#I am pretty sure I still wrote it wrong

[the-confused-little-anomaly]

Ye shall bow before the squirmy monarch

[freakinator]

If you don’t mind, I’m gonna yap for a second.. I think another problem with Kab is how sudden the turn around was. Like in the first convo where Kab was acting “evil”, Zam fought back with the argument that she’s wasn’t really evil at all and I think he did believe that at least a little. And if Kab slowly began to turn her path around then he would be a bit more trusting cause he would have SEEN her actual emotional growth but the turn around was so fast, it feels like there was no emotional growth at all and that Kab is still the same as before, cause she basically is. She still wants Mane dead no matter the cost and she’s still, intentionally or not, trying to manipulate Zam, but she wants to be treated as if she’s had that whole long term emotional growth

yeah ii think this is where her majority experience with short-term smps really bit her in the ass, i think there are two main directions that other ppl take it tho: 1. is as what you speculate in that some ppl think that she hasnt had genuine growth and hasnt changed at all and 2. that she genuinely changes too quickly and is therefore unreliable regardless of if shes being honest or not

i think the reason zam was so receptive to her in silent scream was cause this has been a recurrent plot point for a couple streams now, kab trespassing zams base to yap while zam tries to decipher her wants and motivations until eventually she just let it all out and in that instance i think he did genuinely believed that she changed even if it was slowly/just a little bit

....but then die for you happened lol

ssee the thing about kab is that shes shes all-or-nothing, going from one extreme to the next after just a little bit of change in character which can be jarring to some ppl to say the least (unless you thought she was lying and therefore any character development shouldnt be believed i suppose) but is something that was a great asset in shorter and arena-based smps where you had to get as much advantage against your opponent as possible without having to worry about the long-term consequences of these actions ie them not trusting you while still having to interact often in mundane ways even after messing with them. while she Can be swayed this only really works with things she was already unsure of which while a great motivator and trait to keep her on track with her goals (again another great trait for short-term smps), can be really jarring and distressing for other ppl if the things she was absolutely sure about goes against their own perspective like for example her thinking that derapchu killing her constitutes zam getting payback for her as the protector of the server (The protector, not A protector like zam insists, The protector of the server)

i think shes far too used to the fast-paced instant acceptance of changed personality in arena smps that is a natural consequence of them being short-term and having a revolving door of members and teams which is why she expects ppl to accept her growth and efforts so quickly even if realistically nobody would hand over their trust that easily esp after essentially being harassed in their own home multiple times, like even in normal smps where theres a baseline amount of trust ppl still wouldnt trust you after doing that, what more in a server like lifesteal where general trust is low basically all the time?

[brazilian-whalien52]

Kawi is not just shy he has social anxiety disorder (SAD).

A Quick summary of social anxiety: "A person with social anxiety disorder feels symptoms of anxiety or fear in situations where they may be scrutinized, evaluated, or judged by others" 

You can see through the drama how he cares about the opinion of others. He builds his whole life over what other people think about him and, in the same way, pushes other people way and keeps a distance. 

He also, in many moments, freezes in front of others. For example, when he has to sing as a first-year student in front of his classmates. Besides avoiding places or situations where he feels other people may judge him, which causes him to not have any meaningful connections in the future and regretting all the opportunity he lost. Even the work he ends up at is basically another form of isolation (he does subtitles in his home office and the contact with his boss seems to be mostly through his cellphone).  

After a social situation, he tries to over analyse his "performance", looking for flaws in his interactions, blaming himself and regretting the things he said/did. Also, he tends to expect the worst possible consequences from a social interaction or negative experience, believing that any mistakes he makes will turn people against him. Basically, he doesn't allow himself to make mistakes, especially during social interactions. You can see him expressing this a lot in the firsts episodes. 

Another thing that shows is that he doesn't feel comfortable eating in front of others, a usual trait in people with social anxiety disorder (observational social fears). It is also pretty common for people with SAD to develop drinking problems. Normally, they have alcohol because it's a way they can be "fun and spontaneous" around other people. However, how he was before, also shows his social anxiety. He was too afraid of drinking and getting loose around other people. That's probably why he never drank. Basically, he went to two different extremes in that matter.  

Plus, people that are part of a minority group (in this case queer) are more likely to have social anxiety disorder. 

[carbonfiction]

Line to cross

Summary: When DBF!oldman!Logan catches you in a compromising position.. You should probably tell him to stop, should hold the fabric tigher in your fingers, be less calm, put up more of a fight.. He's your dads friend, a taboo line you really shouldnt want to cross..

Warnings?: 18+themes, basically PWP, smut, female masturbation, caught masturbating, mentions of dildos, swearing, nipple play, f!reciving oral, slightly forced orgasm? Tiny bit of overstim? Lotta Praise, nicknames (princess and babydoll mostly) , just oldman!Logan's mouth being a warning of its own really..

Gotta admit i wrote this with nothing more than horny brain. Old man logan just.. Hits the spot yk.. Pun not fully intented..

Masterlist words: just under 2.5k

"Now.. What do we have here?" Logan rumbles as he stands heavy against your doorway, arms crossed with a smirk tugging at his lips.

You shriek and scramble, like ice water has been pushed through your veins, rushing to cover yourself from his gaze. Practically naked and beyond mortified as you stutter biwildered whilst trying to tug your top back over your breasts. “w-what the fuck are you doing?! How long have you been stood there?”

“..what am I doing? I think I should be the one asking you that, princess.”

He ignores the second part of your question and you feel yourself try to shrink to no avail, so you repete; voice breathlessly unsteady and not quite sure if you truly want the answer. “How fucking long Logan..”

there’s bite to your tone but not in the way you’d like, it comes out less aggressive and more meek; unsure and utterly mortified

“long enough” Logan simply shrugs, notchulantly stepping forward into the expanse of your room, clicking the door shut behind him. “wasn’t exactly planning on dropping in, figured you were out.. but then I heard you from downstairs, called my name sounded desperate.. so I assumed something was wrong..” he trails off with a motion of his hands.

Shame swirls In your gut that you hadn’t only been thinking of him, but had fucking moaned out his name..and done so loud enough that (even without his hightend senses) he’d heard you.

“looks like i was the one wrong. Hadn't expected to come up here and see daddies little angel fuckin herself stupid on some plastic cock.”

“W-wasn’t, Logan i-“ it’s a futile defense, pointless really considering what you think he’s seen of you.

“You weren’t what hm? Weren't whimpering my name? Weren't splitting that pretty pussy open to the though of me, trying to make yourself feel good?" Logans hand laces with yours, as he bares down on the matress to sit, a calloused thumb ghosting over your knuckles in an attempt at comfort despite the mockery of his tone. "S’okay princess, don’t have to hide it”

heat spreads from the tips of your ears down your neck, darkening the already hot flush of your cheeks. “Logan I- I swear I didn’t mean-“

“Didnt mean what? To fuck yourself stupid or for me to catch you? Cause babydoll it looks like you failed at both”

A sound bubbles from your throat at that. shame, embarrassment, horror, arousal.. All knotting together in a potent mix deep in your stomach.

Your legs subconsciously close tighter under the thin sheet, a move that doesn't go unnoticed under logans perception.

its also a move that further jostles the dildo still tucked inside you, the blunt head prodding against a spot that has your eyes rolling before you can stop them.

You whimper a panicked little sound at the humiliation; at the lack of friction, the pleasure still festering in your gut. The words that fall so mockingly from logans lips.

He doesnt need his senses to feel the shameful arousal that radiates from your haistily hidden body and it has him huffing in amusement; whilst you scold yourself further for not removing the toy in your panic.

"Cmon, open up.. let me help" he murmurs, his large free hand grasping and pulling at the blanket covering you. It slips down further, covering only your waist- You should probably tell him to stop, should hold the fabric tigher in your fingers, be less calm, put up more of a fight.. He's your dads friend, a taboo line you really shouldnt want to cross..

And yet, you do. You want- need- to cross it with carelessness; with arousal burning your skin inside out.

You let him slip the fabric down past your hips. Past your clenched thighs, your knees, ankles. Until it sits in a discarded heap at the end of your bed.

Its the cool air of the room paired with the feeling of his calloused palm snaking its way back up your left leg that rouses you. "B-but logan, my dad is-"

"-Is gone. work called." he interups, his fingers kneading at the soft skin of your outer thigh. "Trust me s’okay.. S' just us. Me 'n you babydoll."

And with that said, a small reassured nod shaking your frame, his large hands pry your legs appart. Your body shuffles with his following, right leg coming to sit over the broad expance of his shirt clad shoulder, the bed creaking under the weight.

A scratchy kiss is planted just above each of your knees, logans beard rubbing as he shifts with you, coming to rest between your thighs.

The sounds of your heavy breath is the only thing filling the room until logan groans, deep and loud at the sight of your bare pussy still stuffed full of the the toy. "Fuckin lookatcha, already drooling.. such a needy little thing”

You keen at the feeling of his heavy hands touching your body, one sitting heavy on your lower stomach and the other resting against the base of the toy, careful not to move it just yet. You can tell by the way hes looking at you he's taking in the sight of your slick stuffed cunt.

"Want ya to show me what feels good, how you like to be touched.. show me what you were doin before i caught you" his words are quiet, mumbled against your thigh, yet demanding as his eyes find yours for that extra confirmation.

Your head moves in a nod but he tuts disapproving at the action. "Words princess, need ya to use em okay?"

"Y-yeah.. okay"

Wordlessly your hands drift back to your top, slipping it back to rest just below your collar bones, nipples perky and sensitive. It draws an exhale from your body as one hand comes up to your mouth, spit covering two fingers as you suck at them.

Once sufficiently wet they slip back against your left nipple, slick and shiney as you circle teasingly at the bud while your free hand gropes at the flesh on the other side, before moving to mirror the movements on the right. this time palm fondling against the swell of the left.

Your eyes fall closed at the sensations, quiet sounds falling from your lips; steady yet shy. Logan simply watches on, silent and enamored with every move you make.

Then your hand drifts once more, down your tummy and over the hand of his resting there, your touch soft and warm.

Theres a breathy sigh as you wrap your fingers around his on the base of the dildo as you push and pull back and forth. Alternating between the feeling of the silicon balls deep and the tip sitting bearly inside until it slips out with a thoroughly wet pop.

It's this time however logan cant muffle his groans at the sight; of you dragging his hand with the toy cock up and down your dripping slit. It further hardens his own cock sitting behind the denim of his jeans.

Logan lets go under your grip, using it to push your legs open wider as you slide the toy back inside; maintaining a steady pace. palm hitting your swolen clit with the force of your own thrusts. It feels good, fucking yourself like this with his eyes hungrily on you. It has you whining and keening, small uh uh uhs the longer you play but its not enough, not really.

Not when logan is laying between your legs with the knowledge of how to really get you off.

"L-logan, please.. Cant.. Doesnt feel as good myself" you huff and whine sounding akin to a petulant child not getting what she wants.. But in a cruel way you find thats true; while you aren't anywhere near a child anymore, you aren't getting what you really want.

The heavy hand that rests on your tummy moves down, until Logan's thumb presses on the hood of your clit. He tugs the swollen flesh back carefully and then smirks. He spits and you gasp. Yet he makes no moves, just watches it dribble down.

It has the need burning inside of you igniting further and under his touch you find any past embarrassment dissipating.

So you plead again, feeble and quiet, almost defeated. "P-please do something.. Need you to do it." you beg for the smallest movements, for anything he's willing to give.

And to your surprise... He does just that. He gives. The hand that opened your legs moving to shove away the fingers that wrap around the end of the silicon. Its done with an indignant shush when you whine; the dildo once again moving back and forth against your gummy walls. "Shh shh, s'okay I'll do it, you wanna fuck a plastic cock you've gotta at least do it properly princess”

The room fills with wet plap, plap, plaps, as logan keeps his quickened pace. Thrusting the toy steady as his eyes watch each motion hungrily.

"F-feels good.." you mumble squeezing at the meat of your tits, a hand coming down your stomach until it wraps tight around his thick forearm. Your nails dig in and he grunts at the sting of the crescent shapes denting his marred skin, but his movements never faulter.

Your eyes flutter and roll once more at a full thrust. The blunted bulbous tip prodding experimentally at that one spot again; slick and sticky silicone balls pressed flush against your ass as your hips try to buck for friction.

“ooh, there. we. go." logan huffs against your trembling thigh atop his shoulder, punctuating his words with three rougher thrusts. plunging the silicone dildo so deep you swear you feel it in your belly. "that’s the spot huh baby”

"M-mhm.. Close" You mumble through quiet moans. nodding quickly, lip bitten beneath your teeth as the pleasure builds faster and faster. Theres a tremble in your legs that grows the longer your body keens; back arching and hips writhing.

A condecenting chuckle slips from logan, dark and deep as he somehow manages to plunge the dildo faster and harder inside you.

The force makes your body jolt up the bed and you dont know if your scrambling towards or away from whats happening between your thighs. But you do find yourself greatful as your head hits the soft pillows; It happens the very same moment logans thumb finally, finally begins circling the pulsing bud of your clit.

Mindlessly you cry out, fingers pressing harder into your breast and logans forearm. "S-so close.. pleasepleaseplease"

His thumb moves faster, the rough pad slick and wet as you throb beneath his touch. Your body writhes as you moan out obscenities, the pleasure filled coil in your belly twisting tighter with every second that passes.

"Need you to do it babydoll, need to see you make a mess f'me." he growls, commanding.

Moments later you do just that. You cum with a such a visceral sob of his name that it wracks the entirety of your body; head thrown to the pillows and back arched so high it almost looks painful. White hot pleasure running through your veins as your stomach muscles heave.

Yet logan doesnt stop, doesnt let up his movements with his thumb or the now soaking toy cock, thrusting it with loud lewd noises of your cunt as it coats creamy with your release.

He simply coos out concoctions of praise; versions of 'that's it, Atta girl' and 'look so pretty when you cum' with his head pressed against your trembling thigh. Eyes dark and watching the way your slickend holes greadily clench.

He's hard, painfully so, but he knows this is a sight that he'll dream about later; his own slick cock in hand in the confines of his bedroom.

Overstimulation quickly threads its way into what was once overwhelming pleasure, turning the shocks into sparks. You writhe and moan under his hands, begging desperately as your hips buck frantic. "L-logan.. Im done- f-fuck s' too much, too much!"

