#if i have to leave the room i can hear it going and i know i gotta go back for it when i'm done

[pomegranate-theater]

Hello 👋 hope you are well!

I just wanted to know if, by any chance, you will be making another part of " what yandere them do (to you) after catching you in the act of masturbating." For other hsr men? ( Especially for Aventurine? I'm a big sucker for him >.< )

➤𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 — what yandere them do (to you) after catching you in the act of masturbating. [part one with other characters]

aventurine, mydei, anaxa, argenti.

contents: afab reader, dub-con/non-con, yandere, forced relationship, masturbation, coercion, rough sex, aphrodisiacs, condescending talk, one thigh slap, fingering, squirting, oral—reader receiving. not suitable for minors.

note: i hope you are well too!

AVENTURINE

That spacious penthouse of Aventurine’s, somehow, did nothing to muffle the sounds of the vibrations of your fancy electric toothbrush that you have sneaked into your room — purchased by no one else by Aventurine, along flossers, making sure your dental hygiene stays on top even in the enclosed environment. Or maybe, you were so paranoid your hearing was overly sensitized.

You’ll have to replace the head of the toothbrush once you’re done with torturing your clit — doing the latter through the panties as the friction of the toothbrush’s hair scared you — but your only concern at the moment was not getting caught by the gambler. Should you have chosen to touch yourself while he’s at work, you’d have not so much worry; however, you were so pent up from stress today you couldn’t do anything else than keep the toothbrush under the blanket.

A device so expensive, how come was it so loud? It was getting hot too, you were scared it’d explode, as the motor being pressed too hard couldn’t rotate with its furious speed freely. Once it grew scorching in its temperature, you suddenly threw it away on the wooden floor, your heart beating like crazy from the fact you could have gotten seriously burned. Unfortunately, not only was the impact loud, the toothbrush was now able to release volume as it pleased; soon to expose your naughty behavior.

You were right, as a few moments later, the door was opened by no other than Aventurine himself. He picked up the toothbrush and turned it off before you could get up and hide it. “Friend, if I have known you were so desperate, I would have bought you a real vibrator… not force to you use an impromptu version,” he teased, despite the surprise (and his own arousal) at having witnessed the proof of you masturbating.

You, speechless, had your own brain fried by the sudden confrontation. You were well aware how easily Aventurine was capable of turning gained knowledge into his power against you, so your panic wasn’t even about your oppressor knowing you were doing what every other human does.

“Doesn’t it hurt and all?” he teased again.

“Give it back, Aventurine!” you demanded, both embarrassed and petrified.

“Nah, you need to relax, friend. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about… and that toothbrush needs to be replaced, anyway,” he shrugged off and threw the cleaning tool into your desk bin. “So overpriced if so loud for how much money I’ve spent on it… you’ve allowed me to find out.”

“Now,” he approached, not letting you to mourn your toothbrush’s loss for too long, “It seems you need a bit of help, don’t you?”

You crawled back on bed, nervous about his attention. “I… don’t, leave me alone, Aventurine.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so shy.”

Suddenly, you were being pinned down under him, your wrists above your head — he has had enough to learn you’d fight him too much, a stubborn thing you were.

“I can give you something much better, you know,” he said, drawing his voice to be a perfect, smooth tone — one that got you going involuntarily to you. The juxtaposition of what your mind said and body wanted left you frozen in spot.

“I mean, as long as you ask, of course,” he added, his tone innocent, but you knew better. Even if his offer is not something you wanted, asking him would be proving against that; therefore painting you as a person who wanted this so you could never accuse him of anything. He was a sly and intelligent bastard, who knew how to play his cards against you… and your lately desperate body.

“N-no… I don’t want anything from you, so get off of me!” you protested, and fell quiet when he ground his crotch against yours. His bulge was hard already, and it stimulated your still puffed clit perfectly. You whimpered, and he with one hand still holding yours, slipped his other one under your underwear to circle on your clit. “S-stop…” you cried out.

“Come on, it’s so easy to say ‘please’, isn’t it?” he said seductively. His finger, while it pleased your bundle of nerves, it pleasured this way too slowly to be satisfying — on purpose. And you couldn’t last being denied anymore.

“Please,” you choked out quietly; regardless of the volume, enough for a man like him to accuse you as guilty. “See?” his voice darkened, as he sped up the ministrations. “All you need to do is ask.” As if it was ever that easy with him.

MYDEI

Mydeimos was considered one of most good looking people in Amphoreus for a reason. That stupid, meaty, strong body; with a handsome face and beautiful hair. Out of all he could have, ironically, it was the most unwilling person that he wanted — you. And you believed yourself to be most immune to him, fueled by rage and hate towards him for keeping you with him against your will for “protection purposes”.

Or so you have used to. Because recently, his body was the only thing on your mind; the obsession made to be worse when he held you against him, whether it was at day or night as he was bare-chested anyway. Not that you’d let him know — if he didn’t notice already, that is.

You were a victim of your own desires, desires towards him, whether they were out of genuine attraction or forced attachment — as now, you were driving his hairbrush’s handle into yourself. It wasn’t even comfortable to use, the rough edges almost hurt, but you couldn’t find anything better. It’s not as if you could casually ask Mydei to buy a sex toy.

The position of your self-sex was awkward too — you were on your fours, arching your arm behind your pussy to thrust the brush inside; in resemblance of a sex position as a feigned sex. Your arm hurt, the pleasure wasn’t even that good, so you could only grow in your frustration.

“What a ridiculous thing did you come up with?” a rough voice scared you, and you froze from dread. Mydei has caught you not only masturbating, but also doing this with his hairbrush. There was not a single way you could explain yourself.

Staying like this was humiliating and yet, pulling it out the hairbrush in front of him would be humiliating too; so you remained an ice sculpture. It had to be Mydei to take the next step, himself very flustered by the shocking discovery, and take out the handle from your pussy; now wet with your juices. The brush was thrown somewhere on the floor; however, as you tried to get up, his hand kept you pinned in the position.

“M-Mydei?” you asked in anxiety, worried by the prolonged exposure he chose to keep you in. Your stomach dropped when you heard the shuffling sound of his pants being pulled down.

Mydei didn’t acknowledge yours words — instead, he said something worrying, “If I had known how bad is your pull towards me, I would have spared you of this misery a long time ago.” He assumed you must have needed him if it was his item you used on yourself.

You weren’t given much time to comprehend the implication; only could scream as he suddenly filled you up with something much bigger, warmer and better — his cock. Your upper body fell downward, and your knees you stayed on trembled as he started to roughly fuck you from behind — finally relieving both you, and himself who’s been waiting for you for months.

“Mydei!” you gasped as he deepened his thrusts. Everything has happened so fast, too fast, you now could only focus on the quickly arising pleasure.

“Please forgive me for the delay,” he grunted, his hands holding onto your hips with a bruising force. “I should have known I don’t even need to ask you, only act and fuck you.”

“But don’t worry,” he leaned over your body, the heavy weight holding you down, and licked your neck, “We will catch up with what we have missed.” The promise was made, and you wouldn’t have much mercy for the rest of the night.

ANAXA

Something has been wrong with your body for days counted. Hot, irritated, throbbing feeling between your legs followed you every moment. You believed you had a fever, at first, especially with how dizzy you were; but you found out you were feeling much better when giving yourself a sexual relief. Albeit, the comfort was only momentarily, before it’d grow to pesky levels in just few hours, keeping the cycle on the loop.

Today was no different — pumping fingers into your relaxed and incredibly wet pussy, not given any respite from arousal, with occasional intrusion of thoughts about Anaxa to help you reach ecstasy faster. It was only when you were out of this mad state that you’d care about the consequences of letting this man rule your body and mind — when in heat like this, you could only imagine his gentle hands, taunting tone, and him scolding you for being so naughty.

“Anaxagoras, don’t tease me…” you mewled out for yourself and the fantasy you’ve created, barely capable of pronouncing a longer name. “I can’t… it’s too much…!”

“I can see that,” he replied, and you fingered yourself much harder. “Then…” you pleaded, and then you were silent, and then you realized it wasn’t your delirious brain. However, you could only look up at him with a limp motion, not as startled by his presence as you should be — the result of your feverish state.

“You… shouldn’t,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, too dumb.

“I shouldn’t enter your room when you are so busy, you meant to say? But dear, the door was never closed in the first place, so it’s as if you were suggesting I should come inside and witness this debauchery for myself…” he informed, the untroubled voice making you somehow more aroused.

You shook your head, still using your fingers, no matter if with more hesitation — you were too deep into your crisis to even consider stopping. “I didn’t… I forgot… please, I can’t…”

“Such an impotent thing you’ve become. Can’t do anything, not without my help…” he sighed, as if dealing with a lost cause of a scholar only he could smarten up.

Your stomach and pussy fluttered when he approached, and you shamelessly spread your legs for him to find a spot between. “Truly indecorous,” he scolded, and you moaned.

“Is that what can feed this wanton creature?” he inquired, almost coldly, as he shoved out your fingers and re-filled your pussy with his own — two, not thrusting but rubbing a spot with fingertips.

“Ah!” you yelled, as he hit a point unknown to you, one you thought of as unreachable, and something big was approaching— much, much more terrible than a typical orgasm.

“No, stop, something’s wrong!” you cried out, trying to shut your legs; but he slapped your thigh. “Let it go. Only then we’ll think of better ways of treating your ailments,” he ordered.

As your orgasm hit you, it arrived with a splash of liquids, staining you, him, and the bed. The screams didn’t cover the sloshing sound, and you fell into spasms as you were coming down.

“Seems I was right. The aphrodisiac works wonderfully. You’ve given me enough material for a research in how I can punish that disobedient thing you’ve been becoming lately.”

“The downside is you can’t rest easily until I fuck the product out of you, but that could be interpreted as a benefit itself, hm?”

You could have only shudder as he started to unclothe himself.

ARGENTI

Humping your own hand while the other held Argenti’s blanket smelling like roses for sure didn’t make you feel any good about your own conscience. You could never let this man know that you were using an everyday item of his to pleasure yourself, especially after your latest fits of anger at him that would expose your fraudulent perception of him.

You felt patronized, overly coddled and like a child when living with him — how can a man who has forced you to be with him could be so gentle, contradictory to the cruelty behind the capture? And yet, same gentleness oftentimes spoke to you against your will, making you feel loved and appreciated, which translated into physical desire.

“My beautiful rose, I am back!” the handsome voice announced, opening the door to your small house you were currently staying at. Unfortunately, the arrangement of the cottage didn’t really have separate spaces, so he’d see you on the floor from the inside immediately. You both became stunned: you — at his return much earlier than promised, him — at your current predicament.

“Is that… my blanket?” he inquired with a nervous tone.

