#chest just feels right I don’t even know hot

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Thinking about Sevika with a reader she thought was a bit on the innocent side finding out reader has her nipples pierced 🫠

Ok why have I never thought of this before? I love this request 🤫

Heaven Sent

Sevika x Female Reader

Cw: Hyper fem bartender! reader (the bartender part has little to no impact on the plot?). Sex: thigh riding, nipple play, biting.

On my soul if a man interacts. I will actually wage war.

Proofread || Note: I AM SOOO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, guys I’ve been so flipping busy it’s not even a joke anymore.

She thought you were an angel sent just for her. Walking around with a sense of femininity that reeled everyone in. It was the change in tone you directed at her; she thought you were into her. Mainly because you seemed to show the same interest back, as friends or not she thought of it as a win.

One thing that stuck to her was how “innocent” you looked. Even working at a bar— The Last Drop— you looked as if you’d never touched an inch if intimacy before. Sevika wasn’t fully understanding of why she thought of you in that way, but she did. To be frank, it was a turn on.

In the back of her mind, she liked thinking about ruining you. About feeling the skin you had hid underneath your delicate clothing. About showing you what else there was to life. About giving you pleasure; until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Eventually, she came around to talking to you. Having friendly conversations and making you laugh with her dad jokes. The woman always found your laugh.. lively, adorable, the way your nose would scrunch and you’d hide your face. It made her feel a sense of pride, knowing she could make someone like you smile.

But, the thing she was completely unaware of was that you weren’t the sweet, heaven sent angel she thought of you as. There was much more under your layered top that would have her jaw drop, and you wanted to see it for yourself.

You both knew there was something much deeper than a friendship, and on a slow night at The Last Drop, that tension was able to break.

You grab your purse, throw it over your shoulder, and walk towards the door. Sevika was busy with poker, winning every damn round and pissing off the men that surrounded the small table. But, as her eyes laid on you walking towards the exit, she surrendered to the men and decided to walk you home. It was the least a “friend” could do, right?

Wrong.

She ended up crashing her lips against yours and pinning you against your fluffy, cool sheets, flesh hand gripping your arch as she had you flush against her chest. You didn’t know how you ended up where you were now, but in all honesty you didn’t seem to give a shit. You’d had a huge crush on the woman atop of you for months, and finally having her touch you was the direction you’d been aiming for— and you got it.

Sevika’s dark lips planted kisses down your neck, marking your shoulders with hickeys. Just to let everyone know the pretty thing underneath her was.. well, her’s. Your palms were sweaty, heart was racing, and your face felt hot. Don’t get yourself started on your needy little cunt. There wasn’t anything convincing you to stop, everything was just perfect. The way she handled you, placing you on her lap. You were convinced you’d get laid, and it turned out that that was exactly what happened.

Without an utter, Sevika stripped you of your clothes. Bra bra and panties the only things left, causing her grey eyes to roam over your figure. With you straddling her, the woman was sure to lose control at any given moment. Which, made the situation further more intimate— thrilling. In a way.

She used her mech arm to steady herself, and that was it’s only purpose for she wouldn’t let it anywhere near you. With her flesh hand pressed against the small of your back, she pulled you closer. Chest against chest, you were sure she’d feel your piercing against her. But, no, she didn’t seem to. Too caught up in the moment? You thought so. A laced bra covering the metal that pierced through your skin, you let her kiss down to it, her fingers fiddled with the latch as she tried taking it off. The woman was struggling.

“Can’t do it?” Your voice hummed through her, and she scoffed. “Surprised you can’t take off a bra, Sev,” you teased, she gave you an eye roll in response before tossing your bra aside. “I’m not an—“ her silver eyes landed on your chest and she barely stopped her jaw from dropping. Her attention was fixated on the metal that pierced through your hardened nipples, the sight of it making her mouth, noticeable, run dry. Sevika was silent for a moment, and that moment felt like an eternity. She just stared, absolutely mesmerized by the sight. “What?” Your voice broke through the silence and she smugly chuckled, lips curled into a smirk afterwards. “Y’didn’t tell me about these,” her thumb pressed against your bud as she felt around; causing you to bite back a moan. “You never asked?” Was what she got in return, it was meant to be a tease but only ended up slipping out as a sigh.

“What’s next? You got your kitty pierced?” Her teeth sunk into your shoulder as she pressed your cunt against her front, mech arm gripping onto your thigh. Sevika wasn’t planning on using her prosthetic, but now having realized you weren’t as innocent she had thought, she wouldn’t hold back. Maybe even break you. “No, actually. I.. I don’t,” her flesh fingers gave your nipples a pinch. And, for a second, it felt like everything had begun to spin. You were uneasy in the best way possible.

Her taller figure leaned down against you as she kissed her way down to your chest, each peck hot and breathy until she wrapped her dark lips around you. Your eyes watched her as she ran her tongue over your nipples, licking the metal all the while gently sucking. Your body, from head to toe, was heated. On fire from her heavenly touch, even the way she pressed against you. You’d never been so close to the woman, only ever been given a tap or a shove. Nothing like this, and, boy, was it good.

“Does it hurt?” Eyes fixated on your right tit as her flesh hand kneaded your left. You shake your head at her question, barely able to keep yourself from loosing control. The woman, on the other hand, was enjoying having you in her mouth, just feeling all over your bud was enough to arouse herself. With a swift, steady movement, Sevika pressed her thigh against you; your cunt, more specifically. She let you rub your heat and work for your own orgasm. The woman even guided you, hand gripping your ass as she helped your hips rock. “Y’ever done this?”

“Have I ever.. done this?” You echoed, trying to wrap your mind around the question all the while trying to focus on the friction between your thighs. Both tasks left you hazy innthe head. This,” she gently bit down on your nipple; which you breathlessly moaned at. “I.. I guess?” You weren’t up to Sevika’s level, who had seen countless pussy with her fourty years of experience. The woman knew her shit, making you spread wider all the while attacking your bare skin. She seemed to be a beast in bed, biting onto your neck and leaving marks, even bruising your shoulder as a result of your pretty little noises. She enjoyed them deeply, even smirking proudly everytime she heard them escape.

Almost everything she did had you in a trance; her humm of approval against your neck, her grip on your ass, her breath tickling your sensitive skin, even her silver eyes; that were focused on you. She watched as your jaw dropped, lips parted, and eyes become lidded. Every bit of your reaction had her in a chokehold, especially knowing that the girl she once saw as an angel was now straddling her thigh, moaning in her ear, was as wet as water, and was rocking rubbing against her. It was something she found too attractive to not comment on, “pretty girl enjoying herself?” She murmured, knowing full well you were. “Mm-hm, I am, Sev, I am,” nonetheless your answer made her feel fuzzy— though she hid that from you, hid the fact that you made her all mushy, all soft.

You continued your grind against Sevika, rubbing back and fourth until you felt your orgasm pooling. Her every touch, brush, made every hair on your body stand. Every kiss, suck, bite, and grip left you with a clouded feeling. The release would be too good, you practically craved it. Growing desperate and needy, you rub harder. Your clit pulsed for more, a finger up your cunt possibly. “Uh-huh, look a’you. Such a cute little thing.” The woman purred, pressing her dark lips against yours. They held a sense of tenderness, too soft to be rough but too strong to be gentle. Even when her tongue ran over your bottom lip, it was as if she didn’t know how much you wanted. How much you could handle, even.

But, when your sweet, much needed orgasm finally hit, it was like every fiber in you screamed for the woman giving you pleasure. You clung to her; hands gripping her dark hair, face burried and nuzzling into her, and your hips lightly shuddering against hers. She’d gladly help you ride out your high. She wrapped her flesh arm around your waist as her mech helped the two of you keep balance, she pushed you to rock further until she was certain you were finished.

Heavily breathing and deeply satisfied, you kept close. Sevika, feeling the need to show affection, shifted the two of you on your sides. Her mech over your waist, flesh under your head, the woman kept you warm and comfortable. Never forgetting to pepper that precious face of yours with kisses, the type of kisses that get your heart to skip a beat. “You can ride.” She teased, entangling her fingers with your hair and brushing through. Carefull to not tug, pull. “I could do more than.. that.” Was your smug reply.

“More? ‘Least catch your breath, doll. I bet I could have you knocked out in a few.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

And thwn yo gust get married and have 8 kids.

[imsofreakingtired]

what if you and Sevika had a lesbian situationship divorce and she goes on a shimmer bender crashout

content warnings: blood, violence, self-destructive thoughts, uhmm chaotic angst

like she just doesn’t stop using it. she has a belt full of Shimmer cartridges and uses three at a time whether she’s fighting or just needs a kick, an escape.  

uses it even when she goes to the brothel and just picks any girl who looks remotely like you. she sees you in the sky, hears your voice echo through the streets, feels your hands on her skin when she’s in the gardens, thinks if she closes her eyes she can almost believe the girl she’s with is actually you. calls out your name huskily when she comes. hates herself for it but can’t stop the cycle. and she always fucks on Shimmer, rushing through her veins. making everything dizzy and hot.

she does it even more because she remembers how you always scolded her for using Shimmer, saying it would eventually destroy her. a part of her wants to destroy herself for leaving you. a part of her hopes you’ll save her before she does. 

one night she gets caught up in a street fight and takes on like ten muggers at once. they have knives and masks and want her Shimmer supply, she laughs with the freedom of a woman who has lost all hope. last thing she remembers is thinking, “oh, baby’s not gonna like this.”

you hear a bang on your door in the middle of the night and you jump out of your half-sleep, a knife in your hand. you’re so sure the enforcers finally found you and you know you’re not going down without a fight. you open the door, gripping the blade so tight your palm aches. but there are no enforcers. it’s just Ran, their eyes wide and desperate. they’re propping up a lifeless figure, knees nearly buckling under the weight. Sevika. 

your first thought: Oh Janna. I’ve lost her. 

the knife falls to the floor with a clatter. you open the door wide enough to let Ran in, more dragging Sevika than walking her. you cast a swift look up and down the street to make sure they had no unwanted company following them, then you shut the door firmly and run over to help Ran prop Sevika in a chair. 

“I was gonna take her to Singed,” Ran explains. “but do you know what she said? ‘fuck Singed. i’m not going to Singed.” 

Ran looks at you. “she told me to take her to you, or let her bleed out in the street.” 

you fall to your knees in front of Sevika, and you try to keep your hands from shaking as you inspect her. she’s in bad shape. her mech arm is broken and shimmer leaks out from its wires onto the floor. her shirt is torn and bloody. her face is darkened with bruises and blood, but even in this state you’re confident that whatever she did to the goons that attacked her was ten times worse. 

she stirs awake, half-conscious. grey eyes look up at you in a haze. you wish she hadn’t. you wish she just stayed unconscious. because now that she’s giving you those eyes you can’t even remember why you were angry, you can’t even remember the emotion itself. 

you want to cling to even the memory of being angry at her, just so you don’t fall apart looking at her like this. 

“help me move her to the bed,” you tell Ran, and together you prop Sevika up again and lay her down on your bed. you barely notice the Shimmer staining your clothes, all you can see is the shallow rise and fall of her chest. 

“i can take it from here,” you tell Ran. “thanks.” 

“just…keep her alive.” 

when Ran is gone, you set to work cleaning the wounds. the cuts aren’t as deep as you feared, only one - a gash across her right forearm -  needing stitches. Sevika stirs and groans just as you finish dressing the cuts. she mutters something. you lean in close and hear her whispering your name.

“i gotta tell her…” Sevika trails off. “i gotta tell her i’m sorry.” 

something fails in your heart when you hear this. you smooth her hair out of her eyes and kiss her forehead. 

“i’m right here, you idiot.” 

Sevika’s eyes open and rest on your face. and you’re thinking fuck, fuck. whatever she did or said to hurt you didn’t come close to the sharp pain of seeing her expression relax, her eyes soften with relief. you take her face in your hands, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. 

“i’m sorry, too.”

[joemama-2]

it’s late at night. he’s already situated on the bed, seeing you come into the room with unkempt hair, you shirt has splotches of dried milk and your movements are slow. tired.

why wouldn’t you be?

an energetic three year old who’s just like his father is hard to maintain. though you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “come here, baby.” he pats his lap, grinning softly.

you look over from where you’re taking off your jewelry for the day, in attempt to get ready for your nightly shower. “hm? for what?”

his eyes follow your every movement, patting his lap once more. “you know exactly why. cmon, daddy needs some stress relief.”

the laugh you let out causes his face to soften, admiring you in a way that’s reserved solely for his wife, for the mother of his son. “i thought we agreed you couldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

he adjusts himself when he sees you come over, crawling on the bed to situate yourself in a straddling position over his hips. his hands fall into place on the curve of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on the small patch of skin that shows when your shirt lifts up. “you did. i didn’t.”

“it’s cringey.”

“so?”

you huff, eyes rolling. he dips his head forward into the crook of your neck, planting a trail of warm kisses. “satoru, are you sure?”

“are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin. “i just want to pamper my wife after a long day, can’t i do that?”