"Ah ah" he tuts. "Your done when i say your done, need'a see you gush one more time" your eyes roll at that, the stimulation and the way his chapped lips press the words into your pubic bone.

Your eyes screw shut, brows furrowed as you struggle though the pain that with each movement winds your belly tighter. By now tears stream down your cheeks, hands grasping tight to anywhere you can reach of him; To push him away or pull him closer you still dont know.

The rubbing of his thumb on your pulsing clit ceases monetarily at the broken sounds you make and for a second you think hes letting up, going easy on you.

However the feeling of his hot mouth wrapping around the sensitive bud changes your mind. You squeal, loud and panicked, eyes flying open as your legs desperately try to shut around his head.

"N-nno no no" desperate hiccuped sobs falling from you as he laps and sucks, dildo still pushing into you, drawing you to the very edge of the burning pleasure pain in your gut.

"Do it princess, fuckin do it. Know you wanna" he mumbles wetly into your weeping pussy, tongue flicking in quick back and forths.

Your hips thump at his nose, coating the greying in his beard as you cum again. It's filled with a pain that drives the feeling of orgasm higher. your scream is silent, mouth opening and closing in wordless 'o' motions, brain so clouded your words fail.

The motions of the his mouth and the dildo slow until Logan's pulling off you. The sensitivity drawing a whine from your throat, while the the creamy coated sight of the silicone makes him groan loudly as he throw it somewhere on the bed.

For a while you lie there completely boneless, panting as your legs continue to tremble with the aftershocks, logan still resting between your thighs cooing softly. Hardly noticing the way he shuffles his way up your body until his spit soaked lips find your forehead.

"Good girl.. My good girl, Did so good f'me babydoll" he murmers softly against your skin between kisses, a contrast to his previous domineering tone.

You feel him gather your frame into him, the buttons of his shirt pressing into your skin as he lifts you from the bed bridal style. You smile up at him gently, meeting his gaze as your lashes flutter sleepily. His scent comforting as you wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling your head deeper into his chest; trying to burrow your own space inside.

His quiet chuckle is felt before you hear it, rumbing deep from his lungs as he pulls you tigher to him; heading for the bathroom. "Cute babydoll.. Real cute"

you whine at that, an exhausted but happy little sound as he leans his head down to kiss your hair before mumbling "lets getcha cleaned up hm? Ill take care of the sheets"

Eee- this has gotta be one of my favorite pieces I've ever written!! Lemme know whatchu think!! 🫶

[allywthsr]

WRONG PERSON | (l.norris)

summary: you send a sexy video to some tinder guy, until you realize you tapped Lando���s contact instead, you both help the other to finish what you started

wordcount: 2.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, talking about toys, details about masturbation, phone sex, dirtytalk

notes: inspired by this!!! Tell me what you think, I‘m still scared to write smut, hope you all like this🫣

You were working for Quadrant, it wasn’t like you were some important boss or something, you mostly dealt with customers and sometimes got to plan a video, but Lando still took the time and got to know you. When the whole team went out for dinner, Lando talked to everyone for at least twenty minutes, he wanted to know who was working for him and his brand.

There was no denying you found him handsome, everybody thought he was pretty, but you needed to hide your excitement in your panties whenever he was near you. Not only did he make eye contact every time you two talked, but he also smelled delicious, you wanted to rip his clothes off, the whole time he was near you.

But back to where you were now, laying in bed naked, at almost one am, with your phone in your hand. You were single and desperate, texting with guys from Tinder, who were not worth more than a quick fuck, but you were young and had your needs.

With your phone in one hand, and your left boob in the other, you recorded a small video, where you were squeezing your boob and moaned slightly. You‘ve been snapchatting with a guy you met on Tinder, both of you were horny and needed a release, so why not help each other? You quickly wrote a text to the video, to make it more seducing, ’ You make me so wet…‘ and taped on the slot on Snapchat where he was for the last few snaps, before you could double check that you selected him, you hit sent and threw the phone next to you.

While you waited for his answer, your hand slowly made its way to your pussy, circling your wet clit. With a moan, you teased yourself and kept stopping the sensation in your most private area. When you heard the Snapchat notification tone, you took your phone in your hand and only saw that Lando send you a snap, it wasn’t unusual that he would snap you, you two were streaking after all, but at that time was a little odd, because you were kinda bored and waiting for your guy to reply, you withdraw your fingers from your wet cunt and opened Lando’s snap.

With a gasp, you threw away your phone, the first photo was a normal snap, a picture of his bedroom with some series on Netflix playing, but when you tapped on the screen to exit the snap, a new picture popped up. You could see his hand holding his boxershorts clothed dick, he was hard and big, long and thick. He also wrote a little text, you had to read it twice, making sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, ’was this meant for me, babygirl?‘

You didn’t know what to do, so you did nothing for a few seconds, you didn’t feel horny anymore, suddenly aware of the cold air hitting your still-hot pussy. Should you reply and apologize, saying how you accidentally sent your boss a nude, and look him in the eye at the next dinner? Impossible.

You thought about leaving the country and starting all over again, where no one knew Lando, but that wasn’t a solution either, you had to face him and say that it wasn’t meant for him. But how can you get rid of the image in your head of his dick, the only thing that was roaming through your brain right now was how lucky his future wife would be. With a dick like that, she sure would be happy for the rest of her life.

You excited the snap and took a deep breath, what were you going to say, sorry I send you a nude, but your dick looks nice? No. It took you at least two minutes to think about it and when you took a picture of half your face and started writing a paragraph of apologies, your phone showed you an incoming call.

Lando Norris.

Shit. Your whole body tensed, you couldn’t answer, you just had to pack your things and go, leave London and Lando behind, but something in you didn’t want that, and after what seemed like hours, you did answer the call.

”Hey Lando, look uhm, I‘m sorry I sent you that video, it wasn’t meant for you, obviously. B…But thank you for responding, I mean that picture was nice, but I don’t think that this uhm professionalism between us should be broken. If.. if you want me to leave Quadrant, I‘ll do that.. uhm I’m sorry for sending you that, and I-“

”Y/N, will you stop rambling?“, his voice sounded like he was out of breath, you started shaking when you heard him speak.

”I‘m sorry, for rambling and sending you the video.“

He chuckled, ”Don’t be, maybe you could’ve seen by my response, that I wasn’t mad about it. Sure having your employee suddenly sending you a video where she squeezes her boob and moans, isn’t something I‘d expect, but you have beautiful boobs.“

You didn’t know what to say, so the only thing that came out of your mouth was a: ”Thank you?“, you could hear your heartbeat in your chest, the silence on the other line panicked you.

”But, maybe this is unprofessional of me now, but you left me in a kind of hard situation, Y/N. I bet you’re still wet if your fingers would slide between your legs, aren’t you?“

Your breath hitched, was this for real? Was Lando Norris, your boss, dirty talking to you?

”I..I don’t know, it was a pretty big shock to see you replying, I‘m not as horny as I was ten minutes ago.“

”Then I want you to glide your hand over your boobs and stomach, down to your pussy, I bet it’s pretty, and then tell me how wet you are.“

With a small sigh, you did what he told you, gliding over your boobs and stomach to your pussy, you touched your entrance slightly and felt yourself pulsating, you may not be as horny anymore, but your wetness said otherwise, maybe a part of you already found it hot that Lando actually replied to you.

”Fuck, I‘m so wet Lando.“

You heard a moan from the other line and some sheet rustling, ”Baby, I want you to touch yourself like you would do without me. Finger yourself, rub your clit, do whatever satisfies you. I‘m hard as a rock baby, I need to touch myself too, I wish you were here to do it for me.“

You did as Lando told you, rubbing your clit in circles and feeling yourself come closer to the edge, this whole situation was so hot, it turned you on so badly.

”Please touch yourself, Lando, I wish I was there to help you.“

”I could eat you out until you’re crying and begging me to stop because you would be overstimulated.“

Another moan escaped your mouth and slowly you let your fingers slip into you, which was no problem due to your wetness, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more, thankfully Lando seemed to know what you were thinking when he heard your unsatisfied moans.

”Do you need more baby? Are your fingers not enough, you need my dick to stretch you out?“

You let out whiny and breathy ’yes‘, this situation was so bizarre but hot at the same time.

”Do you have any toys, Y/N? I want you to use a toy on yourself.“

”I..I do.“

”Show me.“

”Can we switch to FaceTime? It’s easier, and I want to see you.“

Lando hummed and muttered a quick goodbye before the screen with the call disappeared, the only thing you could see on your phone now was the picture you took a few minutes ago, and before you could do anything else, the FaceTime call from Lando came in. You answered without thinking about it and you were greeted with a big and girthy dick, and your mouth watered a little. You held the phone up, so he could see your face and your boobs, which he commented with a quiet ’fuck‘.

”Show me your toys, baby.“

You quickly got up and propped the phone against your lamp that stood on the nightstand, while you looked under your bed to fish out the box with your toys. It wasn’t like you were some pornstar and had thousands of toys, but over the years you had collected a fair amount of little helpers.

By now Lando had switched back to his face, so you could see his little beard and his eyes, he kept biting his lower lip, while watching you.

You opened your box and grabbed the first toy you saw, a standard dildo, it was skin-colored and a bit longer and thicker than the normal ones. You showed it to Lando and he groaned, tilting his head back, ”Is that your favorite?“, he asked.

You shook your head and pulled out a pink satisfyer, it was a mixture of a vibrator and dildo, but it also had a clit sucking element. That one was your favorite, you had spent hours with this beauty, and it never left you hanging. ”This is my favorite, you don’t know how good this feels.“

”Tell me about it.“

”It’s so fucking good, Lando. This clit sucking thing? It feels like heaven, it gets me there within a few minutes, the fastest I‘ve ever had an orgasm.“

”I bet I could get you there faster.“

That statement left you with a smirk, only the thought of Lando going down on you, made your head spin, you needed that.

”I can see that you’re imagining it right now, I bet you taste amazing, I would finger you, while lapping at your clit, you would be so full.“

You shut your eyes, and whined, your pussy clenching around nothing.

”What else do you have in there?“

”I have a wand“, you lifted the typical wand and dropped it on the bed, ”I also have a rabbit vibrator, and this“, you lifted another pink vibrator, but this one was smaller.

”You know what this is for, Lando?“

”I‘ve seen it in porn“, he smirked, ”have you ever let someone control it while being somewhere public?“

You nodded, it was a vibrator that you would insert into your pussy and it could be controlled with an app, you‘ve only used it once with someone.

”I was on a date with someone from Tinder, and we‘d been sexting for days and I gave him the app and he controlled it over dinner, it was an experience and I loved it.“

”I want to control it in our next meeting, seeing you tremble over some video ideas is going to be fucking hot.“

Another wave of pleasure rushed through your body, you couldn’t believe you were talking that way with your boss, unbelievable.

”I want you to use that rabbit on you.“

You chuckled, and held the rabbit vibrator into the camera, ”This one?“

Lando nodded eagerly, with a smirk you opened your mouth, dared your tongue out, and licked a long stripe over the part that goes inside of you. After a few licks, you put it fully in your mouth and started sucking it.

You could see how Lando started touching himself again, his eyes closed every now and then and he let out small whimpers. This was your sign that you needed to touch yourself too, so you laid on the bed and flipped the camera to your lower part, where the vibrator was circling your clit. Lando also flipped the camera and you saw his dick that was already leaking pre cum, he moved his thumb over his tip every now and then while moving his cock through his fist, collecting the white fluid. Due to your wetness, the vibrator slipped inside of you with ease, you turned it on and gasped when you felt the vibrations.

”Do you like that? Having your pussy stuffed.“

”Yes, Lando, yes. I need you here next to me.“

”I need you too, wrapped around my cock, you would be screaming and keeping up the neighbors all night.“

With a loud moan, you could feel yourself getting closer to a release, the tip edging your clit made you almost scream and the way you moved the vibrator in and out of you, made you see stars. Lando also was about to cum, he saw that your pussy got wetter and wetter, your fluids squeezing out of your cunt every time the vibrator left it.

”I’m about to cum, Y/N. Show me your face, are you cumming soon?“

You moaned loudly again and flipped the camera, just like Lando did, “Yes, Lando, I wish it was you filling me so well.“

With a loud moan and a lot of curses, Lando spilled his cum all over his hand and stomach, he quickly flipped the camera again, now showing you the mess he created, “That’s all for you, baby, I wish it was inside of you instead on the stomach. Cum for me Y/N, let go.“

While he said those words to you, you felt yourself falling over the edge, with moans and grunts. Lando was sure he never heard something so sexy, those sounds alone made him horny again, he needed to feel you close.

When both of you came down from your highs, you two let out a laugh, realizing what you just did, you had phone sex with your boss, but it felt right and good, and the way his cum sat on his stomach, made you horny again, you needed him.

“You feeling better now?“

“Lando, you’ve no idea, so much better than the weird Tinder guy the video actually was for.“

“I bet, but I still need you, Y/N.“

“Are you in London?“

He hummed.

“Well, my bed is cold without you in it, if you want, my pussy is ready for you, Lando.“

“Send me your address, I’ll be over in ten minutes, you better not start without me, or you’ll get punished.“

Part two

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg

[amyzworldds]

Title: Long Hair, Don’t Care

During Seventeen’s Right Here World Tour, Dino’s decision to grow out his hair—thanks to his girlfriend's endless praise—sparks a fan frenzy. Pairing: Dino x reader Genre: Fluff, humor

The Right Here World Tour had Seventeen dominating stages worldwide, and Dino—your unfairly charming boyfriend—was having a moment. It all started when he decided to skip the haircuts after you’d raved about his longer locks at the tour’s start in Seoul. “It suits you so well,” you’d said, twirling a strand around your finger, and boom—Dino was hooked. No scissors dared come near him after that.

Now, months into the tour, his hair was long—like, poking-his-eyes, flipping-it-back-every-chorus long. You were smitten. Every time he brushed it off his face mid-performance, you’d catch yourself grinning like a total sap. And the fans? They were just as feral. Facebook and tiktok were a battlefield of Dino hype: grainy soundcheck pics, fan cams of him shaking out his bangs, captioned with pure chaos. “If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?” one fan demanded. Another fired off, “If not boyfriend, stop being boyfriendable, I’m on my knees.” Someone even joked, “Dino’s hair is longer than my last relationship—hide the scissors!”