Your mouth opened and it closed, with you having nothing to defend yourself with. As tears of humiliation build up in your precious eyes, Argenti was quick to step forward with an apologetic smile. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m not mad at you.” He wiped your tears and kissed your cheek. As he did, you noticed how aroused he himself was when his elated breath hit your skin.

“Except, you should allow me to relieve you of your torment I can see in you.” Your eyes bulged in surprise, and before you could oppose his words, Argenti was helping you up, and he settled himself down between your legs. Being on his knees for you and not Idrila herself caused a hesitation within him accusing him of treason; until he excused himself by telling himself he saw you two differently.

“Argenti, what are you—“ “Ssh. As I’ve said, it’s alright,” he reassured, and was lapping at your still wet pussy. Your hand found purchase in his red hair, tugging, as you tried to fight the sudden sensation.

“Wait—“ But your protest were left l only for the air to hear, as he pleasured you diligently.

“I cannot help but be thankful for this opportunity,” he murmured against your thigh his hand gently stroked. Unstripped of his armor suit for the time when he’s been venturing outside, he looked more beautiful than ever. “Furthermore, I see myself as ashamed of being so… immodest in my behavior, craving you like this…” he said, self-deprecating himself, “I hope you can forgive me and see my actions as a worship instead.”

“Just… shut up, Argenti,” you scolded, and humped his face. He moaned, drinking from you eagerly, and his gentle hands fondled soft flesh of your behind.

“Anything you ask for, beloved,” he promised, an oath he’d never break, before his tongue slipped into your hole, ultimately silencing him.

[madamechrissy]

CEO Nanami

pairings- CEO Nanami x F! assistant reader

MDNI- explicit- lots of longing, masturbation hehe (m and f) some fingering, and teasingg- just more Nanami drabbles bc I love him

CEO Nanami constantly thinks about you, his pretty assistant, so bratty and just well... perfect. Driving him insane in your tight little business skirts, making him have to clear his throat and look away, blushing, trying to will his thick cock to go down.

CEO Nanami keeps it professional of course, he respects how hard you work, even if he's constantly just thinking about you on his desk, your legs spread. Even if he keeps picturing his cock pumping in and out of what he's sure is a perfect little pussy, between sexy thighs clad in black stockings destined to drive him to distraction.

CEO Nanami can't help himself from staring when you're showing him a presentation you've put together for him, smiling so pretty and smelling so sweet. He leans back in that big leather office chair, huge hands clenching and unclenching at the thought of bending you over it right now, when you look at him nervously 'Is the presentation alright Mr. Nanami?'

CEO Nanami clears his throat, smiling at you, only enhancing his cheekbones impossibly more. Making your pulse race, the sandy blond haired man sitting with his long legs spread wide does insane things to your mind, you shouldn't think this way about your boss! You will those thoughts to calm down, thinking the most wicked things about that cheetah tie, how good it would feel on your wrists. 'The presentation is wonderful' he murmurs then, so sweet as always.

CEO Nanami sees an eye full of your breasts when you bend over, blouse unbuttoned just a bit, his cock hurting, he knows he'll stroke it to you later, he always does, but it takes so much not to rub his palm over his length then and there. You smile sweetly from his praise, your own mind running as you peer at him, his green glasses firmly on the straight bridge of his nose.

CEO Nanami locks his office with a click when you leave, stroking his thick, veiny length with a muffled groan, already leaking precum from you just too close to him. He hates that he feels this way its simply unprofessional! But how can he not when you're so, so fucking pretty!? He's stroking faster, picturing being deep inside your cunt as he then hears a knock on his door, a rap rap rap.

CEO Nanami answers only after tucking his cock up into his belt, yes its that big its his only option, looking to see you now, hands itching to grab you. 'So sorry Mr. Nanami, I forgot my favorite pen!' You grab it quickly, bending over just enough to almost make him cum, before smiling again so sweetly and rushing out. Nanami rest his head on the door, sighing, just how is he supposed to not fuck his pretty assistant?

CEO Nanami doesn't realize you look at him that way because you want him, because you need him. He doesn't realize being near him alone gets you so wet you're touching your own pussy, hidden by your big desk at work, as you catch a glimpse of him from his office, resting his handsome face on his knuckles, as you circle your clit so wanton. He lowers those glasses, hazel eyes boring into yours, as you casually smile, wishing this man would make a move. But no, Nanami is a gentleman.

CEO Nanami really is not such a gentleman in his head, when there is the company dinner, and he's sipping on a whiskey neat and watching you dance with a coworker, he aches to yank you by your hair, to fuck you so good you have no chance to pay attention to these boys. Boys is what they are, as you giggle and look at him over your glass of champagne, wishing he'd ask you to dance. When Nanami does finally come up, pulling on that cheetah tie, the next words shock you.

CEO Nanami leans down, lips against your ear, murmuring - 'will you ever be a good girl?' which leads to him pressing you against a wall in one of the halls of the grand room moments later, slipping two thick digits in your slutty little cunt, his other hand pressing on your lower tummy over the sleek little dress that's covering nothing, as you cry out against your own palm. 'Couldn't wear any panties, hmm? trying to ruin me?' he demands desperately, only for you to look back, eyes dilated, your lips parted, hearing the squelching wetness of your cunt as you whisper - 'yes'

hehe- I love writing Nanami as a boss MY GOODNESS

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji  @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @cutelittlesugarfairy

[ventismacchiato]

21 stuck with you — stuck with you !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

18+ warning: mini smut scene at the end of the second written portion, scara gives head. only one version, view it as 🍑 or 🐱…yk the drill. feel free to skip it, it takes place after scara paints ur nails.

The peace doesn’t last long.

One second, you’re sitting in the dorm’s living room, trying to process everything, and the next, the door slams open with a force that rattles the walls.

“Did you two fuck?”

“WHY DID YOU TURN YOUR MIC OFF?”

“I have money on this, please tell me—”

You sink deeper into your seat as your overbearing members pile in, voices overlapping. Across from you, Scaramouche exhales sharply, already bracing himself for whatever fresh hell this is about to be.

Then Yae walks in.

He moves instantly, slipping off the couch and crouching behind it like that’ll save him. It doesn’t. Yae doesn’t even hesitate before she strides over, grabs him by the collar, and hauls him up with practiced ease.

"Really?" she scoffs. "Turning your mic off? Are you trying to give me an aneurysm?"

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, tugging at her grip. "Oh no, the horror. They missed a few minutes of me."

"Nonetheless," she says, letting him go with a shove, "We can use this. Now that you two aren’t at each other’s throats, it’s time to sell it.” She claps her hands together, all business. “We’re sending you both to paradise."

You blink. "What?"

"But we have to pretend you won a raffle," she adds.

Scaramouche barely gets a chance to react before a crew member is shoving a bowl into his hands.

“Pretend you won!” Yae orders.

He stares down at it like it personally offends him before reaching in and pulling out a slip of paper. In the flattest voice imaginable, he says, "Wow. I won."

Yae narrows her eyes. "More oomph."

He sighs, then tries again. "Wow, I won!”

"More."

"...Yay?"

She nods approvingly. "Better. You’re both leaving today."

You should probably be more concerned about how easily they’re shipping you off somewhere, but honestly? You don’t mind. More alone time sounds nice. Being alone with him sounds nice. 

Yae turns to the crew, already barking out directions, and in the commotion, you catch movement from the corner of your eye.

Scaramouche sneaks off toward Jean, his voice low but just loud enough for you to hear. "Are we taking a boat?"

"Yeah, don’t worry," Jean replies.

You turn away before he can see your face.

He knows. He knows you hate flying. And even though he’ll never say it out loud, he’s making sure that’s not an issue.

Your fingers tighten against your knee. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu wash over you as you stepped back into the room. It was the same one you’d stayed in last time you were in Paradise. But the knot in your stomach felt different now, less anxiety, more anticipation.

“We should go to the hot tub again,” you muse, gazing out at the balcony. It looks far more inviting now that you and Scara aren’t at each other’s throats. Not in the way you were now at least.

You hear him before you feel him, his voice a low murmur in your ear as he steps up behind you.

“There’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom.”

“Isn’t the one outside nicer?”

“No cameras in the bathroom,” he says simply, tapping your waist before walking off. It takes you a minute to register before you’re tailing behind him.

୨୧✧

Steam clung to your skin as you stepped out of the tub, warmth still lingering in your muscles. The air outside felt cooler in contrast, a shiver running down your spine as you absently wrung water from your hair. Scara was already standing by the counter, running his hands through his hair, towel draped over his shoulder, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead. Nothing had happened in the jacuzzi, you’d both kissed a little, but for the most part you just talked. And somehow that felt a lot more intimate than when his hands had roamed your body last night.

Without a word, he gestured for you to sit in front of him. You hesitated. The silence between you was different now. Not strained, not laced with hostility, just quiet. Steady.

Still, you sat, propping yourself up on the counter in front of him. 

The towel was rough at first, dragging over your scalp as he worked through your soaked strands. But then his touch softened, fingers threading through, combing carefully, like he had all the time in the world. 

Your eyes were at level with his chest, which you were thankful for, because you could feel yourself getting flushed. You swallowed, your heart thudding louder than it had last night. This was more intimate than anything. More than the planned glances and the staged kisses for the cameras, more than the heat of his body pressed against yours in the water.

His hands lingered, fingertips brushing over the nape of your neck, tracing the damp curve of your ear as he tucked a stray piece of hair away. Your fingers fumbled idly with a bottle of nail polish left on the counter, rolling it between your hands as he worked through your hair. 

“You’re bad at this,” you murmured, half to break the tension, half because it was true. His movements were careful, almost hesitant, but nowhere near skilled.

A soft scoff left him. “I’ve never done this for someone before.”

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his expression, something unreadable flickering across his face before he glanced away.

Somehow, that made your stomach twist even more.

“Maybe you’re more of a manicure guy, then,” you murmur, your thumb tracing the ridges of the nail polish cap, an absentminded hum escaping you. 

His hands stilled for a beat before he plucked the bottle from your grip, inspecting the color. “Want me to paint them?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“I used to paint Fischl’s all the time when we MCed together,” he answers idly, like this isn’t something you should’ve already known. 

That made you pause.

You knew a lot of things about Scara. The annoying way he held himself in interviews, answering every question like a PR team’s dream. The sharpness of his words when he was irritated, and the lack of it when he was only pretending to be annoyed. Or how he could sell a love song like he meant every lyric when you knew he didn’t. Hell, you even knew his allergies, like how he couldn’t eat shellfish without breaking out in hives or how certain flowers made his eyes itch (which you used to your advantage, spending money on bouquets back when you were rivals to see him red faced the next day).

But this? This was something so miniscule. Something unpolished. A detail from a life you hadn’t been part of.

You snap out of your daze to see Scara testing out the color on his own nails, giving it a lazy swirl before glancing at you, expectant. “Well?”

