His head jerks up. You turn away in response, wipe roughly at your eyes.

You’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re stupid.

Slut. Whore.

“It’s not that I—” He sighs, sticking the bandaid onto one of your knees. “It’s—” He sighs again, louder this time. He rakes a hand through his hair, turns around to take a drag from whatever’s left in his discarded cig.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t do those sorts of things with you,” he settles with. His hands come up to balance himself on your knees. He blows smoke. You sniffle.

“You would?”

Aizawa gazes up at you with hard eyes.

“Yeah, I would.”

Warmth blooms in your face. Aizawa searches your face for something, you don’t know, before sighing even louder and resting his head on his elbow.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Your brow wrinkles. “You shouldn’t.”

He raises his head. “Why?”

“I sucked off that guy earlier and — just — I’m dirty.”

“And I’m a deadbeat. The only person who should be worried here is me.”

“You don’t get it.” The tears start to well up again. “You don’t know the disgusting shit I’ve done.”

“Great, then we’re on the same level.”

Your fingers twitch in your lap. Before you know it, you’re leaning down and kissing him on the lips.

He tastes like cigarettes. Your hands come up to hold his face that’s all dry and scratchy with stubble. He starts to rise; he leans over, over, over, until your head hits the cushions and you’re making out with him on the couch you were supposed to be sleeping in.

He pulls aside the collar of your shirt and starts kissing along your collarbone. Your legs are tangled together, bandaged knees knocking unscathed ones. Aizawa has one hand attached to your hip, the thumb there rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your sweats.

Buried in his mess of hair, your lip wobbles. People don’t just do things like that. He’s acting like he’s into this not just because you’re willing to fuck him, but because it’s you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You grind against his thigh, make breathy, little noises the closer his kisses get to your chest. His other hand slides under your shirt and starts to creep up your midriff, wrapping around your back —

Aizawa pauses, lifts his head. He tugs up your shirt slightly to reveal the start of a patchwork of little circular scars and divots. They climb up the sides of your torso, cigarette burns, trailing from your hip to your chest. Some are faded while others are yellow with pus.

He pulls your shirt back down, holds it there. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You squirm beneath him, chest tight. His hands are more hesitant now. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my shirt off.”

Aizawa’s still so close as he speaks, hovering over you. He brushes some of your hair out of your face. “Do you want me to?”

“I mean,” you stutter. “It’s kind of weird to look at.”

“I have them on my legs.”

“What?”

“My foster mom put them out there.” He swallows. “A long time ago.”

Your face crumples. You wrap your arms around him again, pull him into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. They’re almost all gone now.” He slowly hugs you back. “Yours will go away eventually, too.”

“Yeah?” Your fingers comb through his hair, snagging on the knots.

“Yeah.” Aizawa lifts himself off of you.

You smile, sit up, and pull your shirt off. You push Aizawa into sitting against the couch before straddling him. His hands come up to rest on your hips. It’s just your bra and sweats on now, your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Your scars are like leopard spots.” Aizawa’s fingers trail up and down some of the older ones. “You’re pretty.”

You’ve been called hot, sexy, cute, but not often pretty.

“Thank you.” You wipe at your face again. “You really are sweet.”

The two of you start making out again, hands cupping each other's cheeks or pulling the other closer. Aizawa ends up taking his shirt off soon after.

“These pants are ridiculous.” Aizawa laughs a little, kissing your shoulder. You’re leaning against him while he helps you shimmy out of the sweats he gave you, chest to chest. It’s different when there’s nothing but your bra keeping the two of you apart; he’s so warm, hot like a furnace, cozy.

The sweats finally join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You plop back down on him and immediately feel it — he’s hard. You rub yourself against him. Aizawa takes a sharp breath and grabs your hips in response.

“Cheeky,” he mutters, eyeing your grin before starting to kiss you again. One of his hands drags from your hip, down your stomach, and into your underwear.

He starts rubbing featherlight circles around your clit. Soon enough, you’re grinding into his hand, sweating, leaning into his shoulder. Aizawa grips your hip harder with his other hand.

“Stop moving so much.”

You nose his ear, out of breath. “Please?”

He shudders, releases his grip on you. Instead, that hand trails up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. You let him slide it off of you, let him kiss and nibble at your chest, let him do anything so long he keeps letting you come undone in his lap like this.

He holds you, arm around your torso, when he dips his fingers into you. He thrusts them upwards sluggishly, brows furrowed, until he’s up to his knuckles. You chew on your lip.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you murmur. Aizawa curls his fingers and your thighs clench around him.

“Sex isn’t about have to’s.”

You close your eyes and focus on his hands, on the warmth of him, instead of what that means.

[h4m1lt0ns]

LOVE HATE — LH°44

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴lewis hamilton x monégasque!ferrari!y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔another day, another bickering contest between everyone’s favourite rivals who we all want to end up together.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ dina denoire.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕cussing, fluff, supernatural references and spoilers.

y/n

♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, 3,201,954 others.

y/n when you forget that monaco is the size of a needle’s eye so u keep running into the mf u hate ﹫lewishamilton

593,203 comments.

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lewishamilton also would appreciate it if you stop coming to my favourite coffee shop, that’s MY spot 🙏🏾

➜ y/n THE OWNER LITERALLY NAMED THE PLACE AFTER ME ????

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➜ y/n ﹫sebastianvettel LOOK AT THIS

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lewishamilton

♡ liked by y/n, sebastianvettel and 3,203,103 others.

lewishamilton she actually isn’t that bad when she’s quiet ﹫y/n

933,120 comments.

y/n i told you i’m a nice person you just need to shut the fuck up to find out 😍

➜ lewishamilton there is NO point in being nice to you

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y/n never going hiking with you again i almost died

➜ lewishamilton lmao bc u scraped ur knee on a rock?

➜ y/n an eagle snached ur hat and almost took the last five hairs you have but do you see me talking abt that??

➜ lewishamilton sorry miss y/l/n 🧎🏾

➜ y/n good to know.

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➜ sebastianvettel tried that years ago

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➜ y/n u have a nice ass balcony

➜ lewishamilton get ur ass inside bc roscoe is looking for u

➜ y/n 🤨

➜ lewishamilton please come inside, your son looks sad without you because he misses you 🖤

➜ username ROSCOE IS LOOKING FOR HER 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

username “your son” PLS OMFG

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username can you AT LEAST fall in love for roscoe??? like my boy is a child of divorce

username “your son looks sad without you” MY HEART JUST GREW THREE TIMES ITS SIZE 🥲🥲🥲🥲

username roscoe hamilton y/l/n be the matchmaker we need 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

username SEB TRIED TO SET THEM UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

➜ fernandoalo_oficial trust me we all have

➜ username HELLO?????

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➜ fernandoalo_oficial me, seb, jenson, toto, mattia, pretty much the whole grid

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y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, sebastianvettel and 4,103,855 others.

y/n learning to tolerate ﹫lewishamilton (who is is decent enough) bc roscoe is the love of my life 🤍🐾

1,294,685 comments.

lewishamilton you finally admit it 😐

➜ y/n i tolerate u for roscoe bc that’s my baby

username he’s actually great y/n 😁 ‼️he’s a (eight) seven time wdc, has great fashion, great music taste, his dog considers you his mom, has probably been in love with you for the past five to seven years, and he’s really fucking hot !! give him a chance 😁🙏🏽❤️

➜ username and he’s a really good person!!

➜ username + cute english accent as well

➜ username his hair is rly nice too!!!!!!