Then there were the conspiracy theories. Fans were dissecting his glow like it was a crime scene. “No way he’s this fine without a girlfriend,” one wrote under a dreamy selca. “That hair, that smile—someone’s loving him right, and it’s not just carats.” Another added, “He’s too boyfriendable to be single. I bet he’s got a secret lover keeping him that shiny.”

You, his very real and very proud girlfriend, were thriving. Your phone was a shrine to this long-haired Dino era—your gallery overflowing with fan-taken soundcheck pics you’d saved from social media. Before your nightly video call ritual, you couldn’t resist texting him a screenshot of your camera roll: rows of Dino mid-hair-flip, looking ethereal. “Babe,” you typed, “I think I need a new phone. My storage’s crying—512GB isn’t enough for all this boyfriend material.”

Minutes later, Dino replied from his hotel room fresh off stage: “You’re ridiculous. How many pics do you even have?!” You smirked, firing back, “Enough to crash my phone. Blame the fans—they’re feeding my obsession.”

When the video call finally connected, there he was—sprawled on his bed, hair a gorgeous mess, still buzzing from the show. “Babe,” you said, smirking at him through the screen as you propped your phone up. “Your fans are wild. My gallery’s a disaster because of you—soundcheck pics are taking over my life. And they’re saying stuff like, ‘If not boyfriend, then why boyfriend shape?’ I’m dying.”

Dino laughed, that bright, heart-melting laugh you lived for, running a hand through his bangs only for them to flop right back. “Boyfriend shape? What am I, a Ken doll?”

“Pretty much,” you teased. “They’re also onto you. They’re like, ‘He’s glowing too much, he’s got a girlfriend for sure.’ They’re sniffing me out!”

He grinned, leaning closer to the camera. “Well, they’re not wrong. I’ve got the best girlfriend hoarding pics of me like a stalker. And didn’t someone beg me to keep the hair long because it ‘suits me so well’?”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Okay, rude, calling me a stalker when I’m just appreciating art! But yeah, I did say that… and now I’m regretting it because the fans are out here calling you boyfriendable, and I’m over here like, ‘Back off, that’s my boyfriend shape!’”

Dino smirked, tilting his head so his hair fell even more into his eyes. “Oh, now you’re jealous? You were all, ‘Baby, it’s so sexy, never cut it,’ and now I’m too boyfriendable for you?”

“Exactly!” you shot back, giggling. “I’ve created a monster. My phone’s dying, the fans are feral—I might have to sneak into one of your concerts with scissors and chop those bangs off so they stop making edits of you looking like a K-drama lead.”

He clutched his hair protectively. “Don’t you dare! You’re the reason I’m out here looking like a mop with a skincare routine. This is your fault, babe.”

“A mop?!” you cackled. “More like a shiny, boyfriend-shaped mop. They’re right—you’re too pretty to be single. Good thing I’ve got you locked down.”

“Locked down?” he teased, pushing his hair back again. “You’re the one filling your phone with my pics. I’m keeping this mess because you love it and the fans love it. I’m winning for Team Long Hair.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, you win. But when the tour’s over, I’m braiding it. Maybe slapping a bow on it. Gotta remind them who’s got the real claim.”

Dino chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. “Deal. But I’m only this boyfriendable because of you, you know that, right?”

You softened, smiling back at him. “And I’m only this obsessed because of you, you know that, right?”

“Touché,” he said, blowing you a kiss through the screen. “Love you, stalker.”

“Love you too, boyfriend shape,” you replied, winking.

-----------------------------------------------------------an: please, I can’t get over Dino’s long hair pics from sound check—it’ll be my cause of ☠️😭

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[wintersera]

"so are you ovulating?" || ningning x succubus!reader

notes: i actually wrote this fairly quick, but finding the right pics for the moodbaoard actually pissed me off erm.. but first of all FIRST NINGNING FIC WE CHEERED (a/n i forgot to say this was a part two of the succubus!reader thing soooo here’s the link!)

cw: tail sex (kinda), succubus!reader, top!ning, bottom!reader, mentions of a singular man

wc: 4k

after the ‘feeding on your unnie’ incident that had happened a few months ago, your performance was phenomenal. with all that energy you gained from that one night, plus some extra other nights following from then with jimin unnie, it was as if your every move, every note and every emotion was amplified by tenfold. you were on fire and the audience could feel your passion for performance burning brightly with every stage you did.

your mentors and managers commented on how energetic you had been for the past couple of months, how your performances were absolutely phenomenal, the knetz weren’t on your ass - which was surprising since almost half of them were all the time. the western fans said that you were, quote on quote,“serving cunt” in the recent solo weverse live you did… whatever that meant. even your own members were surprised at how active you were throughought day and night. 

but like everything in life, things weren’t bound to stay all too well.

a few days ago you tripped on stage, and to make matters worse, it was in front of your fans. the audience heard a small little thud and spotted you on the ground looking at the ceiling for a few seconds before you stood up embarrassingly. luckily this was the first take, you had other opportunities to do your very best with the smidge of energy you had left. 

knowing your fans, particularly your stans - either they’d make a meme out of you spacing out on the floor, or, they’d spam hashtags all over twitter saying “SM PROTECT YOUR ARTIST” or something around those lines.

not only did that happen, but whilst you were preparing to record your lines in the studio, that familiar pain you would get whenever you were starved from energy came back ten times worse; it felt like you were being pierced in the stomach.

jimin noticed your pained expression and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance as she entered the recording room, but it kind of translated wrong in your head, causing you to moan out loud into the mic in front of your directors - not to mention you could hear yourself through the headphones echo. jimin chuckled lightly “what’s up with you?” then left the room a moment afterwords.

fast forward to the present day. a mundane and repetitive one. you had a photoshoot early in morning and a small meeting sometime in the afternoon and then you were free to do whatever you wanted afterwards. you thought that maybe some vocal lessons later in the evening would distract you, but you were pretty sure your vocal teacher was out with his husband drinking today. good on him, it buys you more alone time, and alone time makes you think about what to do about your situation. 

on to more pressing matters, aka your raging desire for sex. 

it randomly hit you hard while walking back from the company to your local seven eleven. you thought to distract yourself with buying a sweet treat for everyone, but instead you began to feel dizzy “ouh.. this isn’t good” there wasn’t a bunch of groupies following you around the block to your own misfortune, and it was still bright outside.so what was there to do about that urge?

it’s not like you could message jimin unnie out of the blue and ask to fuck. where was the decorum? plus you’re in the middle of promotions, what if you drain too much energy that she’s unable to perform the next day.

and it also didn’t help that your internal monologue was fucking you up.

“shit, do i just ask the manager to… NO- ew what the hell am i thinking? he’s way older than me. nevermind. why did i think about that jesus christ.” 

your options were slim. it was either wait for night, go to the practice rooms and prey on a cute trainee, with consent of course - or go ask jimin unnie again and risk exhausting her even though you just started promotions… 

you wondered who was at home right now.

you recalled ning going straight back home as soon as the meeting had finished. you could always ask? i mean she is your unnie after all, it wouldn’t hurt to ask to her. 

ah, but it would be awkward though. it’s not like when jimin unnie walked in on you tweaking out and then you had to shamefully ask her to “help you out”. either way you had to go home and do something about it. being out in the open wouldn’t be good for you anyway. anymore stress and you could lose your mind, probably going out of your way to do something that would be highly illegal, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

–

on the way home you couldn’t suppress your excitement. you had already made up your mind to ask ning if you could, you know, do something nasty. multiple scenes were made up in your head. she could bend you over the table, press you against the wall and limit your restrictions with her pretty hands, or maybe she could shove your head into the pillow and pound into your desperate pussy.

as opposed to jimin, you never caught ning wound up in her own thoughts, nor staring at you in a sexual manner. whether it was pracitce, a stage, any event with the members, or an upcoming show, you had never caught her once. maybe she did look at you while you were dancing promiscuously as a joke. even so, her expressions were so nonchalant that even if she was, you would never be able to tell… though that thought alone excited you even more. who knows what her pretty little head was thinking about.

although jimin said to tell the other members about who you actually were to prevent you from being too awkward to ask your members for help, you refrained from doing so because well… you’re just like that, what else. how were you gonna do it anyway- hold a meeting in your apartment around the dining table and say that you need sex to stay active and alive? then what, they’ll eagerly accept the fact that you literally need to be inside of them, or vice versa, so you can get up on stage and preform as if it was a regular ass day.

those five minutes you spent daydreaming and thinking about telling your members were stopped abruptly by the door in front of you. when did the walk home become so quick.

then you started to think once again. 

would ning be the type of person to go out of their way to help you? yes she’s that type of person, however, does that mean she would willingly want to have sex with you… god, you don’t know her ‘that’ well. you’re close, close as how close a lifetime friend could ever be, but still, things would be weird if she ultimately says no to your request.

“you’ve been staring at the door for an awfully long time y/n. are you coming inside or do you want to stare at the door a little longer?”

fresh out of the shower, yizhuo greets you with a friendly smile followed by a giggle. her towel sticking against her body showing off the curves of her hips. 

oh fuck, why does she have to be wearing that now. 

“did you just finish showering? also, girl… get back inside. what if someone sees you with just a towel on” the aroma of your shampoo wafted through the air “you smell good…” you all were tight on money this month, so you all shared things like perfumes, shampoos, pretty much all products you and the other members owned. each time either one of your members had applied your shampoo, god, you had such perverse thought about them, wanting to ravage them until they couldn’t walk or even stand

“yeah i ran out of mine- and yours was newly opened so you know” she had been looking way too good recently, not saying that she never did look good, but there was something about her that made you feel extra desperate and needy. the wetness between your thighs spoke for themselves

“let’s go in. i need to talk to you quickly before my brain explodes” yizhuo cocked her head in confusion, reluctantly following your lead, closing the door behind her as you walked into your guys’ apartment. 

you followed behind her as she led you to your shared bedroom, looking up because you didn’t want to turn yourself on even more by staring at her ass “wow, the ceiling looked nice. a pretty beige colour… what the hell am i doing” you thought to yourself with a heavy sigh, looking back down and regretting it immediately. you noticed that yizhuo turned around as you locked eyes with the front of her cream coloured bath towel.

as perceptive as yizhuo was, she noticed a little black swish behind your back. she just played it off, too tired from all the practice, so she thought she was hallucinating a tail or something of the sorts.

now, being both the youngest and the least serious members of the group, you rarely ever had a heart to heart. to talk one to one with each other with the tone you had used, yizhuo must’ve thought that there was some topic you couldn’t bring up with the eldest “hey what’s up? it’s been a while since we last talked seriously” her damp hair against her soft looking skin, the fresh scent of soap and the way she looked at you with worry in her eyes. it almost drove you off the edge. she was so tantalising that you almost missed your cue to speak.

“uh- um, you know how we’ve been besties since i came to korea right?”

“yes”

“and you know we said that we’d always tell each other anything right?” you glanced around the room, avoiding her gaze while your fingers unconsciously played with the fabric of her bedsheets.

“yes…?” ning pondered for a while “…are you going to confess your undying love for me, is that what this is?” she cackled.

“WHAT? no, no- i think that might be less shocking than what i’m about to say” you take a deep breath in hopes to stifle the sound emitting from your booming heartbeat “okay so like, hypothetically speaking, would you have sex with any of the four of us?” for a god awful few seconds you sat tensely, waiting for yizhuo to say something. 

“are you trying to redirect my attention from a more important question girl?” her eyes rested on your face, heartily laughing until she released you were being totally serious. 

scratching your arm, you let out a sigh. it would be better to ask her directly wouldn’t it “you don’t need to analyse me like that. i was just saying-”

you could charm her into agreeing, but in the long run you’d feel like a horrible person. charming a person came with moral problems, and you strictly told yourself that you would never do that to a person. ever.  

“yizhuo… can we- can you do me a favour?” your stuttering caught her attention. you simply couldn’t bring yourself to ask, it’s strange out of the blue. 

“mhm mhm, what do you need”

“you”

“me?”

“yes.” with every fibre of your being you held back a variety of different ways to scream out ‘JUST FUCK ME’ biting your lip to help fight back a blush. it’s odd to blurt out ‘im a succubus. let’s have crazy passionate intimate gay sex right here right now’ 

hold on- does she even know you’re a succubus? “listen, it’s going to sound absurd and you probably think i’m not sober, but can you hear me out” it was still weird to outwardly say that you were in fact this demon thing that sucks people dry, literally. saying it to jimin was no easy feat, but you were obviously losing your damn mind that day. and then you have the other two members too? now was not the time to think about what you’d do in the near future, you were hungry and yizhuo was right in front of you, practically naked “are you, by any chance, okay with maybe” your gaze darted around the room before you locked eyes with her “maybe having… sex? maybe?”

“ohhh, okay i see how it is. you’re ovulating” she spoke with a dead serious tone.

you were losing your mind. you couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you or not. but in all honesty, yizhuo did think you looked like you were ovulating with the way your thighs pressed together. yup, ovulating.

your heart began to race as you increasingly became desperate within seconds. you felt feverish, hot to the touch while your head throbbed. almost a whole two months without tending to your needs ended up with you succumbing to the symptoms “please yizhuo. i need you to do something, anything- i feel like i’m gonna die actually” 

“woah woaah, let’s calm down. you’re not gonna die silly. is it just-“ yizhuo paused for a while, coughed and maybe even hesitated to say the word “sex. is that all? it can’t be too bad. plus if it’s with you, i don’t mind…” yizhuo’s words were genuine. it put your mind at ease. 

“you don’t understand though. it’s like… it- i don’t know” you pout at her with the remaining energy left in your body “it’s alright- i’ll ask other people, it’ll be okay” sluggishly pushing yourself off yizhuo’s bed.