You roll your eyes before wordlessly setting your hand on the counter. He takes it, his grip surprisingly gentle as he steadies your fingers. You found yourself watching his face instead of his work. His brows were knit together, his lips pressing into a thing line. It was cute. He was cute. 

“You’re really taking this seriously,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped every time his thumb smoothed over your knuckles.

“Obviously. I’m not gonna do a shitty job.”

It was so casual, so simple, but something about it made your chest feel tight.

You swallowed, watching as he moved on to the next nail, his hands steady, familiar with the motion. It made you wonder how many times he’d done this for Fischl, how many little things like this he’d done for people you’d never even thought to ask about. 

You didn’t know enough about him. Not really. And for the first time, that realization bothered you.

The words slipped out before you could think. “What else did you do while MCing?”

It was an odd question for the moment, but he didn’t tease you about it. It was a different side of Scara you’ve never seen before, one reserved just for you.

Instead, he flicked a glance at you, “What do you wanna know?

“Everything.”

He chuckled, the sound curling around your ribs like a hook dragging you closer.

“Sure,” he says. And he does.

You learn about the time he did an entire show high off weed. Or the time he presented the award to the wrong group. Or how he forgot his mic was on and cussed out another idol backstage. And how he made a joke about a group disbanding, not realizing they actually were. 

By the time he was done painting your nails you felt your heart tighten. 

You looked down at them, admiring his work when he took your hands and placed them beside you before leaning in without warning. Your nails were still wet, so you couldn’t pull him in, but that wasn’t a problem with Scara. 

His fingers pressed into your jaw as he slid in between your legs, guiding you to wrap them around his waist as he pressed you back into the mirror while you were still on the counter. His lips are on yours and you let yourself melt into him. His fingers tease their way underneath your shirt, kneading into your skin. You wanted to touch him, and he knew that, with the way his lips twitched into a smirk as you instinctively whined into him. 

His hands fall to your waist, guiding them up to grind into him. You can’t help but arch and gasp at the touch, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours before sucking lightly at it. 

Perhaps he had ulterior motives for painting your nails, because you could do nothing but sit and take it as his hands and lips explored you. 

18+ warning

The hand on your waist falls away as his lips fall to your jaw. You’d just gotten dressed, but he was already undoing the first few buttons of your top, his lips trailing your collarbone. You can’t help the soft moans slipping through your mouth. With each one escaping your lips he continues to tease and you can feel yourself growing needy, mindlessly grinding up on him. 

His hand slips down towards your pants, swiftly undoing them and lifting you up to slide them down. Your bare skin felt cold on the counter, but hot everywhere else. You were now on display for him.

“Didn’t wear any underwear, hm?” he murmurs into your ear, his fingers tracing your inner thigh. 

“Shut up,” you huff, trying not to think about how good it would feel for his fingers to be inside you once again. You were practically gripping the counter at his mere touch.

“Relax,” he says, how voice low as he falls back. Just as you start to miss his touch he lowers himself to his knees. 

“Scoot up for me,” he says.

“Wait, my nails aren’t dry yet,” you start as Scara tugs you towards him. He hooks your legs over his shoulders until your entrance is facing him.

“Try not to ruin my hard work up there while I’m down here then,” he replies.

His grip on your thighs tighten before his lips are teasing your hole. Your head falls back, a string of gasps leaving your mouth as his lips explore you. He was slow, licking at your entrance and pressing his face into you. And just as you got used to that he was teasing his way in. You buck your hips up on instinct, but he smirks against you as he holds your thighs down. With your hands out of commission you can’t do anything but take it.

You begin to feel flushed and look away from him, embarrassed from how aroused you were getting from a few licks. 

He removes himself from your entrance to dart his hand up to grab your chin, tilting your head down.

“If you look away I’m gonna stop, you don’t want that right?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Good,” he murmurs, going back down. 

He begins to alternate between sucking and quick flicks of his tongue, leaving your mind blank of anything except for him. You wanted to grab onto him so badly. He finds your spot easily, hitting it without remorse as you let out incoherent moans. He loosened his grip on your thighs, letting you grind into him as his tongue thrusted in and out of you.

“Mhm, Scara I’m gonna,” you gasp, your eyes glazed as he relentlessly kept going.

“Come for me,” he murmurs. 

The orgasm hits you and you ride it out. He pulls back and lets you finish on his face, his lips dripping with your cum. The sight only makes you want him more. 

“Scara…,” you start, but you don’t finish your sentence before his lips are already on yours, and then trailing towards your ear.

“Should we go back into the tub?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear and his bulge up against your sex.

The night is a blur after that.

[00:00:00] HOT TUB ROUND TWO SCARA

YAE: I thought we talked about this. I want to see and hear EVERYTHING.

SCARAMOUCHE: Even me taking a shit?

YAE: If it means I get everything else that happens in the bathroom then yes.

SCARAMOUCHE: You have a real problem.

YAE: I WILL GET MY SEX TAPE IF SO GOD HELP ME—

JEAN: Let’s…let’s take five.

[00:12:23] HOT TUB ROUND TWO YN

YAE: So. You and Scara aren’t pretending anymore?

YOU: No…

YAE: And how did we get here? Off camera, I’m so curious.

LISA: We also have money on this.

YOU: I honestly don’t know. I think it’s just always been there inside me.

YAE: It? As in?

YOU: My feelings for him. 

YAE: Very thin line between hate and obsession.

YOU: Hey, I didn’t say I was obsessed…

YAE: Hmm. Sure. 

YAE: Now, what exactly happened in the bathroom? If I show you pictures will you tell me if I’m hot or cold?

YOU: What–

YAE: [Pulls out photos] Does this spark any memories?

YOU: Oh my god is that fanart

JEAN: CUT! CUT!

LISA: Wait send that to me

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

wow title of the au omggggg also i ate that reddit edit UP

i hope the mini smut was gn, i tried to make it seem like u finish on his face…so if it’s masc he kinda leans back yk…yall get what i’m saying??? pleek

also chat is anyone else chronically online do we get the morning routine joke or is this too niche gulps

me asking my stoner friends for pics of their vapes for this au 😊

pls lmk if u enjoyed i need motivation juseyo

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — wow update and u didn’t have to wait a month? who am i? i’m gonna be so busy this month tho guys pray for me 😂

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @webbywill @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[yay855]

* Torture doesn't make someone tell the truth, it makes them tell you what you want to hear so you'll stop torturing them.

* If someone gets knocked out by a blow to the head for more than a few minutes, that means they have a concussion and are at risk of brain damage. Even if they stay conscious, that's still true of just about any head trauma, but being hit hard enough to knock you out is an especially high risk.

* Water is still physical matter with mass; if it hurts to belly flop off of a diving board, then I guarantee you that diving hundreds of feet into deep water is going to break every bone in your body.

* ACAB

* Rafts are not only the slowest form of transportation over the sea, they also have very little room for storing anything like food or potable water, they capsize stupidly easily from rough waves, and most people can't actually navigate on the open sea without tools like GPS or even just a sextant. If you're crash landed on an island that has some form of fresh water and a fruit tree, you can and will stay alive for quite a while on your own, something that you can't exactly guarantee on a raft in the open ocean.

* Profiling someone involves extrapolating from what you know about them. Having a single conversation with someone, or even just passing them in the street, gives you jack shit to work with. Are they rude because they're a bad person, or because they got kicked out of their apartment and haven't had any decent sleep? Do they dress like a slob because they're lazy, or are they just struggling with depression- or is it just laundry day? First impressions are ridiculously unreliable, and it's even more ridiculous how so many people seem to worship them.

* Computers can only do something if they have the software for it, and programming a custom piece of software can take weeks if not months. A hacker isn't going to override the system into doing something it wasn't meant to with just what's already installed on it, they're going to have an external drive with the hacking software installed on it- or, more likely, they're going to exploit vulnerabilities in the network by remotely hacking into the smart fridge in the break room without leaving their own home. And if they're managing a closed network, they're going to need to install their custom software onto the computer with administrative access to do anything that it wasn't meant to do... and they still need the password, which 9 times out of 10 is just written down right nearby. Disconnecting something is even easier, you literally just unplug it.

* That IV is directly hooked into your vein. The only reason you're not bleeding into it is because the pressure of the blood or saline inside the IV bag has more pressure than your blood. Carefully removing the needle will still require you to bandage it after if you don't want to bleed all over, and forcefully ripping it out is going to give you blood loss from your vein being torn open with less care than a bag of chips.

* Cowboys are men who willingly left civilization to live with nothing but a few other men and a bunch of animals, I guarantee you that at least most of them were some flavor of queer.

Things that work in fiction but not real life

torture getting reliable information out of people

knocking someone out to harmlessly incapacitate them for like an hour

jumping into water from staggering heights and surviving the fall completely intact

calling the police to deescalate a situation

rafting your way off a desert island

correctly profiling total strangers based on vibes

effectively operating every computer by typing and nothing else

ripping an IV out of your arm without consequences

heterosexual cowboy

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 1 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 1: I Love You

Synopsis: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things. Though you and Jack parted ways romantically, the bond you shared remained, shaped by a past neither of you could forget. With Robby, it was different. Loving him was easy and he loved you deeply in return. But when Robby walked away, haunted by his own unresolved pain, your world shattered. Still, you continued to show up - for your patients, your colleagues and somehow for yourself. Until a patient presents with injuries that mirror your own past trauma and the unspoken tension between you, Jack and Robby resurfaces, threatening to unravel everything you’ve tried to move past.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies and heartbreak >>> Girlies this will be super sad,,,with some comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1079

A/n: The Pitt and our saddest boys have literally pulled me out of tumblr retirement!! If love triangles aren't your thing, I apologize in advance... Couldn't decide between the two, now they're both the reader's exes... Bon appétit.

Next Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me

Your breaths are ragged, uneven. You try to steady yourself on the gurney, but everything feels unreal. Desperate, you search for something to anchor you in reality. You glance down at your hands. They look strange, pressing into the patient’s chest in a rhythm you know all too well.

A familiar voice cuts through the haze, but you don’t react.

The voice comes again, "Y/N?"

“Fuck, Robby! I’ve got it okay?!” You snap, your hands moving on autopilot.

Shit. You really didn’t mean that.

A few faint gasps from the staff break the silence. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of a nightmare. Robby used to do that, be your lifeline when the terrors threatened to pull you under.

You huff a shaky breath, searching his eyes for something, though you're not sure what. But you find it. He doesn’t say anything, yet somehow, comfort floods you. And guilt, so much guilt.

Robby steps closer, arms crossed, pressing his lips together before he tries again. Softer, like a whisper in the night, "Are we ready to call it?"

The question snaps you back to the present. "No. No!" You share a quick glance with Jack, who is working the patient with you.