“i feel hideous right now.”

he tips his head back, bright eyes staring back at you with an intensity you’ve come to associate with. the kind of intensity that lets you know whatever he says—he means it. “hideous? what did i say before, huh? i said don’t even think about saying stupid stuff like that again. and look at you now.”

your lips downturn. “don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

“i’m not,��� he places a firm kiss to your lips. “you look beautiful every day, every second of the day. but you look especially gorgeous right now.”

you narrow your eyes at him, skeptical. “why right now?”

satoru’s lips quirk into a sly grin, his thumbs still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. "because right now, I see my whole world in front of me. the woman who gave me everything I could ever want—a family, a home, a reason to come back every single day.”

the weight of his words presses against the exhaustion hanging over you. it’s not just flattery. it’s raw and genuine, just like him, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. “you’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“and you’re so heavenly,” his grin widens, leaning in closer until your noses almost touch. “but you love my cheesiness, don’t you? admit it.”

your lips twitch, a small smile breaking through despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “maybe I do.”

“there it is,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if he’s handling something fragile. “that smile’s all I need to get through anything.”

the words wrap around your tired soul like a warm blanket. and for a moment, the weight of the day fades, replaced by the solid, steady presence of him—your husband, your partner, the man who never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong.” his voice is firm, his hands steady as they pull you just a little closer, subtly rubbing you against his clothed cock. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

and in that quiet, intimate moment, with the world outside fading into irrelevance, you believe him.

"now let me pamper you like I promised." he switches positions, hovering above you as you lay on your back. leaning down to raise the hem of your shirt, trailing sweet kisses and licks against your stomach—heading further south. your hips raise slightly as he discards your lounge pants, breath hitching in anticipation. hand running down through the streaks of his white hair, he smiles at the sight of your pussy hidden behind the grandma underwear you adorn.

hot breath tickling your core that leaves you almost jerking upwards for more. he kisses your clit through the loose fabric. “besides, mommy needs her fix too, doesn’t she?”

[trickbxbes]

This request didn’t come through as an ask so I couldn’t edit it! OP if you see this, this is for you!!

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠 (18+)

[𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

Warnings: SMUT, Bigger tiddy reader, tit fucking, tiddy fixation, Dae-Ho being submissive as usual, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie,

You don’t even remember what you were arguing about. It might’ve started from you not getting home until super late without keeping touch. Or maybe it was because he ate the last of your cake you had saved. Whatever it was, you really couldn’t care that much. You just wanted the fighting to stop.

“(Y,n). (Y,n), are you even listening?”

And so, you knew you had to do what was right for the greater good. Use your God given powers to save the night, and your sanity. You lift up your shirt and bra and let your tits hang. Dae-Ho immediately stops his ranting, staring in disbelief. His brain must’ve short circuited the way his jaw was agape. “I— you…”

You stare blankly at him, gesturing towards your breasts again expectantly.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

He complied immediately after. You got him on the couch with you in between his legs. Your tits around his throbbing hard member, massaging them as you kissed the tip. Dae-Ho was a whining mess, his eyes half lidded as he pants.

“Nnn… fuck.. (Y,n)…”

You lower your mouth further on his cock, increasing your motions with your breasts. It was enough to drive him crazy. His head arched back to the ceiling as his mouth opened wider. “Oh fuck, I’m close, (Y,n), close…!”

In response, you suck back on his tip again, giving it special attention before you look him in the eyes. Dae-Ho met your gaze, and melted. He shakily sighs, content with you for just a second. But his orgasm catches up and he’s back to gritting his teeth and gripping the couch. “Fuck!” He comes undone in your mouth, with you swallowing it all.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Oh, he wasn’t done with you yet. Your tits bounced in his face as he had you in the Lotus position. Your legs wrapped around as you’re sat on his thrusting cock. Dae-Ho’s hands keeping you there with his grip on your waist. He pounded into you mercilessly. His line of vision trailed from your bouncing tits, back to your eyes. You moaned rhythmically with each thrust, his dick hitting a spot deep within you.

“Fuck, fuck, Dae-Ho…!” 

“(Y,n)… (Y,n)…”

He murmured your name in response, muttering it like some sort of prayer. With every thrust, your body was forced to jerk up, and the physics made your breasts take their time to follow. Dae-Ho presses his face into your chest, feeling the skin slap against him just as his thighs slapped yours.

“Mm..fuck… mine.”

You gasp out, the claiming making you closer to your orgasm than intended. “Yours…! All yours…”

Dae-Ho groaned in reply and went even faster. You knew he was close too. His hips stutter as he nipped at your tits, leaving his own markings.

The two of you finish together as Dae-Ho finishes inside you. Feeling his hot seed fill you up was more than enough to make you come undone next. He held you tight, your boobs muffling his moans since his face was still trapped there. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders firmly. You’re both left panting, processing what exactly happened. Your man lifts you up, still inside you, and walks to your bed.

Dae-Ho laid you down, his cock still in you, but not moving. He had his chest pressed against your back, his arms holding you close to him. You smirk secretly but tiredly, knowing you had won. He found his way into your neck, mumbling,

“Not fair… you always do that..”

[bloatedandalone04]

The Unholy Three

Summary: You are the lucky girl who gets to be in between the two hottest men that are from opposite sides of the island.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, mmf, rafe x reader, jj x reader, oral (m receiving), coarse language, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talk, this is just absolutely filthy and I can’t believe I wrote it, enjoy.

If someone had told Rafe that one day he’d be sitting across from JJ fucking Maybank on his bed with you in between, he would’ve laughed his ass off. But he wasn’t laughing. He was sporting a painful fucking boner as he watched you kiss JJ’s neck. 

“What’s the matter, Cameron?” JJ teased, threading his fingers through your hair as you giggled against his neck. “Thought you wanted her as bad as I did.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching down to palm his hard cock through his jeans for a bit of relief. “I do,” he muttered, reaching out and grabbing onto your hips as he pulled you away from JJ and towards him, his greedy hands squeezing your waist as he buried his face against your shoulder. “Just didn’t expect that you’d be here too.”

You giggled again, willingly going when Rafe tugged you onto his lap so you were straddling his waist, and you draped your arms around his shoulders. “I don’t know why you two don’t get along,” you laughed, threading your fingers through Rafe’s hair as you glance back at JJ. “You’re both hot as fuck. I can’t believe I actually get both of you. I feel like the luckiest girl ever.” 

Reaching behind you and grabbing onto JJ’s arm, you pull him towards you, encouraging him to touch you as Rafe places hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck. 

JJ laughed, moving closer to you as he pressed his erection against your lower back and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yeah, you’re a lot luckier than we are,” he muttered, gently nipping your ear before his tongue darted out and traced the shell of it. 

Rafe grunted, glaring at the blond before he leaned in and kissed you deeply and dominantly as his hands gripped your hips a bit possessively. You moaned against his lips when his tongue slipped inside your mouth and tasted your own, and you whined when he pulled away to look at the man behind you. “This doesn’t change anything, Pogue,” he mumbled, “You still don’t deserve her.”

JJ laughed again, finding Rafe’s possessiveness amusing since both men were equally claiming you right now. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he teased, his fingers tangling in your hair before he tugged your head back and kissed you as well. You moaned into his mouth, missing the way Rafe’s heated gaze lingered on the deep kiss before JJ pulled away. “She wants both of us…guess we’ll just have to share.”

When JJ groped your breast through your shirt, Rafe grunted and bucked his hips up against you. “Fine,” he muttered, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he guided you to grind against him. 

“I guess this means I won’t be able to get you two to kiss, huh?” you teased, letting JJ pull your shirt off your body. “I can be both of yours…and pulling the hottest guys on the island is such a big flex, you don’t even know.”

JJ grinned, tossing your shirt aside as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hands covering your tits as he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We’ll take turns. I’m a very patient guy, sweetheart,” he promised, pressing softer kisses along your shoulder. 

He was definitely the sweeter and softer one out of the two men, and that fact was only proven further when you met Rafe’s intense gaze before he pushed one of JJ’s hands away from your chest so he could lean down and wrap his lips around your nipple. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered against your breast as he flicked your senstive bud with his tongue. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the second I first saw you.”

A loud moan left your lip as you wiggled your body against his, your hands tangling in his hair as you leaned back against JJ. “Yeah?” you breathe, biting your lip when you feel JJ’s hand slide into your shorts and his fingers brush along your wet folds. “How do I taste?” you asked, leaning in to press your forehead against Rafe’s when he pulled away from your chest. 

Rafe smirked up at you, his fingers continuing to pinch and pull at your hard nipples. “Like fucking heaven, baby,” he answered, his hips jerking a bit when you reached down and unzipped his jeans. 

“I think you taste like a fucking dream come true,” JJ added, his fingers gathering up your wetness before he slid them inside you, making you gasp. “So fucking sweet and tight.” he muttered, curling his fingers inside you as best as he could from the awkward angle. 

You moaned when Rafe leaned in and kissed you, his tongue brushing against yours while JJ worked you open. “I want to taste you all over,” he muttered against your mouth, his big hands holding onto your hips as he guided you to grind against the other man’s hand. 

Another loud moan escapes you as you lean your head back on JJ’s shoulder, your hands freeing Rafe’s hard cock. “You can taste me everywhere you want to,” you promised, tugging on the older guy’s hair. “But I need one of you inside me. I need to feel you.”

JJ and Rafe shared a look over the top of your head, and a few seconds later, a smirk formed on JJ’s face as he turned you around so you are facing him, and his thumb came up to tug on your lower lip. “Looks like I get to see the pretty faces you make while he fucks you,” he mumured and then leaned in to kiss you while Rafe kicked his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off before stripping out of his shirt as well. 

He helps guide your shorts and soaked panties down your legs while you kiss JJ before positioning himself behind you, one hand on your thigh while the other grips the base of his cock. Rafe nudged your thighs apart with his knee as he ran the head of his dick along your folds, reveling in the way your body trembled in anticipation. “Fuck yes,” he grunted when he slid inside you, your tight walls instantly welcoming him. 

You whined, your eyes hooded when you looked up at JJ as Rafe started fucking you from behind. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” you moaned, looking over your shoulder at Rafe before you turned back to JJ and unzipped his shorts, pushing them down his legs along side his boxers. 

JJ leaned back against the headboard as you grasped his cock in your hand before dipping your head down to taste the white beads of pre-cum that had formed on the tip of his dick. His head tipped forward as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his lip as you took him into your mouth fully. “Just like that, sweetheart,” he praised, already breathless from how turned on he was. 

Rafe’s eyes darkened as he watched you worship JJ with your mouth, and he felt his own cock grow impossibly harder inside of you. “Look at you, taking us both so well,” he mumbled, his hands sliding along your ass as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts. “So fucking pretty.”

You moaned loudly around JJ, your eyes fluttering a bit at Rafe’s sweet yet sexy praise, and you clenched tightly around him as he pounded into you from behind. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, his body rolling in a way that had him inching even deeper inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, tipping his head back as he held you in place so he could fuck you a bit harder. “You feel so fucking good.”

Meanwhile JJ fisted your hair and tugged on it a little harshly, but he was still the more gentle one of the two as he urged you to take him deeper. “Suck harder, sweetheart,” he breathed, his other hand sliding down to grope your sensitive breasts. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you took him a bit deeper, and you moaned at the heavy weight of him on your tongue. You took him all the way down your throat and held him there for a few seconds until you needed air, and when you pulled off his messy cock, a string of spit still connected you to his tip. “Fuck, it’s so good,” you whimpered as Rafe’s thrusts send your body jolting forward every time his hips met your ass. 

As you took JJ back inside your mouth, you could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, the combined sounds of both guys turning you on more than anything else ever had. 

Rafe locked his jaw, his words coming out as a harsh pant as his fingers dug into your skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunted through his teeth, his cock throbbing deep inside of you. 

You moaned and looked up at JJ through your lashes, and he let out a deep groan as he held your intense gaze with one of his own. “I’m gonna cum too,” he rasped, tugging a little harder on your hair as he gently thrust into your mouth.

Rafe came first, his warmth flooding you from the inside out as he let out a loud groan that was followed by a string of muttered curses. You could feel all of him as he filled you up, and when his hand slipped around you and started rubbing your clit as his hips jerked a bit unevenly, you were there too. 

Your cry of relief was muffled by JJ’s cock, and the vibrations had his fingers tightening in your hair as he bucked his hips shallowly a few times before he came as well. His cum filled your mouth and dripped down your throat as you tried to swallow as much as you could before you pulled off his cock, a few beads of white slipping from between your lips. 

Rafe slowly pulled out of you, his softening dick twitching as he fell down onto the bed beside you, one of his arms covering his eyes as he let out uneven breaths. “Fuck, that was intense,” he muttered, a sated smirk ghosting over his lips.

You hummed in agreement as JJ brushed your messy hair away from your face. “Are you good?” he asked, his thumb collecting his cum from your lips until you were clean. “We weren’t too rough, were we?” 