“no no, i get it. you wanna relieve stress, i get it” from what you could understand, yizhuo was trying her absolute best, trying to relate with your problem “we’ve all been there. the company doesn’t allow us to go out and meet other idols like that so it was eventually gonna happen. i mea-“

“it’s not about that, yizhuo” your eyes darken, a desperate sigh emitting from your lips “ah, whatever…” with trembling hands, you held yizhuo’s in yours, momentarily silencing her as you sit back down on top of the smooth sheets of her bed “if you’re not okay with doing ‘this’, then will a kiss be okay?” there was a hint of softness to your voice, the rest shrouded with seriousness “it won’t be enough for me, but it’ll keep me… sort of stable” you shut your eyes as you press your forehead against hers, sharing the warmth “please, that’s all i ask for” 

she whispered “a kiss? i can do that. it seems fun.”ning, inches away from kissing you, smiled sheepishly. her gaze drifted briefly towards your lips before finally shutting her eyes  “and if it’s with you i think i’ll be okay”  

you took this as your opportunity to kiss her softly on the lips. a quick peck really. a surge of energy coursed through your veins for half a second before coming to a stop.

that’s all the energy you’ll take from her, and the most you’ll take for the next couple of days “mmm… thank you yizhuo” though it was a sweet couple of seconds before it broke off, the sweetness of her lips left a longing impression on you.

yizhuo asked for “one more kiss?” growing in confidence, she leaned into another, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your embrace. though you were unsure, you gave into the moment, savouring her delicate lips. her fingers tentatively reached for your shirt, grabbing you and pulling you in closer. as the kiss intensified, yizhuo’s hands journeyed down your back, directly pushing down so your chests were pressed together “do whatever you want…” her breath hitched as you trailed down kisses from her jaw down to her neck, taking the time and effort to not accidentally leave a huge hickey there. you replied by pushing her back onto the bed, the loose towel that wrapped around body fell apart easily, exposing yizhuo’s pretty tits. she paid no mind, letting you do whatever you pleased. 

“god, you’re so pretty” you climbed onto the bed, straddling yizhuo’s waist as you carefully removed your t-shirt. 

she burned holes through your face, why was she staring so hard all of a sudden? “how are your eyes pink, y/n” taken aback, she sits up and examines your face. she raised her hand and waved it in front of you “is this thing real?” tilting her head in confusion. 

“it is real- mmh?” a jolt shoots right up through your spine and then down to your core out of nowhere. ning held your sleek black tail, rubbing her fingers against the weird leathery texture, caressing and prodding at your poor flimsy, slightly erect(?) tail, as you let out a soft sigh. “yizhuo…” you mewl pathetically “that- that feels weird”

“does it now?” her tongue darted out, licking the centre of your heart shaped tail with the ever so subtle tug at the corner of her lips “sensitive much” a couple more licks and kisses to your tail and you were pretty much done for. 

time to time you forget that you have some sort of libido increasing, aphrodisiac power. the kiss you two shared may have affected her. well it definitely did. the increase of confidence radiating from the older girl was way different in comparison to her usual self. cause by now you’d expect her to be a little more gentle with you.

flipping positions, yizhuo held you down with her two hands with a devilish look on her face “if it’s sex you want, then i’ll make sure to fuck you till your begging for me to stop” her hand travelled down your tail, stroking it as if she was stroking your dick. never before had someone do something like that to your tail, but my god did it feel so fucking good.

she toyed with it, prodded and poked the tip of it and sucked it with her pretty pink and plump lips. the other hand cupped your chest, fondling over your boobs to get a feel for her own satisfaction “i could get used to this…” being on top of you, she had the advantage to do whatever she desired, and also because you were too weak to move at all “what do you want y/n? want me to fuck you with my tongue or my fingers. you choose”

you chose the latter.

throwing your head back onto the fluffed up pillows, yizhuo waisted no time and went to her destination. not one, but two fingers pushed deep inside of your pussy, stretching you out so good. her lustfully hooded eyes looked down at you, absorbing in the expressions of your pleasure contorted face “how’s it feel? want me to add another for you baby?” 

unable to answer her question with words, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing but her fingers to fill you up. so she did, adding in a third finger since you asked to cutely with that nod of yours. now knuckles deep inside, that same devilish grin spread across her face. you unconsciously buck your hips up, smiling wearily at yizhuo “so.. so deep” your moans urged her to immediately start moving. she started out nice and slow, curling her fingers at different intervals to squeeze out those lovely moans of yours. every thrust, she explored your spongy walls, testing out the waters to see which place hit the best for you. then as time went by, she gradually built up her pace until she came to her desired speed.

three fingered merciselessly pounded hard into your tight cunt, your juices leaking and dripping onto yizhuo’s bedsheets, and the sounds of your wetness leaving the chinese girl in awe. noticing the way your hips began to meet with her speed, her hand that played with your tail slowly slided towards them, holding you down by the stomach “let me do all the work” driven by your moans, she leans down to press a hungry kiss on your lips, then leaving a hot trail of kisses down from your neck and onto your perky nipples.

swirling around the hardened bud on your chest, a guttural moan catches her attention “you like it when i suck on your tits, huh?” her thumb pressed against your swollen clit as she muttered those words, all the while still paying attention to your sensitive tits. she enjoyed the way you tried to wriggle your hips in attempts to move them, and how your hands clutched the sheets with pure desperation. she felt hazy, maybe a little bit tipsy somehow, but all she wanted to do was fuck you until you were screaming her name.

as her fingers continued to slide against your walls, hitting the right spots at an intense speed, you felt a knot form in your stomach. you were so desperate for relief, needing to buck your hips into her palm to get that sweet friction you felt on your clit, but she didn’t allow you to do that; her hand still resting on your stomach to stop you from squirming “yi-yizhuo~” you whined, teary eyes staring at her with a pitiful look “please yizhuo.. r-rub my clit please~”

and who was she to deny you.

though she didn’t do exactly what you wanted, she did something way more better. moving away from your nipples, she lowered herself down onto the bottom of her bed to shove her face right between your thighs. tongue darting out her mouth, she gives a few kitten licks on your clit, savouring the sweet essence of your pussy for a starter. those tiny kitten licks turned into something much more. the tip of her tongue circled against your heat, occasionally wrapping her lips around to give you a quick suck before continuing to lap your soaked folds up to your sensitive clit. 

the stimulation drove your crazy. you never knew that yizhuo was so skilled at this. still thrusting those three fingers inside of your now pulsating cunt, at the hot and wet kisses and licks she left on your clit, she knew - and you knew, that you were on the verge of toppling over the edge. but it wasn’t enough for her “is that good, hm? does my needy baby want me to fuck her harder?” yizhuo somehow had the strength to speed up, fucking your hole as she moans at how well you’re taking her. 

those words vibrated from your core and sent shivers across your spine, leaving goosebumps all over your skin - in which also made you clench around her fingers. 

fuck, it was way too damn good. you felt your legs shaking, jaw opening wide, stomach tightening and that course of hot pleasure travelling through your entire nervous system “close- close yizhuo.. don’t stop” your words came out slurred, a few unintelligible praises and swears being ripped out of the back of your throat as you felt yourself on the edge. 

with one final deep and hard thrust, your jaw slacked open as your orgasm was pulled out from your body, legs twitching and spasming as you repetitively screamed out yizhuo’s name alongside even more praises. for a minute your body fell limp against the bed, exhausted from the mind blowing orgasm yizhuo gave you, and also from the built up stress you had from promotions.

now full of the sexual energy you gained from yizhuo, you spring upwards, patting yizhuo’s head gently “t-thank you… i feel refreshed…” 

the older girl finally sat up after she cleaned you up. wiping her face and chin from the juices that dripped all the way down, she flashed you a smile “with that tail of yours, and those pink eyes, you’ve got to be a succubus… right? to answer her question, you nodded, cheeks red from her straightforwardness. 

“y-yeah. you’re right… wanna go again?”

“only if i bottom next”

[slut4thebroken]

April Fools

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | You pranked your boyfriend for April Fools’ Day.

Warnings | Smut, “teasing”, needy!Neil, kinda subby to dom!Neil, dry humping, creampie, orgasm delay, kissing, mutual pet names.

Words | 1.9 k

Notes | Wrote and edited this in like 2 hours so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I got an idea at like 9pm on April 1st and decided I had to finish it before midnight lmao.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Neil had been pouty literally all day.

Truthfully, he was completely overreacting. All you had told him was, “Neil, baby, I love you- but I just feel way too overstimulated right now. Plus I used my vibrator for like four hours last night so I’m not even a little bit horny and I won’t be for probably at least a day or two.” 

At first, it seemed like he didn’t even comprehend what you had told him— it only clicked in his head when you brushed his hands away from your body. 

“W— A day? Or two??” He whined, already starting to pout. “Are you mad at me or something? Whatever I did— I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, Neil.” You laughed softly. He just tilted his head like a confused puppy, still not understanding. 

“Am I still coming over tonight?” 

“Of course you are, silly.” 

You mostly hung out with Jonathan on the couch while Neil and Lucien stocked the shelves and took care of customers. Eventually though, the store was finally closing. 

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” 

“Should I be?” You shot back, raising a brow, making him falter. “God- will you just relax? I told you I’m just orgasmed-out. It’s not like I ran over a box of vintage tapes or something.”

“I’d prefer that!” 

“Oh my god- okay, let’s go already.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. You didn’t think he’d get this pouty… 

Neil swerved multiple times on the way to your house, trying to stare at you and figure out what was wrong. When you finally got inside, he followed you around like a lost puppy, watching you kick off your shoes, then head to the kitchen to start making popcorn for your movie date night. 

“Are you just gonna follow me everywhere?” You finally asked when he was lingering in the kitchen, watching you put the bag in the microwave, then get out a bowl. 

“What if you just suck me off?” You whipped around to face him and his expression immediately turned rueful when he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say…

“Neil— it’s one fucking day.” You were struggling to hold back your laughter…

“Can I just see your tits?” He whined, shifting his weight as he glanced down at your chest. “Please? I’ll even take it with your bra on and everything.”

“How are you so fucking horny all the damn time?” You laughed, rolling your eyes and finally turning around to get yourself a glass of water. 

“I can’t help it— I mean, look at you!” Neil was pretty good about controlling his urges, especially on movie nights, so your preemptive rejection must have just made him want it even more. “Your hand?”

“I’m not in the mood, Neil.” You said plainly. The microwave finally stopped, so you worked on carefully opening the steaming popcorn bag to cool it down. 

“Your thighs? Like we did that one time a couple weeks ago?” He was only getting whinier and you smiled with your back to him as you poured the popcorn into the bowl. 

“Nope.”

“Your foot? Please, baby, I’ll take anything.” His voice grew closer, then his arms were wrapping around your waist. When you felt the bulge on your ass, you blushed a little.  

“Really, Neil? You’re so desperate for it that you’re fine with grinding on my foot?” You scoffed, barely holding back a laugh. 

“Desperate for you.” He corrected, his hips hesitantly bucking forward. 

“Alright, fine. If that’s how you want to spend our date night, I won’t stop you.” He whined when you pushed him away, but quickly followed after you when you started walking to the couch to sit down, carrying the popcorn bowl and your water. “Put the movie in first, will you?” You said innocently, gesturing to the tape that was on the coffee table. 

“But,” his face fell as he looked at it, “that’s my favorite.” You shrugged in response, plopping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. 

“You don’t have to grind on me like a dog. It’s not like I’m making you.” You shrugged again, making him frown. He hesitated a moment, then reluctantly picked it up to put it in, handing you the tv remote. “Thanks, baby.” You took it from him and changed the input while he hesitated again. “Don’t just stand there.” You giggled. 

Neil finally dropped to his knees at your feet, still pouting. “Can I please just fuck you normally?” 

“Not in the mood.” You shrugged, starting the film, keeping your eyes on the screen. He whined loudly when you ignored him completely, but shuffled forward around one of your legs, wrapping his arms around your calf. He whined again when his bulge made contact with the top of your foot and ankle area, then he started grinding hesitantly. Your cunt was already throbbing, but it only got worse when he rested his chin on your knee and looked up at you. 

“Popcorn?” You asked, finally looking down at him. His pout deepened and he shook his head in response. You shrugged and ate some more, moving your focus back to the tv. 

His hands started wandering, caressing your legs before slowly snaking up your thighs. When you batted them away absentmindedly, he paused for a moment, still grinding on you. Then his hands moved up to your belly, heading toward your chest, and you slapped them away this time. 

“Stop it, Neil.” You warned, making him whine loudly. 

“Baby, c’mon… this isn’t fair.” He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, so you rolled your eyes in response. 

“It’s not the end of the world just because you can’t get your dick wet for one single day.” 

“Yes it is!” You rolled your eyes again and decided to ignore him. He was whining and whimpering, sounding like a kicked puppy, and you could feel yourself already starting to crumble. It only got worse when he turned his head to start kissing your knee and the lower half of your thigh. You could feel how hard he was against your foot and you finally checked the clock on the wall— it’s already been almost five hours since you first “rejected” him… That was probably long enough. 

“Okay- stop it, Neil.” He whined and you leaned forward to set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, then leaned back into the couch again. “Get off.” You laughed, weakly pushing him away. 

“Baby, please don’t do this to me,” he all but whimpered. 

“April fools, dummy.” You finally told him, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. 

“What?” 

“It was a prank.” He was still pouting, even after your explanation, but his hips slowed to a stop. “I didn’t really use my vibrator for four hours last night. I was just messing with you. April fools!” He finally sat back on his heels, still sulking. 

“That prank was horrible.” He muttered, making your smile widen. 

“I can’t believe you actually fell for it.” 

“So you are in the mood then?” He scoffed. 

“Duh.” You smirked. “When am I not?” Maybe it was the way you responded, or maybe his arousal finally reached its peak, but he suddenly just snapped. You yelped embarrassingly when he pounced on you, pushing you onto your back on the couch. “Neil!” 

“You’re such a fucking brat, y’know that?” He grumbled, ripping away your shirt, then doing the same thing to your bra. 

“Someone’s not being a very good sport…” You couldn’t help but continue teasing him. 

“Yeah, well— I’ve been half hard since the second half of my shift.” He scoffed bitterly, making you smirk again. Neil pushed your skirt up, then ripped your panties off your body, making your back arch away from the couch with a needy mewl. He reached down and scrambled to open his pants, then took out his cock that was already flushed red and leaking at the tip. 

Without hesitation, he lined up at your entrance, then pushed in. You cried out, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. Even though you’ve been horny since the first time he begged you today, the stretch still stung slightly, but you knew you deserved it a little bit. 

“How would you like it if I said you couldn’t have my cock for a day or two, huh?” He growled, starting a fast pace of slamming into you. 