"Okay. Hold compressions", Robby says gently, but firm.

You comply, everyone's eyes fixed on the monitor, dread setting in.

"Still in asystole", you hear Donnie behind you.

Jack motions for you to switch out. You step back and he resumes.

"Let’s push one more round of epi", you beg, eyes bouncing between Jack and Robby.

Robby nods. Mateo pushes another amp, as you take over compressions for another round.

Robby checks his watch. "That’s it. Stop compressions", a familiar sadness in his voice.

You comply eventually, but cannot bring yourself to look up.

The air is thick, suffocating.

Jack calls it, knowing you can't. "Time of death, 12:36".

A breath escapes you that you didn’t realize you were holding. You look at the woman lying before you and see yourself.

Still. Sleeping. Almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the tube down her throat. Gently, you touch her hand. "I’m so sorry", you whisper.

"Why don’t we take a minute and then debrief with Kiara?", Robby suggests. The nurses and techs leave the room quietly.

You stay, frozen. Jack and Robby don’t move either.

"I can do the notification, Y/N...", Robby offers softly.

"I'll do it", you counter too harshly.

Robby and Jack exchange a look. You pretend you don’t see it.

Jack opens the door to the family room, holding it as you step inside cautiously, Robby following behind. You all sit, facing the husband of your deceased patient.

The weight of what you’re about to say hangs heavy in the air. You wait, just one more minute, as if delaying it could change the outcome.

You study the husband's eyes: fear, hope, maybe both. Every movement feels deliberate. You're about to shatter this man's world. And he will hate you for it.

You begin to speak, your words soft and measured.

Dana watches you through the glass doors. The husband's sobs echo through the hallway, the sound raw and aching.

"Do you think she was-" The husband can't finish the thought.

"Scared?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, then nods.

"No", you answer gently.

You feel Jack and Robby’s eyes on you, their sadness palpable. You don’t look at them, but the image of Robby is burned into your mind. The lines on his forehead deepening, his eye twitching at the painful memory, his jaw tight as if holding back words he can’t say.

Jack is harder to ignore. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar, like a silent plea for forgiveness. You remember how his lips press together, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, like he’s exhaling a grief too big to contain. You've seen him break and mend over the years, unaware of the love he still carries for you.

You lean in, your voice soft: "I believe she thought about her loved ones. How much you made her laugh with your silly jokes. How she loved you and how deeply you loved her in return."

The husband lets out a strangled sob. He tries hard to keep it in, but it escapes anyway. "I don't know..."

You pause.

"I do."

He meets your gaze and it hits him.

Somehow, him realising that you're speaking from experience triggers something buried deep inside you.

Your pulse quickens, your vision blurs. You excuse yourself with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Our social worker, Kiara, will talk to you about the next steps. Again, I’m so very sorry."

Jack and Robby watch you leave, grief and guilt washing over them all over again.

You just need to be somewhere else, away from their eyes, away from the memories.

Your confession still hangs heavy in the air. Robby and Jack don’t speak, there’s nothing to say, only the fear creeping in that something isn’t right.

They exchange a brief look before moving in sync towards the stairwell, urgency in their steps, knowing the one place you go when the world feels too heavy, when you need to breathe.

But when they open the door to the roof, the air is empty. No familiar figure standing behind the railing, staring out at the city. Just the harsh wind and the distant noise of the world below.

Robby's eyes dart across the rooftop, taking in the emptiness. His chest tightens, panic rising, “She’s not here.”

Jack's thoughts spiral back to the moment they saw you leave the room. The confession. The look in your eyes. The sudden shift in your energy, the weight of something you hadn’t shared before.

Robby rushes towards the railing, peeking over the edge. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility, but the image of you disappearing over the ledge flashes in his mind and for a moment, it paralyzes him.

"Robby, stop", Jack's voice is sharp, his eyes scan the space around them, desperately looking for anything that makes sense. But he can't bring himself to look over the edge. He won’t. Not yet.

Jack's been through this with you before, he's seen you at your lowest. And vice versa. But tonight, something's different.

“Where would she go?” Robby asks, voice barely a whisper, now full of dread.

"She wouldn’t just leave. Not like this." Jack's voice trembles, trying to convince himself more than Robby.

Thanks for reading hehe. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's pretty heavy, but sets the tone for the rest of the series. Pls come back for Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist. ♡

[covenofagatha]

The psychology of love (Part 5)

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

The walk to Personality Psych seems longer today, the building across the lawn somehow an infinite amount of distance away. With each step you take, the pit in your stomach that’s been growing since last night only worsens. 

Agatha never texted you back. 

The moment you had sent the message last night, fingers still wet from fucking yourself, you’d left your phone in your room and went to get a quick dinner from the dining hall to take your mind off it. But your thoughts were spiraling at a hundred miles a minute and you’d grabbed only an apple before heading back to your dorm. Heart racing, you had turned your phone over, and clicked on the screen, still smeared with you, to find no response. 

Okay, you told yourself, she’s probably just at dinner. She’ll text back when she can. 

So you had gone to take a shower later and when you came back, you were hopeful yet again. By that time, you had started to panic a little—maybe you had overstepped, maybe she didn’t realize it was you, maybe you texted the wrong number. 

The wrong number. Surely, that was it. You pulled up the email on your laptop and then clicked on the text chain and to your dismay, saw the little Read 5:56 PM underneath it. Five minutes after you had sent it. 

Your heart beat painfully in your chest and the feeling of nausea climbed up your throat, a visceral, physiological reaction to her rejection. It feels even worse now because you were so high on endorphins from your orgasm—because of her— and it had felt like a good idea when you sent it. Now that the clarity wore off and you were looking at the harsh light of your empty home screen with shame, you felt like you’d fucked everything up. 

It had taken a long time to talk yourself off a ledge. Maybe she read it and is going to respond later, maybe she forgot to respond, maybe she hates—

No. 

She did not hate you. 

You made yourself go to bed and ignored the feeling that everything was wrong. 

The same feeling that is still gripping your ribs as you walk to class right now. What if she doesn’t even look at you? What if she asks you to wait after class and then reprimands you for how inappropriate that was? You’re not sure which would be worse. 

Just as you’re walking up the steps, you hear someone calling your name. You turn on your heel to see a flash of dark hair and your stomach twists but then you squint your eyes against the glare of the sun and you realize that it’s Morgan. Who you haven’t texted back in days. 

“Hey,” she says, prompting for some sort of explanation. Her blue eyes seem grayer in the morning light but they’re stern as they pierce into you. 

You smile sheepishly and shift awkwardly, one foot stepping onto the stair beneath the one you’re on now. “Hey, Morgan. Um, I’m really sorry I haven’t responded, I’ve been—” you cough weakly twice, “—a little under the weather. Just been trying to sleep it off.” 

She frowns, a line creasing on her forehead. “Are you feeling better?” Her tone is dry; your lie is clearly unconvincing. 

The right thing to do would be to cut her off now, tell her you’re not interested. She deserves to know rather than to be led on and you’re just being cruel. 

Morgan comes closer and her perfume drifts into your nostrils, the same perfume you spritzed on yourself last night to make yourself come right before you were a fucking idiot who actually though your professor might like you. 

You shift again and meet her eyes uneasily. Confrontation has always been something that you’ve shied away from and now is no exception. 

“Yeah, a lot better, thanks,” you say and then apologetically point over shoulder at the building, “I have class, I really need to—”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she interrupts and you freeze. 

Does she seriously still want to go out with you after you’ve ghosted her for almost a week? Now you feel bad. 

Her stare never leaves your face even as your eyes dart around everywhere but her while you think of an excuse. And then you remember. “I’m going to a presentation for a class tomorrow night,” you tell her, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. “It’ll be super boring but my professor said we should go. Some guy is coming to debunk popular psychology experiments.” 

Morgan nods. “Yeah, okay, cool.” She’s still looking at you expectantly though and you hold up your hand to block the sun from your vision and sigh inwardly. 

“What about Wednesday?” you offer because you apparently love to dig yourself into holes that you can’t get out of. 

If Agatha had texted you back, would you even be entertaining Morgan? The thought makes you feel guilty, but it might be true. 

“Yeah, I think I’m free. There’s this cool bar that opened downtown. It’s seventies-themed. Maybe we could check it out?” 

You nod and tilt your body so you’re facing up toward the building, determined to make a breakaway. “Perfect. I’ll text you tonight to sort out the details but I do really have to go.” You’ll set a reminder in your phone to actually follow through. 

“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday then,” she says, sounding happy. 

Plastering an overexaggerated smile on, you joke, “Not if I see you first!” and Morgan gives you a bemused look before turning and walking away. You let out a slow exhale and take the stairs two at a time before speed-walking to your classroom. 

There’s a few other students in their seats and they immediately stop talking when you open the door, but when they see that you’re not the professor, their chattering resumes. You pick up on tidbits and it grates you to realize that they’re talking about this class. 

“I don’t understand why she won’t post the slideshows—”

“—No one’s going to skip class even if she does because she barely puts anything on them anyway—”

“I know! And would it kill her to just be a little nicer? Like it’s not even—” 

“—That’s what I’m saying! Like, kicking that girl out of class on the first day?” 

“That was way too much. And now she wants us to go to that stupid presentation thing tomorrow night? As if I would willingly spend free time on this class for nothing.” 

“The least she could do is give us extra credit! She doesn’t have to be such a bitch—” 

A loud thud makes them jump and you realize that you smacked your balled-up fist against your desk. You blink, the anger that was clouding your vision fading away, and you mutter an apology. They look at you like you’re crazy and one girl opens her mouth when the door opens. 

Instead of Agatha walking in, it’s Rio. Your brows furrow as the TA walks to the front of the classroom without looking at anyone and sets her bag down on the desk. 

She pulls the keyboard closer to her and logs in, each click of the keys feeling like a kick to your gut. 

Where’s Agatha? 

Rio finally looks up to address the class. “Professor Harkness won’t be in class today so I’ll be covering.” 

Your hand shoots up before you even know what you’re doing. “Where is she?” 

A boy behind you mutters, “Dude, why are you asking?” but you ignore him and keep your eyes trained on Rio. 

Her cheek bulges from her tongue pressing against the inside of her mouth and she chuckles in amusement. “If you must know, she’s at a conference in New York today. Any more personal questions about your professor?” 

“No,” you mumble, hand dropping and you pull out your notebook to avoid any more embarrassment. 

Rio’s lips twitch as she pulls up the slideshow and clicks present. You start scribbling down everything written and she jumps right into the lesson. “There’s three different approaches to examine traits. We have the many-trait approach, where we measure hundreds or more of traits and determine how they correlate. Can anyone think of any problems with this?” 

Agatha would’ve looked right at you and expected an answer and you can feel yourself getting ready to say something, but Rio calls on a girl sitting in the back row. 