Rafe peeked at the two of you from under his arm, and he felt a possessive feeling surge through him at the sweet display of affection you were receiving from the other man, but he didn’t say or do anything about it. “No, you weren’t too rough. You were amazing,” you answered, then looked over at Rafe as you settled onto your stomach between them. “You both were.” 

Rafe grunted again and rolled onto his side, his hand tangling in the hair on the back of your neck as he pressed a searing kiss to your mouth. You moaned softly against his mouth, refraining from deepening it since you could still taste JJ on your tongue, and you wanted this afterglow to last a long time. 

“We should’ve done this sooner,” he mumbled against your lips when he pulled away and draped his arm around your waist. “You think you’re gonna want us again in the future?”

JJ laughed breathlessly, leaning back against the headboard as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Maybe this can become a regular thing,” he suggested, glancing warily at Rafe, who he still didn’t like. At all. But he liked you, and you liked them both, so he’d put up with the other guy if he had to. 

You grinned, nodding slowly as you leaned into both their touches. “I think we’re just getting started, no?” you murmured, and the smirks on both their faces told you all you needed to know.

This would definitely become a regular thing.

-

Trying a new theme, we shall see how it goes. Thanks for reading x

[cybrasigilism]

Touch (Player 124/Nam-gyu X F!Reader ONESHOT)

warning: smut | not proofread | lowercase intended | masturbation | JOI | hand fetish if you squint | reader has female genitalia | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: had this one on my mind for a minute, i’m just looking for any excuse to write about him i fear. it’s funny to think about how reluctant i was to write for him and now he’s one of my favourites to write for, but anyways ENJOY KISS KISS MWAHHHH (AGAIN THIS IS WRITTEN IN POINT FORMAT BC I FEEL MORE CONFIDENT GETTING MY IDEAS OUT THIS WAY)

MDNI! 18+ content below the cut, readers discretion is advised

➤ it’s hard to believe how nervous you were the first time nam-gyu suggested this, for you to masturbate in front of him, but looking back you truly had no idea how much you would come to enjoy it.

➤ he would have you sit between his legs, back to his chest while you touched yourself. you could feel his breath hitch at every little sound that escaped your lips. shivers went up your spine whenever he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, telling you how hot you sounded right then

➤ his absolute favourite thing to do was to talk you through it, telling you exactly how he would please you if it was him fingering your cunt instead. he would even come as close as grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand himself, but most of the time he will simply sit back and instruct you on how to jack yourself off

➤ he really likes to egg you on through the process too, he’ll taunt and tease while you try so hard to make yourself cum

“bet you wish that was my hand between your legs, huh? you wish those were my fingers fucking your pathetic pussy, don’t you?”

“come on you can do better than that! you must not want to cum that badly if that’s all you’ve got”

“do i need to remind you how you like it, is that it?”

➤ he’ll give you a hint of praise, only to go right back to calling you his “dumb little slut”. he pulls you right in by saying how good your doing for him, how pretty you sound— but in the end he’ll go back to his way, not that your complaining.

“fuck this is all your good for isn’t it. being a dirty little whore for me, isn’t that right?”

“don’t hold back now, you and i both know you like being treated this way; how wet you get when i boss you around like this.”

➤ he’ll definitely touch you in other ways, mainly trying to distract you from bringing yourself to release. he’ll grope your tits, pull your hair back and kiss your neck, squeeze your thighs; anything to get you all the more hot and bothered

➤ to expand on the praise point, some things he’ll say include:

“such a good girl, doing exactly as i say”

“shit— you sound so pretty when you do that”

“yeah, do it like i showed you fuck”

ıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllı

happy nam-gyu day!! (1/24) i just want to thank you guys again for all the support on my page, i’m truly blessed and forever grateful :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fabulous night/day lovelies 🤭

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kouzih @gabbystinks

[mywritersmind]

DO NOT DISTURB - LN4

summary : In which an early morning surprise comes in the form of Max Verstappen staring at his little sister in his rivals jacket.

listen up : swearing! maxverstappenssister!reader

words : 982

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The constant banging on the door woke me up with a groan. I didn’t think before slipping out of bed, rubbing my eyes and slumping my way to the door to see dare bother me so early. I put the do not disturb on last night!

I twisted the handle, running a hand through my hair and peak my head out. Now, you know that feeling when your stomach drops on a rollarcoater? When you’re driving a little too fast and slam your foot on the break because you are not going to make that light? That feeling that you get when you get caught.

I immediately regret it.

I immediately regret it because my brother is staring at me, his mouth open and his eyes wide. I try to slam the door shut because in my groggy haze, I forgot that i’m not in my room.

The feeling of Lando’s jacket on me suddenly takes over as I scream and push my back against the door. Max fights back instantly, not letting it close as I struggle to hold him off.

“What the fuck!?” He bangs on the door, “Y/n!?”

My eyes go to the bed where a lazy figure sits up, clearly confused until Max pushes the door open, my heels dragging on the floor in a last ditch attempt to stop him.

“Shit.” Is all Lando says, practically falling out of bed and standing up. He’s in pajama pants only and normally I would grin stupidly at his naked chest but i’m pretty sure i’m about to be murdered.

“Yeah, Shit!” Max slams the door behind him as I back away quickly, “Someone better start talking!”

See, I didn’t mean to start hooking up with my brother's rival/friend! But Lando Norris had his eyes set on me and even though at the time I thought it was just for bragging rights or a one night stand, he kept coming back.

“Um…” Lando’s voice is still scratchy from sleep as he looks at me, panicked.

“We’re dating!” I say quickly as Lando’s eyes get wide and he takes a step back. Max steps forward, something new that i’ve never seen on his face. He seems to try to find words, opening and closing his mouth a hundred times with hand gestures to match.

He stops, slapping his hand against his mouth, “I told you to stay away you little-” He screams at Lando and I suddenly wonder if he’s woken up the whole floor.

“I tried but your sisters hot, mate…” This gets Lando slammed up against the wall with a bloody grin on his face.

“Lando!” I scream, not because I'm scared for him, but because he’s being a little shit about it.

He’s wanted to tell Max for months and at times, I did too! Most of our friends our suspicious or completely know but Max is my brother. And a very protective one at that.

Hence, my boyfriend slammed against a wall.

“I will fucking destroy you, Norris.”

“Go ahead, Max. But when you do I want you to imagine me coming home to a Verstappen who really likes and pittys me.” Fucking hell he’s a complete cunt and I have to pretend it’s not hot as hell.

“Will you two stop!?” Is all I say when I see Max genuinely raise a fist! He backs away from Lando and starts pacing. I look at my curly haired who has a cheeky grin on his face. “Shut it.” I mumble and come closer to my brother.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” He looks at me and it’s the first time I realize he might be genuinely hurt.

“I knew you’d react like this.” I cross my arms, getting embarrassed that my big brother is disappointed in me.

“No, I reacted like this because I came to my friend's hotel room only to find my baby sister in his clothes!” Okay so maybe I should have told him earlier…

“It’s my fault, I didn’t want to tell.” Lando cuts in.

“No, don’t.” I groan, hating taking responsibility for my own actions, “Lando wanted to tell you. He did, actually! You both may have been piss drunk but still, he really wanted to.”

“Like me more now?” I can hear the smile in Lando’s voice as my brother blinks.

“No.”

“Anyway!” I eye Lando, “We’re dating. And I know I should have told you and you’re probably pissed-”

“Definitely pissed!” Max cuts in.

“But, I really like him.” I'm actually in love with him but I think that would make Max have a heart attack.

“You.” Max points to Lando who’s eyes widen, “You ever hurt her, Please remember that we have the same job, with the same danger, except i’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I can play anything off as a track accident.”

Lando’s face drops as he looks to me, “Did he just threaten to kill me?” I smile and nod, “You Verstappens…”

���You threaten him before?”

I nod, “All the time.”

“Good.” Max lets out a dry laugh, walking towards the door. “I’m still pissed so don’t get any ideas about PDA around me, ever!” He pointedly says to Lando. “Ugh ew, I hate you both.”

“Love you too, Maxie.” I say with a smile and a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Max.” Lando walks up behind me and I'm already worried. My brother turns, his hand on the door, “While we’re here… we have another surprise.” Lando slips his hands over his jacket, holding my stomach. I slam my foot on his as he laughs and my brother looks at us with murder in his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh, leaning back into Lando as he holds me tighter. “Go back to your room, he’s a dick, I know!”

Then, Max does something I completely didn’t expect. He smiles.

[luvtak]

Venus Felix, lfx x reader

being in love is scary, and felix had never been so afraid to say the words…

in other words, felix is in love!! and he’s too afraid to say it!!

genre/tw fluffagedeon, debilitating levels of comfort and adoration from both felix and reader, casual nakedness, showering together in a sweet way!, angel, honey, way too many references to greek myths, your honor they’re in love!!

wc 1221

Felix wished he could tell you, he wished desperately that he could reach out and hold you against him. He would tell you he loved you, that he thought of you when he said his prayers; Every night, asking God to keep you healthy before he said amen.

You don’t need it, he knows. You’re full of life, of love, of spirit… Sometimes, when the sun hits you just right, he even mistakes you for an angel—so heavenly, you must’ve been a gift.

He loves you, like any rotten thing loves the good. He’d forsake his beliefs if you told him to, he’d worship you like Kytheria in the Temple of Aphrodite; His mouth would beg for mercy while his eyes asked you for more, he would love you until the death rattle claimed him.

But he can’t tell you, can’t bear for you to see him so vulnerable. It’s only been a month. A month of bliss, of kisses and conversation, a month so serene he can’t think of ever letting go… But a month is too soon to tell a precious thing you love it.

You scare easily, he knows. Too often he finds himself frightening you, your frame jumping in the air and your eyes becoming saucers. The first time he kissed you, you shivered like a wounded animal: gasping into his mouth like you were giving him your soul.

In a way you were, breathing life out of his lungs just to give it back. In and out, oxygen into carbon. He remembers how you settled your hands on his belly, feeling it inflate… kiss… deflate… kiss. So sweet you are, as beautiful as any deity, and twice as charming.

Maybe he’ll tell you next month, cause surely he’ll love you more then. Maybe the flowers will be beginning to bloom and the sun will stay awake to see you return home to him. He’ll tell you he loves you when the moon begins to rise and settle kisses over your sleepy eyes.

You’ll love him then, you’ll love him and worship, him the same.

Although this thought doesn’t comfort his shaky stomach. The hot water pounding down around him doesn’t stop the rambling thoughts, he misses you… he loves you.

In a way, he feels inconsolable, like anything he does will just make the feeling worse instead of taking it away. He needs you in an embarrassing way, yearns for your hands to knead the stress out of his shoulders, for your smile to ease the knot in his throat.

If there was a shooting star he’d ask for you, you with your silly jokes and your loving hands. And like God himself, or the universe, or karma giving back, there you are—Lovely in your work clothes, pretty hands tapping on the bathroom door to say hello.

It only takes him a minute to tug you in, wrapping wet arms around your clothed body and pulling under the shower head. Closer than he needs to be, still not close enough.

“Felix! I’m still in my clothes!” You scream, but you’re laughing.

“Don’t worry about it, Angel, I’ll buy you new ones.” he says, still clutching you to his chest, his head sitting on your shoulder… lips swiping across your collar bones.

“Are you okay, Lix?”

“Better now that you’re here.” You can tell he means it, you can feel his hands shaking and where his lips quiver as they graze across your skin. “I missed you so much and everything was terrible…”

Oh your sweet boy, so darling, so bright.

“Felix, I missed you too.” you say, but the words are hard to utter—Confessions always feel like treachery. “Why don’t you tell me about it while I get out of these wet clothes?”

He tells you Chris was mean while he helps you out of your shirt, that Hyunjin was sad which made him sad while he laughs at your waddling legs struggling to break free from slacks. The laughs falter when you get to your underwear, but still he tells you how he didn’t eat enough, how everything went wrong.

Finally, when it’s just you and him, skin to skin, he tells you he misses you again. He tells you it it was a curse to be away from you for too long, but still, he doesn’t tell you the truth.

The real confession waits on his tongue, swiping along your mouth as he finally kisses you hello.

“I’m sorry it was horrible, honey, I wish I could always be with you…” you tell him, fingers combing through his freshly dyed hair.

“But you are…”

Oh Felix, my lovely, cosmic Felix… You think, feeling the sweeping joy settle in your belly. You love him, this miraculous boy who came into your life like a starfall; granting every wish you ever asked. He’s like a shooting star, a dandelion waving through a medley of flowers, a candle to blow out. You love him, in all the scary ways that come with that. “Don't be so shy, angel, I mean it… Can’t you feel it?”

With one hand he brings your digits to his throat, settling over his wild heartbeat, he tangles his other in your hair. You can’t even worry about how much wet hair you’ll lose, knotted over his slight fingers, connecting you to him in another way. Even obscured by the water, he is so beautiful… Looking down at you in reverence rather than conceit.

“I feel it, Lix. I feel it too.” Man he adores you, prayed for you, loved you into creation. It's so scary to love someone like this, like you’ll fall apart without them in your sight.

Felix has never been a coward, has never been too afraid to jump, to dream… but you are so godly, like a thunderbolt handed into his unworthy hand, and a mere mortal like him should always be too afraid to hold it.