“You don’t have the self control for that.” You snickered, struggling to get the words out with the overwhelming pleasure that was filling your body. 

“Fuck you.” He grunted. You were about to shoot back a retort, but he suddenly started fucking you harder and faster, taking the words right out of your mouth. “Y’know… I don’t think you deserve to come after being such a brat today.” 

This time, your face fell, and you immediately went into begging mode. “Neil, it was just a prank.” You whined pitifully. 

“Maybe I should edge you for a few hours. I think that’ll make us even, don’t you?” 

“No!” You cried out, releasing a pathetic sob at the thought of being denied. “Baby, please, I’m sorry!” 

“I don’t think I believe you…” His voice was coy and mocking, only making your need for release burn even hotter. “Maybe I will just edge you.” He smirked, snaking his hand down to start rubbing your clit, keeping his touch feather light. 

“Neil, please! I’m sorry!” You cried, your hips bucking up into his hand. 

“Are you, baby?” He cooed, tilting his head to emphasize the question. 

“Yes…” You sobbed out, feeling tears of desperation brimming in your eyes. When his hand suddenly stopped, you practically threw a tantrum, but it started up again a few seconds later, then continued like that for a while. 

“April fools, dummy.” He smirked, suddenly applying fast, steady pressure on your clit with his fingers. A moan caught in your throat and your back arched off the couch, pushing into his body. 

“That’s not funny, Neil.” You whined, pouting now that you knew he was just getting back at you. 

“It’s kinda funny.” He chuckled, the sound low and raspy as he neared his own release. 

“I- I can come?” You choked out as you rapidly approached the edge, still doubting whether or not you actually had permission. 

“Go ahead, baby.” 

“Fuck… T-Thank you.” You gasped, moving your hands up to his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back with a moan. His fingers suddenly vanished from your clit, sending you immediately back down from the edge. “Neil!” You cried out brattishly.

He just laughed in response and resumed the motions until you fell over the edge. You were worried he’d ruin it, but as he grunted and moaned along with you, that thought quickly disappeared. His fingers faltered as his own orgasm crashed over him, but yours was already fading by now, so it wasn’t ruined. Neil was groaning into your shoulder, his hips bucking sporadically, trying to bury his cock impossibly deeper. Finally, he went still with a low groan, then both of you were just panting quietly. 

“Are you okay? I should’ve fingered you or something first, I just-” you cut off his nervous rambling by pulling him into a kiss, making him melt against you. After a few seconds, you pulled him back, leaving both of you even more breathless. 

“I’m okay.” You smiled, and he returned the expression almost immediately. 

“Good.” He placed another peck on your lips, then flopped down on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you that turned into a giggle. “For the record, if you pull that shit again, every single toy you own will “mysteriously” disappear, got it?” 

[floralcyanide]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴅ — ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ

callum turner x fem!reader (nsfw)

In which a chance reconnection with your ex, Callum Turner, brings you to his hotel room- and he talks you through more than just your breakup.

✣ warnings: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, language, female anatomy described, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, mutual orgasm, love confessions

✣ word count: 2.7k

✣ author’s note: I wrote half of this weeks ago and just finished it. hope ya'll enjoy ((:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | the death of peace of mind - bad omens

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

The last thing on your mind today was running into your ex, Callum Turner, yet here you are. 

He’s sitting adjacent to you in the script reading session for your new movie- and you had no idea of the cast until today, so seeing him was an absolute surprise. You try your best to remain neutral and keep yourself from looking at him, but you find yourself glancing up at him frequently. He looks great, of course, which makes it hard not to stare. You remind yourself Callum is an ex for a reason and focus on your turns to read the script. Callum had broken up with you because he had found himself unsure of his feelings and hadn’t elaborated further on it before leaving. So, you have struggled for a while with self-confidence and identity. It’s not entirely his fault, but not knowing how he felt for you during your relationship did something to you emotionally and mentally. 

When the reading concluded, you tried your best to make a clean getaway, but Callum’s long strides and quick maneuvering skills got him to you in the hallway in record time. A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder in the sea of cast and crew exiting.

“Long time no see,” Callum flashes his brilliant smile at you once you turn to face him.

“Yeah,” you half-smile, “Sure has.”

Callum stares intently into your eyes for a few seconds longer than usual before he notices he hasn’t responded. He visibly shakes his head out of his mess of thoughts, “How have you been?”

“Could be better,” you shrug, “But I’ll be fine, always am.”

You keep your answers brief, with as little to go on as possible. 

“Would you like to meet at my hotel for coffee later? There’s a cafe in the lobby that’s pretty good,” Callum scratches the back of his neck, “I just need to talk to you about something and would rather do it somewhere other than the corridor,” he laughs nervously.

“Oh,” you purse your lips, momentarily looking down at your feet before answering, “I don’t know, Callum. Is it really a good idea for us to talk outside the set?”

Callum clears his throat, “Well. I was hoping to talk to you about that, actually. See, I didn’t tell you everything when we broke up about how I felt, and I think you deserve to know, ‘s all.”

You sigh, “I suppose knowing wouldn’t hurt, even though it’s been a year already. Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I was afraid,” Callum admits, “I thought you hated me.”

You frown, “I don’t hate you, Callum. I promise.”

Callum brightens, “So you’ll meet me at the coffee shop? Tomorrow, maybe? Ten in the morning?”

“Fine,” you agree, “Tomorrow it is.”

Callum gives you the hotel’s address and leaves you in the hallway, turning as he walks away to wave goodbye.

You’re laying in bed that night staring at the ceiling. You still love Callum; don’t get yourself wrong. But if he didn’t feel the same, why entertain it? Besides, it seemed like he never really felt that way for you, and that’s why he dipped last year. At the same time, however, you don’t know that for sure because Callum didn’t tell you much. You guess you’ll find out more tomorrow. You roll over and will yourself to sleep.

You definitely need the caffeine upon waking the following day from tossing and turning all night. You get ready and take a cab from your apartment to the hotel Callum is staying at, nervous the entire ride there. When you arrive at the cafe, Callum is sitting on a couch by the window, aimlessly scrolling through his phone, waiting for you. He hopes you come and don’t change your mind.

“You made it!” Callum grins as you walk in, and he stands up to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. 

Your entire body burns at the contact, but you try your best to push your feelings aside, “Of course I did.”

The two of you order and return to the couch, where you hesitantly sit beside Callum, his thigh touching yours. You find it familiar and comforting but, at the same time, very nerve-wracking. 

“So,” Callum turns to face you, “Do you mind me explaining everything? I promise you don’t owe me your time; I just feel you deserve to know why I left.”

“I don’t mind,” you say honestly, “In fact, I’d feel better hearing it.”

“Alright,” Callum nods, “To be honest, I was scared. I had feelings for you I had never felt for anyone before, and I didn’t know how to handle them.”

You focus on Callum’s words, carefully turning them over in your head, “I understand.”

“I loved you, you know,” Callum rubs his palms on his thighs, a nervous laugh leaving his lips, “And I fucked it up.”

You stare at him wordlessly, unsure of how to respond.

“Still do, actually. Love you.”

Your ears begin to ring, and you almost don’t hear your names being called for your coffee orders until Callum stands up and walks over to retrieve them. He loved you? Still loves you, rather? Your facial expression- one of shock- is still apparent when Callum sits back down next to you and offers you your drink.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I just didn’t expect that.”

“You don’t have to return those feelings, by the way. I just needed to tell you that’s how I felt then and still feel now.”

“Despite leaving me a little lost a year ago, a part of me still loves you too, Cal. But I don’t know what to do with that.”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything if that’s what you wish.”

“How do I know you really love me?” you blurt, shocking yourself with your words.

Callum puts a hand on your knee, “You can trust me, or I can prove it to you.”

Clutching your untouched drink in your hand, you wonder what he could mean by that.

“Prove it how?”

“You know a thing or two about that, I think,” Callum says suggestively, and your body burns like fire again.

You scoff, “I do. But how do I know you won’t just up and leave again after? Hmm?”

“I won’t,” Callum grabs your unoccupied hand, “I won’t this time, I promise. I don’t think I could leave you again.”

“Okay, then,” you admit defeat, “Show me just how much you really love me, Mr. Turner.”

Callum leads you to the elevator, where he presses the floor button and stands beside you, eyeing you up and down. When the doors close, he pulls you to his side as he finishes his coffee. You rest your head on his arm, sipping your own drink. Callum’s hand grips your waist, his touch hot even through your clothes. You're nearly shaking with nerves when you reach the top floor. The two of you had your go-arounds while together, of course. But it was never anything emotionally charged. You’re hoping Callum really does show you how much he loves you this time and doesn’t leave you hanging. He lets you follow him to his room, where he fumbles to unlock the door with his phone. Callum heads to the windows to close the drapes, his back muscles rippling under his shirt, much to your delight. He turns around and catches your gaze, maintaining eye contact with you as he returns to where you stand. Callum wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you to him after you sit your coffee down. He is taller than you, so you have to look up at him when standing so close. A closed-lip smile spreads on his face as he takes in your features. Callum pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face before leaning in.

“Do you want this?” he asks, his lips barely brushing against yours.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I do want this. Prove it to me.”

Callum captures your lips with his finally, and everything negative you felt about your relationship falls away. The comfort you’ve always found in him flows back into you as he guides his tongue along your bottom lip. Callum’s hands find your hair, where they tangle themselves in your locks for leverage. You allow him to explore your mouth softly as if it was his first time in uncharted territory. Your arms are around him, and your palms are settled on his back as he slowly moves the two of you over to the giant bed in the middle of the suite. You sit on the edge of it as Callum pulls his shirt off. He’s a little more muscular than the last time you saw him. You drink in his broad shoulders and toned chest, his thick biceps resting by your head as his fists dig into the mattress on either side of your legs. Callum is leaning over you, his demeanor shifting to something more dominant. He kisses you again before his hand moves to your chin, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

“Go lay on the pillows and get ready for me.”

A surge of excitement rushes through your veins as you nod, moving backward to where the pillows sit at the top of the bed. You peel off your shirt and jeans, kicking them off the side of the bed onto the floor where your shoes are haphazardly lying. Callum climbs over you, taking in the sight of you. He lays beside you, patting his spread, underwear-clad thighs for you to sit. You oblige, his chest pressed to your back as you relax into his embrace. Callum’s large hands rub over your hips and legs, his skin hot against yours. He buries his nose into your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder and up your throat. Callum then lightly traces your jaw with his tongue before he reaches your ear, nibbling the shell of it. His hands travel from your thighs to your hips, all the way up your sides, until they reach your covered breasts. He squeezes them as he sucks a mark behind your ear, out of sight. You squirm lightly in his lap, inhaling sharply through your nose at the feeling of his teeth on your sensitive skin. Moving your hair out of the way from your ears, Callum continues his assault of bites on the back of your neck as his fingers slip underneath the cups of your bra. You hum as his fingers toy with your nipples, your head tossed back against his shoulder as he does so. This gives him more access to your neck, where he leaves open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You feel him grow hard against your tailbone as he twists and rubs your sensitive nubs, eliciting moans from you.

“I miss the way you say my name,” Callum whispers in your ear, letting one of his hands travel back down to your stomach, where he slips a hand beneath the band of your underwear, “Say it.”

“Callum,” you gasp as his fingers ghost your heat, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Just like that, doll,” Callum grins into your shoulder, where his lips press to your skin.

He helps you out of your underwear, pulling it down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. Callum tosses one of your legs over his thigh, giving him easier access to you. You reach behind your back to unhook your bra, throwing it off the side of the bed.

“Kind of unfair that I’m the only naked one,” you frown.

“Be patient, I want to play with you first,” Callum kisses your cheek.

He prods your lips open with two of his fingers, allowing you to suck them in. You lave your tongue around them, coating them with your spit enough for Callum to be satisfied, “Good girl,” he coos.

He then gently circles your clit with his two slicked fingers, and your hips buck involuntarily. He uses his other arm to press you firmly against him. Callum continues to play with the bundle of nerves before letting a finger test your entrance to gauge how wet you’ve become. He’s able to slip a finger inside without struggle, curling it against the familiar spot that makes you groan. As he adds another finger, you grip Callum’s arm as his fingertips massage your g spot. 

“Callum, please,” you whine.

“Please, what?” Callum feels himself getting painfully harder against your back at the sounds you’re making, “Gotta use your words.”

“Show me how much you love me,” you beg, “Fuck me already.”

“Impatient, are we?” Callum smirks before removing his fingers from you and putting them in his mouth this time, relishing the wetness of your cunt, “God, the way you taste,” he moans.

Callum moves you over and off his lap so he can remove his pants and underwear before hovering over you. He braces himself on his arms on either side of your head, bringing his face to yours, “Are you sure you want this?” he asks again.

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his face and looking him in the eye, “I want this.”

“Not that your begging wasn’t enough; I just needed to hear you say it,” he jokes, lining himself up to your entrance.

You playfully smack his chest before digging your nails into it as he pushes inside you slowly. You wrap an arm around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair. Callum fully seats himself inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. You wrap a leg around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Callum focuses on breathing properly, as your clenching around him makes it hard not to pound you into the mattress. You wiggle your hips a little, letting him know he could move. Callum holds your hips up, moving your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, gaining a steady rhythm. The noises you let out just urge Callum to go faster and harder as he kisses along your thighs.

“I love you,” Callum says, biting down on your thigh and causing you to yelp, which makes him grin.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly, your hands gripping his biceps for leverage.

“Do you believe me when I say it now?” Callum bites his lip, feeling your walls clenching harder around him.

You’re close, and he can feel it. He reaches between your bodies and presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles against it.

“Yes,” you say, almost illegible, “Fuck, I believe you, Cal.”

“Good,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead.

Your fingernails dig into his muscles as you feel yourself about to let go, your stomach tightening into a knot. Callum feels his orgasm creeping up as he snaps his hips faster against your ass, his grip on your thighs almost bruising. Your orgasm hits suddenly, like a tsunami of pleasure taking over your senses. Your body shakes as Callum’s own climax surges through him, your convulsing cunt milking his cock. You’re both gasping for air as Callum lets your back fall against the bed as he pulls out, collapsing next to you. 

“That was…”

“Amazing?” Callum turns his head to look at you, 

“Yeah,” you’re quick to pull the duvet over you as your sweat cools on your skin, “Better than any time before, honestly.”