“Um…” she stammers and you fight to stop from rolling your eyes. Rio just waits. Agatha would’ve moved on by now. “...that’s too many traits?” 

“Yes,” Rio states. You can almost hear Agatha humming “Very good” for what would’ve been a much more eloquent response from you. “Allport and Odbert examined seventeen thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-three traits from the English dictionary in 1936. The many-trait approach is far too time-consuming and impractical.” 

She clicks to the next slide. 

“The essential trait approach is much more common. We study only a handful of traits that personality theorists believe ‘capture the essence’ of personality. These are tests like the Thematic Apperception Test and the Big Five test.” 

Your cheeks heat up at the mention of the Thematic Apperception Test and you’re reminded of being in Agatha’s office that day when she showed you some projection tests. 

It looks like a cunt. 

Even the memory of Agatha saying that word makes tingles run up your spine. And now you can’t stop thinking of looking at Agatha’s pussy and trying to draw it out through inkblots. 

There’s an uncomfortable heat settling between your thighs so you shift and try to block out your thoughts to focus on Rio, who’s still droning on. You much prefer Agatha teaching. 

“And then we have the single trait approach. We take one trait or construct and determine how it correlates or predicts some type of behavior. Perhaps the most famous single trait approach study was Stanley Milgram’s obedience study to look at the authoritative personality. I’m sure most of you have learned about it in a general psych class.” 

Rio pauses to look around the room and you see a raised hand in your periphery. She nods at them. This is usually when Agatha skips past your classmates and stares right at you while teaching about something that she gives a double meaning to, applicable to only you. 

It’s the same girl who Agatha called out for trying to seem smart. “That’s the one where they had the authority figure order the participant or the ‘teacher’ to shock the ‘learner’ for the wrong answer, right? Almost all of them went to the highest shock level just because a man in a white lab coat told them to. But the shocks weren’t actually real and the learner was in on it.” 

Rio smiles. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Sixty-five percent of participants went all the way up to shock the ‘learner’ with what they thought was four hundred and fifty volts of electricity. Not one person refused from the beginning. It’s easy to judge and say that we would stand up for something or that we wouldn’t do something that goes against our morals, but this experiment shows that we might succumb to even just the illusion of authority.” 

She meets your eyes smugly. “How many of you would do something just because your professor told you to?” 

“Depends which professor,” one guy says and there’s a titter from several classmates. 

But Rio’s stare still bores into you and you feel your skin heating up. 

“I think that’s a bit different,” says one girl and she thankfully pulls Rio’s attention away. You feel like you can breathe again. “Teachers tell us to do homework and we do it because it’ll ruin our grade if we don’t. And they’re not ordering us to harm other people.” 

The TA shrugs. “That’s a good point. But what about when we take credit off the table? How many of you are going to the presentation tomorrow night just because Professor Harkness said you should, knowing there’s no real incentive?” 

It seems like it’s an entirely different scenario but it’s pointed nonetheless. No one raises their hand and you stare a hole into your notebook. You can feel Rio smirking at you. 

“Interesting,” she muses. “Guess you guys are less susceptible to authority. At least, most of you.” 

Fury courses through your veins. You’re not going because Agatha said to, you’re going because you want her attention. Not that you can tell Rio that, and knowing it doesn’t even make you feel much better. 

Especially because she’s essentially ignoring you. 

She lectures on for just a few more minutes, some notes about the obedience study and how it relates back to the trait approach as a whole, before dismissing the class. 

Instead of packing up slowly, you throw your notebook into your bag and scurry out, uncharacteristically the first out the door. Rio doesn’t really like you and you’re not sure you’re too fond of her either. She definitely doesn’t like the fact that you’re somewhat close with Agatha. 

Are you? Or are you just a suck-up who reads into things? 

You’re not sure you want to find out. 

There’s almost two hours before your next class so you trudge back to your dorm room. Before you forget, you take out your phone and text Morgan, asking if she would want to share an Uber with you tomorrow night to the bar. 

That way you can get drunk, even though it’ll be a Wednesday night. It’s only the second week of school and you already desperately need something to get you through. There’s an antsiness that’s settled into your bones and you’re not sure how to get rid of it. 

The perfume that sits in your dresser—after you shoved it in there after yesterday—seems to be calling your name. You could take it out, smell it. Imagine Agatha here again. Your clit pulses at the very thought but you shove it out of your mind. That is something an insane person would do and you are not insane. 

But your heart beats faster and you can’t help but wonder if you should text her again. Maybe just check in, ask how the conference is going. Tell her you’re excited about the presentation or ask a question about it. Your lip is almost raw from how hard you’re chewing on it so you switch to biting your nail instead while you pace around in your small room. 

And then your phone buzzes. 

Assuming it’s Morgan, you don’t hesitate to flip it over from its position on your bed and you stop breathing. 

It’s a text from Agatha. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

You flip your phone back over and try to quell the butterflies in your stomach. Your first thought is that she knew you were thinking about her and then you remember your general psych professor talking about the concept of synchronicity. 

The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

It’s not like you’re never not thinking of her. So it would make sense that if she did text you, it would be during those thoughts. You’re proud of yourself for not falling victim to confirmation bias. 

But now you have to read it. 

Or, you could just not respond for about a day to give her a taste of what you’ve been going through. Except you’re not sure she’d feel the same distress you did and you don’t want to wait that long to talk to her so you pick up your phone and take a deep breath. There is no reason you should be this nervous over a text message. 

Of course, hon. Happy to help. Just wanted to let you know that the presentation tomorrow is in room 126 of the psychology building. See you then! 

You really must be the only person going or she probably would’ve sent out a course email. 

Your decision to go has never felt better and then you gasp when you see a bubble with three dots appear. She’s still typing. You turn your phone off and resume your pacing to mentally prepare. 

The phone vibrates in your hand and you raise it to your eyes. 

Hope class went well with Rio ;)

The winky face settles right in your cunt and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the pool between them come back. 

What do you say? How long should you wait to reply so it doesn't seem like you’re too eager? Why are you overthinking this so much? 

Hands trembling, you type out, Can’t wait! Class went well, we learned about the Milgram obedience study. Very interesting. 

And then you wait. You’re almost afraid to keep looking at your phone but then you get the read receipt and a few moments later, the bubble appears again. 

You think you’re going to throw up. 

It goes away and you frown before it pops back up. It stays there for a while and you debate if she’s going to send you a long text or if she’s having trouble figuring out what to say. 

Finally, her response comes. Yes, very interesting. It can be hard to stand up to people, especially authority figures. But there’s nothing wrong with being obedient sometimes. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Is she flirting? She must be flirting. What the fuck do you even say to that? Is I can be good for you too forward?

It takes a good five minutes of you staring at your screen to figure out a safe response. I agree. 

You send it before you can think twice about it and when you take a step to sit on your bed, you realize you can feel how swollen and wet your cunt has become. Fuck. Agatha’s effect on you is starting to become slightly unhealthy. 

But you want to lean into it. 

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the perfume before uncapping it and spritzing it all over your bed. And then you climb up and inhale deeply, the coffee and vanilla scent transporting Agatha to your room, to right in front of you. 

In your head, she watches approvingly as you tweak your nipple with three fingers and then slide your hand down your body. She smirks as you delve into your underwear with her name on your lips when you finally touch yourself. 

——

“Wait, so you’re not getting extra credit or anything and you’re still going?” Wanda asks incredulously from her bed while you scavenge through your closet to find an appropriate outfit to wear. The presentation starts in thirty minutes and you started looking for something to put on way too late. 

In your defense, you did have class and you’re putting way too much thought into this because you’re going to see Agatha. 

“It’s interesting and my professor said it would be good to go to,” you defend, holding up a gray sweater for your roommate to judge. 

She shakes her head and you roll your eyes before moving to the next option. 

“What’s wrong with what you have on?” 

You look down at yourself, at your leggings and high school t-shirt, and scoff. “I’m guessing it’s probably a business casual sort of thing at least.” 

Wanda jumps off her bed and moves you out of the way so she can look through your clothes, humming occasionally to herself. She pulls out a plaid blue and black skirt with hints of red and hands it to you and then finds a long-sleeve black turtleneck. 

“You’ll look smart,” she says and you snort before taking off your clothes and putting the outfit she picked out on. You look at yourself in the mirror and Wanda whistles lowly. “If we were both single…” she jokes and you shoot her a glare. 

“Morgan and I aren’t dating. We’ve been on one date.” 

“Well, you did sleep together on the first night of meeting. Not sure what that classifies as.” 

A mistake is on the tip of your tongue but you swallow it and shrug. You slide your white Vans onto your feet and grab your phone and your wallet with your student ID, just in case. Agatha said she’d put you on the list, but you want to make sure you can actually get in. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you say to Wanda, pausing at the door. She nods and blows you a kiss and you begin your walk over to the psychology building. 

Your heartbeat quickens with each step. You haven’t seen Agatha since Sunday, when she gave you a ride back to your dorm. You can still feel her breath on your face when she leaned in to open the door for you. The almost-kiss. Not that she would have, but it’s what you’ve dubbed it in your mind. 

When you tell the lady at the table outside room 126 your name, she scans the paper in front of her and puts a check by it. “You’re all set,” she says with a smile and motions toward the open door. 

Putting on a brave face, you walk into the room. It’s big and lecture hall style and about half the seats are already taken. The door is at the bottom so you’re able to look up and see everyone’s faces. You can’t find Agatha though. 

A quick glance at your watch shows you that there’s still about ten minutes before it starts, so maybe she’s just running late. You find a row in the middle with a few open seats and put your wallet onto the desk next to you, saving it just in case Agatha comes and wants to sit there. You silently pray that the room fills up before she gets here so she has no choice. 

You keep looking around, craning your neck behind you, but there’s still no sign of her. However, other people have notebooks and pens and you’re now worried that you should’ve brought stuff to take notes with. 

It’s clear that you’re not exactly here for the presentation. 

Time ticks away and you’re anxiously bouncing your foot, still looking wildly for any sign of her. Maybe you could make a quick exit if she doesn’t show up. 

“Excuse me, is someone sitting there?” 

You whirl around, exclaiming, “It’s all yours!” 

Much to your chagrin, it’s not Agatha, but an elderly man in a tweed coat pointing at the chair two away from your own. He looks pleasantly surprised at your excitement and starts to move forward so you politely move your legs to the side so he can get by you. He gives you a sweet smile that you return and then you palm your face. Heat is radiating off it. 

Two minutes to go. Should you text her? Tell her that you have a seat for her? Or you could just get up and leave. 

You think that might be the best option. 

But right as you’re gathering your phone and wallet, a woman steps to the front of the room and taps the microphone at the lectern twice. There’s a simultaneous grimace from everyone at the static and you slouch back into your chair because you’ve been trapped here all alone. 