➜ username he also makes music sometimes

➜ username i see we’re all desperate to get these two idiots together

➜ username yes 😔

username ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS ENEMIES TO LOVERSING FINALLY THE SLOW BURN IS OVER 🥹

lewishamilton i’m a joy to be around wdym decent enough

➜ y/n you think you’re a joy ???

➜ lewishamilton i think i’m adorable 😁🙏🏾

➜ y/n wait is that a dean winchester reference

➜ lewishamilton …no.

➜ y/n yOU WATCHED SUPERNATURAL

➜ lewishamilton what was i supposed to do?? you wouldn’t shut up abt it 🙄

username HE 😭 WATCHED 😭 SUPERNATURAL 😭 FOR 😭 HER 😭

username they’re MY old married couple thank you 🤨❤️

username lewis watched supernatural bc y/n wouldn’t stop talking abt it 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

➜ username and he’s making references 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔

➜ username MY PARENTS YOUR HONOUR

username what these bitches have is what i truly want in life, dear god.

username 🕯 manifesting they magically get together 🕯

username they just won’t admit they’re in love huh ���

username one of you better make a move or i will

scuderiaferrari this has been the most interesting thing to happen this season i want to stay here forever

➜ username LMFAO ADMIN IS SO REAL

➜ username ITS YOUR TURN TO SET THEM UP

➜ username YEAH IT MIGHT WORK

➜ mercedesamgf1 it’s been years we all gave up

➜ username there’s really no hope huh

➜ username shhhhh my delulu says there is

➜ username ur delulu is deluluing

susie_wolff these two 🙄

➜ username even susie has had enough

➜ username mother susie please do something

➜ susie_wolff you think I haven’t tried?

➜ username I’VE OFFICIALLY LOST HOPE.

➜ username OH MY GOD 😭

➜ username the fact that the entire grid has tried to set them up ????

lewishamilton your son misses you btw.

➜ y/n i miss him too.

➜ username roscoe and i are children of divorce.

➜ username we all are.

lewishamilton

♡ liked by y/n, sebastianvettel and 7,294,103 others.

lewishamilton she’s the jo harvelle to my dean winchester

tagged: y/n

1,699,505 comments.

y/n three years of pretending i hate u is enough of a soft launch right ???

➜ username FYM THREE YEARS???

➜ username THREE WHAT NOW.

username LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE GOT THEM 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

pierregasly FINALLY.

mickschumacher THANK GOD I DONT THINK I COULD’VE BEEN ABLE TO SHUT UP FOR ANY LONGER

charles_leclerc the amount of time i’ve been threatened by y/n to stay quite requires compensation 😭 i’m so happy the secret’s finally out

➜ username LMFAOOOOOOO PLS

username HARDEST LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY??????????

username THE I LOVE MY GF MEME???? LEWIS WHO HAVE YOU BECOME.

username the fact that i’m surprised is almost offensive 😀

fernandoalo_oficial about fucking time

landonorris took long enough oh my god

➜ sebastianvettel all you did was watch them try to hide their relationship, be grateful you didn’t witness them deny being in love with each other between 2016 and 2019

➜ landonorris IT WAS WORSE THAN THIS?

➜ sebastianvettel oh boy, you haven’t seen anything

➜ username seb is sick and tired 😭

➜ username no bc 2016-2019 was something else frfr 😭😭😭

username YESSSSSSS OMFG FINALLY

username THREE YEARS??? THEY’VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR THREE YEARS????

➜ username HOW WERE THEY ABLE TO HIDE FOR THREE YEARS

➜ username HOW DID THEY EVEN PULL THIS OFF

username i can FINALLY sleep peacefully at night

lewishamilton wait so is roscoe technically jack or ben??

➜ y/n jack for sure, ben is barely relevant and roscoe is too famous and loved for that

➜ username “ben is barely relevant” i screamed.

➜ username they sold me. i’m watching supernatural tonight.

➜ username NO BC SAME.

username WE ARE NO LONGER CHILDREN OF DIVORCE ‼️‼️‼️😁😁😁😁🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

danielricciardo i would’ve lost my mind trying to remain quite for longer

➜ carlossainz55 I think we can all agree on this one (I too, have been threatened by y/n 😐)

jensonbutton this deserves a literal celebration, we are exhausted.

➜ username I LOVE HOW EVERYONE HAS HAD ENOUGH LMFAO

➜ username RIGHT LIKE THEYRE SO OVER IT LMAO

y/n jo literally had the most unfair death in the whole show ???

➜ lewishamilton can we not be cute FOR ONCE

➜ y/n tbf jo and dean would’ve been endgame

➜ lewishamilton there you go 😍😍😍

username MY PARENTSSSSSSSSS

username YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BREAK UP 🔥🔥🔥🔥

georgerussell63 WE DONT HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS ANYMORE 🥳

username is this … happiness? mercedes and ferrari fans are…. happy?

➜ username i sense a disturbance in the force

➜ username the happiest we’ll be all season LMAO

➜ username REALLLLL LMFAO

y/n you’re all mine 💕

➜ lewishamilton yours 🤞🏾

➜ y/n WAIT I CAN SAY THAT PUBLICLY NOW

➜ y/n GUYS HE’S MY BF 🤍🤍🤍🤍

➜ y/n AND I LOVE HIM 🤍🤍🤍 A LOT

➜ username SHE SAID IT!!! SHE SAID IT!!

username a hard launch for the books ong

username i’ve never been happier to see two people in love in my life

➜ username no literally

username AMENNNNNNNNN

username god i see what you did to other people

mercedesamgf1 toto says congratulations 🥳👏🏽

➜ mercedesamgf1 and that he was sick of his favourite couple hiding their love

➜ username EVERYYYYYYBODY IS TIRED HUH

➜ scuderiaferrari each and every one of us. exhausted. sick even.

➜ username oh y’all’s therapists have therapists 😭

lewishamilton okay stop looking at MY girl guys 🙄

➜ username “MY GIRL” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

➜ username OUR girl lew 🤞🏽

➜ lewishamilton no.

➜ username fym no?? sir she was our gf before she was became yours 😐

➜ lewishamilton well she’s MINE now so 🥰

➜ username okay jealous icon 😁🙏🏽

➜ username the fact he uses emojis so unironically well now bc of y/n is irritating like i can hear him say that lmfao

➜ y/n he may be an old man but that’s MY old man 🥰

➜ username this is everything.

➜ username 😭😭😭😭😭😭

➜ username “MY old man” 💔💔💔💔💔

[sweetnergirl]

No bc like… just imagine plug!connie and you being his bsf sister.

“S-stoppp…CONNIE PLZZZ!!”you cried out in the most whiniest voice you’ve ever made

“Shhh, baby you non’t want you’re brother to here how much of a slut you’re being for his best friend.” He rasped in your ear as his fingers moved in and out of you as he curled them on that spot that he knows make you crumble under him. “B-b-baby plz, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that”, you said as tears that you were holding finally came sliding down the sides of your face.

“Aww you gonna cum, come on. Go ahead come for me”. Connie whispered in your ear then sat up on his hind legs and smirked(his bottom diamond grills shining) as he watched that chubby tummy of your’s that he loved so much(the reader also has a hello kitty belly piercing), quiver as he watched you fall apart. You couldn’t take it as his fingers continued to move and his thumb rubbed that swollen little nub of yours…So you tried to push is hand away by grabbing his wrist. “Nahh this what you wanted right mamas, what happen to you being all big and bad when you was teasing me wit them lil as shorts tryna show off to my friend” he stated in a firm and slightly aggressive tone while never slowing down.