“Agreed,” Callum puts an arm behind his head to rest on, “I’m still sorry for not telling you how I felt. I didn’t really know what it was at the time.”

“It’s okay now, Cal,” you roll over on your side, putting a hand on his chest, “You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Callum kisses the top of your head, “Okay. I won’t.”

The next day, when the script is read over again, tensions are definitely not as high. You don’t struggle as much with your lines, and being around Callum is easier. You’re glad it all worked out; maybe this time, it’ll last without confusion.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

feb 2025 episode of octavinelle + 4koma updates!

***Note: no Episode of Savanaclaw manga update this month; Episode of Scarabia's first chapter drops on the 27th!***

It's time, guys... AZUL'S CHILDHOOD FLASHBACKS 🤡

Modern day Azul, octo form...! From only the back though.

Waaaaah~ The Coral Sea is so pretty!! I am certain that nothing could poooooossibly go wrong in this picturesque place :))

NUUUUUUUUU OTL NOT THE JUXTAPOSITION BETWEEN THE MERCHILDREN PLAYING IN THE LIGHT WITH EACH OTHER WHILE AZUL'S BY HIMSELF IN THE DARK IN HIS OCTOPOT...

THERE HE ISSSSSSSS 😭😭😭 ashdhvadoyd8tvqef8tqfasi Jade and Floyd are so right, Azul looks so squishy and cute...

It's interesting to fianlly get faces to put to Azul's bullies? They all do seem to be more humanoid merpeople than more sea creature-like ones (though the in-game silhouettes also implied this), which makes me wonder if the "they discriminate against octopus merfolk" theory have some kind of truth to it. A lot of it seems to be that they look down on him for spewing ink when he cries + his inability to swim fast; his limbs get tangled in things.

THOSE KIDS ARE SUCH DICKS THOUGH, AZUL WASN'T DOING ANYTHING TO THEM... Just swimming by with his stuff and that asshole had to tug on one of his tentacles, make Azul's stuff go everywhere, and knock Azul to the seabed... Poor baby's crying (and he inked too, which… uh, seems like the equivalent of wetting yourself in Finding Nemo but not sure if that’s the case here too)💀 KIDS ARE BRUTAL, MAN.

Also??? Confirmation that female merfolk wear seashell bras!! There's a background character that wears one.

OOOOOH Little Mermaid reference! We see a bunch of bottles in the same shapes as Ursula’s ingredients, but one thing that stuck out to me was this bubble with a butterfly in it. Ursula used a similar one to make her Vanessa disguise.

I like that the manga shows us how hard Azul worked to become the person we know today. We knew that he studied a lot and wrote a ton of spells using his limbs and the ink he produces, but we see him engaging in other activities to improve himself too. Like him lifting all those dumbbells!! That’s so impressive for a little kid.

THE TWINNNNNnmNnNNNNNnNs!!!! 😭 They’re so cute!! I think the super short hair (including the shorter black strands, lmao) looks very appealing on their smaller selves. The scales on their foreheads are a nice touch.

LMAO the way the twins just barge into Azul’s place and start digging through things 😭 No sense of privacy, I guess.

cbksbejebzoGsown NOT AZuL GRABBinG THEM AnD tOSSinG THEM OUT LikE TRAsH

And Jade and Floyd aren’t even bothered by it… They’re acting like it’s fun and they just got off some free roller coaster ride or something 😂

So like the game, they first encounter Azul as kids but they more directly approach him and offer to help him out in middle school?

Speaking of middle school, we get to see Octavinelle from this era as well!!

Jade and Floyd look very similar to their modern day selves, but you can tell that Azul notably still has some of his “baby fat”. By high school, it’s all gone.

… Anyway, I can see that the shady seafood trio still had their signature sketchy smirks, even all the way back then. This does not bode well 💦

This month's 4koma focuses on Riddle and his fellow Equestrian Club members! Riddle is trying to make a pumpkin carriage for Halloween, while Silver and Sebek provide feedback on how well the carriage suits Malleus's needs. Riddle also goes on to get help from Heartslabyul.

asdhlbiaogyvsfapa MALLEUS'S EGG (Tamago-sama..._ MAKES A CAMEO...

That's it for this month! On the 27th, we get to meet a new Yuu for the Episode of Scarabia, so I'm looking forward to that.

[livelaughpeg]

I'm writing this from a throwaway account, because you know...Scientology.

I want to preface this post by saying I am not one of those "I knew it all along!" people. I can't stand that attitude. I was pretty ambivelant towards Neil Gaiman. Prior to the allegations, I didn't hate him but I wasn't that interested in him as a person either. I don't think you can always tell when someone is a bad or good person simply by the topics they write about. If that was the case we'd be arresting every horror writer on earth.

But one thing that did always rub me up the wrong way was the way he talked about getting work.

I borrowed and read "Make Good Art" (a small book based on a speech he gave to graduates at the University of the Arts) at a time in my life that I was really struggling to get by (I still am to some extent, but in a different way). I expected to see some practical advice. Instead it was a bunch of glib shit like:

I got out into the world, I wrote, and I became a better writer the more I wrote, and I wrote some more, and nobody ever seemed to mind that I was making it up as I went along, they just read what I wrote and they paid for it, or they didn’t, and often they commissioned me to write something else for them. Looking back, I’ve had a remarkable ride. I’m not sure I can call it a career, because a career implies that I had some kind of career plan, and I never did. The nearest thing I had was a list I made when I was 15 of everything I wanted to do: to write an adult novel, a children’s book, a comic, a movie, record an audiobook, write an episode of Doctor Who… and so on. I didn’t have a career. I just did the next thing on the list.

Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in business and in friendship and in health and in all the other ways that life can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do. Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art. Cat exploded? Make good art. Somebody on the Internet thinks what you do is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before? Make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, and eventually time will take the sting away, but that doesn’t matter. Do what only you do best. Make good art.

Yeah, well, no shit. If you're a writer or artist you probably do anyway. Whether you get paid for it or not, whether you draw fan art or original art. But the point of Gaiman's speech was to give advice to people who wanted to be paid for their art. To make a career of it. Making art every day isn't always enough. You have to pay the damn rent, you have to eat, you have to network and do social media and promote yourself, and you have to do it while thousands of other people are doing the same thing in a massive crowd of people who want the same thing. Practical advice is much more valuable than platitudes and theory.

I am not a writer, I'm an illustrator, and let me tell you that for most people, 'getting your foot in the door' isn't a one time thing. Quite often you have to work at getting your foot in the door again and again until you become established, and it's very easy to be forgotten. I still feel like I'm in that stage now.

I watched my peers, and my friends, and the ones who were older than me and watch how miserable some of them were: I’d listen to them telling me that they couldn’t envisage a world where they did what they had always wanted to do any more, because now they had to earn a certain amount every month just to keep where they were. They couldn’t go and do the things that mattered, and that they had really wanted to do; and that seemed as a big a tragedy as any problem of failure.

The implication was that he was successful because he wrote every day and his friends weren't because they didn't, because you know, working a second job is tiring. He called this a tragedy, but there was something very glib about the way he narrated this.

I think someone had more financial cushion that he was letting on.

And yes, sometimes it does work that way, (some people are very lucky and make all the right connections) but Gaiman was getting Big Jobs right off the bat and something about that never smelt right to me after the way he talked about it.

And then I saw Jeff's tweets. Oh, that's why...

I suspect the truth is he was living off his family's money and connections, and while I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with that if you're a struggling artist, his family are Scientologists, and I don't think he ever struggled.

I suspect it's all a lie.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

self-doubt. l Harry Castillo

💔 a few ways to break your heart 💔

Summary:  he decided to show you your place

Warnings:  Self-doubt, complexes, imposter syndrome, gossiping, crying, breakups

A/N: I thought a lot of us struggle with this so I wrote this… will I fix it?

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

a few ways to break a heart [masterlist]

"I really don't understand why Harry showed up with that thing. Have you seen her dress? It was in style last season."

A soft giggle echoed through the bathroom, mixing with the sound of running water and the clicking of heels. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest that it was strange that the women fixing their makeup in front of the mirror hadn’t heard you in one of the stalls.

Finally, the voice of the second woman rang out. "I heard they met at a café."

"No kidding! She probably worked there, huh?" the first one snorted. "She looks like she works at a café because she couldn't make it anywhere else. Harry's too good for her."

"Mhm. She'll probably get pregnant soon and inherit his fortune."

Someone slammed their hand on the marble counter, and the owner's voice rose noticeably. "Spit it out, Susan! Harry should at least have a little more sense. If he wants to have fun, fine, but he should watch her hands more closely. I'm telling you, she only wants his money!"

"And she's not even pretty."

You couldn't move. When the women finally came out of the bathroom and you knew you were alone, you realized you had been holding your breath and welcomed the oxygen in your lungs. Your fingers were icy cold and when you looked down at your hands, you saw they were shaking.

They were talking about you. You were sure of it, you had seen them earlier, watching Harry and you at that stupid sponsors' party. The best of the best, beautiful people with lots of money. Champagne, oysters, and other expensive food you've never tried.

You felt like you didn't fit in there, but now you were sure of it.

These women weren't wrong, though. You met Harry Castillo at a coffee shop when he accidentally spilled coffee on you. Plain and simple. But no, you didn't work there. You went there regularly and sometimes you saw a tall man with broad shoulders and a prominent nose. Once or twice you exchanged friendly glances and smiles.

It was easy to fall in love with Harry Castillo. He was charming, sweet, sensitive, and really listened. You quickly fell in love with his brown eyes, and on the third date he told you that “you were more than that.”

You had your insecurities, and your self-confidence had been shaken for years. How could you blame yourself? Growing up in the age of social media, magazines, and the constant rush to be perfect took its toll on everyone. You were no exception.

And even though Harry did everything right, and you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, in that moment, in that fucking toilet, at that awful party, it all came crashing down.

Only, miraculously, the tears that were gathering in your eyes hadn't ruined your makeup yet. You stepped out of the stall and saw your reflection in the mirror. Despite the tears glistening in your eyes and the slight shock on your face, you still looked the same as when you arrived at the party.

The dress you and Harry had chosen complimented your figure beautifully. The makeup highlighted your eyes, and you could still picture Harry's look in your mind when he saw you like that.

"I don't know, maybe we should stay home..." he said tenderly kissing your neck "But I want to show everyone how lucky I am."

But in that moment, in that fancy bathroom of that damn expensive hotel, you felt like someone you weren't. You didn't belong to this world, to these people. All your fears and insecurities had found an outlet, and no rational words could change that.

What if they were right? What if Harry was just playing with you? Would he be capable of that? No, Harry wasn't like that. The man had a heart of gold, and you were sure of it. But he would soon see for himself that you weren't on his level, that you were far below him. The imposter syndrome kicked in.

Harry would find out soon. He would soon discover that you weren't who he thought you were.

The approaching voices brought you back to earth. To avoid anyone noticing how bad your condition was, you headed for the door.

You noticed him immediately. Your eyes searched for Harry and easily found him in the crowd. Damn, he looked so good in that perfectly tailored suit, his shirt collar slightly loosened. For a moment you wanted to go to him, but then you saw the woman he was talking to. She was beautiful. Her hand lightly grabbed his arm as she let out a sweet laugh. You wanted to be her so badly...

The lump in your throat was becoming unbearable. You didn't dare go back to the party, instead you headed for the exit. Yes, you were a coward. You were one too when you called Harry from the taxi you caught.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but this is pointless."

"What? I'm sorry, darling, but I don't understand. Where are you? I'll be right there." he replied. Concern was barely noticeable in his voice.

"I'm not there anymore." The silence on the other end was terrifyingly loud. Finally, you heard Harry take a deep breath.

"Okay, so where are you, love? We'll talk."

“Harry…” You stopped for a moment, feeling the tears already streaming down your cheeks. “Please don’t come to me. I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”

"Darling..." Harry started, but you interrupted him again. In the background, you could clearly hear him moving around, probably trying to find his driver and car.

"Harry, please. Respect my decision." you said, trying to keep your voice calm. "I need...space. This is too much for me. I'm sorry, but it's over."

And before he could say anything, you hung up. You were a fucking coward. You didn't care about your makeup anymore, you let the tears flow.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[koyagifs]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing: ot8 ateez x reader au: 9th member | poly genre: angst with comfort word count: 3.8k synopsis: after a well deserve break, you went out to your usual cafe. it should of it been safe. warning(s): mentions of kidnapping,, wounds,, name calling,, cursing,, hospital,,

enjoyed the post? check out my masterlist!

You’d all just wrapped up your schedule for the day, finally earning a bit of well-deserved downtime. It was just past noon, and for once, the weather was actually nice—perfect for a little outing. A new café had just opened nearby, and with Atiny tagging you left and right to try their drinks (even recommending their favorites), you figured it was the perfect time to check it out.

As you slipped on your shoes by the door, Yunho glanced up from the couch where he was lounging with Mingi. “Oh, you look pretty. Where are you headed?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Mingi tilted his head, brows slightly furrowed. “Wait, we didn’t make any date plans today… did we?”

You chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “No, baby, we didn’t. I just wanted to check out that new café down the street. The one Atiny’s been raving about.”

They both nodded in understanding, already reaching for their wallets. But you held up a hand, shaking your head with a teasing grin. “Don’t worry—I’ve got Joongie-oppa’s card.”

They both chuckled, fondness soft in their eyes. “Of course you do, baby,” Yunho said with a grin. “Be safe, okay? And check in with us when you get there.”

You nodded, leaning in to press a quick kiss to their lips before heading to the door. “Love you both! Oh—Mouse needs to be taken out. Will you two be a peach and handle that for me real quick?”

“Of course, babygirl,” Yunho replied without hesitation, while Mingi was already halfway to your room with a wave of acknowledgment.

When you arrived at the café, the soft jingle of the doorbell announced your entrance. With your mask snug and a hat pulled low, your face was mostly hidden from view—just the way you liked it when you were out alone. You slipped into line, letting your eyes scan the overhead menu. Everything looked delicious, making it hard to choose.

What you didn’t notice, though, was the subtle glance cast your way from a nearby table—someone watching you quietly from just a few feet away, their gaze lingering a little longer than casual curiosity allowed.

When it was finally your turn, you stepped up to the counter and greeted the cashier with a warm smile. The barista returned your smile, nodding as they tapped in your order. You stepped to the side to wait, still unaware of the eyes that hadn’t left you since you walked in.