And then she leans in. “Thank you all for coming. Without further ado, Dr. Charles Paulson.” 

There’s a round of applause and a man who was sitting in the front row jumps up and jogs to the lectern. He’s about average height, slicked-back brown hair, and a slight stubble on his cheeks. A satchel hangs around his shoulders and he unclips it to pull out a stack of papers. You’re still holding out hope that Agatha will show up. 

He begins to talk and you actually find yourself really enraptured by what he’s saying. You really do have a passion for psychology and hearing the flaws in the experiments you’ve been taught over and over again by practically every professor you’ve had makes you gain a newfound appreciation for the subject. 

Dr. Paulson starts with the delay of gratification study first. He goes through it detailing exactly what the psychologists thought would happen and operationally defines all the variables. Your face heats up as you recall Agatha’s intense eye contact with you when she was talking about it. 

Is it better to get instant relief for something small, or to wait and let the anticipation build up for a better reward? 

The instant relief could be Morgan. Or it could be making a move on Agatha only to get rejected or blow up any kind of relationship. Is she telling you to wait? Let the tension build up so it’s a sweeter reward? 

“There’s two main assumptions that Mischel and Ebbesen made in this study, two critical assumptions that bring into question the validity of it. One is that the child wants the candy bar. If they don’t, then they will have no problem waiting. The second is that the child experiences tension while having to wait for the researcher to come back. What this study may really be measuring…is obedience.” 

There’s nothing wrong with being obedient sometimes. 

You almost laugh. It would only make sense that this is her favorite study. 

He moves onto the Rosenthal and Jacobson study on expectancy effects and you kind of zone out. He says something about them not clarifying what the teachers did to cause the students to get higher grades and the experiment didn’t replicate. 

By the time he gets to the Stanford Prison Experiment, you’ve completely stopped paying attention. Your fingers drum on the desk and you regret not bringing pen and paper because then you’d at least have something to do. You keep checking your watch, watching as an hour passes by and then another twenty minutes, when he finally stops talking. 

You’re about to leap out of your chair when the lady from earlier steps up to the microphone again. “Before we finish, does anyone have any questions for Dr. Paulson?” 

Unfortunately, about twenty people in the rows in front of you raise their hand and you inwardly groan. You definitely should not have come. This has been a colossal waste of your time. 

Charles takes the questions one-by-one and you’re shocked by how many of them are just blatantly bad. You swear three quarters the answers are things he said while speaking, and if you know that from only half-listening, they definitely should. 

Another thirty minutes pass and you’re seriously considering making a break for it. Surely you wouldn’t get in trouble for excusing yourself early. Agatha must’ve forgotten to mention that this presentation would be two hours. 

Two hours you could’ve spent with her, you think bitterly. Did she get caught up in New York for her conference? She said that she would see you here. Maybe there was an emergency. 

“Okay, we have time for one more question. How about you in the back?” He points to someone and you sit straighter because you’re almost done. You’re ready to run. 

“I was wondering about the delay of gratification study and how you would modify it to make it more valid.” It’s not the question that makes you freeze, it’s the voice. 

You whip your head around and your heart skips a beat. Agatha is standing against the wall. Your breathing grows shallower and you completely miss Charles answering the question. She’s wearing a navy pussybow blouse tucked neatly into black pants. Through her collar, you can see a hint of the pale skin on her chest and it makes your mouth run dry. Her ponytail is high with a few strands of hair framing her face. Her lips are painted a light pink, she has small golden hoops in her ears, and when she looks straight at you, her blue eyes are bright and dark at the same time. 

A rush of relief runs through you. Even just the mere sight of her makes this entire night worth it. 

And then she winks at you and your core clenches. You vaguely make out Charles thanking everyone and then there’s a round of applause but it’s like you’re in a trance as you stand up and walk over to her, a magnetic force pulling you closer. 

“Hi,” you breathe, standing about two feet away from her even though everyone is streaming out the door. People keep knocking into you so Agatha takes hold of your arm and leads you out and pulls you into a little alcove in the hall. Her perfume invades your nostrils and you hate how you immediately feel yourself getting wet. “I wasn’t sure you were there.” 

She smirks because you just admitted that you were looking for her and you couldn’t care less. “I got caught up in my office hours so I was a little late. I got here right about when he started talking about the expectancy effect experiments. What did you think of it?” 

“Oh, I really liked it,” you say, deciding to leave out the part about you not paying attention past the first study. “It was really interesting and it brought up a lot of good points about how we should scrutinize everything, even experiments that are famous. Some of them aren’t very reliable and valid and yet we still base a lot of assumptions off them.” 

Agatha nods. “Very good observations. I must say, I’m a little surprised that none of your classmates deigned to join you. But not at all surprised that you were the one I could count on.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you take a sudden interest in your shoes. “I had nothing better to do. Although, you did miss him talking about the delay of gratification study. I know that one was your favorite.” 

“Oh, did I?” she asks and you nod, finally looking back up at her. There’s a glint in her eyes. “Why don’t we go grab something to eat—maybe even a drink?—and you can fill me in? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good,” you rasp. 

She smiles and gently puts her hand on your back to get you walking and you follow her out of the building to her car, your heart pounding in time with each step you take. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika

[fanged-fanfics]

Maybe for a part 2 of the doughbaby!reader, Shadow milk sneaks into their room at night to hangout with them, only to leave before pure vanilla walks in.

☆ Shadows On The Walls — Shadow Milk Cookie & Child!Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Platonic, Mild Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || Manipulative Shadow Milk warning

A/N: Okay technically this is actually part 3- (previous and start fics for context)

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It was the night after your slightly discouraging art display, and you'd fallen asleep at your mini desk. The air was cool, with a slight wind blowing outside. You felt something shift, as if a weight had entered the air. Your eyes slowly blinked open, and you rubbed them with a yawn while hearing papers rustle. When your vision came in, a large shadow was standing beside your desk. Two shades of blue eyes looked down at you, and you gasped happily while sitting up "Shadow Cookie!"

"Thaaat's right!" The shadow replies, leaning forwards so he could come into view. Shadow Milk had been visiting for months now, and he noted as he saw the scattered pictures across your desk that it seemed his efforts were sucessful. He grinned widely, looking over your art in his hands "Did you make this, little puppet? I see a certain rougish devil made his appearance!". You giggled, reaching up as best you could to point to it "Yeah, yeah! But papa didn't seem to like it too much...". Your frown returned, and Shadow Milk gave a huge gasp "He didn't?! Well, the nerve! He must be blinder than I thought!". Your smile returned as you looked up at your 'imaginary' friend "Papa's just worried sometimes. But s'good that you like it!"

"Like it?! Why, little puppet, I love it! I'd hang this up in my spire" Shadow Milk declared, holding the drawing close to his chest. You got down from your chair, running over to him and grabbing his legs for a tight hug. Shadow Milk chuckled, placing a hand atop your head. "That papa of yours isn't very kind, is he?" Shadow Milk commented "How strange for a Cookie of truth to lie to his own kin!". "Lie?" You asked, pulling back with a confused expression "What do you mean?". "Oh, don't worry your poor little dough over it" Shadow Milk cooed, lifting you under your arms. He floated off of the ground, carrying you up before holding you tight to his chest.

"But- papa isn't supposed to lie" you frowned. "I know, but papa's don't always do as they're supposed to" Shadow Milk responded, a fake look of sympathy on his face. He pulled you in, nuzzling his cheek to yours "I'd never lie to you, you poor thing. We're good friends, right?". As he asked that last part, his grip on you tightened a little. You gave a nod "Yeah! Bestest friends!". Shadow Milk grinned widely, sharp teeth showing as he held you up above his head while he spun mid-air "That's right! Best as can be! And best friends always tell the truth"

You giggled at the motion, pulling yourself into his arms for a tight hug. It was refreshing to have a friend you could play with at all times, a silly jester who loves making you smile. You pulled back, chuckling with him before a knock came from your door. "Little sunflower? Are you awake" Pure Vanilla's voice called. Shadow Milk quickly placed you back down "That's my cue to exit the stage". You gave a little whine, tugging on the jester's sleeve "Do you have to?". "You know the rules" Shadow Milk replied. He watched as your head titled down, a sad pout on your face. He couldn't help but grin.

"Well, I was going to wait for a special occasion, but I suppose I can give you this now" Shadow Milk said, pulling something out. He handed you a small doll fashioned to look just like him, with big button eyes and a stitched smile. You squealed, holding it close to your chest "Thank you, Shadow Cookie! You're the best!"

"Sunflower? Who are you talking to?" Pure Vanilla called. Shadow Milk scowled, replacing it with a faux look of kindness as he leaned down to speak with you "I'll be back soon, don't worry" he said, before vanishing into the shadows. You felt your smile fall as you nuzzled into the doll he'd given you. You loved your papa, but it was disappointing how your friend always had to leave when he came by. And he said such odd things... what lies could he be talking about?

The door opened, Pure Vanilla hurriedly walking in. He waved his staff about a bit, hair a mess and breathing heavily. You walked up behind him, tugging on his robes. "Papa?" You asked, and the healer turned to you. He sighed with relief, kneeling down and wrapping an arm around you "What are you doing up so late? I thought someone had found you...". "I was jus' drawing, an' I fell asleep" you explained. Pure Vanilla pulled back, kissing your forehead "Of course, how silly of me. My little artist must have been hard at work". He lifted you up, balancing you in his arms "Come now, it's time for bed"

You let out a yawn, nuzzling into his chest. Soon enough, you were tucked into bed, Pure Vanilla making sure you were snugly covered in blankets. He'd noticed a flicker of something blue being closely squeezed in your arms. He tried to reach a hand out, but you'd turned away from him before he could see. "G'night, papa" you said. Pure Vanilla pulled back, that worried expression back on his face. "...Good night, my bluebird" he said, a little quietly.

He closed the door to your room upon exiting, that troubled expression now fully showing on his face. He could feel that presence. He kept having to look over his shoulders around the shadowy corners of his castle, fear gripping him tightly. Every inch of the hollow nooks felt like they were watching him. Waiting. Laughing.

"Elder Faerie will be here tomorrow... please, please, by all that is good, don't let my fears come true" Pure Vanilla thought to himself "You can have my kingdom, my title, my souljam.. just please.. don't take my little bluebird away from me". He began walking to his room, worriedly holding the handle of his staff. Daunting eyes watched him as he walked. "Oh, Silly Vanilly..." a voice whispered eerily in the darkness "Fighting so hard to protect his little family... pathetic". Shadow Milk morphed into the darkness, beginning his usual escape route back to the outside. Black Sapphire and Candy Apple stood in the royal garden, waiting for him.