Though you could only respond with a string of whiny and pornographic moans from him just playing with your pussy like it was nothing. You knew exactly what he was referring to, you didn’t know ony was going to have company over you had just woken up from a nap and taken a shower by then throwing on a plain cropped wife beater w/hello kitty shorts that you’ve had since you were nine and yea they had gotten shorter and tighter over the years… But HEY! They still fit. You walked out of your room welcomed by the strong smell of weed and the three boys in the living room smoking(Eren, Connie and ony).

While Connie’s eyes stayed on you roaming up and down your body as if he could eat you along w/the stare of Eren Yeager. “Aye y/n, look at you all grown up it’s been too long we should hang out together just like old time’s” Eren tells you while also eyeing you. “Nah she’s still annoying, the only reason she used to hang out w/ is because she would beg me to and if I say no she would be a little snitch”. Ony complains as I roll my eyes and strolled to the kitchen. “Yeah but she cool now right y/n?”Eren asked taking a puff of the jay and Turing his head to look at me in the kitchen eating a fruit roll up, “yepp I’m cool now… right Connie?” I questioned as I walked over the the side of the sofa Eren was sitting on and taking the jay from his hand then taking a puff. “Earth to con, you good bro”,ony asked while waving a hand in his face. “Yeah I’m good just, just thinking”.

As time went on me and Eren just talked while ony and con did they’re thing but even then I noticed Connie staring the whole time with dark eyes filled w/lust and irritation rolling his eyes any time i laughed at ren’s jokes or touch his arm or me showing him my fresh nail set when he asked.

By the end of the night I was high out of my mind from all the smoking and decided it was time for me to go back in my room and probably go back to sleep, which is when Connie shows up in my room during the middle of the night confronting me about whatever he called “the situation” which was just me catching up w/ an old friend. It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.

“Shut the fuck up I’m sick of hearing you mouth, matter of a fact turn that ass around im bout to tear that ass up”.

THIS WAS MY FIRST POST SO GO EASY ON ME AND GIVE POSITIVE FEEDBACK.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Random headcanon number 20207483927

-Dick doesn’t spy on his families teams

Because he doesn’t need too

They’ll either tell him what’s happening

Or their teammates will

He’s friends with 80% of them anyway

Jason Todd was honest to god on a team with Dicks Ex who still adores him and starfire /j

No but really Roy and Kori 100% have doxxed Jason’s entire life to Dick Grayson

A) bc I will ignore any canon where these 3 aren’t close

B) Kori has never had a filter ever

C) Dick absolutely has indoctrinated the fab 5 into mission reports and now they feel weird without a debrief

D) Roy would find giving Dick and ulcer over the stupid shit his brother does hilarious

E) Roy would find giving dick and ulcer over the stupid shit HE does so so so fulfilling (revenge)

Damian is on the Titans.

No matter what titans generation of titans it is they’re responding to Nightwings status report request, fully detailed in MLA format with a reference list following APA 7 guidelines

Dick does not have to worry about young justice despite the fact they are very much NOT snitches bc Tim absolutely calls Dick and Doxxes his entire life story to him once a week minimum

(See Tim telling Dick random shit in the comics causing him to lose his balance and fall a compilation Im sure exists)

Both Clark and Wally are on the justice league. Bruce’s every dangerous move is reported to Dick via Clark and all his stupid ones are reported to Dick via Wally.

No matter how weird Dick and Babs relationship (on again, besties, off again, not talking etc) is she’s absolutely telling him either via concise email or 7 hour long sip and bitch session every single thing that happens not for help but bc ughhh wtf is happening.

Now frustratingly the same is not reciprocated

Bc

“Donna or Garth would kill me” -Roy

“*graphic details of sexcapades to distract from question*”-Kori

“Nightwing is busy” -oracle (babs just leaves when asked as a civilian)

“I’m sorry it’s just so hard to not talk to him okay?? He’s so nice” -Jon during supersons

“He’s my friend too, I can tell him what I want” current jon

“Listen he barely talks to me as it is I’d rather he still come to me with issues and insecurities without worrying his father will hear it” -Clark

“If you think I’m saying shit to you, you’re in idiot, if anything was wrong and I told you you’d make it worse go fuck yourself” -Wally

(OG Bruce Wayne hater of titans. him and Roy do fight over this title at the titans new years. Wally thinks Roy lost his place bc he found a new bird to be mad at the bat over so his timeline should shrink. Roy thinks this is bullshit bc now he hates Bruce for reasons of bird^2)

[bugsbia]

ʚ Campus asshole scara x fem reader

ʚ BEFORE READING: Fem reader, reader is just trying to get 5 minutes away from their annoying roomie. Take note of warnings.

ʚ WARNINGS: Use of drugs, implied laced weed, scara smokes a little, dub-con, shotgunning.

Scaramouche has always been known for his ill temper among the students on campus, always having something mean to say and getting into trouble for doing shit he shouldn’t be doing. Today was no different as he found behind the campus dorms, sitting against the wall as he had a quick smoke despite knowing there was a no smoking on campus policy. When did he ever listen to authority though?

You found yourself behind the dorms as well, just looking for a short escape from your loud and annoying roommate who wouldn’t seem to leave you the hell alone. You grimaced upon seeing Scaramouche there too, but tried to ignore his presence as he simply sat against the wall as far from him as possible.

That wouldn’t stop him though, he made his way over to you, looking down at you as you sat there silently. “Don’t see people coming back here often unless they’re up-to no good, so what’s your deal?” He spoke, his tone coming off like a demand for answers rather than a question.

Waving the smoke from his cigarette out of your face “I’m just trying to get a break from my roommate, promise I won’t bother you or tell anyone I saw you.” You responded, hoping he’d just leave you alone if he knew you wouldn’t go snitching about his smoking.

“Sounds like shit” he said, followed by pause as he considered his words carefully. Kneeling down in front of you he spoke again, his words coming out almost silky smooth. A sign of his manipulative intent which you seemed to miss “can come to my dorm, I don’t have a roommate, and nobody will suspect you’re there.”

With a small sigh you hesitated, considering his offer, but it didn’t take long for you to agree. Staying in his dorm for a few would be way nicer than sitting on the dirty floor behind the dorms, so you nodded eagerly. Following close behind him as he led you to his dorm.

“You shouldn’t smoke in here” you said as you stepped into his dorm, taking off your shoes. You didn’t really care that he smoked exactly, but you also didn’t want to have to smell the smoke the entire time you were in his dorm.

He moved closer to you suddenly, taking the cigarette from his lips as grabbed your face between his index and thumb and forcing your mouth open as he leaned in. Forcing your mouth open while his lips were mere millimetres away from your own, exhaling the smoke into your mouth in a twisted display of attraction.

You breathed it in instinctively before taking a step back, coughing slightly. “Don’t be fucking weird” you exclaimed, watching as he smirked and put his cigarette out finally, taking another step closer to you.

“Calm down, it’s just a little smoke. You should loosen up a little.” that devilish smirk still upon his lips. “Maybe you should try getting high, calm those nerves of yours a little.” He said as he moved over to his bed, pulling out a small bag of pre-rolled joints and holding them up.

Stammering a bit you responded “you can’t have that shit on campus- what if they find out??”

“They won’t find out, unless you tell them. But you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” His tone was sweet, sickeningly so but it made a swirl of emotions run wild within you. Were you seriously considering getting high with the campus asshole?

You were, you absolutely were. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the fact he was nice to despite being rude to everyone else, maybe it was because you just wanted to relax after having your roomie pester you all day. Either way you found yourself sitting beside him on his bed, passing a joint between the two of you, not seeming to consider the fact that he may have laced it.