You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to the boys to let them know you’d made it safely. Just got here, you wrote, attaching a picture of you in the cafe. As you hit send, a sudden tap on your shoulder made you jump slightly.

You turned around, coming face-to-face with a girl whose smile didn’t quite reach her eyes—something about it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Oh—are you Yn? From Ateez?” she asked, voice light but her gaze oddly intense.

You gave a polite smile, slipping your phone into your back pocket. “Yeah, I am. Are you an ATINY? Did you want a picture?”

She shook her head, her smile still in place. “No, not me—my mom does, though! She loves you. She’s just outside… you don’t mind meeting her, do you?”

You blinked, surprised, but kept your expression neutral. Something about the way she said it made you pause, but you didn’t want to be rude.

Just then, the barista called your name, and you glanced back at the counter. Your drink was ready. You bit your lip, then turned back to the girl with a nod. “Sure—just let me grab my drink real quick.”

You grabbed your drink, the chill of the cup doing nothing to settle the unease creeping up your spine. Something about this felt off—too rehearsed, too wrong. A quiet voice in the back of your mind whispered for you to leave, or at the very least, call one of the boys.

You slipped your phone out again, pretending to snap a picture of your drink. Instead, you hit a random contact and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered.

You quickly turned the volume down, just enough to hear them but not enough to draw attention, then slid the phone into your back pocket, leaving the call open.

Turning to the girl again, you forced a smile as her expression flickered—just for a split second—before settling back into something too polished.

“All ready,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Oh, her name’s Mina,” the girl replied sweetly. “She’s been a huge fan since you guys debuted—says you brought so much joy to the younger girls.”

You hummed in response, doing your best to stay composed as you followed her out the café door. But the second your feet hit the alleyway, dread bloomed in your chest like poison.

There was no mother waiting.

Just the quiet shuffle of stray cats darting between trash bins, the distant bark of a dog, and the hum of the city muffled by the narrow brick walls.

You stopped walking.

Your fingers tightened around your drink as you slowly turned back around—heart pounding against your ribs.

The girl stood just a few steps away, but her expression had shifted entirely. The polite smile was gone, replaced with something wild. Eyes wide, too wide. Lips curled into a grin that didn’t belong on anyone claiming to be a fan.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your ears.

You were royally fucked.

Your eyes dropped to her hand—now gripping a knife.

“You don’t deserve them,” she spat, voice shaking with rage. “Especially Wooyoung. How could he be in love with you when you’re with Hongjoong? What does he even see in you?!”

Your heart stuttered. Arms instinctively raised in defense, you took a cautious step back.

“Wooyoung-oppa is just a friend,” you said carefully, voice low and steady.

“Liar!” she screamed. “I have pictures of you and Wooyoung kissing!”

Your breath caught. Panic surged through you—not for yourself, but for them. If those pictures got out… if the world found out about your relationship with the boys like this—

You acted on instinct.

You hurled your drink at her—cold liquid and plastic flying—but she didn’t even flinch.

With a shriek, she lunged, tackling you to the ground. Pain shot through your shoulder as your back hit the concrete, a cry escaping your lips. She straddled you, eyes manic, knife raised slightly, her words slicing sharper than any blade.

“You’re a whore! Kissing Hongjoong-oppa one day, Wooyoung-oppa the next—just a slut who slept her way into fame!”

The knife came down.

You screamed, instinctively raising your arms to block the strike, the blade grazing your skin as you fought to push her off. But before you could catch your breath, another pair of hands grabbed you—dragging you further into the alley’s shadow.

“We even have pictures of you kissing San and Yeosang,” a second voice hissed, venom laced through every word. “Are you sleeping with all of them, you whore?”

Tears welled in your eyes, pain and panic colliding in your chest as you kicked, thrashed—anything to break free. But their grips were unrelenting.

Your heart sank as you were yanked to your feet, your legs kicking desperately as you tried to make yourself heavy, immovable. Then you saw it—a car pulling into the alley.

Hope flickered.

But it wasn’t help.

You were being dragged toward it, and no matter how hard you fought, it was no use.

Without warning, a rough fabric was shoved over your head—a bag, tight and suffocating. You gasped, struggling to breathe, but before you could react, something hard slammed into the back of your head.

Pain exploded in your skull, blinding you, and then everything went black.

Wooyoung’s eyes were glued to the phone, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the screen in disbelief. When you didn't reply back to Jongho hello, he had put it on speaker.

The moment they heard your scream, everything came to a sudden halt. Jongho, who had been in the middle of the game, bolted upright, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. The sound of your scream—a raw, desperate cry of pain—had shattered the stillness.

Wooyoung’s blood ran cold, his grip tightening around the phone as his mind raced. They had heard you scream before, yes, but never like this. Not even when you had been close to death just a few years ago. This wasn’t just fear—it was agony.

"Ynie," Wooyoung whispered hoarsely, his breath shaky.

Jongho didn’t need any further prompting. Without a word, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, urgency in every step. Wooyoung wasn’t far behind, his own panic rising as he dialed your number again, hoping—praying—that you would answer.

"Hyungs!" Jongho’s voice cracked with urgency as he pounded on the door.

Wooyoung wasn’t far behind, slamming his fist against the next door in a desperate rhythm.

A sleepy Hongjoong opened the door, clearly about to snap at the boys for waking him so early. But when he saw the sheer panic etched on their faces, the frustration melted away in an instant. His expression hardened into something colder, sharper. He shifted into captain mode in the blink of an eye.

“What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?” he demanded, his voice calm but firm, enough to catch Seonghwa and Yeosang’s attention from down the hall.

Jongho swallowed hard, his voice trembling with the weight of what he was about to say. “Yn—she called me while she was at the café. When I said hello, she didn’t answer. It sounded like she was having a conversation with someone… and then—”

His words faltered, choking on the panic rising in his throat. Wooyoung quickly stepped in, his voice strained with urgency. “She screamed, hyung. I’ve never heard her like that… we have to go, now.”

“Keep calling her phone,” Hongjoong commanded, his voice sharp and decisive. “Seonghwa, call the manager. Yeosang, get the cops on the line. I’m waking the others. Once the manager is here, we’ll head out in groups. Got it?”

The urgency in his tone left no room for hesitation, and the group immediately sprang into action. Everyone scrambled for their phones, fingers shaking but focused.

Seonghwa was the first to dial their manager, his heart pounding in his chest. When the phone connected, his voice was strained, nearly breaking. “She’s missing. Yn’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s missing? Seonghwa, what is going on?” their manager's voice crackled through the phone, the panic clear in his tone.

Seonghwa fought back the wave of emotion threatening to choke him, his hands trembling as he spoke. “She’s gone! Jongho was on the phone with her, and he heard her struggle. He heard her scream.”

The silence on the other end of the line felt like an eternity before their manager spoke again, sharper this time. “Did you guys already call the cops?”

“Yeosang is on the phone with them right now,” Seonghwa replied quickly, his voice thick with anxiety.

“I’m calling the CEO right now, and I’ll be on my way,” their manager said, voice steady but strained. “Do you guys know where she was last seen? Anything?”

Seonghwa hesitated, his mind racing as he struggled to recall the details. But before he could respond, Yunho snatched the phone from him, his voice firm and clear.

“Yn was heading to a new café down the street,” Yunho explained quickly. “Mingi and I were the last ones to see her before she left. She even checked in with us—sent us a picture, proof that she was there.”

The line fell silent for a beat, as their manager processed the information.

"Alright, good. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep me updated, and stay close to each other. We’ll figure this out, I promise."

A low groan escaped your lips as you stirred, your body aching, head throbbing. Your eyes blinked against the dim light, slowly adjusting to the shadowy room around you.

You pushed yourself up with a wince, the pain from your earlier wound flaring sharply. The room reeked of damp concrete and rust, the walls stained with age and what could only be bacteria-laced grime. The sight alone sent goosebumps crawling up your arms.

Heart racing, you staggered to your feet and stumbled toward the heavy door, fists pounding against the metal.

“Hey!! Let me out!” you screamed, voice raw and desperate as it echoed off the filthy walls.

You huffed in frustration, stepping back just as the door swung open with a creak. Standing in the doorway was her—the same girl from the café, eyes filled with disdain as she stared you down.

You matched her glare, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

“Holy fuck, you’re actually awake,” she sneered, her tone sharp and mocking.

Your jaw clenched. “You’ll go to jail for this—prison even.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing coldly as she stepped into the room. “That’s assuming they ever find you.”

“And they will find me,” you said firmly, voice laced with defiance. “They love me—all of them. Like a sister. Hongjoong would turn the world upside down to get to me.”

“They don’t love you,” she snapped, her voice rising with emotion. “They despise you!”

You let out a breath, steadying your stance as you stared her down. “Say whatever you want. I know them. I’ve been with them since we were trainees. We’ve been through everything together—the highs, the brutal lows—and trust me, there were a lot of lows.”

You stepped forward, unwavering. “We have a bond you’ll never understand. One you’ll never have with them.”

She suddenly lunged forward, shoving you hard. You stumbled back and hit the ground with a painful thud.

“I hate you!” she screamed, her voice shaking with unhinged fury. “You should’ve never joined ATEEZ. I hope you get comfortable—because this is your coffin, bitch.”

Before you could respond, she spit on you. You flinched, the humiliation stinging worse than the fall. And then she was gone, storming out and slamming the door behind her, leaving only silence in her wake.

You sat there frozen, your body aching, your chest heaving. It wasn’t until your vision blurred that you realized—tears were streaming down your face. Silent, desperate, angry tears.

You swiped at them quickly, forcing yourself to breathe. You had to get out. And fast.

Seonghwa sat stiffly beside Hongjoong, his leg bouncing restlessly as they waited inside the police station. Their manager stood a few feet away, pacing the length of the room while on the phone with yet another department head.

KQ had acted fast—almost too fast. A statement was already released to the public, carefully worded and vague, citing "a personal emergency" involving one of the group's close affiliates.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for them.

What stung even more was the company’s next move: locking the rest of the members inside the dorm under heavy security.

“It’s for your safety,” they were told.

Safety. When you were the one out there—alone, hurt, taken.

Seonghwa’s fists clenched in his lap.

“This is bullshit,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath, his voice low and sharp. “We should be out there, not sitting around waiting.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, jaw tight. “She wouldn’t be sitting still if it were one of us.”

Their manager let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples before finally sitting down across from them. “It’s going to take hours before we get access to the café’s security footage,” he said quietly. “The owners are overseas, and the local staff doesn’t have clearance to release it.”

Hongjoong shot up from his seat, the chair scraping harshly against the tile floor. The sudden movement made Seonghwa flinch, eyes wide as he looked up at him.

“This is bullshit!” Hongjoong snapped, his voice echoing through the room. “We should be out there, looking for her! Doing something!”

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, voice cracking as his emotions spilled over. “For all we know, she could be—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat, refusing to be said out loud. His chest rose and fell sharply, eyes brimming with a mixture of rage and helplessness.

Seonghwa stood beside him, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. Hongjoong looked away, sitting back as they just stared off into space.

Back at the dorm, things weren’t any better.

Wooyoung and Yunho paced the living room restlessly, wearing tracks into the floor with every anxious step. Neither spoke, but the silence between them was loud—buzzing with frustration, helplessness, and barely restrained fear.

Yeosang sat on the couch, his thumb mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, eyes scanning every post, every tagged photo, every story—anything that might give even the smallest clue about where you were.

Across from him, Jongho sat silently, a pillow clutched tightly to his chest. He hadn’t spoken in a while, his jaw clenched, eyes staring at nothing. His phone rested beside him on the couch, screen dark, but he checked it every few seconds anyway—just in case.

Mingi and San hadn’t left your room since the moment they found out. The two of them were lying on your bed, side by side, staring blankly at the wall like if they looked hard enough, maybe they’d see a way to bring you back.

The dorm was quiet—but not peaceful. It was the kind of silence that screamed.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as he scrolled through his DMs, suddenly freezing mid-swipe. “Holy shit... I might have something!” he said, voice tight with shock as he shot up from the couch.

Jongho’s head snapped up, the pillow slipping from his grip as he rushed to Yeosang’s side. He leaned in, eyes scanning the message, his expression hardening the second the photo loaded.

It was blurry—but unmistakable. You. Outside the café. And behind you, barely in focus, the same girl who had approached you.

“Call Hongjoong hyung,” Jongho said sharply, his voice like steel.

“Hello?” Hongjoong’s voice came through, strained but alert.

“Hyung, someone sent me a DM—a photo. It’s of Yn at the café, and there’s a girl behind her. It’s not much, but—”

“Send it to me. Now.” Hongjoong’s voice was clipped, his leader instincts kicking into overdrive. “We’ll give it to the cops. If anything else pops up, Yeosang, don’t hesitate. Send it immediately.”

“Got it,” Yeosang said, already forwarding the image. “We’ll keep looking.”

The call ended with a click, tension still crackling in the air. Jongho didn’t say a word—just placed a steady hand on Yeosang’s shoulder, both of them staring down at the blurry image on the screen.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

A loud thump jolted you awake, followed by shouting—lots of shouting. You scrambled to your feet, disoriented and still aching, instinctively retreating into the corner of the room.

The door slammed open, a blinding light flooding the space. You threw your arms up to shield your eyes.

“Freeze! Hands in the air!”

You barely had time to react before someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. A sharp cry of pain escaped your lips, your earlier wound flaring up. You struggled against the hold until—

You froze.

A cold, sharp object pressed against your neck.

Your breathing was shallow. The yelling hadn’t stopped—but it was further now, muffled by distance or chaos outside the room. You couldn’t tell who the blade belonged to. Rescuer or captor.

But one wrong move, and it wouldn’t matter.

“They shouldn’t have found us! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” her voice cracked with hysteria. “You fucking whore! Did you have another phone on you?!”

“W-What? No!” you stammered, eyes wide with fear, the cold edge of the blade still pressed to your skin.

“Put the weapon down!” a commanding voice barked from the hallway—officers or maybe your boys—you couldn’t tell, but it was someone.

“No!!” she screamed, her grip on you tightening. “They were supposed to be mine! They were supposed to love me! Not you!”

Her voice broke into sobs, but the blade never wavered. Your heart pounded against your chest, each beat louder than the last as you stood frozen.