He tells himself to find the courage, tell them you love them… he urges himself, gazing into your wide, beautiful eyes, and praying you’ll love him too.

With his eyes screwed shut, he finally tells you—

“I love you,” he says, “I loved you when I first saw you. I loved you last Monday when you snapped at me, I loved you yesterday and I couldn’t tell you. I love you so much, it hurts me.”

You’re quiet for a long time, holding onto his body like a lifeline, breathing in and out, oxygen into carbon. He’s everything, you think, everything good and everything bad—Pandora's box settled into your hands. He’s life.

“I love you too, more than I can say.” Your voice is quiet, muffled against his chest, but he feels your lips make the words. He can feel the I love you wrap around his aching heart, feel the tension in his muscles dissipating after every syllable. “I love you, Felix.” you say again.

You love him, you prayed for him… worshipped him like a statue in some temple.

He loves you, achingly so.

“Thank you for telling me.” He says, catching your laugh in his mouth, showing you he loves you. I wished for you, his kiss says, I wished you into life.

“I wished for you too.” You tell him, and his smile is the sun.

[oscinhaslandito]

Just Me, Her and the Moon

pairing: lando norris x reader

The evening had settled into a comfortable rhythm. After a laid-back dinner of their favorite takeout, Lando and Y/N found themselves sprawled across their bed. The TV hummed in the background, though neither of them paid much attention to the movie playing. Y/N lays on her stomach, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, while Lando leaned against the headboard, occasionally stealing glances at her with a faint smile.

Every so often, Lando would lean over to show her a meme on his phone. “Look at this one,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Tell me this isn’t you trying to parallel park.”

She glanced at the screen and snorted. “You wish. I’m a better driver than you on normal roads.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Better driver than me? Love, I’m literally a Formula 1 driver.”

“Keyword: Formula 1,” she shot back, smirking. “Take you out of a race car and you’re just a boy who’s scared of roundabouts.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Scared of roundabouts? I’ll have you know, I—”

“Missed the exit last week,” she interrupted, her laughter bubbling over. “Twice.”

He shook his head, fighting a grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And you’re lucky you’re funny sometimes,” she retorted, rolling onto her back with a contented sigh. For a moment, silence fell over them, the kind that felt easy and comforting. She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting, until an idea sparked.

Y/N turned her head toward Lando, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “You know what we should do?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

Lando gave her a wary look. “Do I even want to know?”

She grinned. “Let’s go to the beach.”

His eyebrows shot up. “The beach? At... what time is it? Almost midnight?”

“Exactly,” she said, sitting up fully now. “Think about it: no crowds, just the sound of the waves, the moonlight reflecting on the water. It’ll be magical.”

“Magical,” he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Or freezing. You realize it’s January, right?”

“Oh, come on, Norris,” she teased, crawling toward him and tugging at his arm. “Are you a Formula 1 driver or a grandpa?”

“Rude,” he muttered, though he was already moving to get out of bed. “Fine, but if I turn into a popsicle, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” she said brightly, hopping off the bed and pulling on the nearest hoodie—his, of course.

The drive to the beach was filled with their usual banter. Lando complained about the absurdity of the whole idea, though his playful tone betrayed him.

“You’re going to owe me so much hot chocolate after this,” he said as they parked.

“Consider it part of my charm,” Y/N replied, hopping out of the car and breathing in the crisp night air. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Now, come on, slowpoke.”

The beach was quiet, just as she’d hoped. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the sand and waves. She kicked off her shoes and ran toward the water, laughing as the cold sand squished between her toes.

“You’re insane,” Lando called after her, though he couldn’t help but smile as he watched her.

“And you love it!” she shouted back, spinning around with her arms outstretched.

He rolled his eyes fondly and jogged to catch up. As soon as he reached her, she grabbed his hands and pulled him closer.

“Feel that,” she said, her voice softer now as she gestured toward the horizon. “The sound of the waves, the stars... it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

Lando followed her gaze, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

They stood there for a while, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over them. Then, predictably, Y/N broke the silence.

“Race you to the water?” she challenged, already taking off before he could answer.

“Cheater!” he yelled, laughing as he sprinted after her. The icy water lapped at their ankles, and Lando let out a dramatic yelp.

“This is freezing!”

“Don’t be a baby,” she teased, splashing him.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he scooped her up effortlessly.

“Lando!” she shrieked, laughing uncontrollably as he pretended to toss her into the deeper water before setting her down safely.

By the time they made their way back to the car, their cheeks were flushed, their clothes damp, and their hearts full. The walk back up the beach was slower, their laughter subsiding into a quiet contentment. Lando draped an arm over her shoulders as they carried their shoes in the other hand, the wet sand sticking to their feet.

“Alright,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’ll admit this was... almost magical.”

“Almost?” Y/N teased, bumping him lightly with her shoulder.

“Okay, fine. Fully magical,” he relented, a grin tugging at his lips. “But you’re still insane.”

“And yet here you are, willingly joining me in my insanity,” she quipped.

He laughed, shaking his head. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for you.” He sang the last part, classic Jonas Brothers style, making Y/N roll her eyes and calling him corny.

As they reached the car, the sound of the ocean faded behind them, replaced by the gentle hum of the heater as they settled into their seats. Lando reached over to intertwine his fingers with hers, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles.

Just as the warmth of the car heater began to sink in, Y/N let out a sudden sneeze. Lando glanced over at her, equal parts concerned and amused.

“Bless you,” he said, shaking his head. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

She sniffled, flashing him a sheepish grin. “Maybe, but it was worth it.”

He reached over to tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear, his tone softening. “Hot chocolate and a blanket as soon as we’re home. No arguments.”

“Yes, Grandpa,” she teased, her voice playful despite her slightly stuffy nose.

Lando groaned, though the smile on his face betrayed him. “Unbelievable.”

As they pulled into the driveway, the house standing quiet and inviting, Y/N yawned, her head tilting back against the seat. Lando turned off the car, pausing for a moment to look at her.

“You really are something else, you know that?” he said softly.

She blinked at him, her eyes warm and filled with affection. “Good something else or bad something else?”

“Good,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her gently. “Always good.”

And just like that, the night ended the way it began: filled with laughter, love, and the kind of moments that made everything else fade away.

[d-z20]

yeeeaaahhhhhhh so I had a few more thoughts about Therapist!Agatha as per the tags in these posts and decided to share them with the class :o

Epilogue

As you gathered your things, you felt lighter, almost dizzy with relief. Dr. Harkness always knew what to say and how to smooth out the jagged edges in your thoughts. She made everything feel manageable—like nothing was ever as bad as it seemed.

"You’ve been doing so well lately," she told you, her voice steady and warm. "I can see how much you’re opening up, how much you trust me."

The words had sunk into you, soft and sweet, a balm against something raw. You trusted her. Of course, you did.

Her palm had grazed your back just briefly as she ushered you toward the door. "Take care," she murmured, her touch grounding and familiar.

You stepped out, blinking against the sudden clarity of the hallway lights. Something felt off, but you couldn’t place what. Your mind was hazy—soft, pliable even. Dr. Harkness, no, Agatha made everything better. She always did.

It wasn’t until you were halfway home that the realisation struck; you patted all your pockets and checked your bag to confirm, but yep, you didn’t have your phone on you. A jolt of panic cut through the fog, and you turned on your heel, heart thudding. You must have left it in her office.

The building was quiet when you returned, the hallway eerily still. Her office door was ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling into the dim corridor. You stepped closer, about to knock—

A sharp inhale. Then a soft, breathy moan.

You froze.

The sound was muffled but unmistakable. Your stomach flipped, heat rushing to your face. You should have left, should have pretended you heard nothing. 

Maybe she’s meditating. Maybe it’s some kind of grounding exercise she forgot to mention before. She wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. She’s your doctor. She knows what she’s doing.

But before you could move, her voice sliced through the thick silence.

"Come in, Y/N."

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had she seen your shadow outside the door? Heard your footsteps? You swallowed hard and pushed the door open, stepping inside, every nerve alight with something dangerously close to dread.

Agatha was slouched back in her chair, legs parted, her hand moving furiously between them. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, her eyes half-lidded as if she were lost in some delicious haze. The air in the room was thick—charged with something suffocatingly intimate.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t startle. If anything, her lips curled into something knowing, something almost pleased.

"This is good," she huffed, her voice husky yet unwavering. "I had planned for this to be a later session, but... breakthroughs don’t always happen on a schedule. Sometimes, we stumble onto something important before we’re ready."

You hesitated, pulse hammering, but your body moved before your mind could catch up. You lowered yourself into the chair across from her, every muscle locked tight, every breath shallow.

She watched you through heavy eyes, her movements slowing, turning deliberate. "You hold so much inside you. So much stress, so much frustration."

Your fingers gripped the armrests as if they might anchor you. "I—"

A shuddering breath escaped you before you could stop it. Your thighs pressed together, warmth pooling, shame curling at the edges of it. But shame was the wrong word, wasn’t it? Dr. Harkness wouldn’t let you feel ashamed—not when she had spent so long helping you understand yourself.

"It’s alright," she soothed, her voice dipping into something honeyed. "Your body is responding because it knows this is right. You’ve been holding onto so much, and it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Letting go is hard. But I’m here to help you through it."

The air felt too thick to breathe. Your skin felt too tight, too hot, and yet something about her words soothed you, quieted the panic thrumming beneath the surface. Dr. Harkness knew best. She always had.

She shuddered, a long, low moan spilling from her lips as she orgasmed, her body trembling through the aftershocks. Her gaze stayed locked on you, unwavering, even as her chest heaved with exertion. The air between you was suffocating, electric.

And then, just like that, she exhaled slowly, her expression slipping into something serene. "See how natural this is?" she asked, her voice a lazy drawl. "How easy?"

You did feel warm. Overwhelmed, confused maybe—but not afraid. At least, not the kind of fear that made you want to run. If anything, you were rooted to your seat, unable to look away.

She tilted her head. "You don’t have to fight yourself, you know. That ache you feel? It’s just your body telling you what it needs. You can trust it. You can trust me."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. Trust. It was all she had ever asked of you, and you had never had reason to doubt her before.

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm as if the last few minutes had been nothing but routine. "You trust me, don’t you?"

The words settled into your bones, curling around your ribs. Of course, you trusted her. She had never led you astray before. The thought of questioning her felt almost childish, like undoing all the progress you had made.

She only wanted to help.

Your pulse thrummed against your skin, and you swallowed hard.

"Good," she murmured. "Then let us begin."

-----

I feel like I should mention that it took all of 15 seconds for Agatha to shove her hands down her pants after reader left and half of that was trying to get her damn button undone

The Therapist's Touch (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You sought out Dr. Harkness for clarity, for someone to help untangle the mess in your mind. But as your sessions progress, the line between guidance and something far more intoxicating begins to blur.

- OR -

Agatha manipulates you and your mind and uses it as a way to start fucking you in the name of 'therapy'

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon, smut, Dark Agatha, gaslighting, manipulation, other toxic behaviour, fingering (R recv), praise kink, lots of 'good girl', talking through orgasm, mild choking at the end

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Just to repeat: this fic contains dubcon smut, gaslighting, and manipulation so if that is something that triggers you, please do not read. Requested Fic

AO3 | Master List

You met Dr. Harkness after a particularly bad week. You hadn’t been sleeping, your thoughts a tangled mess of self-doubt and frustration. Friends—if you could even call them that anymore—had started pulling away, and work was becoming unbearable. It was one of those situations where you weren’t sure if you were the problem or if everyone else was. You needed clarity. You needed someone to untangle the mess in your head.

And Agatha was perfect for that.

The first few sessions felt normal, even helpful. She was warm but not overly so, sharp-witted with a knowing smile that made you feel like she already had you figured out. You liked that. You wanted to be understood. She had a way of pulling things out of you, teasing out the thoughts you hadn’t even fully realized were lurking under the surface.

"You feel like you're being abandoned," she told you during a session, her voice smooth and steady. "Like the people around you are slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know why."

You nodded, relieved that someone finally understood.

"It must be frustrating," she continued, tilting her head slightly as if weighing her words carefully. "To always be the one reaching out, only to be left in the cold."

Your breath hitched. Was that true? You hadn’t really thought about it that way, but… now that she said it, it felt right.

"Maybe you expect too much from people," she mused, watching you carefully. "Or maybe they don’t appreciate you like they should."

A quiet pressure built behind your ribs, something heavy and unseen. That wasn’t a comforting thought, but there was something… validating about it. Like all the hurt you felt wasn’t just in your head.

"Maybe," you admitted.

She smiled, pleased. "I think people take advantage of your kindness. You let them, don’t you?"

You did, didn’t you?

—

The shift was slow, insidious. Agatha never outright told you what to think—she just guided you there, nudging you toward conclusions you weren’t sure were yours or hers. Your relationships became strained, but Agatha was always there to reassure you.

"You’re growing," she told you after a particularly emotional session. "You’re starting to see things for what they really are."