"Count this night a success, my delightful little grubs" Shadow Milk said as he materialized. Candy Apple squealed "I knew it, I knew it! You're so strong, my lord!". Black Sapphire gave a little bow "All is in motion, just as requested". Shadow Milk grinned widely, a high giggle leaving him "Perfect, perfect! I can't wait to see their faces when it happens!". "Until then," Black Sapphire began, hopping up on his staff to float off of the ground "We have time left to plan". "Pssh, as if I need a plan" Shadow Milk said, beginning to walk away from the castle "Have faith, my minions. This isn't even the half of what's to come"

[rafesweetie]

currently my favorite writer U ARE SO TALENTED 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ goshhh js thinking about rafe locking reader inside the room cause she’s having a tantrum ! :( (lwk that one scene with him and sarah)

aww i adore u!

⋆˙⟡ in which rafe locks you in a room during a tantrum.

rafe wasn’t a difficult man to piss off, per say, but usually he’d just yell at you and maybe punch a wall. arguments would always end in sex from him as an apology, and adding on that, you would apologize easily too. unfortunately, tonight was a bit different.

he’d been following your stomps around the house for a while now. you were crying and he was yelling. all you wanted was a moment to gather your thoughts, but rafe wasn’t having it tonight. he was proactive, he wanted to talk to you right then, force some sense into your mind and get you to apologize for him. it never once crossed his mind that maybe he should calm down and apologize himself.

“rafe, leave me alone, i wanna be alone!” you cry as you rush down the stairs to go back to the living room from the bedroom.

he scoffs, and you can hear his shoes stomping behind you. “stop throwing a fuckin’ tantrum and actually speak to me like a human, then!”

“you never listen!”

that’s his trigger. without a second thought, he grabbed you by the back of your neck as if you were some puppy, making you yelp and cry harder, as he drags you downstairs to the wine cellar. “oh, you want me to fuckin’ listen, huh? yeaah, be a good boyfriend and cave to your every demand? you got it, babe,” he says angrily, obviously sarcastic as he stands in front of the wine cellar with you. “now, you wanna talk, or you want your alone time?”

your eyes are fuzzy with tears, unaware of what his plan is, even though he’s trying to insinuate it. “want alone time,” you cry.

he scoffs and shoves you in the wine cellar, closing the heavy door, locking it, and resting his back against it.

you blink, looking around. there’s a beat of silence where you’re confused and registering what happened, and he’s taking a breath of relief, thinking his plan worked. then it hits, and suddenly you’re worse than before, sobbing and screaming and wiggling the doorknob desperately.

“rafe!” you cry, distressed and nervous. “rafe, let me out!! this isn’t funny!”

he sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “shuuut up, not letting you out until you get a fuckin’ grip, baby,”

“not fair!” you yell, trying to yank on the door. “rafe, let me out! being such a jerk!”

he wants to argue that stupidly innocent insult badly, but he chooses to be quiet so you give up and calm down as well.

the crying goes on for longer than he thought, until you’re coughing and sitting down because you’re so tired from the screams. you’re reduced to nothing but sniffles, and your knees are hugging your chest for some support.

eventually, thank goodness, light floods the room as the door opens. it must’ve been at least half an hour, but it was still too long.

“hey, baby,” rafe sighs, ears admittedly ringing from how loud you were earlier. “how are you?”

you’re quiet, mad at him now. he sits down beside you.

“jesus,” he sighs under his breath. he puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. “had to do it. see how calm you are now, baby?” he waits for a nod from you before continuing. “yeeah, exactly. you wanted alone time so i gave you that, it’s fine, hm?”

“…it was scary,” you admit gently, voice still trembly.

“didn’t know i’d scare you, had to act on impulse to get you nice and quiet,” is his explanation as he starts rubbing your shoulder. he always knows what to say, it seems.

you nod gently, and he stands up. “c’mon, up,” he nods his head, taking your hand. “you ready to talk now?”

“mhm,” you hum softly, shaky legs standing up as rafe steadies you.

he walks you back through the basement, and for the first time, you hear an, “i’m sorry for scaring you,” come out of his mouth.

those five words make you much more at ease to talk and cuddle for the rest of the night, even if he might not of meant them.

taglist🪽— @dearapril @popou61 @suncove @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @dollyfiles @wtfdudesblog @yktayy9669 @nixcyrr @st6ined @girlwhorizzed

[cookiecakecookie-cake]

Hi I really like your writing. I have a request. For cookies of your choice, let's say they had someone close to them (romantic or platonic) that pulled an Odysseus were the reader set out to the licorice sea, was presumed deceased, and came back years later all scarred up. Cookies and Epic have invades my brain. Thanks for reading.

No way.... odysseus..... like my blorbo outis limbus company that im soooso normalll abouttt... (i didnt make this video but god i wish i did) anyways, i hope you don't mind the fact that i took this and RAN with it. mwehehehe -cookie cake

No More Going Back

(Pre-corruption!Mystic Flour Cookie/Burning Spice Cookie/Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Inspired in part by I'll Take You by @/brittle-doughie

cws: angst, lots of talk about death & war, shouting/arguments and brief descriptions of dead bodies.

War was on the edge of the horizon. Your gazed out at sea. Far off in the distance, there was a nation that intended to take all you sought dear. Then and there, you decided that there was no other choice. You were going to protect the ones you loved or die trying.

-----

"-And when I'm gone, I want you to take care of yourself, alright? I won't be around to get rid of overtly greedy cookies and I know everyone will be wanting a lot during these trying times. If you ever need help, know you can rely on-"

"My love, I am not a child."

You sigh, "I know but I worry." Wheat Flour Cookie was a cookie who often gave herself to others in surplus, leaving little left for herself. You didn't want anybody to use her because of that and she was more than aware of that fact.

"I'll ask the people of the temple for help if I need anything and I will keep in mind of my limits as to who I can and cannot help." She held your face in her hands as she spoke, making sure you caught every one of her words loud and clear.

"You promise?"

"I promise... That is, if you promise, in return, to come back safely." You smile, gently resting your forehead on hers. "I promise, my grace."

-----

CLANG!

Your spear clashed against the Red Spice Cookie's own parashu, sending sparks across the area. You hold that for a moment, before deflecting his attack, making the great force of his weapon crash uselessly against the ground. He tries to charge you again, but you manage to easily parry, sending his weapon hurtling across the room. You angle your spear at his throat.

"You loose." You state, very matter-of-factly.

"You really don't take any hostages, do you, dear?" He brushes the spear away with the back of his hand. You pull the spear away from him, walking to put it away.

"The only hostage I'd take is you, my ember."

You can't see him, but you can sense the fond eye roll from across the room.

You dock your weapon back in the rack you got it from. "... You were distracted. I can tell."

"You don't miss a single detail, either." He gets up, stretching his back. You can hear a couple bones pop. "... There's been a lot on my mind lately."

"You have a lot on your plate, I could only imagine." You walk back over to him, trying to assess if there were any injuries you should attend to. "Just... come back to me in one piece, alright? I'm going to be incredibly bored without my hearth." He grumbled, heating up at your careful observation.

"Of course. I can't keep you waiting for too long, can I?" You leave a sweet peck on his cheek.

-----

"... So, that's it then? You're just... going off without me?" Blueberry Milk Cookie stared, completely baffled. You tried to avoid his eyes as much as you could.

"You make it sound like I'm ending our relationship."

"Well, you might as well be!!"

The Fount of Knowledge was seen by all as a figure of intellectualism. Rationality. Yet, here he stood, clinging to your uniform with a look that you know you can't meet.

"This is important to me. To us. If I don't do something, we might loose everything."

"Have you considered loosing you may be even worse?!"

"... I have."

"Oh yeah! Sure! Uh-huh! Talk like you have eeeeverything under control, why don't you! Like everything's going to go well! Sure! Go off and play hero and DIE and leave me here with NOTHING!"

"Blueberry, I-"

"Oh no, nonono NO! You don't get to 'Blueberry' me, right now! Have you considered what this is going to be like for me?! I'll have to manage everything by myself and you KNOW those cookies are as blind as bats if they don't like the reality of what they're seeing! If you go off and DIE out there, what am I going to do, then, huh?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?" He held onto your shoulders with a desperation that you have never seen on his face before.

"I..."

"'I' WHAT?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" You finally looked him in the eyes. They were angry, yes, but they were also full of fear. His worry streamed down his perfect face. "I don't... know. And it's impossible for me to know, just as it's impossible for one cookie to know everything. But what I do know is that the lives of the cookies around us are at stake if this isn't handled with care."

"... And there's nobody else that can take your place? No one?" He tried one last time to stop you, to keep you safe, with him.

"Do you know anyone as smart as me when it comes to the battlefield?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes." It was time for him to try and dodge your gaze, looking away from you.

"I'm sorry, my love. I don't want this either. I'm left with no choice." You try to reach out to him, gently holding his face to look back at you. "But if I am to die out there, let me have one last request. Let's spend our remaining time together in happiness, so that you don't regret the fading hours."

He tried to stop himself from crying for a second, but it was a futile effort. He crumpled into your arms, chest heaving with his emotion.

"... Please come back soon."

"I will."

-----

You didn't die, no, but you might as well be. Lost at sea and prevented from seeing those you love for years on end, you'd almost gone mad. All you wanted was to see the ones you loved once again, but it seemed every force of nature planned against you and maybe they were.

When you finally return, broken and bettered, it was obvious that something was wrong. You knew that it'd been years since you'd last seen your home, but it didn't look like.... this.

You walked down the roads and alleyways of the once bustling city, without a single hint of any life. The houses and buildings were intact, but the only thing for miles was pure white flour.

A temple of gold and splendor was reduced to nothing but crumbs and rubble on the ground. The cookies weren't just dead, but ground to a fine powder that made the air taste overwhelmingly like spice.

Cookies hung from string that stretched far into the sky, presumably connected to some unseen controller. They talked of nonsense, if they even spoke at all. Some just looked at you with hollow eyes, were they dead or tired of all the lies? You couldn't tell anymore.

And when you found them, in the middle of it all? You wished you had died out there, so you didn't have to see the one who you once loved reduced to... this.

A monster.