Tears streamed down your face, your body trembling as adrenaline warred with fear. You held your breath, too afraid to even blink.

And then—

Pain.

White-hot and blinding, it tore through your side. You didn’t even register the scream that left your throat, because a deafening ringing filled your ears, drowning everything else out.

Your knees buckled.

The world around you spun violently, lights and shadows blurring together. You felt yourself falling—slow and heavy—until the cold floor met your body.

Then… nothing.

Just darkness.

-

The first thing you heard was the soft, steady beeping of a machine—calm, rhythmic, and distant. Then came the whispers. Gentle. Urgent. Familiar.

Warmth surrounded both of your hands, each held tightly in a different grasp. You didn’t even need to look—you knew who they belonged to. One was steady and strong, thumb gently brushing your knuckles. The other trembled ever so slightly, like they’d been holding on for dear life.

You blinked, the harsh fluorescent lights above forcing your eyes shut again. A low groan of pain escaped your lips as a dull ache pulsed through your body, most sharply in your side.

Then came the sterile, unmistakable smell of antiseptic and disinfectant—it hit hard, making your stomach churn.

You were in a hospital.

"she's awake!" someone cried, and just like that, the room was flooded with movement.

Faces surrounded you—your boys—relief and worry written all over them.

You gave them a weak, sheepish smile. “…Hi?”

Hongjoong scoffed, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he tried to hold it together. “You nearly died, and all we get is a hi?”

You swallowed hard, glancing at Yunho and Wooyoung beside you. They both gave you soft, reassuring smiles.

“I’m… sorry?” you offered, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Wooyoung snapped, not unkindly. His voice cracked at the end. “I’ll be damned if you apologize for something that was out of your control.”

Yunho nodded, gripping your hand tighter. “We’re just glad you’re back. That’s all that matters.”

Tears welled in your eyes again—this time, not from fear or pain, but from the overwhelming warmth of the people who refused to let you go.

“You’re never leaving our sight. Ever,” Hongjoong mumbled, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’ll go to every damn cafe you want—whenever, wherever. Just not without us.”

You nodded weakly, your throat too tight to speak, but your eyes said everything. Okay. Whatever you say. You didn’t want to argue. You couldn’t. Not after everything.

You needed them—all of them.

You needed the warmth of Yunho’s hand still wrapped around yours, the way Wooyoung brushed his thumb against your wrist, the fierce protectiveness in Hongjoong’s tone.

You needed the steady hum of their voices in the room, the way their presence anchored you back to the world, back to yourself.

And they needed you too.

You had been through hell, but you weren’t alone.

Not now.

Not ever again.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

[esouliie]

AND I’LL STILL SEE IT UNTIL I DIE.

(natasha romanoff x reader) (wanda maximoff & reader)

summary | In a world that’s only ever been bleak, Natasha was your anchor, your light in the storm. But now she’s gone, her final act a selfless sacrifice to save a future you’re not sure you can face without her. The shadows are closing in, and so, you’re left with an impossible choice: to succumb to the weight of your loss or to find the strength to honour her sacrifice by living on — for yourself and for her.

warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, open ending, natasha is dead, reader is borderline suicidal, wanda is a good friend.

notes | i am sorry for this lol… but you guys must share my pain and im currently in a lot of it. i miss natasha too much. also, i wrote this as i listened to loml by taylor swift, do i wanna know? by hozier and for good by wicked on repeat so if it’s all over the place, that’s why lmao.

dedicated to @historyofstoriesendingsadly ⊹♡

It was quiet on the edge of the lake. Too quiet for someone who knew Natasha Romanoff. For someone like Natasha Romanoff. It’s odd how this was her favourite place. The stillness doesn’t suit her. She was never the type to bask in silence; she thrived in moments where chaos and calm intertwined, where danger and peace blurred. But here, now, there’s only the still, glassy surface of the water reflecting the overcast sky. It felt wrong, to be out here alone, but you knew there’s no other way this could be done.

No one could’ve done what she did.

You tightened your grip on the small bouquet of wildflowers in your hand, their stems damp against your palm.

It was better this way.

Natasha would have hated the theatrics of a big funeral.

She wouldn’t want everyone standing in line, shaking hands, and trading formal condolences. She saw how personally informal of a funeral Peggy had. She was pretty sure nobody there even knew of the woman. No, this—the quiet, intimate setting, the lake she would sit by as she watched the sunset during your visits—felt more like her. More honest.

You set the flowers down on the wooden dock and sit cross-legged beside them, staring out at the rippled water. “I miss you.” You murmured, your voice barely breaking the silence. “And this is stupid. I’ve never even been to a funeral so I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that you’re not here and I couldn’t just …”

Your words faltered, and you glanced down at your hands, trying to find something, anything, that won’t make you fall apart.

But it’s impossible.

The flowers beneath your fingers begin to crumble under your strength.

You twirled the wedding ring on your left hand.

…

You remembered the first time you officially met her. Her sharp wit sliced cleanly through the tension in the room, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if she already knew she’d win you over. And she did, effortlessly. She had a way of making herself the most intriguing person in any space, her words both a challenge and an invitation. Even then, you couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She was fire wrapped in silk, a paradox that made her impossible to ignore.

And there was the first mission in Prague, where she saved your life in more ways than one. It was an extraction mission, deceptively simple on paper but riddled with complications the moment boots hit the ground. The target was heavily guarded, and you, fueled by adrenaline and an unshakable drive to prove yourself worthy, pushed ahead despite Natasha’s warnings to wait for backup.

You could still hear her voice in your earpiece, sharp and edged with frustration. "Don’t be stupid, Agent. Stick to protocol." But plans fell apart quickly in the chaos, and before you knew it, you were cornered in a crumbling alleyway, blood trickling from a fresh gash on your forehead, and your weapon lying just out of reach.

But like a ghost in the shadows, she was there. And she moved with a precision that was almost frightening, taking down your attackers in the blink of an eye. By the time the dust settled, you were still catching your breath, slumped against the cold brick wall, while she holstered her weapon and crouched beside you.

"Had enough of the reckless heroics?" She teased, her tone light but her gaze assessing the wound on your forehead. You were expecting a harsh reprimanding for your huge mess up.

Natasha gently brushed a curl away from your face stuck to your open wound. "You’re just as reckless as I was at your age, and trust me when I say, that’s not a compliment."

That night, after the mission was complete and the adrenaline had worn off, you found yourself perched on a sink as she dabbed a damp cloth against you, cleaning the hardened blood from your face.

"I thought I had it under control.” You admitted, wincing as she pressed the cloth a little too firmly against the cut.

"You thought wrong.” She replied without missing a beat.

“I wanted to prove to you that I could handle it.”

At first, she seemed at lost for words.

“In this world, you must think first. Act second.” She placed the cloth back into the sink, seemingly done with her aid.

“And most importantly, you must listen to me… you’re no good to anyone if you get yourself killed."

There was a pause, a heaviness in her voice that made you glance up at her. For all her sharp edges and cutting remarks, there was something unspoken in her expression—a flicker of concern she didn’t bother to hide with you.

She cared for you.

It was then you noticed how green her eyes were.

You remembered the way she let her walls down for you. It wasn’t immediate, that trust. Natasha Romanoff was a fortress, her defenses honed through years of abuse, loss, and survival. She didn’t let people in easily; you knew that from the start. Yet, for some reason, she chose you.

Or maybe you chose each other.

Either way, it was at a slow and tentative pace.

There was the night she told you about the Red Room. Not all of it—she never gave you all of it—but enough to make your chest tighten with insurmountable anger. She’d stared at her hands as she spoke. The first time you had ever seen her so frail as she spoke, and yet, her voice was so even it almost sounded detached. But you saw the way her fingers trembled and you reached over to take her hand.

She tried to pull away, but you didn’t let her.

“I’m so sorry life has been so cruel to you.” You had said softly.

She didn’t respond, just looked at you with those green eyes that embraced you tight with each glance.

She held your hand the entire night.

Dismantled piece by piece, you found the woman behind the spy: the one who only watched bad movies, liked to share coffee with you that was way too strong, and carried more guilt than anyone should.

Loving her was simple.

And you remember Vormir. The dreaded decision. And the way her choice was made before you even realised what was happening. Clambering for a grasp on her as she headed for the cliff’s edge, your heart pounded like war drums, drowning out everything except the sound of her voice. That trembling voice, steadier than you could ever be in that moment, told you it was okay. That this was her way of making things right.

But it wasn’t okay.

It would never be okay.

You begged her, pleaded with her, but the determination in her eyes was unshakable. You’d seen Natasha resolute before, but never like this. You needed her, but the world needed her more. Her gaze softened when she looked at you, her lips twitching into the faintest, bittersweet smile.

Natasha had never been scared of dying.

But now, she was scared of what this would do to you.

Tears blurred your vision as you fought for her hold, your fingers clawing desperately against hers. Her own wedding band cutting into your skin. “Don’t you dare, Romanoff.” You choked out, voice battling against the rush of wind. “It’s not your time!”

Despite her confidence, you could see the subtle fear. You saw the cracks in her armor, the little girl that was once trapped in the Red Room shining through. The one who had told you once that she never thought she’d make it out of this fight alive.

And now here she was, proving herself right.

Her lips parted to speak, but she didn’t say goodbye. She wouldn’t let herself say it for she knew she wouldn’t be able to follow through. To do what is needed. Instead, she just looked at you as if you were the last good thing she’d ever know, and her hand trembled in yours once more.

“I love you.”

And then, it slipped.

Too quick enough for you to readjust.

You screamed as she fell, the sound of it tearing through your throat, breaking you in ways unimaginable. Time slowed, and yet it wasn’t enough to catch her. You watched as the green in her eyes disappeared as her body struck the rocks below, your world cracked wide open.

You didn’t even notice the tiny red stone appear in your hand as you cried her name into the wind.

It was Natasha Romanoff who had sacrificed her life that day, for the hope of a better future, but in truth, both of you had died at the bottom of that cliff.

…

The tears came suddenly, hot and unwelcome, but you didn’t fight them. You’d learned to let them fall and embrace their sharp sting, as if it were the only way to keep her memory alive.

You heard the crunch of footsteps behind you, faint at first, growing louder with every measured step. Your breath hitched. You didn’t turn around immediately. You couldn’t. Part of you desperately hoped it was her—that this was all some cruel mistake, and when you turned, she’d be there. Natasha, with her arms crossed, a wry smile tugging at her lips, would tease you for sitting out here in the cold, lost in thought. She’d say something dry and sarcastic, like she always did to lighten the mood, and everything would be fine again.

But it’s not her.

It will never be her again.

“I thought I might find you here,” came a quiet voice behind you. Wanda’s Sokovian accent became a lot more prominent over the years.

You had found out she was also grieving the love of her life. Vision didn’t make it off the battlefield in Wakanda.

You didn’t look at her, not at first. Unable to tear your gaze away from the ripples of the lake, you wasn’t ready to face someone else’s pain, not when yours was already so unbearable.

But when she sat beside you, her presence a hushed comfort, you finally glanced her way. Her eyes were rimmed red, an exhaustion in her expression that mirrored your own. “I didn’t… know her as long as you did,” she said, staring out at the water. “But she meant so much to me. She was always so kind. Even when she didn’t have to be.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “That’s right. She didn’t let a lot of people in, but once she did…she’d do anything for you.”

Wanda let out a small chuckle before admitting, “She would’ve hated seeing you like this.”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment, torn between speaking the truth and keeping it all inside. You wanted to tell her she should have thought about it before throwing herself off that cliff—before willingly abandoning you, knowing that even if the war was won, life would never be the same for you.

You let the anger wash over you.

“I should have been stronger.” You whispered, voice cracking before you could finish. “I should have stopped her.”

Wanda turned to you sharply. “You can’t blame yourself. She made her choice. She believed in what she was doing. You know that.”

It was the truth. You had always known that. Wanda didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand that. Natasha was always the one to make the hard choices, to carry the burden so others didn’t have to. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You closed your eyes, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. You had promised her, at the start of your relationship, that she wouldn’t have to carry that burden anymore. You had sworn to her that she deserved better than what the world had ever given her, and that you would be the one to show her.

For the rest of your life.

Until death do you part.

But in the end, she had still done what Natasha always did—she put everyone else before herself.

Wanda reached out, her hand brushing against yours. “She’s still here,” she said softly. “We carry her with us in everything we do until we meet again. She wouldn’t want us to let this break us.”

You wiped your eyes, taking a shaky breath. “She was my everything.”

“And she knew that.” Wanda replied, tightening her grip. “She felt that, and you gave her more than you’ll ever know.”

“I don’t know what to do without her. I don’t think I can survive like this.” You admitted outloud for the first time.

It had been eating at you. Your life had abruptly lost all meaning, the colours dulled, the vibrancy stripped. Deep down, you didn’t even want to try moving on, to find purpose in the chaos she left behind.

Nothing would work.

Nothing, and no one, could fix it.

Could fix you.

You needed Natasha to carry on living. Without her, you were only half a person, stumbling through a world that no longer made sense.

How cruel the world was to let you taste the sweetness of her love, only to rip it away from you so mercilessly.

Wanda stood by the edge. She reached out with a quiet patience, guiding you to your feet with a gentle touch. The dock creaked beneath your shifting weight, but neither of you spoke as she crouched to pick up what remained of the wildflower bouquet. Cradling the bouquet in both of your hands, she looked at you with an expression that was both solemn and soft. She had always been so kind to you. Her eyes glimmered and she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, motioning for you to toss the flowers into the water.

“You live. You live for her.” And the simplicity of her words felt like a balm, a truth you hadn’t realised you needed to hear.

You hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling slightly against the delicate stems. But then, with a deep breath, you let them go. The flowers tumbled from your hands, spinning in slow motion before they touched the surface of the lake.

“For her.”

The water rippled as the bouquet floated away, carried by the slow current, and swallowed by the horizon. Neither of you said anything after that. There wasn’t anything left to say. The silence was filled with the soft lapping of water against the wood and the distant hum of crickets waking for the night. The orange and pink hues of the sunset reflected on the lake, painting the scene with a warm glow. The air grew cold but Wanda’s hand in yours pressed warmth deep within.

The green of the flower stems caught the fading light, and for a fleeting moment, they reminded you of Natasha’s eyes once more.