As you breathed in the smoke you felt a slight burn in your chest, coughing slightly at the sensation, but also felt a great sense of relaxation wash over you finally for the first time today. “This feels nice” you said quietly, eyes glued to the ceiling as you enjoyed the tranquility. You didn’t seem to notice how he never actually smoked any, he just held the joint for a second before handing it back to you.

“Yeah? I could make things feel better.” He added as he sat up, looking down at you with a sly smirk as he slowly moved his hand to your hip, His fingers gently caressing you over your clothes.

He held your chin between his thumb and index as he leaned in, kissing your lips hungrily, like he just wanted to devour you. You didn’t care to try and fight back or stop him, you were in such a calm state that you couldn’t even care, so you kissed back.

That only emboldened him further as he trailed his hands up your shirt, caressing from your waist down to your hips. He just wanted you so bad, and he had you right in his grasp, so high that he could truly just have his way with you.

Quickly he snaked his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with ease without breaking the kiss. Next was your panties, which were also no problem for him. He quickly pulled them off and tossed them aside, landing somewhere on the floor in his messy room.

Finally he broke the kiss, moving to sit at the edge of the bed for a short moment as he took his own pants and boxers off. He was already so hard for you, he just couldn’t help but get excited when you were so easy to catch.

He quickly moved back to you, situating himself between your legs as he began rubbing his cock against your pussy. You grew wetter and wetter as he rubbed against you, small whimpers escaping your lips every time he brushed against your clit. He loved the sight, you beneath him, exposed and drugged out.

Pulling back slightly he angled his dick at your entrance and slowly pushed in, groaning at how good you felt, “Fuck” he breathed out “you’re so fucking tight”. After a short moment of letting your body adjust to his size he began moving, thrusting his cock deep into you before pulling out fully, just to slam himself back inside of you.

You couldn't help but moan out beneath him, his cock filling you so well, hitting the deepest parts of you which made you see stars. The drugs in your system only made it all the more better, making you more sensitive to his touch. The sounds of his groans and your moans echoed through the room, accompanied by the erotic sound of skin slapping together as he harshly pounded into you. He knew you could probably be heard through the walls, but that only made him more excited.

Suddenly he pulled out of you and grabbed you by your waist, pulling you to the edge of his bed and pushing your face down into the blankets as he entered your pussy again, fucking you hard and fast from behind.

He tangled his fingers into your hair tightly, pulling harshly as he leaned down and whispered darkly into your ear. "I wanna hear those pretty moans of yours". With that he snaked his hand down your stomach and to your pussy, beginning to rub quick circles around your clit.

You gasped at his touch as it sent waves of pleasure washing through your body, your legs going weak beneath you while you felt your orgasm growing close. He could tell how close you were by the way you moaned so desperately, and that sent him reeling.

His thrusts became faster and sloppy as his fingers moved faster, finally making the knot in your stomach snap as you came on his cock. Gummy walls spasming around his cock while you moaned out his name.

"fuck- yes!" he moaned as he too came, the combination of the way you moaned his name and the way your pussy felt twitching around his cock sent him over the edge. Releasing his warm cum deep inside your pussy as his grasp on your hair grew tighter.

Finally after a moment he pulled out, releasing the grip on your hair and giving you a moment to catch your breath, looking down at your weak form beneath him. Watching as his cum slowly leaked from your abused pussy he scooped it up with two fingers, then leaned over and shoved his fingers into your mouth.

He could spend all night watching you suck and choke on his fingers if he could.

[kachowden]

Yandere Ex & Reader? Hell yeah.

Tw: Harassment, physical assault (not towards reader), weirdo behavior, Chris is a dickhead, suggestive mentions.

His skin prickled aggressively. Teeth clenched together, grinding against their own enamel.

“Christophe? man? You seein anyone new recently?”

His eyes trailed listlessly to the right of him. Nick wasn’t anything special in his mind. Average teen with slightly above average looks in the eyes of the campus. A constant pain in his as, but- useful. Very useful.

“You know I’m not. And don’t call me Christophe.” His tone did little to hide his irritation, though Nick seemed oblivious to it. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Yeah yeah whatever man. Does that mean you’ve gotten over that Ex of yours?”

Christophe’s shoulders tensed violently.

“So they’re on the market then right?”

“Fuck yeah dude!”

Two other members of their group laughed crudely, their names so insignificant that Christophe hadn’t made the effort to remember them. They weren’t useful.

His brows furrowed deeply in agitation, and he was quick to shoot the two teens a burrowing glare. “You shut your fucken mouth.”

Nick laughed awkwardly, patting the fuming blonde on the back. “Now now Chris…they’re just messing with ya…”

One of the other members didn’t seem to agree, his own confrontational personality showing light as he crossed his arms moodily. “I don’t see why your panties are in a twist. Last time I checked you two broke up sophomore year. Don’t you think it’s about time you move on and let the rest of us have a taste?”

The moronic teen made a crude hand gesture towards his friend, who seemed to recognize the tension in the air, and made the wise decision to glance away from the act.

Smart move on his end.

The thud of a body against tile echoed the empty corridor, the perverse male choked and sputtered against the hand that crushed his throat.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you. With all the shit you spew I’m surprised someone hasn’t cut it out yet and saved the rest of us the headache.”

Blue eyes stared at brown eyes, so dark they looked black, and made quick work to try and wiggle his way out of Christophe’s hold.

“F-fuck Off-!” A fist in his gut made him nearly hurl, his eyes straining and bugging painfully in his sockets from the blood rising to his face. His stomach heaved incessantly, and at this rate he found he might die from asphyxiation on his own bile. Not that he knew what asphyxiation was.

Christophe watched boredly.

“D-dude chill out-“ the other nameless tried to de-escalate the situation, but was quick to stop when he saw the look in Christophes eyes. “J…just say sorry man..” that was directed at the pinned idiot, his smart mouthed friend.

The blue faced male was sane enough to try and spew out an apology, it sounding disgustingly gurgled, though it was the best he could manage while on the verge of passing out. Christophe sneared, dropping the male to the floor.

The blue eyed teen landed to the floor with a heaving thud, his body contracting in its vicious attempts to breath again, his buddy sliding next to him and trying to keep him alive.

“Let’s go.”

Christophe’s indifferent tone was appealing at best, as he made his way down the corridor.Nick was quick to follow.

“You think they’ll snitch?”

A scoff.

“No. He’s stupid. Not suicidal.”

————-

There you were. Mindlessly reading. Fitting, since you were in a library.

This had become routine for Chris.

He found it in himself to admit he could stare at you for hours. And he had before.

It wasn’t hard too. What drew him to you now was the same thing that drew him to you before.

You were so….you. It was weird in a painfully charming way.

You were such a normal person. You had your own quirks, like everyone did. But you didn’t stand out. You weren’t popular. You weren’t a social outcast either. You were just…kinda there.

It was enthralling at the best of times. Irritating at the worst. Perfect at most.

He could acknowledge that your normalcy was intoxicating. Especially in his day to day life.

Christophe would never acknowledge however, the way he still clung to the sight of you after all these years. That your departure from him had affected him as much as it did. That would be soul crushing. Because it meant you still had power over him, which he very much knew you did. But he’d never admit it. Even to himself. He’d die parading it as some morbid interest in your breaking point. In his desire to study you like a lab rat. Someone he’d poke at until he got the reaction he wanted.

And he always got what he wanted.