Warmth unfurled in your chest, wrapping around your ribs like a protective embrace. The weight of her gaze felt like an anchor, steadying you in a way nothing else had.

Agatha was dangerous in the way that only truly intelligent people could be. She never raised her voice, never forced an idea on you—she simply led you there, guiding you through your own thoughts like she was pulling a thread loose from a tangled knot.

And God, she was beautiful.

You noticed it in pieces at first. The sharp line of her cheekbones, the way her eyes stayed locked onto yours just a little too long, the elegant way she moved. She always dressed immaculately, sleek dark blouses that clung to her just right, lips painted in deep shades of red or plum. And then there was her voice. The kind of voice that settled into your bones and curled up there, wrapping itself around your ribs like it belonged to you.

It was embarrassing, really. You were falling for your therapist. But she made you feel seen in a way no one else had. And she never discouraged it.

Not directly.

"You hesitate when you talk about what you want," she noted, her voice gentle. "Why do you do that?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "I—what?"

"You second-guess yourself." She studied you carefully, fingers tapping lightly against the arm of her chair. "I’ve noticed it. You’ll start to say something, then stop. Like you’re afraid of being too much."

Your pulse fluttered. "I guess I just… don’t want to be a burden."

Her lips curled into something almost like amusement. "A burden?" she echoed, as if the idea itself was absurd. "Who told you that?"

You hesitated. Everyone, you wanted to say. Every time someone stopped texting back, every time you felt like you were grasping too hard to keep people close.

Agatha hummed, tilting her head just slightly. “Who have you been talking to about this?”

You blinked. “What?”

Her gaze was steady, expectant. “You said you feel like a burden. Who put that thought in your head?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I don’t know. I guess I mentioned it to a friend the other day, and they—”

Agatha tsked softly, shaking her head. “And what did they say?”

“They told me I was overthinking.”

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. “Ah. Overthinking.” She leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the arm of her chair. “That’s an easy way to dismiss you, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “I don’t think they meant it like that—”

“But it made you feel unheard,” she pressed gently. “Didn’t it?”

Your breath came a little faster. “I… maybe?”

Agatha nodded, like she’d expected that answer. “It’s interesting,” she mused, voice low and thoughtful. “How often people minimise your feelings. How quickly they brush you off.” Her gaze flickered back to yours, something soft and reassuring in it. “I would never do that to you.”

A tightness bloomed behind your ribs, bittersweet and impossible to ignore. “I know,” you murmured.

Her lips curled in satisfaction. “Of course you do.”

She leaned forward slightly, voice softening. "They made you feel that way," she spoke, like it was some kind of revelation. "Not because you are a burden, but because they don’t know how to appreciate you properly."

Something about the way she said it made your stomach twist.

"They don’t see you the way I do."

The words hung between you, electric.

You exhaled slowly, suddenly hyperaware of how close she was, how intimate these sessions had started to feelThe space between you felt thinner than before, her voice dipping into something softer, closer—like a secret meant only for you.

And then, like she knew exactly what you were thinking, she smiled.

"Tell me," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "When’s the last time someone truly listened to you?"

Your pulse hammered.

It should have set off alarms. But it didn’t. Because she was listening. She was there for you. More than anyone else has been.

Had anyone ever really listened?

—

The next session, Agatha watched you with something unreadable in her expression. Like she was studying a puzzle, waiting for the pieces to click into place.

“You seem tense,” she noted, her voice low, honey-smooth.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, but it came out strained. “Yeah, well. Life’s a little stressful.”

She tilted her head, gaze sharp, like she was peeling you apart layer by layer. “You hold yourself so tightly,” she stated, studying you like a specimen under glass. “You don’t even realise it, do you?”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Your shoulders.” A flick of her fingers. “Your jaw. Your hands.”

You followed her gaze, your fingers curling instinctively before you forced them to relax.

“I think,” she continued, voice slow, deliberate, “you’ve spent so long bracing for impact that you don’t know how to let go.”

A strange heat curled in your stomach, something unspoken threading through the air between you.

She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. “Would you let me help you?”

Your stomach flipped. “Help me how?”

Agatha smiled—calm, measured, soothing. “A simple exercise. One that might help you process the tension you’re carrying.”

You hesitated, but there was no reason to refuse. It was therapy. She was your therapist.

“Okay,” you said finally.

Her smile deepened, approval warm in her gaze. “Close your eyes,” she instructed.

You obeyed, exhaling softly.

“Now,” she assured, “I want you to focus on the weight of your body. The way your spine curves. The way your breath moves through you.”

Her voice was hypnotic, her words weaving their way into your bones.

And then—

Fingertips against your jaw.

You startled, eyes flying open, but Agatha hushed you gently.

“Shh,” she soothed, thumb brushing along your cheek. “It’s alright. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your breath came a little faster. The warmth of her touch was dizzying. “I—yes,” you whispered.

Her lips curled in satisfaction. “Good.”

Her fingers trailed lightly, tracing the curve of your throat. You swallowed, pulse hammering against her touch.

“Your body reacts before you do,” she noted, head tilting slightly. “You don’t even realise how much you hold back.”

Heat rushed to your face. You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or something else entirely.

Agatha’s grip firmed just slightly—not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you she was there. “I want you to let go,” she murmured. “Trust me to guide you.”

Your mind spun, tangled between this is fine, she’s my therapist and why does this feel so good?

But you trusted her. So you nodded.

Her smile was slow, knowing. “Good girl.”

Your stomach flipped again. A rush of warmth curled through you, unsettling in its intensity.

She let her touch linger a moment longer before finally pulling back, leaving you bereft. “See?” she said, as if the moment hadn’t just unraveled something inside you. “You hold onto so much. But I can help you carry it.”

You swallowed hard, clinging to her words like a lifeline. “…Thank you,” you murmured.

“We’ll work through it together,” she promised.

You believed her.

You wanted to believe her.

Even as something in the back of your mind whispered that maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t.

—

The session after that felt different from the moment you stepped into the room. The air in Agatha’s office was heavier, charged with something unspoken. It coiled around you, wrapping tight around your ribs as her eyes tracked your movements, assessing, waiting.

“Welcome back,” she said smoothly, gesturing for you to come further in. You obeyed, feeling strangely exposed under her gaze. She hummed, studying you. “You look tense again.”

You exhaled sharply. “I mean… I guess?”

Her smile deepened. “You’ve been thinking too much. Haven’t you?”

Your breath caught. Because—yes.

She chuckled softly. “I told you, darling. You carry everything too tightly.”

You swallowed.

“I want to try something different today,” she announced. “Something a little more… physical.”

Your brain short-circuited at the word.

She leaned forward, voice dipping into something lower, more intimate. “Have you ever done guided breathwork before?”

You shook your head.

She nodded, as if she expected that. “It’s about control,” she said. “Releasing what no longer serves you.”

Your breath hitched.

“May I touch you?” she asked, voice velvety smooth.

“Y—yeah,” you stammered, your pulse pounded in your ears.

She stood, stepping behind you. The air shifted as she moved closer, the heat of her body ghosting along your back before her hands settled on your shoulders—firm, warm, grounding.

“You’re so wound up,” she murmured, her thumbs pressing in, kneading slowly. A soft sigh slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“Breathe with me,” she instructed, her lips near your ear now. “In…”

You inhaled shakily.

“Good,” she praised. “Now out.”

Her hands moved lower, gliding down your arms, her touch light but deliberate. “Again,” she hummed.

You obeyed, and as you exhaled, her hands skimmed lower, fingertips ghosting over the curve of your ribs, her thumbs teasing at the sides of your breasts. You stiffened, heat pooling between your thighs, but she only hummed in approval.

“You’re still holding back,” she whispered, breath warm against your skin. “I need you to let go.”

Her hands drifted lower, over your waist, her grip firm as she guided you back against her body. A quiet, shuddering exhale left you, your head swimming, warmth pooling low in your stomach.

“Good,” she praised, voice like silk. “You’re doing so well for me.”

A shiver ran down your spine as she pressed closer, the solid heat of her flush against your back.

“This tension you carry,” she sighed, her breath hot against your skin, “it needs to be released.”

Her hands slipped lower, over your hips, nails scraping lightly against fabric. A slow, deliberate drag that sent fire licking through your veins.

“Let me help,”

And then her hands moved lower. Your whole body went still.

Agatha hummed in approval. “You feel that, don’t you?”

A sound—something between a gasp and a whimper—escaped your lips, as your body burned with arousal.

“Good,” she praised again, like she could feel you unravelling beneath her touch. “You’re doing perfectly.”

Her touch dipped between your thighs causing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat as your body jolted, nerves alight.

“Shh, this is part of the process,” she soothed, her lips grazing your ear, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. “Trust me.”

You did. You shouldn’t, but you did.

Her hands were steady, patient, coaxing you back against her body. Heat seeped into your skin where she pressed, her perfume—something dark, heady, intoxicating—curling around you like smoke.

“This is what you need,” she declared, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your clothed clit. “A full release.”

Your body arched, a broken moan slipping past your lips before you could swallow it down.

“There it is.” Agatha’s voice was rich with satisfaction, her free hand dragging lazy patterns over your torso, her nails grazing just enough to make you shiver. “That’s my good girl.”

Shame curled low in your stomach, but it was drowned out by the pleasure winding tighter, by the way she spoke like she knew you better than you knew yourself. Maybe she did. No one else had reached this part of you—no one else had understood what you truly needed.

Only Agatha.

“You’ve been holding so much inside,” she mused, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. “I think it’s time to let me take care of you.”

You whimpered, your breath coming in uneven bursts, but you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

A pleased hum vibrated in her throat as she pressed her fingers against your slick heat.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, her lips brushing against your temple, “you do need me.”

Your head lolled back against her shoulder, your lips parting in a breathless moan as she circled your clit with practiced ease, teasing and coaxing you into submission.

“Such a sweet thing,” she remarked, her other hand coming up to tilt your chin, guiding your gaze to hers. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy, and the look she gave you made your stomach tighten.

“There’s my good girl.”

The praise sent a pulse of heat through you, something deep and desperate unraveling at the sound of it. You wanted to please her. To prove that you trusted her.

Her mouth slanted over yours, swallowing your gasped moans as her fingers slid inside you, slow and purposeful. A sharp cry left you as she stretched you open, her thumb still circling, teasing, never letting you sink too deep into mindlessness. She wanted you present. Aware.

Your body jerked, overwhelmed by the sensation, but her hands were steady, guiding you through it. “Breathe,” she instructed, her lips brushing against your cheek. “In through your nose… there you go, good girl… and out.”

You tried. You really did. But every exhale was a stuttering moan, your body trembling against hers.

“That’s it,” she soothed, her fingers curling just enough to make you keen. “Let yourself feel it. Let yourself fall.”

Your fingers grasped at her sleeve, desperate for something to hold onto as she worked you open, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’ve spent so long running from this,” she murmured, voice low, hypnotic, each word coiling around your ribs and pulling tight. “From what you need. From what I can give you.”

You shook your head weakly, barely processing her words through the pleasure threatening to swallow you whole.

“No?” She tutted, her fingers never ceasing. “Then tell me, darling… why are you shaking?”

You couldn’t answer. She had you undone, every nerve alight, every thought consumed by her.

“Let go,” she commanded, her voice velvet-soft but unyielding. “Let me take care of you.”

As the pleasure coiled tighter, your body trembled against her, every muscle wound impossibly tense. Agatha’s touch never wavered—precise, knowing, relentless.

"That's it," she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You’re so close, aren’t you?"

A breathless whimper escaped you, your hips bucking into her hand, chasing that final push. She chuckled softly, her fingers maintaining their rhythm, teasing you to the brink.

"Good girl," she praised, her voice dipping into something darker, richer. "Give it to me. I want to feel you cum on my fingers."

Your breath hitched, your body straining under the weight of pleasure, but she didn’t let you fall just yet. Her free hand dragged up your torso, nails grazing along your ribs before curling around your throat, a light, possessive pressure that made you gasp.

"You've been holding onto this for so long," she crooned. "But not anymore. Let. Go."

Her grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly as her fingers curled against your g-spot, pushing you past the point of no return. A sharp cry tore from your lips, your entire body arching as the pleasure finally snapped, pleasure ripping through you in waves.

"That’s it, my sweet girl," Agatha cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Ride it out—just like that. So perfect for me."

Your walls clenched around her fingers, the aftershocks making you shudder, but she didn’t stop. Not yet. She drew out every last pulse of pleasure, her touch easing from devastating to indulgent, dragging you through the bliss until you were nothing but a boneless, gasping mess in her arms.

"Such a good girl," she muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple as her fingers finally stilled, her palm resting possessively against your slick heat. "I knew you could do it."

She let you catch your breath, but her fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your sensitive skin, teasing, reminding you who had brought you to this point.

Your breath still came in uneven shudders as she finally pulled her hand away. You barely had a chance to process the loss before she brought her fingers to her lips, her darkened eyes never leaving yours as she sucked them clean.

Heat flared in your cheeks.