But even then. Even if he claimed that, his interest in you was not romantic. Was not what it once was years ago.

Your skin looked so empty now, and he physically ached with the desire to leave marks on it like he once did.

He knew deep down he was lying.

The staring quickly became unsatisfactory, and with little hesitation he made his way over to your table, his hand slamming beside yours as he hovered over you, a cruel grin stretched on his lips.

“Looks like the nerd decide to hang out in its natural habitat today.”

“…..”

He fucken hated when you ignored him.

“Your friends finally ditch you Y/n? Surprised it took this long.” He didn’t mean that. If your friends had any sense they’d never leave you alone.

“Go away Christophe.”

Fuck.

He loved it when you said his name. Something primal always sprang forward, and you were none the wiser to being the only one who could call him that without getting a broken nose.

“Why? I just wanna hang out with my favorite person in the whole wide world~” his expression was pulled into a pitiful frown, though he knew you could see through his bullshit. You always could.

“……”

He growled deep within his throat, hand darting forward and snatching the book from your own

The sudden grin on his collar didn’t register until it was choking him, and his eyes were met with the sight of your scalding glare. Your noses bumped together, and it took everything in Christophe to not look at your lips, otherwise he knew he’d try to kiss them. He had very little self control in moments like these.

“Fuck off Chris. Give me back my book.”

Fuck he wanted to listen to you so bad, his thighs were quick to clench together in anticipation, licking his suddenly chapped lips as he trembled in your hold. Though not from fear like you probably suspected. If you were even paying attention to details like that, which- god he prayed you were.

“Careful-! Wouldn’t want the faculty seeing you manhandle their favorite student” He tossed the book to you, and once you caught it you dropped him to the ground.

His eyes darted upwards, the visual of you above him, staring at him like the filth on your boot was burned into his retinas.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“You’re pathetic Christophe. When are you gonna get over me.”

Never. Never, he would stay hooked on you for the rest of his life and he’d known that even before you both broke up

He’s craved you for years. Ages. You’d never know the true extent of how pathetic he was.

“Like I’d still be interested in someone like you Y/n. The end of our relationship was like a blessing. I’d never felt so alive.” Liar. Liar liar liar. It was painful saying these things. Even if your expression was exciting, the way he got to see it almost wasn’t worth it. They burned his tongue.

Being away from you was like being wrapped in heavy cuffs and weights. He felt more suffocated then ever. He needed you.

“Whatever. Just leave me alone this week. I have enough bullshit to deal with right now.”

He had so many questions. He wanted to ask what was wrong. To hold you and tell you that you could talk to him. That whatever, or whoever was bothering you, he’d beat the shit out of them if you asked. He’d do it even if you didn’t too.

But he stayed quiet. And he watched as you left him their on the floor. You cared so little for him.

He savored the backwards glance you threw his way.

Fuck.

[ventismacchiato]

16 behind the lens — chat going crazy !

scaramouche x g!n reader

˗ˏˋ scara point of view ´ˎ˗

“Welcome everyone,” Scara greeted as he pulled up the game lobby, and as usual, he was the only one ready, “Why are all these fuckers late?”

“Let’s all agree not to snitch on me this time,” he mutters, “Last time you guys snuck into Albedo’s chat and told him to vote for me,” he continues as he adjusts his camera. He’d put more effort into his outfit that day for a certain someone, causing him to start later than usual.

xingyunclouds donated $15

so tell us about this y/n?? 😏

A small smile crept onto his face at the mention of y/n, much to his dismay, which didn’t go unnoticed by the chat.

“Don’t embarrass me tonight. They said they’re watching this stream,” he grumbles, stifling his emotions as he busies himself with decorating his character, “Also, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

ventismacchiato donated $20

HE'S BLUSHING CAUGHT IN 4K

“Everyone here?” Tighnari calls out. They were all streaming from their respective rooms in the house.

“Guys, should I leave the cheese hat on or not?” Childe asks instead of answering, his voice in Scara’s ear as he ran around the lobby.

“Just start it,” Heizou says, and Scara could hear the smug grin on his face, “You guys are going to lose anyway.”

“Play nice, Heizou,” Kazuha reprimands as the game starts to load.

“You know he’s ruthless,” Star answers, and Scara gets a tight feeling in his stomach. It’s been a year since he’s heard Star’s voice properly, but instead of how it usually unsettled him it felt oddly familiar. Perhaps he was tired.

“Shut up,” Scara remarks, ridding himself of those thoughts.

“Make me,” Star easily responds, which makes Scara pause and everyone else crack up.

“The fuck,” he mutters, “Y/N isn’t going to like that.”

“Get ready to listen to them fight the entire game,” Venti sings.

“Everyone mute until voting,” Tighnari instructs as the game loads.

“I swear to the archons if I’m imposters with Childe again I’m killing myself,” Scara complains as he mutes himself from the main chat, knowing Childe would start defending himself if he heard Scara’s comment, “He’s always been shit at lying. One time he ate the cake I baked for Y/N and lied to me about it with frosting smeared on his cheeks.”

The screen on his computer loads and instantly his chat is flooded with laughter as he and Star’s characters appear under the screen as the imposters for that round.

frzenhans donated $420

THEY ARE NOT GONNA GET ANYTHING DONE LMAO

“I take it back, I’d rather have Childe,” he mutters, joining a private call with Star.

“Hey partner,” Star calls out, laughing in his ear. It tickled his nerves.

“Shut up,” he says on instinct, “Do not be the cause of my first loss.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Star chuckles as they load in, “Who should we kill first?”

Scara trails behind Venti in the game, “Wait until two of them are together so we can double kill,” he offers, pretending to do tasks beside the blue character.

“I think Heizou saw me vent,” Star confesses.

“It’s been two minutes why are you this dumb?” Scara sighs as a meeting is called as expected and they all join the main chat.

Much to his surprise, Star defends themself with ease.

“I’m pretty sure Heizou vented in front of me,” Star falsely accuses, “I can’t be for sure though but he got there pretty quickly when my back was turned.”

“YOU BITCH!” Heizou yells into the mic, “You know damn well—”

“Babe,” Kazuha hums, “Deep breaths.”

“The fucking audacity,” he continues, “You’re the one who vented right in front of me!”

“Let’s just end the meeting, Heizou is trying too hard,” Scara interrupts.

“If this happens again we should vote out Heizou,” Tighnari says as the game resumes.

“I hate you all,” Heizou huffs as they all go on mute once again.

“I’m going to kill Venti,” Star says in his ear.

“Why don’t we sabotage first and double kill?”

“But he’s literally right in front of me, I’ll let Heizou find the body,” Star adds.

“Alright,” Scara muses, tailing behind Heizou, “I’ll do tasks with him.”

He follows Heizou into the Medbay, where as expected, was Venti’s dead body.

They both join the main call and are immediately hit with accusations. None against them though.

“WHO KILLED MY VENTI,” Aether cried out.

“It can’t be Scara since he was with me,” Heizou thinks out loud, “Childe has been real silent.”

“That’s because I cannot figure out how to do shit in this game,” his best friend whines, “I would never kill Venti.”

“Can anyone back up Heizou’s location?” Star questions.

“He wasn’t with me, he’s lying,” Scara answers, his lie garnering a gasp from Heizou.

“I swear to the archons above if you guys believe him,” Heizou starts, getting riled up.

“I’m with Scara on this one,” Tighnari hums.

“No, don’t do this. Kazuha please,” Heizou wails, “You guys are making a mistake!”

“I’ll vote for Childe,” Kazuha softly laughs, not able to rid of his fondness for the other male even during a game.

“Simp,” Aether comments, “I’ll avenge you Venti.”

They all place their votes, and apart from Heizou and Kazuha, it’s unanimous.

Heizou gets voted out.

“Why did we slay that,” Star comments, their giggles ringing in his ear once the two of them are back into their private call. He shakes the light feeling that it fills him with. Absurd.

bongohat3r donated $2

not him gaslighting

“I’ll admit we worked well together,” Scara hums, distracting himself from having Star directly in his ear by walking around the game’s floor plan.

“Why can’t you just admit we make a good pair?” Star asks, taunting him and following behind him.

“We don’t,” he sighs.

“We would make a great pair!”

“Mute yourself I’m sick of your voice,” he grumbles.

“You’re in your denial stage.”

“Enough, Y/N is watching.”

“You talk about them often,” Star muses.

“Jealous of my love life?” Scara smirks as they pull off a sabotage.

“Nothing to be jealous of,” Star huffs.

“You’re not slick.”

“I just think me and you fit better.”

“Is that the hill you want to die on? Because I can make that happen.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Star retaliates as they both walk into a room with Aether and Childe in it. Aether doing his tasks and Childe attempting to.

Words go unsaid as they silently agree to go through with a double kill, easily slicing their friends. A discussion wasn’t needed to know they should self-report. They worked too well together, it made his stomach churn.

“I literally saw Kazuha go in for the kill,” Star says as soon as the call loads, “I’m betting it’s him.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing?” Kazuha muses and Scara can hear the smirk on his lips, “It was obviously you.”

“Well, there were two bodies so it’s Kazuha and someone else,” Tighnari comments.

“Unless he killed one then let the cooldown run and killed the other after,” Star thinks aloud, “We all know Childe still doesn’t know how the game works.”

“See, now you’re thinking too highly of me,” Kazuha laughs, “I can’t pull that off.”

“You didn’t because we’re going to vote you off,” Scara replies.

“Guys,” Kazuha starts, and it’s like Scaramouche can hear his pout, “This isn’t fair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Tighnari says as he puts his vote in.

The victory screen loads in and Star cheers in his ear.

“We did pretty well, didn’t we?” Star asks, eager for his approval.

“I guess we did, good job,” he muses, hoping Y/N stayed until the end to see him annihilate the others.

“Scara complimenting me?” Star sarcastically gasps, “A dream come true.”

“It’s more of a nightmare.”

“Are you insinuating you think of me while you sleep?” Star says, their voice in a low murmur in his ear. Scara finds himself swallowing and his cheeks growing warm.

“Stop being a perv,” he manages to croak out, joining the main call so he wouldn’t have to be stuck alone with Star for longer than he had to. He wasn’t flustered, just annoyed.

“I TOLD YOU GUYS,” Heizou shrieks as soon as everyone loads into the main voice call.

“I believed you,” Kazuha answers, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Venti,” Aether calls out, “I couldn’t avenge you bestie.”

“It’s alright, you served well,” Venti solemnly says.

“Can we go again I think I figured out the controls this time,” Childe ponders.

“I’m killing myself for getting duped by the duo who despise one another,” Tighnari sulks.

Scaramouche tunes them out as he gives his attention to his chat, which consists of them all complimenting his and Star’s skills. He tears his eyes away from it, calling back on all the out-of-character comments they made throughout the stream.

In response he opens up a new tab and pulls up Star’s stream, listening to how they were praising his skills. He hastily exits it.

“Let’s do another round,” Aether huffs, determined as a new game loads in.

Scaramouche exits his zoned-out state and gets back into his streamer personality, masking the incoming fleet of emotions.

He couldn’t help but steal a glance at his phone every now and then, expecting a certain someone to get his mind off everything.

No new notifications…

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

hope u guys liked the scara pov 🤭

ik u can have ten ppl in among us but i was too lazy to edit all that and realized too late so 🤷

lmk if u see urself in the twitch chat HAHA

zhangrenlin on ig as scara

guys my among us knowledge is limited it has been years so dont come for me if i got shit wrong

author’s notes — BRO THESE EDITS TOOK FOREVER YALL DONT EVEN KNOW I DID EVERYTHING FROM SCRATCH INCLUDING THE CHARACTERS SO PLS LOOK AT THEM 😇 was rlly fun tho i was looking forward to editing this chapter the most

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @heehooyeslol @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @i9tto @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[mrsriddlenott]

I just had this random thought of AngryBF!Harry x Fem!reader where she helps him through his anger in many ways.

masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Anger. Aggressive Sex.

“I just can’t get a break. I went all summer without a scrap of news, I’m behind on all my class work, and now Ron and Hermione seem to think I’m a bloody DADA teacher.” You and Harry sat on the edge of his bed as Harry held his head in his hands ranting. “It was all luck, why cant they get that. It’s not like I have any control over my life and when I’ll be attacked next.”

You and Harry had only been dating since the Yule Ball but were serious nonetheless. When he would need comfort after the death of Cedric Diggory and when no one could properly owl him, you were there. You were the guide that kept him from making too much of a scene, but with Umbridge pushing Harry every second with detention after detention, and denying every part of what happened last year, Harry was on edge even with you.

“Harry, you have to see where they’re coming from don’t you?”

“Not you too! Merlin of all people I thought you’d understand y/n!” Harry snapped often these days, you knew it wasn’t necessarily his words, you just wished he could calm down.

“I do understand Harry, but if I’m not going to be of any help, I’ll just go.”

“No y/n/n, you know thats not what I meant. I just can’t get even a bit of control anymore and it’s driving me mad.” And with that, you suddenly had an idea.

“Well, I can think of ways you can gain control cant you?” At the change in your tone Harry finally lifted his head to see you.

“What are you implying Darling?” His narrowing eyes were already dark with anger and he seemed unable to focus.

“Well I was thinking, next time you’re all strung out like this, you can always come to me. Don’t sit and yell at Umbridge just to get stuck in detention when you could be spending your time with me, Love.”

“Yeah, I like that idea y/n” Harry didn’t take a second to think it over as he seemed to light up with a bright smile, already over his prior annoyances.

At first it wasn’t anything inappropriate, after classes Harry would often storm into your dorm or pull you into his, already yelling about a DA meeting or something Snape or Umbridge did. You’d simply talk and cuddle until he was okay. Eventually Harry realized just how distracting kissing you was and before long would have you pinned to a wall with his lips on your neck at least once a week. When he had noticed how exhilarating it felt to be able to grab you from anywhere in the castle and drag you to his dorm just because he was mad, he simply couldn’t stop. He absolutely adored when you’d let go of control just for him.

And thats how you ended up here, on hands and knees in front of your very angry boyfriend.

“No one ever fucking listens, no one lets me speak…except you of course, hands.” His voice softened as he spoke directly to you. While you laid your hands on your naked back, laying yourself forward onto his bed, Harry took both your hands in one of his as the other lined himself up at your entrance, slowly letting his tip ease into you.

“I have less and less time for myself, I just want to be able to do what I want whenever I want,” Without warning Harry slammed into you fully, pushing himself forward and resting his bare chest on your back, lips next to your ear as he spoke, “That’s you of course.”

“Are you okay still? You remember what to say if you don’t want to continue, yes?” You nodded your head from where it was on his pillow, “Words Darling.”

“Yes, I say Snitch.” You were breathless already as you uncontrollably clenched around him, forcing a sharp sigh from the boy above you.

“Good girl” Harry whispered as he started an unrelenting pace, straightening himself and pushing your abdomen down with his hand on yours.