Agatha only smiled.“We’ll continue this next session,” she promised, brushing a stray bead of sweat from your forehead. “I think we’re making real progress.”

-----

In this AU Agatha totally only became a therapist so she could mess around with people's minds and get paid for it.

N.B Agatha's behaviour is extremely toxic and manipulative due to the power she holds over reader. This work is purely fiction and such actions have no place in the real world.

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @jujuu23 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

[girl-lostconnection]

Unsweetened Lemonade (part 6 - the end)

Part 5

Warnings: fluff, Punk!Ghost x Nerd!Reader, suggestive themes, biting, mention of abuse, insecurities, plus size!Reader, light smut

Simon becomes a part of your life, slotting in like he has always been there.

As if years before his appearance, the rightful place in your heart was just growing cold in wait for him.

You don’t notice when the shift from silence to “Riley” to “Simon” happens — its gradual and imminent.

“Was always meant to be”, Simon thinks, hand curled around your shoulders, your warmth seeping into him through layers of clothing, your soft thigh pressing to his, making him lightheaded — eyes dark and heavy.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Simon doesn’t say it out loud but you can see how thrilled he is whenever you muse “Si’”, syllable rolling off your tongue like a clicky sour candy — mouthwatering, your cheek aching a little (still feels like your body is a bit overwhelmed with how often you smile now).

You slot in Simon’s life and he’s not sure about anything but you stay and he crumbles.

Piece by piece, like a biscuit that was left in hot tea for too long — limbs honeyed and heavy, heart aching, warmth spreading all over.

Rolling under his skin until he’s syrupy and soft, head nuzzled in your tummy, nose pressed to the warm roll of it. He’s still not sure how someone can be this soft. How is it even possible? God sure did take his time when he worked on you, bloody genius crafting someone this gorgeous.

Simon nuzzles into you on regular basis, starved for affection, mouthing at your neck, soaking you with his adoration. He’s always close, always ready to wrap himself around you, pulling you as soon as you give him a nod.

It’s bittersweet, sometimes. To realise how much you hungered and starved for a companionship, for stable connection — everything that Simon gives so freely, generous in his own affections.

It’s a lot for him as well. His over sensitive nerves fraying when your lips ghost over his throat, his hands wrapping around you. It’s so much. So sweet.

Simon groans, hips buckling when when you leave a mark behind his ear, eyes feral with hunger, mutt inside of him itching to bite back, itching to mount, itching to pull you under and never let out.

His voice cracks and breaks when your palms graze the warm tender abdomen under his sweater, his every cell on fire, mind pitch dark and empty, breathing coming out in short pants.

Simon throws his head back, hitting the wall with a dull thump, palm pressed to his mouth, cheeks red and eyes feral. God, you are gonna ruin him.

Please do.

Simon’s thighs slide open, throat bobbing and he doesn’t look down, but knows for sure that you do — ache between his legs feeling hot and heavy, throbbing under your gaze.

Simon forgets everything but your name, chest heaving and throat bared for your wet hungry kisses.

He has never been wanted like this. Has never been craved. Has never been devoured.

Simon chokes on air when you finally touch him, thumb rubbing in circles and he’s going mad, god, please, he needs it. Needs you. Needs more.

Moremoremoremoremoremoremore.

Simon comes down from his high, feeling lightheaded and trembly-handed, nuzzling his red face in your neck, palms sliding under your T-shirt — splaying over the small of your back. Just a minute. Just…he just needs to breathe, yeah?

Simon murmurs that nice isn’t for him and by god, you are wonderful.

He watches you, his limbs heavy, warmth of the blanket enveloping you both, limbs tangled with yours, head sharing a pillow with you (no, I can’t move, luv, wha’ is it, now? You don’t like me? Though’ I was special).

Nice isn’t for him, he confesses — shame and vulnerable sharp-angled hope coiling inside of him, spreading under his skin, scratching tender flesh.

Barbed wire of “I’m not worthy. I’m nothing. I’m dirty” stinging his eyes. Simon isn’t sure why you stayed.

You open your eyes, murmuring that you aren’t nice, voice impossibly soft, warm knuckles tracing circles on his hip.

You press your forehead to his, closing your eyes and breathing out “you are lovely” like you are revealing him sacred truth.

You throat bobs when you swallow and you are just as red as he is, your heart pounding against his chest like it tries to get under his ribs and solder itself with his.

And something inside of him cracks, uncoiling, spreading with the force of meltdown, twisting him in ugly shapes, because “you’r bein’ unfair, luv”.

Because god, he loves you.

He never loved like this before and it feels like the most terrifying thing in the world.

Like the sweetest, most beautiful and hopeful thing either.

Simon watches your trembling lashes and your sweaty palm grips him tighter and god, you are scared too.

Realisation makes something enormously tender open in his chest, pouring out, his hand wrapping around you, rasp of his voice quiet and wet.

So lovely. How could he ever go without you, sweetheart?

Such a sweet sweet darling. Such gentle most delicious bite of his life.

Oh, love, he’d burn for you if you asked, he’d crawl for you, he will live for you.

You two have a long way to go — still a whole life ahead, after all this is just the beginning. But you no longer need to watch your back at school and no longer need to inhale your food on the go.

Simon watches your back (always, love, always) and walks you home and offers absolutely horrendous funniest jokes you ever heard (Wha’ came first — chicken or egg? Come o’, luv, think…Rooster did).

Simon is there and he stays, awkward angles and all.

Maybe nice things weren’t for him.

But they are now.

You smack his shoulder when he parrots back that you aren’t nice, Simon snorting and kissing you as you huff and puff.

No, you aren’t nice. You are lovely.

You hiss when you are mad, you snap when overwhelmed, you bite him back (Simon pulls scarf down smirking like a big bad wolf, neck littered with marks — lipstick kiss under his jaw, outline of your bite on the crook of his neck).

You sigh in exasperation when he’s being stubborn and purposefully obtuse, you mumble under your breath when you study, you hide in his neck when tired.

You are there. You care for and about him.

You sit with him, huddling for warmth on the bus stops — back pressed to his chest, his chin propped on your head or shoulder.

You hum something soft, helping him clean up when he’s bruised up, nose bleeding — his dad’s favourite football team losing third match in a row.

You are there.

Not pushing when he needs space, not punishing him for needing it in the first place. Just expecting the same courtesy in return whenever you need it.

Simon doesn’t know if he’d ever get used to it, tiny wounded part of him still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to say what it is you want with a train wreck like him.

Surely there’s no way you don’t want anything.

Which is true. You do want something.

A lot of things, frankly.

You mention offhandedly, gesturing for him to sit down and peel potatoes with you. Simon tilts his head to the side, eyes heavy, thumbs hooked in his pockets but he silently plops himself down and takes the potato.

It’s evening, kitchen is all warm from cooking, smelling like chicken and garlic, you both in warm Christmas socks.

You want him, for starters, you murmur, focusing on the potatoes, saying it like it’s obvious.

You want you both to get better. You want to live on.

You want to graduate with nice grades and keep studying, even if he decides not to go into uni.

You want to rent with him a place with big windows and warm lights.

You want to shop for it together — choosing blankets and mugs and silly little trinkets. “Happiness mementoes”, you nickname them, eyes soft and knife gliding as you peel the round corners of vegetable.

And you’d like a cat. Or maybe a dog. Though maybe a fish would be better? Just to see how it goes and if you are good at taking care of something other than each other.

You get carried away and don’t realise he’s been silent for what feels like forever.

Not until he quietly asks what kind of ring you’d want. If you thought of that too.

His voice thick with adoration so raw you feel your face heating up, blush climbing higher and higher.

Simon has never been so serious in his life, eyes boring into yours intensely.

He’s never been so in love.

You try to say something, anything but the question hits your like a fright train, your eyes wide and skin tingling from how hot you suddenly feel.

Simon huffs air out through his nose softly, lips curling upwards and puts away knife. Simon circles the table and pulls you in, peppering your blush-hot face with kisses, thumbs rubbing your hips, eyes shining.

You really want him, aren’t you, love? Planned out everything but bloody wedding.

Simon feels laughter bubble in his chest and he’s melting-melting-melting.

“Got you tongue-tied, eh? Though’ you planned i’ all, sweet’eart”, he murmurs with grin so wide his eyes crinkle.

Home with big windows? Yeah, he’ll remember.

“I want you too, luv”, lips ghosting over your cheeks, smiling wider when you blindly turn your head to kiss him.

God, how did he even got lucky to deserve you?

“Think about the ring, darlin’”, he purrs, teeth sinking in your cheek — gentle pressure sending hot shivers down your spine.

“Think hard, yeah? I’m goin’ to ask you again”

Simon pulls you closer, nose nuzzling in your temple, palms stroking your sides and hips. Up and down.

Yeah, he’ll ask alright.

Because if you want him — you got him, love.

And he’s got you.

Taglist: @figthoughts @pastelbabygirl19 @haven-1307 @viennakarma @themadamehydra-blog @squishytap @unfriendlyneighborhoodlibrarian @roastyyytoastyyy

[misctf]

All Eyes on You

A trade for @axeeglitter

“Really?” Eric could feel his temper rising, “How many times have I told you I don’t like it when...”

“I don’t get the big deal.” Paul replied, putting his phone down, “You know I think you’re hot, right?” He continues, “So what if I like to look at hot guys on the internet?”

Eric caught a glimpse of another guy Eric with ogling. It was always the same- his boyfriend totally had a type. Another stupid, athletic, and musclebound jock. The guy doing some kind of stupid dance- swaying and rubbing his engorged muscles. How could Paul watch this kind of cringe content anyway?

“That’s what turns you on?” Eric mumbled, “You know it makes me uncomfortable.” He admitted, “I just don’t know what you keep turning to social media to get your dick hard.”

“It’s not that...” Paul replied, “Look, I’m not trying to...”

“Well you are.” Eric spat, “I’m done talking about this.” And before Paul could say another word, Eric stormed out of the room and to their shared bedroom.

As he shut the door, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind. He paced back and forth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to process the hurt and anger coursing through his veins.

“Doesn't he understand how much it hurts?” Eric thought bitterly, “Seeing him drool over those perfect-looking jocks all the time. Like I'm not good enough for him anymore.”

He couldn't shake the image of the latest hunk Paul had been ogling - all rippling abs and bulging biceps, gyrating obscenely on screen. Compared to that Adonis, Eric felt small and inadequate. His own body, which he'd always considered average but attractive, now seemed soft and unappealing in his eyes.

“I wish...” Eric whispered under his breath, “I wish Paul would see me that way sometimes. That he’d look at me like he looks at those guys.”

As if in response to his heartfelt wish, Eric's phone began to vibrate and glow against the nightstand. He froze, staring at the pulsing screen in confusion. Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over him. Eric glanced down and gasped as he watched his chest hairs disappear before his very eyes, falling to the ground and disappearing. He reached up to touch the smooth skin that replaced it. He hadn’t been hairless since his early 20s and the sensation of his smooth skin felt unfamiliar.  

“What the fuck?” Eric breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart, “You don’t just lose your body hair.” He mumbles, watching as the hairs on his belly fell away, “Wait...” He held up his arm, watching as the darker hairs became lighter in color.

Eric approached his mirror cautiously, his eyes widening as he took in the changes reflected back at him. The dark hair on his head were gradually lightening, transforming into a rich, honey-brown, while his five o’clock shadow vanished. His gaze drifted lower, noting the subtle shift in skin tone. Blotches of sun-kissed warmth broke through his natural pallor, spreading across his body slowly but surely. It was as if he'd spent hours basking in the warm summer sun without actually stepping outside. As Eric gazed at his reflection, he noticed something even more astonishing - the lines etched into his face, the crow's feet around his eyes, the sagging skin beneath his chin - all seemed to be fading away. His skin appeared smoother, tighter, almost radiant. He looked... younger. Much younger than his actual thirty years.

“No, it can't be...” Eric muttered, feeling his youthful skin, “I...” He bites his lip. He hasn’t looked like this since he was at least 21. But even at 21 he wasn’t sporting this kind of tan, “I need to find Paul. I need to...”

A sharp intake of breath escaped Eric's lips as he felt an intense heat radiate through his chest. He watched in disbelief as his pecs began to swell, growing larger and more defined by the second. Muscles he never knew he possessed started to take shape, bunching and rippling beneath his skin.

“No, stop!” Eric cried out, panic lacing his voice as he frantically tried to halt the transformation.

But it only intensified, spreading to his arms and shoulders. His triceps ballooned, his biceps thickened, and his deltoids grew broad and powerful. Eric let out a strangled moan as the metamorphosis continued. His abdominal muscles tightened and hardened, forming a chiseled six-pack that flexed with every ragged breath. The once-flat plane of his stomach now boasted a deep, carved indent in the middle. His glutes, too, underwent a drastic makeover. The flesh compacted and reformed, molding itself into two perfectly rounded globes. His thighs thickened, his quadriceps bulging with raw power. Every inch of Eric's body was being reshaped, remade, reborn into a sculpted masterpiece of masculinity. 

“This isn't me. This can't be happening.” Eric gasped as he stared at himself in the mirror, “This is a dream... this doesn’t just happen to people.” He mumbles, drinking in the sight of his new muscles.

A sudden wave of prickling sensation assaulted Eric's armpits as coarse, dark hair sprouted. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat and musk, a potent aroma that filled his nostrils and made his stomach churn.

“Ugh, what the hell?” Eric groaned, clamping a hand over one armpit as he sniffed himself again, recoiling at the pungent odor, “I smell like a gym bag.”

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks - he now emitted the exact same stench as the muscular, gym-rat types Paul constantly ogled online. He reached his meatier hand to touch the mirror, and gasped. Eric's hands flew up to cover his face, trembling as he felt the contours of his features shift and morph. His nose narrowed, his jawline squared off, and his cheekbones sharpened into a chiseled, angular silhouette. His lips thinned into a smirk, and his eyes took on a cocky, confident glint.

“No...” Eric whispered, barely recognizing the stranger staring back at him.

Gone was the soft, rounded face of his thirty-year-old self; in its place sat the visage of a smug, arrogant young jock - the very archetype Paul seemed to worship. With a sense of dread, Eric watched as a pair of tight, athletic shorts emerged from thin air and slithered down his muscular thighs, settling snugly around his crotch. Embroidered on the side of the shorts in bold, white letters was the number '28'. At the same time, a pair of baseball cleats materialized on his feet, the stench of stale sweat and dirty socks wafting up to assault his nostrils. They fit perfectly, molded to the contours of his sizeable calves and ankles.

“This is insane.” Eric choked out, revulsion washing over him as he took in his new appearance, “What kind of sick joke is this? I don’t want this. I want Paul to love me for my looks, not some cocky asshole’s.” No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the cocky glint in his eyes. And his lips seemed to default to a smug smirk, “I need to...”

Before he could finish his thought, Eric's hips began to sway of their own accord, his movements fluid and sensual as he danced in front of the mirror. One hand roamed over his chiseled torso, tracing the dips and curves of his newly formed muscles. The smirk on his face grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger he didn't recognize.

“This isn't me.” Eric panted, but his body refused to obey, continuing its seductive dance, “Stop it! Get control of yourself!” But before he could say another word, his lips formed into a confident smirk. He realized that just like his dancing, he couldn’t control the smirk, “No please! I can’t talk.” He thought, “Stop! Stop this!”

In the mirror, he can see his newly athletic body move. His confident smirk. He can even still smell the masculine stench that wafts from his clothes and pits. Eric wanted to cry- feeling totally powerless. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t like those guys that Paul drooled over. He wasn’t...

“Wait, what’s that?!” Eric watches as his phone started to glow, basking him in a blue light, “Oh god it hurts! Stop!”

He could feel his body breaking down- simplifying. Every organic component of him being broken down and changed into a pattern of pixels and data. His body digitized and absorbed into the phone. And when the pain stopped, Eric realized he was no longer in his room. He was in a locker room. The smells from his own body still assaulting his nose. His body still moving against his will.

“Paul... Anyone...” Eric thought, “Help me...” 

But his plea was lost amidst the endless loop of his own mesmerizing form. Reduced to a looping GIF of his newly buff physique. His athletic shorts and baseball cleats remained, along with the arrogant smirk frozen on his face. Each time the animation played, his muscles rippled and flexed, his abs contracting hypnotically. And worst yet, he could feel eyes on him. All the users who viewed him in his digitalized prison. Comments flooded in, each one more enthusiastic than the last. “Holy shit, so hot!”, “Best thing I've seen all week!”, “Makes me wanna tap that!”

“No... please...” Eric's mind reeled in horror as the comments repeated in his mind, unable to comprehend his own degradation. Trapped inside this digital prison, forced to perpetuate the very objectification he despised.

He didn’t know how long it took until he felt his boyfriend’s gaze on him. For a moment, Eric dared to hope - perhaps his boyfriend could somehow hear him, free him from this living nightmare. But as Paul's fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a message, Eric's hopes dwindled.

“Yum.”

Eric's heart sank, his despair deepening as he realized Paul had no idea it was him trapped in this degrading digital form. To his boyfriend, he was just another hot piece of eye candy to admire and lust after. And after a few more minutes of watching, Paul moved on, leaving Eric to continue his eternal dance.

Hours passed, then days, and Eric's awareness persisted, forever confined within the looping GIF. Paul returned sporadically, devouring each iteration of his digitally rendered form with hungry eyes. As the weeks dragged on, Eric's initial shock gave way to a numb acceptance. This was his existence now - a perpetual spectacle, reduced to nothing more than a collection of pixels and motion. The irony was not lost on him. He had once envied the attention Paul gave to those jocks and their thirst traps. Now he was one- just a thirst trap, dancing in a smelly locker room- forever.

[rose24207]

Like a kiss

Summary: after coming to terms that his girlfriend is a ghost, a new routine builds.

Genre: fluff

Lando x ghost!f!reader

TW: mention of death

A/N: get ready for a new series!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The soft hum of morning filled the apartment as Lando shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, before grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

"Morning, love," he said casually, his voice still rough with sleep.

The kitchen light flickered once, and Lando smiled to himself. He knew what that meant: good morning.

It had been almost a year since Y/N passed, and Lando had gone through every stage of grief imaginable. There were nights when the loneliness was unbearable, and mornings when the silence was deafening. But then she started making her presence known—little things at first, like the lights flickering or her favorite mug being moved to the counter.

It scared him at first, thinking he was losing his mind. But over time, he realized it wasn’t just wishful thinking. She was still here, in her own way, and they had developed a rhythm that felt almost normal.

"Coffee or tea today?" he asked, glancing toward the light fixture.

The light flickered twice. Tea.

"Tea it is," he said, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water.

As he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the counter, looking around the apartment. It was still very much the same as when Y/N was alive—her touch was everywhere, from the throw pillows on the couch to the photo frames on the walls. He couldn’t bring himself to change much.

"You know," Lando said, his voice filling the quiet space, "I think I'm getting better at this whole cooking thing. Carlos and Max came over the other day, and they actually liked the pasta I made."

The light flickered once, and he laughed. "I know, right? Shocking. I didn’t even burn the garlic this time."

The kettle whistled, and Lando poured the hot water over the tea bag in her favorite mug. He set it on the counter across from his coffee, the same way he used to when they’d have breakfast together.

"I have media duties later," he said, sitting down at the counter. "You’d hate it. Same questions over and over again. ‘How do you feel about the car?’ ‘What’s your strategy for the weekend?’ Blah, blah, blah."

The light flickered twice quickly, and Lando grinned. "Exactly. It’s so boring."

He sipped his coffee, glancing at the chair across from him. It was empty, of course, but he could almost picture her sitting there, wrapped in one of his hoodies, her hair still messy from sleep.

"You know," he said softly, "I think about you all the time. Sometimes it feels like you’re just in the other room, and if I wait long enough, you’ll walk out and tell me I’m being lazy."

The light flickered once, and he smiled, though his chest ached.

After finishing his coffee, he rinsed the mug and set it in the sink. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter and paused by the door.

"Alright, I’m heading out," he said, turning back toward the apartment. "Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone."

The lights flickered twice, and Lando chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later."

Later that evening, Lando returned home, the day’s exhaustion settling in his bones. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, running a hand through his curls.

"I’m home!" he called out, the words instinctual.

The lamp in the living room flickered, and he smiled.

Dinner was a simple affair—just leftovers from the night before. As he ate, he talked about his day, recounting funny moments from the track and updates from the team. It was a one-sided conversation, but the occasional flicker of the lights or soft creak of the floorboards reminded him that she was listening.

After dinner, he cleaned up and settled on the couch with a blanket. He turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on a Series they used to love watching together.

"Look," he said, holding up the remote. "It’s Teen Wolf. Your favorite."

The lamp flickered twice, and Lando laughed. "Alright, my second favorite. But you liked it enough to watch it a million times with me."

He sank into the couch, the familiar intro of the Series playing in the background. It was almost like old times—the glow of the TV, the soft warmth of the blanket, and the comforting feeling of not being alone.

As the fourth episode that evening ended, Lando stretched, his limbs heavy with sleep. He turned off the TV and stood, heading toward the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over the space. Lando changed into his pajamas and slid under the covers, letting out a content sigh.

"Goodnight, love," he murmured, his eyes already closing.

The lamp flickered once, and for a moment, he swore he felt the faintest brush of warmth against his cheek—like a kiss.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he drifted off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that she was still there, watching over him.

It wasn’t the life they had planned, but it was theirs, and in its own way, it was enough.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[glossykissies]

i think this was like one of the first scott fics u posted but reader was in college for like fashion design? i think 😭 but anyways reader got a bad grade in one of her classes and scott says she cant touch him cos u cant reward bad behavior!!!

it’s funny because scott thinks he’s handling it the right way.

it’s how he was raised — it’s why he ended up in the working environment he did. his mother was a sweet woman, but his father was hard, never impressed, always pushing scott to achieve more. of course there were times he resented him for being so cold and unyielding, but he supposed he had him to thank for everything. now as a grown adult, scott saw himself in his old man, rearing his ugly head when least expected.

you’d come home to scott, all wired up and manic looking for a distraction. the project you thought you’d been slaving over ended up bringing you your worst grade yet. it wasn’t failable, and you knew you’d be able to pull yourself back — but it was certainly a wake up call. you felt ashamed.

you’d mentioned it in passing to scott as you were toeing your shoes off, thinking that if you treated it as a casual thing, it would be less damning. you were known to work hard, and you’d hate if scott thought any less of you. if there was anyone who’s opinion mattered to you over your professor, it was him.

“— and i’m gonna have to retake that class because i flopped so hard, anyway i had icecream for lunch—”

“hold on.” scott frowns, arms folded over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the wall, narrowing his eyes at you. “retake the class? explain.”

he makes note of the way you swallow and avoid his eyes as you gather up an excuse. “its fine, i failed the class. its fine.” you shrug a shoulder, and scott stares before shaking his head with a sigh.

“look — i told you, if you’re gonna be here all the time you can’t let it interfere with your projects. i think — i think it’s best if you start spending some weekends from home so you can get back on top of—”

“no!” you bark, eyes wide and desperate, which actually silences him in surprise. you are incredibly quick to adjust yourself, releasing a tense chuckle to let it be known that you were on your best behaviour, smile straining your cheeks and not quite meeting your eyes. “scott it’s not that serious, i swear. i’m passing all my other classes, this happens to everyone atleast once.” you figure your tone is reassuring enough, especially as he doesn’t follow you into the kitchen to make your daily green tea.

you spend a little longer than usual in the kitchen as you sip away at your drink, giving your boyfriend time to hopefully forget about the bad grade you received so you could potentially start the evening over, feeling things were a little chaotic. the hot liquid seems to soothe your nerves momentarily too, aiming to leave the day behind as you eventually slink out into the living room, eeking out your distraction as you join scott on the couch.

he’s watching some kind of documentary, naturally manspreading with that concentrated frown like a man much older than he was. you let a mischievous smile slip as you wriggle up to his side, stroking at his arm. this was nothing unusual from your usual behaviour, so scott doesn’t react — continuing on with his show.

“scotty.” you breathe in his ear, beginning to dot kisses gently along his jawline.

“hm?”

“missed you. needed daddy all day.” you pout as a manicured hand rises to rest on his broad chest before sliding slowly down his stomach toward his belt. you nearly jump out of your skin when he grabs your wrist and moves it away.

“no.” he hums, voice low. you blink your wide eyes at him in confusion — maybe you were just spoilt, because it wasn’t often you heard that word so firmly.

“huh?”

it’s only then scott looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “you think i’m gonna reward you for failing a class? you know, if i had been you — i’d already be at the desk with my laptop out, getting to work so i don’t fail my class again.” he’s stern, and whilst you’re used to his blunt ways you’re stunned by how cruel he was being. to him, he wanted the best for you and this was how he showed it in the moment, but to you it was the ultimate rejection.

it’s unnoticeable to the human eye, but he softens when you’re so quick to submit without argument despite his words, bashfully climbing off the couch to silently grab your bag and head to the bedroom where scott’s desk was. he watches you go, arms crossed — before he sighs, closing his eyes. that wasn’t him, it was his father. you didn’t deserve that.

he thinks up what to say to you, standing up to retrieve you approximately seven minutes later. he finds you at the desk where he suggested, laptop open on an empty document, crying quietly into your hands. scott closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before starting towards you.

“hey. hey.” his voice is quiet as he scoops you off the chair, replacing you with himself as he cradles you on his lap. “c’mon.” he whispers, feeling you wrack with another silent sob into your hands.

“i’m sorry.” you squeak.

“you don’t have to be sorr—”

“you’re disappointed in me. i’m disappointed in me too i just wanted to forget for a few hours.” you cry like a baby, stripped down to your most vulnerable self and his jaw clenches, mad that he was the one to upset you like this. this relationship shit was harder than it looked.

“hey i’m not, okay? i’m not. i was… hard on you because i think you can be great. okay? i think you are great. most talented girl i know. i don’t wanna get in the way of that, you know?” his large hand slides up your back to pull you closer and he feels you nod.