“You’re perfect y’know that? Bloody perfect stress reliever you are.” He laughed softly as his free hand roamed up and down your side.

He was pounding into you so hard his bed shook and the curtains began to part on their own. The sound of wet skin slapping together and your moans of Harry’s name filled the room.

He drove into you with force you had never felt before, he was quickly forcing you into your orgasm as his pace remained fast and hard against your g-spot.

“Fuck I wann- Ahh Fuck y/n I wanna look at you when I come.” Harry released your hands and held your waist tightly as he flipped you around plowing himself back in as if he never left.

Harry smoothed the hair off your sweaty forehead, keeping eye contact and smiling softly, before bending down to kiss you aggressively on the lips. His and your own moans being drowned by each others lips as he came inside you, your juices mixing as they slid out around him.

“Fuck, I’ve needed this all week,” Harry sighed breathlessly as he rested his head on your chest, not making any attempt of pulling out. As he yawned, you slipped your fingers through his messy hair smiling and breathing heavily, “I love you Harry”

“I love you too Darling”

~~

Feedback??

Requests??

[mychlapci]

Arcee is well on the way to training Prowl into a perfect, desperate slut and all it took was her breaking his dick. It’s like part of Prowl was just waiting for it to happen, (sexual) tension building beneath the surface until a mean domme came around to put him in his place. And then he fell like a house of cards. He can’t get enough of her fucking his useless spike housing, and if the hole isn’t plugged it drools lubricant just like Prowl’s damp cunt. His pink panties are constantly soaked with his juices.

Mistress likes to give Prowl a tight, near painful wedgie with his pink panties. Fabric pulled taught between his valve lips and into a harsh line on his node beneath his short skirts. Sore, freshly spanked aft cheeks glowing on either side of his wedgied panties for all to see. Arcee will make Prowl thank her for spanking his naughty aft in public in front of whatever crow gathered to watch before fucking his sheath and filling the sensitive channel with her transfluid as a show of dominance. One his slutty holes are plugged again and Prowl is a moaning mess licking cum off of the floor, she’ll smack the bases of his plugs until he’s squealing an overload.

And she calls him Princess. Never Prowl, not anymore. Not once his huge tits are held in a lacy pink bra for all the world to see and his pussies dripping into his panties. Prowl is Arcee’s good girl now. He *hates* to be called Princess because it makes him feel so soft and submissive, even as it humiliates him, and he *knows* it’s going to catch on. Arcee’s Princess can barely walk down the hall without someone flipping up “her” skirt or pinching her aft these days. But the real show begins once Prowl gets pregnant.

Late into his pregnancy, the weight of the baby pushes his limp spike out of its housing if he doesn’t wear a plug. It’ll just hang there useless but sensitive until someone pokes it back into its housing. And Arcee won’t let him keep it plugged anymore. In fact, Princess isn’t even allowed to wear panties while he’s pregnant. He needs to leave his pussies accessible to his mistress. Arcee loves the look of Prowl’s limp spike just barely peeking out from under his skirt. Ultra sensitive and weeping lubricant. People still slap his aft, of course, but most try to pinch or flick the head of his spike to make Princess whine and cry.

Only Arcee is allowed to fuck Prowl’s needy holes, but anyone can touch and tease him. If they catch Princess acting up they’re encouraged to snitch, invited to watch and maybe even overload on Prowl’s teary face after he’s been punished.

Hrghh... Prowl with a baby bump and his silly limp spike hanging out of his sheath is sooo hot. His frame needs to make more room for the baby, and his full sheath takes up too much space... it needs to expel his spike to make sure the gestation tank has all the space it can get to grow.

He's a cute little Princess, with his skirt, his swollen titties, his cute little bump and useless spike, ready to be pinched and stroked and smacked... Everyone can see just how good Arcee has been to him. She even got her good girl pregnant to make sure Prowl understands that this isn't just a game to her. And Arcee always tuts at his floppy spike, but she knows that her pregnant little wife can't help it, so she just helpfully pushes it all the way back into the sheath, holding Prowl down as he squirms and whines about it. But he's at his happiest when he's got two pussies, not just one <3

[emmie-writes-stuff]

So the new chapter is out and GOOD GOD do I have some thoughts and a lot of them don’t make a whole lot of sense but I can’t not talk about this chapter

Firstly, Kaiser looks adorable (never thought I’d say that about him outside of my head but here I am)

Secondly, holy hell my heart hurts

He didn’t deserve this, no child deserves this

The fact that he had to “go to work” and just steal

HE HAS NO SHOES his little feet have got to hurt, or they’ve completely calloused up from not wearing shoes, but even then (speaking from experience) it still hurts to walk on hot ground and rocks and other stuff on the street

Yknow, I understood him hating milk before (because milk is disgusting) but now I get it even more

What a stupid reason to get upset, imma kick this waste of space excuse for a father in the fucking face AND balls because ITS FUCKING MILK

Eat some damn fiber or somethin if you got constipation issues

Who let this absolute scum of the earth reproduce???

HES LITERALTL TWELVE YEARS OLD

All the other shit went down before he was even double digits

But dangerous situations create smart kids, and Kaiser was very smart to start saving his own money

I used to have my own stash in case I ever had to run away (long story, we’re not getting into my family issues in this post, but yeah)

At least he has shoes now, protect those feet plz, they’re what keep you upright and moving

Soooooooo are we gonna acknowledge that he treats the soccer ball the same way he’s currently treating Ness orrrrrrrr

But like, it’s nice that he has an outlet to channel his anger into that isn’t a person (at least for now smh)

It’s really interesting seeing how each of the characters came to play soccer

(Side note: but he throws the ball at a picture of a woman, could he maybe be imagining this woman as his mother?)

His mother also deserves a kick to the face if I have anything to say bout it

I have no words for this

Just, can I steal him? Please? I’ll give him a good life

Fuck the snitches, how dare they

Also, you can clearly see his ribs defined, and that hurts me

I love that he was willing to let go of everything

He was ready to start fresh with getting money, was cooperating with the police, until the soccer ball was threatened

Because that is his most valuable possession

The money doesn’t matter, but the ball is a symbol to him of something that won’t leave him or hurt him

It’s a very small sense of independence and stability in this very unstable and controlling environment

The ball is heavily implied to be the first thing he ever bought for himself, it’s what defined a key part in his life

Taking that away is like taking away his soul, his outlet, and comfort, and Kaiser just couldn’t stand for it

There’s so many more things I’m thinkin and I have way too many incoherent thoughts for tumblr, but these are the ones I was able to clear up and make sense of

This chapter hit very deep and while my past doesn’t involve much physical abuse and struggles to this level, it was hard not to empathize and relate my own experiences with abuse with the ones in this chapter

I don’t wanna get into shit, it’s not somethin I exactly wanna put out in the public, but there’s so much here that I could understand and relate to and it just made everything so much more difficult to read (in a good way I guess)

Just, GOD, why did I have to become a fan before this chapter came out???

Okay, that’s my ramble for this, bye before I start going on even more tangents

[princessbrunette]

https://www.tumblr.com/princessbrunette/738865892895735808/i-love-the-idea-of-the-innocent-reader-but-with?source=share

I’m here for the drama so

imagine if one of the people JJ and John B were talking about you to snitches to you and makes it seem like they’re both just using you to “do dirty things to you” and that they don’t actually like you or think of you as a friend😭

and even though your pure ass brain doesn’t have a clear or precise idea of the dirty things they’re talking about you still know what being used is and omg the angssst

and then the next time you’re with them you’re very avoidant and subtly snappier and they’re both very taken aback because what happened to their sweet little girl like :(

Eventually you can’t keep ignoring them and being closed off because it’s just not your nature and you end up bursting into tears and angrily warbling to them about it all after they try to confront you about your unusual attitude towards them for the millionth time😩

idk what’s wrong with me I’m just in a silly goofy mood tonight woopsie

-🌙

ohhhhhh the angst.

᧔o᧓⊹ ࣪ ˖

no because a close friend of theirs wouldn’t stir things up like that, they understand — it’s just conversation between dudes, they’ve all been there… no, it would be that the conversation was overheard, somewhere by the docks whilst an outsider was preparing their boat… perhaps, rafe cameron.

he’s never bothered with you in the past. he’s a bad guy, but he’s self aware enough to know you’re actually innocent and not causing anyone harm, so you pose as no threat to him. he’s not going to just pick on random naive girls, even he knew he was too grown for that. you were super pretty though, and he’d always taken a bit of intrigue in you, wondering why you hung out with those lower-class dirtbags. he figured trying anything with you would be useless, jj and john b feeding you lies about the ‘big bad rafe’ enough to keep you glued to their side and docile. that was, until he had a leg up.

the hulking 6’4 cameron approaches you when you’re at the juice bar by the water all alone one day, spotting you on the rare occasion that you’re by yourself. he sidles up to your side, smiling down at you. “hi there.”

you turn, blinking up at him as you take your juice from the cashier, eyes wide and frightened like a baby deer. it made rafes dick jump a little.

“hi?”

“y’know i uh— usually know not to bother you, know you probably heard some pretty not nice things about me n’i’d hate to just… scare you, or something…” he begins, a small crease forming between his brows as he scratches his cheek. you listen to him, sucking your juice through the straw, waiting for him to get to the point.

“i just overheard something… and i think you might wanna know, i mean— if someone was talkin’ about me like this, i’d definitely wanna know.” he touches his chest, staring into your eyes with wide innocent eyes, trustworthy almost. you tilt your head.

“what happened?”

“that john b, and jj… they’re… well, i heard them talkin’…” he stares off at the water, shaking his head like he’s trying to remember the details despite knowing exactly what he’s gonna say. “braggin’ to some other pogue about you… something about how…” he leans in closer, talking quieter as you hang onto every word, straw still caught between your lips. “how bad they wanna fuck you… take that innocence from you…” he acts scandalised and your eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone heard. only they knew you were still a virgin. well, so you thought.

“and look, me personally…” he leans back, holding his hands up in the air. “i just wouldn’t wanna be disrespected like that, you— you’re a young n’dignified woman… shouldn’t let those pogues take that from you, a’ight?”

“it can’t… you must’ve overheard wrong.” you shake your head, brows furrowed, in denial despite that bad feeling in your stomach.

“and what would i gain from randomly making this up, hm?” he tilts his head like you’re dumb before shaking his head, stepping back. “just thought i’d let you know. you have a good day, alright beautiful? i’ll see you around.” and with that he’s striding away, leaving you dumbfound. he figured soon enough you’d find out the truth and come running right into his arms.

you head back to the chateau slowly, deep in thought. you think back on all the interactions you have with the two boys, how touchy they were, the laughs they share when they say certain things you don’t understand. you hated that rafe was right, and it was starting to make sense.

by the time you reach the chateau, you’re in a foul mood. just seeing the two boys there lounging on the couch filled you with emotion. knowing you’d usually go and unknowingly plant yourself between the two of you them and get touched affectionately almost everywhere. you head straight past them to the kitchen, figuring you’d make yourself a sandwich and then go back to your own house for a while.

the boys heads follow you, smiles faltering a little as they watch you uncharacteristically head through the house without even saying hi.

“uh, hello to you too, doll.” jj hops off the back of the couch, following you through to the kitchen where you grumpily pulled bread out of the bread bin.

“how you doin’, pup? you were gone awhile…” john b is close behind, leaning against a table as he observes the back of you.

“m’fine. was at the juice bar.” you deadpan, fumbling the butter knife slightly as you angrily butter the bread.

the two of them sense the tension and share a glance, jj piping up again trying to ease the mood.

“yeah? didn’t bring anything back for papa j?” he chuckles uneasily, and you’re quick to bark a response.

“no. i was busy talking to rafe.”

the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes, john b standing up straight as he looks to jj. “r—rafe? why were you talking to rafe? he’s a lunatic.”

“is he?” you tilt your head, feeling yourself get more mad. they were still just staring at the back of you, wondering what has occurred.

“uh, yeah— are we forgetting his unprovoked attacks on us, orrr when he tried to drown his own sister? i mean the dude is balls to the wall insane, kiddo—”

“well he actually seemed kind of truthful, which apparently is harder to come by than i thought.” you let the knife clatter down on the side, resting your hands against the counter as you give up on the sandwich completely. you hear john b carefully step closer.

“whats going on, sweetheart…”

you turn around, and they’re met with your quivering lip, two streaks of tears down your cheeks as you angrily sniff. jj goes to step closer to comfort you but you hold out an accusatory finger, stopping them both in their tracks. “he heard you! he— he told me about you two. what you said— what you plan to do to me… you’re just using me aren’t you? just wanna get my pants off when— when all this time i thought we were friends!” you warble, letting out sad sob, the both of them shrinking a little in guilt.

“hey, let’s just talk about this okay?” john b requests calmly, his hands held up infront of him trying to ease you.

“oh i am gonna kill rafe cameron.” jj grits his teeth, beginning to pace, john n instantly striking out an arm to try and keep him cool, the freak out not needed.

“jj. let’s just… deal with this okay— yes, we might’ve said some gross things. we’re— we’re stupid guys and we do stupid things like think with our dicks and — and that’s wrong okay. i fully hold my hands up. if you wanna leave, i understand. but i need you to know, we really, really do care about you. okay? hey—” he comes closer and you let him this time, letting him fuss over you and wipe your tears. “have we ever tried to make you do anything you don’t wanna do?” his eyes are wide, desperate even.

“…no, but… i just didn’t know… you know i don’t know about that kinda stuff.”

“i know, i know okay and we took advantage of that. which is wrong.” he reaches his arm back, smacking jj blindly who’s rubbing his nose bridge with his fingers, making him jump a little. “jj…” john b attracts his attention, trying to get him to help.

the blonde approaches with a sigh, taking your chin between his fingers and gently tugging your gaze to him. “look at me, ‘kay? i’m a total fuck up, i mean everyone knows that but i am really royally fuckin’ up here. you know i really hate that you just willingly listened to rafe, but he… god, can’t believe i’m sayin’ this— he wasn’t lying. we did kinda brag about you. but look at you, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, okay? doesnt make it right— but that’s why. we like you, like actually like you and i swear, swear on my mamas life we are not using you.”

there’s a pause in the air, before john b speaks. “you don’t even know your mom.”

“yeah well the point still stands.”

you sigh, unable to deny the two boys you love. you had to admit, you’d felt things down below for them before, wondering what the feeling was and whether or not they’d help you explore it, so you guess you couldn’t really judge them for feeling that energy too. you shrug, looking at your shoes.

“okay. i believe you.”

you feel the both of them relax, nodding as they crowd your space, john b at your front and jj at your back. “we love you, puppy. like actually. not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?”

“what he said.” jj repeats, hands tucking themselves into your waistband, something he usually did when he said his hands were ‘cold’. you slap his hands and he removes them quickly, nodding. “yep, too soon— got it.”

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