“i know. i’m sorry i get so upset about stupid stuff. i tried to be a big girl about it. i tried to… start—” you pull away to gesture to the empty document and he breathes out a chuckle, pulling you back to his chest.

“i know. i see… and it’s not stupid. i was mean. you should have kicked my ass.” he shakes his head but hears you giggle against his shirt, likely staining it with tears and mascara.

“next time.” comes out muffled.

“great.” he sarks before pulling you back to mop up your face, trying not to grimace at any snot or drool as he swipes it away with his thumb. “look. get started on… all this tomorrow. i’ll help in any way i can. what do you need right now? hm?” he jogs you on his lap with his knee once to signify that he wants a verbal and decisive answer. you press your lips together, glancing down at his belt once more. “oh yeah?” he confirms in that deep voice that makes between your legs ooze. “still after that?”

you nod, and he squeezes you hip. “alright. i think i can provide.”

[wrathofrats]

Very late Christmas and birthday gift for the ever wonderful @mac-and-thefox (:

1.1k of Swiss cumulus fluff

Warnings and tags for: exhibitionism, hot tub sex, it’s a little gross but don’t think about it too hard, that’s it it’s just them flirting and Swiss fingering cumulus for 1k words. They’re gross and in love.

Cumulus sighed into the jets in the little hotel hot tub. Just big enough for a couple people with the smell of chlorine burning their eyes, but after being on the road for so long the stuffy room felt like heaven. Swiss followed soon behind her, throwing his shirt and towel onto some dingy chair that was probably once a pristine white, but had faded into an ugly beige yellow.

They couldn’t ask for anything more though. There was something charming about the buzzing fluorescent lights or the singular dead fly in the windowsill that had probably been there for over a decade. Anything nicer usually felt sterile to Swiss, like he wasn’t allowed to touch or do anything besides sit on his hands. Late night escapades that were only aided by the fact that the workers weren’t paid enough to care, especially not when the hour was closing in on midnight.

“Surprised dew didn’t want to join us, usually he’s all for a cheap hot tub” Swiss played with the dials on the side of the wall, trying to turn up the jets.

“Yeah but his princess isn’t, rain gets sick if he’s in chlorine for too long and dew feels bad about leaving him when they room together”

Swiss simply shrugged. More for them he guesses. Besides, cumulus looked beautiful like this and he didn’t know if he entirely wanted to share anyways. A simple baby blue string bikini and her hair messily thrown up into a curly heap on her head. She always got pissy when she had to wash the chlorine out of her hair, claims it tangles for days. Swiss wouldn’t complain, he loved when she put her hair up. He thought she looked brighter that way, eyes sparkled more without the shadow.

“How foggy do you think those windows get if we turn the temperature up” Swiss swirled the water with his index finger, eyebrows raising in implication. Cheesy, he could be a dork sometimes when given the opportunity. Womanizer persona bleeding into something from an 80s porno when left unaccounted for.

“I saw the receptionist put her head down a couple minutes ago. If you can be quiet stardust I don’t think it’ll matter”

Cumulus stepped over to straddle Swiss’ hips on the hard bench, a playful giggle on her lips as he immediately grabbed for her waist. The strings were tied tight against her skin, simple bows that were easy to pull at for even easier access.

“No double knots? Usually it puts up more of a fight, unless you were intending on it coming undone”

“Took you ages last time, thought I’d give you a fighting chance” cumulus’ fingers skated along Swiss’ chest, running up and down the skin above the water. Her lips followed suit, delicately pressing to the base of his neck and working their way to his jaw. She nipped at the sweet spot right below his jawbone, drinking in the low hum he let out.

Swiss pushed his hips into hers, pulling her down harder in an attempt to grind through their thin swimsuits. Cumulus looped her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush with him as he snaked a hand to cup her beneath the fabric. Even like this she felt hot, slick to the touch as if she was just waiting to get her hands on him.

Two fingers dipped into her, crooking up while cumulus rocked her hips instinctively. Her eyes fluttered shut, head tipping back while Swiss worked. His hands were thick, strong muscular fingers taking her apart with ease.

“Don’t think I can handle anymore or are you just having fun taking your sweet time” cumulus grinded down into his palm to try and get more stimulation. Her clit was swollen, aching to be touched as swiss seemed to almost ignore it on purpose.

“Don’t want you to get carried away lus, you can get greedy when I touch you, let your cunt make your decisions for you instead of your brain” Swiss used his other hand to pinch at her clit for emphasis, point proven when cumulus let out a high moan. “And I don’t think we have much time, wouldn’t want to get caught would you?”

The water sloshed around them, cumulus biting her lip and riding Swiss’ hand. It would be fine right? It was late enough, no one was going to come looking for them. The workers don’t get paid much and besides, through the glass they probably looked innocent enough.

“Come on Swiss don’t tease me, maybe if you’d go a bit faster we wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught”

“But I like it when you’re needy. Begging looks so pretty coming off of your lips”

Cumulus let out a frustrated noise. Swiss wasn’t moving with any urgency, a slow pace that would be heavenly if they were in a private room and weren’t on an unknown time crunch.

“Can feel how hard you are, don’t deny that you need something as well stardust”

“All I need right now is to see you writhe babydoll”

The dumb let name would usually have her flicking him upside the head but all she could do was clench down and groan. Something edged in her stomach, the very beginnings of her orgasm heating up slowly. It was just barely enough to bring her closer and closer, even if it felt like hours were passing as she tried to ride Swiss’ hand for all it was worth.

“Gonna cum just like this? Cum around my fingers even if someone could walk in at any second? Come on baby don’t be shy, show me how good I make you feel, want them to hear it in the lobby”

Cumulus bit down onto Swiss’ shoulder as she shook, waves of pleasure making her vision blurry and hips working on their own accord. Her cunt convulsed around Swiss’ fingers as he cooed sweet nothings into her ear.

“That’s it, did so well, wish everyone else out there could know how nice it is to have you like this” Swiss rubbed her back, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Fuck you asshole you drug that out on purpose” cumulus swung her legs to stand up, shivering now that she wasn’t covered by the warm water, “if you’re going to act like you want to get caught you could at least fuck me while you do it”

“What? Didn’t enjoy it?”

“I’d enjoy it more if you tried to please me like a lady and not like some haphazard teenage hookup”

“I’d be more than happy to try again if you wanna go back to my room”

Cumulus threw her shirt over her suit, water dripping from the loose strands falling out of her bun.

“I’m holding you to that”

[hazelira]

quiet afternoons

The small café was a cozy escape from the rush of the outside world. Its soft lighting and the hum of quiet chatter blended seamlessly with the clinking of mugs and the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. Jay sat across from you, a comfortable silence between you as you both lost yourselves in the pages of your books.

His gaze flickered to you now and then, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips. He didn’t mind the silence. It felt peaceful, knowing you were just there with him, no words necessary. He admired how you would get so absorbed in the story; your brows furrowed in concentration, your fingers lightly tracing the edges of the pages.

You weren’t much of a coffee drinker—he knew that. You preferred hot chocolate or fruit smoothies, something sweet and comforting. But today, you’ve decided to step out of your comfort zone and try coffee for the first time. Jay couldn’t help but find it endearing how you nervously stirred your cup with a little smile.

As the minutes ticked by, Jay noticed the gentle way you put your book down, the faintest furrow between your brows as you slowly pushed your coffee mug aside. You had finished it.

Without a word, Jay slid his mug of coffee across the table, the warm steam still rising from it, a small gesture that spoke volumes.

“You don’t have to say thank you,” he said quietly, meeting your eyes, his voice low and smooth. “I just know.”

You blinked in surprise, but there was a warmth in his gaze, something that made your heart flutter. You smiled softly and took the mug, feeling his care even in the simplest moments like these. He wasn’t flashy with his affection; Jay was quiet, but it was in the little things that he showed how much he cared. The way he would slide his coffee toward you when he noticed you finished yours, or how he’d glance at you occasionally, making sure you were comfortable.

The truth was, you didn’t need to say anything. His attention spoke louder than words ever could.

“You’re so smooth,” you teased, giving him a playful side-eye as you sipped his coffee. It was bold, strong—just like him. But it felt oddly comforting, especially with the way he was sitting there, so effortlessly cool and yet so thoughtful at the same time.

Jay chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair with an almost shy grin. “I mean, you are my girl. You deserve all the princess treatment, right?”

You laughed at that, the way he said it so casually but with that glint in his eye that said he meant every word. Jay was quiet, but when he spoke, he made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

You looked over at him, feeling warmth in your chest, not just from the coffee but from his presence. You didn’t need grand gestures; moments like this, with him in his quiet way, were everything.

“Well, in that case, I’m lucky to have a prince.” You winked at him, teasing him just a little.

Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

“Impossible,” you replied with a grin.

Jay’s smile softened, and for a moment, there was nothing but the two of you and the quiet comfort of being together. There was no rush, no pressure—just the simplicity of sitting across each other, sharing a peaceful afternoon.

As you both settled back into the silence, Jay’s hand casually reached across the table, resting near yours. He didn’t need to hold your hand or say anything more; his presence was enough.

And in that quiet moment, you couldn’t help but think that this—this—was everything.

The quiet hum of the café seemed to melt into the background as you and Jay sat there, the world around you fading away, leaving only the soft clinking of spoons stirring mugs and the delicate rustle of your pages turning. There was something about this moment—so simple, so gentle—that made you feel like you were floating.

Jay leaned over slightly, his gaze softening as he watched you with a fond smile. His fingers brushed against yours, the contact light, but enough to send a pleasant shiver up your spine. He didn’t need to say anything; it was in the way he looked at you, the unspoken words in his eyes that made your heart swell.

You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze and smiling shyly. “You know… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drink hot chocolate again after tasting your coffee.”

Jay chuckled softly, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “That’s because I make everything better, babe.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest grew even more. He was always saying things like that with such confidence, but somehow, it was never annoying—it was endearing. He knew how to make you feel special, even in the smallest of moments.

“You spoil me,” you said, your voice teasing but with a hint of affection.

He raised an eyebrow, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Well, I think you deserve to be spoiled.” His voice softened a little, the usual playful tone giving way to something a bit more sincere. “You make everything better, too. I mean, look at you. You’re so cute with that book in your hands and the way your nose crinkles when you read. How could I not want to spoil you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way he said it, so effortlessly, made your cheeks flush. You couldn’t even respond, the words caught in your throat. You could only stare at him, feeling like your heart might burst from how sweet he was being.

Jay chuckled again, but this time, there was a hint of playfulness mixed with affection. “I’ve never seen someone so shy after a compliment. But that’s okay, I think it’s cute, too.”

Before you could muster up a proper response, Jay slid his chair a little closer to yours, his arm brushing lightly against yours. The proximity made the air feel warmer, the space between you both charged with something sweet and tender. He reached across the table again, gently pushing your mug of coffee closer to you.

“You know, it’s not just the coffee,” Jay murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s the way you laugh when you get a joke, the way your eyes light up when you talk about things that make you happy. The way you’re sitting here with me, reading and sharing thoughts. It’s everything about you that makes me want to be with you forever.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a second, you couldn’t even breathe. His sincerity, his quiet affection—it made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t quite expected. The world outside faded into the background, and for just this moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the quiet intimacy of each other’s presence.

You finally found your voice, though it came out softer than you intended. “I feel the same way about you, Jay. You make everything better, too. Even this quiet café, just… being with you.”

Jay’s smile grew wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling with that familiar warmth. He leaned even closer, until his shoulder brushed against yours. “I’m glad,” he whispered. “I love how everything just feels right when I’m with you. Even when it’s just us sitting here, no rush, no noise, just you and me in our own little world.”

Your heart couldn’t take it. It was too much. Too much sweetness, too much warmth, too much Jay.

Before you could respond, he reached over and gently tapped your chin with his finger, guiding your face toward his. His eyes were full of affection, and you could feel the tenderness in his gaze. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to—but the way he leaned in, just slightly, as if waiting for your cue, made you feel like you were both the center of the universe in that one moment.

You didn’t hold back.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and perfect in every way, like something out of a dream. His lips were warm against yours, and the world around you seemed to slow down, as if the universe itself was giving you this one beautiful moment to savor. It was gentle, nothing hurried, just the quiet exchange of affection between two people who didn’t need words to understand each other.

When you finally pulled away, both of you slightly breathless, you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“You’re way too smooth for me, Jay,” you teased, a playful smile on your lips.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just giving you the princess treatment, like I said. You deserve nothing less.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you found yourself leaning against him, resting your head on his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his presence.

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Jay didn’t need to say much. The silence was comfortable, filled only with soft laughter, gentle smiles, and quiet exchanges of affection. It was the kind of date where every little moment felt like a piece of heaven, where even the smallest gestures were enough to remind you just how lucky you were to have each other.

And when the coffee was finished, and the books were put away, and the café began to empty out around you, you knew one thing for sure.

You were exactly where you were meant to be. And Jay, with his quiet charm and endless warmth, was right beside you.

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