[calebrity]

BREADWINNER┃sylus

cw. smut, boxer! sylus, literally purely nsfw, sylus is down bad but just a teensy bit mean here, below 1k words, fem reader, 18+ characters

this isn’t the best idea, he knows.

fucking you, he means. it’s not wise, it’s certainly not conducive to his upcoming match’s success (set to commence in the next half hour)— hell, it’s not even sanitary, not really. there’s something distinctly filthy about this all when sylus crams you against the shower wall, the rather grimy one his dressing room has to offer, and hoists you up to rut into you deeper as you cry.

you don’t want anyone to hear. his team, or more notably his coach- waiting outside the door and pacing as he readies his number one fighter’s gloves and gear.

sylus does.

there’s a whole stadium full of people waiting with barely-contained excitement just down the hall where the back area opens up to the seemingly boundless ring. he knows it’s all for naught but fuck he hopes they hear as he pounds into your poor cunt senselessly and makes a vow in your ear, saying, i’ll win it for you.

you’d admire his dedication if you were a little more lucid, but right now, the better part of your rationale has faded.

he feels good. so good. you can’t even be mad at him for going against his coach’s advice, being warned off intimacy before a match because it’ll sap him of his strength- his physical vigor- completely. there’s no room for frustration when you’re damn near certain his cockhead is rearranging your guts as you hold onto him for dear life, when he bites into your neck- not to a painful degree, but just to leave a pretty mark, proof you’re his- and moans.

he tuts when you whimper. bastard. but to his credit, and sometimes to your displeasure, his cocksure attitude is grounded: he wins all his battles. he has every right to brag, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes you won’t get fed up with his bravado and try to knock him down a peg… you think it’s good for him; you’re like his tether to planet earth as he makes a small empire off the boxing industry.

(albeit, he seems less interested in that and more so in impressing you with its wages.)

“nawh. what’s wrong, sweetie?” he asks, honey-sweet, tone deceptively cloying for the wicked, self-satisfied glint in his eye. and you make a silent swear right then and there that you’ll get him back for this later. (but not now. he feels delicious inside you and you can hardly swat his hands away as they grasp your hips to anchor you as he bullies his way in.)

“if i’m not mistaken, you were telling me just moments ago how we shouldn’t do this, how bad of an idea it is that i… touch you.” he breathes, playful.

maybe he’s being a little meaner now, okay, he’ll grant that much, but he hopes you know that adrenaline’s already coursing through him, that he can’t help the testosterone that spikes in his veins preceding a fight. it’s hard to not act on it. coach’s words be damned- sylus feels more hyped up, thrilled, than anything when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life in his temporary room’s bathroom. certainly not tired, or drained, or any other thing he sagely warned him about, painting sex before a match like it was anathema in itself, a ticket to a sure loss.

oh, okay, that’s great and all, but sylus doesn’t lose.

you manage a pout between gasping, delighted breaths. “you-! i- i hope you lose!”

pearly teeth flash at you, spotting your lie easily. his broad, muscled chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, the bass of it making your legs all the more weak where they wrap around his hips. “ouch, kitten, you’re hurting my feelings now. if i don’t have your support during the match,… then what’s the point in it?” he quips back, lighthearted, though you can tell he means what he’s saying.

that bold grin of his falters when he hits particularly deep and you clench around him, nails digging into his traps. he slants into you more, if that’s possible, bowing his head in the sweaty juncture of your neck and collar.

“y-you’re lucky i even go to your stupid matches,” you mewl back, brows furrowed with all the indignity you can possibly muster.

he gives a low hum, voice strained, words meaningful beneath all the layers of want and hunger. “i am lucky,” he pants. “and you’ll watch me again tonight, hm?” he plants a doting kiss to your clavicle, oddly tender for the moment, peering up at you with ruby eyes aflame.

“when i bring that belt home for you?”

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ sammy

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ the first time you call him sammy.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ i had this idea bc ik he hates it when ppl call him that — except dean sometimes. but the other day i was real sad, and i just want a sam to treat me soft yk. anyways hopefully u all like it 🤧 sammy is such a cutie name tho

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluff. crying reader, reasons not specified. hurt/comfort, emphasis on the comfort. sam-centric. gender-neutral reader. can be read as modern reader in spn, or not. isn’t season specific, but written with earlier seasons in mind. probably ooc.  2.1k words.

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

The first time you call him Sammy, he hates it. He hates it because he hates the way it sounds. It's ringing in his ears. The way it comes off your tongue is putrid and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It’s unexpected and it has him gapping. He hates it the most, though, because you’re crying.  

There’s a laundry list of reasons why he hates it. But none of those reasons have anything to do with you. Even then, you’ve never slipped up, never even come close to saying it. Maybe you’ve thought about it, maybe you haven’t — Sam isn’t a mind reader. But he’s pretty sure you know he doesn’t like it. You’ve heard him shut others down before, made it clear it was off-limits. Whether or not you ever wondered why never really crossed his mind. It could be that you’re just understanding. You’re always patient with him, always respectful. It wouldn’t surprise him, though, if you already knew.

It’s in the way you glance at him whenever someone else says it, some stranger who doesn’t know better. The way your eyes flick to his, gauging his reaction, but you never ask. Never push. Never assume you have the right. It’s like you already get it — that to him, Sammy is a chubby twelve year old with too big eyes and an even bigger heart, a kid who still believed in things before the world beat it out of him. Sammy is powerless. Sammy is soft. And Sam has spent his whole damn life trying to be anything but.

Dean gets away with it — most of the time. Some days, it doesn’t sting as much. Other days, it makes his skin crawl. But you? You never try. Never tested the boundaries of what he’ll allow, like it’s some kind of game. You call him Sam. Just Sam. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, that doesn’t matter right now because you’re crying. Because you’re hurting so much that it’s spilling out of you, raw and unfiltered, past your lips in desperation. And Sam knows — knows you’d never call him that on purpose, never say it just to get under his skin. You know how much it bothers him. But right now? He can’t bring himself to care. Because how could he, when your voice is shaking, when your hands are trembling, when whatever pain you’re carrying is heavy enough to make you forget something so simple? He wouldn’t be mad at you — not really. He actually doesn’t think he could ever be mad at you. Especially not when you’re looking at him like that, like you need him to be steady, to be something solid when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.  So he swallows whatever flicker of irritation tries to rise in his chest and focuses on what actually matters. You. 

You, who’s crying. You're crying and you won’t stop. It’s the kind of crying that shakes your whole body, that makes your breaths come out in sharp, broken gasps. And Sam doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t ever seen you cry like this before. Maybe a quiet sniffle, or a small tear you’d quickly wipe away when you thought no one was looking — but never this.

He hadn’t expected this when he came back to the motel room. Dean had dropped him off before heading out to the bar down the street. It's the usual thing he does to celebrate another successful case. While Sam would’ve loved to join, he really didn’t. You were here and Sam could never stay away from you for too long. All Sam wanted to do was be with you and go to bed. 

But he hears it the minute he walks up to the door. It's muffled through the walls and the wood, but he can hear it clear enough. The sounds of heartbreaking cries and Sam grows frantic.  He’s quick to get the key in the door to unlock it. And no sooner does he do so, as he pushes it open, he finds you. He finds you sitting on one of the beds — at this point he isn’t sure which one it is and he doesn’t think you do either. Neither of you actually care, because that isn’t the concern. 

The sight before him is, and it breaks his heart. But he rushes in; fast and swift. The door shuts behind him with a clunk, and he sees you jolt. And all Sam can think to do is gather you up in his arms.  Because Sam isn’t some heartless freak that would close the door and walk away. His brain is too frazzled to think about anything else. He needs to hold you. He needs to calm you down. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you've been crying for hours. And just a little, it makes him sick, thinking that you’ve been upset for that long. 

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your face buried in his shoulder like you’re trying to disappear into him. And all Sam can do is hold you. His arms wrapping around you so carefully, so gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll break apart completely if he isn’t careful — like you're fragile. 

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers softly. “I'm here.” He soothes as he holds you. “Just breathe f’me, okay?” His voice is steady, even if everything else isn’t. You’re wrapped up in him, as your body trembles. It's not just from your crying. No, it’s one of those involuntary shudders. He cradles the back of your head with his hand, helping you press yourself further into him. It’s almost as if he's shielding you as you hide away from everything. And while Sam might not know what that everything is, he’ll find it and make sure it never bothers you again. 

And that’s when he hears it. It’s muffled against the fabric of his flannel, and just low enough that he would’ve missed it. But he can’t. Because you’ve kept repeating his name through your broken sobs. It’s rapid before it slows. You say his name like you're trying to convince him of some urgency without having to say anything else. And then he realizes that you aren’t just saying his name by the time you start teetering on the edge of calming down. You hiccup and sniffle, and he can feel the heat of your tears against his neck.

The world around him seemed to fade and the sound of the highway outside dulled to nothing. He freezes for a brief moment, his breath hitched as those syllables hit his ears. So soft but shattered — fragile and so, so heavy. It was gut wrenching, and the way you had said it was different. It was different then he’d ever heard it before. Dean said it with familiarity, obviously — sometimes teasing, sometimes sharp, sometimes warm, sometimes just to mess with him. But you? It wasn’t just his name anymore. It was everything you had been feeling. All the hurt and exhaustion and desperation bundled into those two syllables — and he feels that flicker of irritation in his chest shift.

That irritation changes into something intense and unhinged. It burns in his lungs and coils around his heart. He felt cheated, robbed of something precious — because he had always wondered how it would have sounded had it ever left your mouth. Because he trusts you so much that he’d imagine it plenty of times. He imagined it sultry and light, full of love and care. The way you’d look at him like he hung the moon and stars. He pictured the way your lips would curve around the syllables, how the name would dance from your tongue and into his ears. And even if Sam thinks he doesn’t deserve it, amongst all the things that haunt and plague his mind; he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he had ever heard it like that, it would’ve healed something in him.

But now, in contrast to everything else, the name began to taste like salt and sorrow. 

You don’t really say anything else after that and it's clear that you don’t really know what to do next either. All you do is try and sink deeper into him, and Sam lets you. He’s patient as your breathing slowly begins to even out as he lets his warmth encase you. Your head lays so lazily against his shoulder, as does your body against his — so defeated, so worn out. And Sam feels just a bit guilty the moment he pulls away and your face is forced to emerge. 

He watches as your lip trembles as you take deep breaths. And a soft, small whimper nearly escapes your throat before he's pressing sweet kisses into your skin. It doesn’t matter where they land, whether it’s your cheek or your nose, he’s peppering you with enough kisses before you could even think about working yourself up again.

“Hey hey hey,” he coos and frowns slightly at your tear stricken face.  “It’s okay, honey. I got you.” 

He studies your face as you look at him, your cheek squishing and settling into his cupped hand. You just look so tired. He moves to smooth the hair away from your face and comes to the decision that he can’t just leave you like this. To leave you with dry tear tracks along your face and to wake up feeling miserable. No, he can’t have that. As gentle and loving as Sam can, he presses a kiss to your forehead and gingerly uses his thumbs to wipe the remaining tears from your cheeks. 

He’ll suggest ever so lightly to get you cleaned up. He murmurs it ever so tender, afraid of uttering any words too loud. And you don’t argue. You don’t wave him off — you don’t have the strength to. Instead you nod weakly and follow his lead as he sits you up. He moves fast, grabbing a washcloth that isn’t too far away in the bathroom and dampens it before dabbing at your cheeks. In fact, he wipes down your whole face so that there isn’t even a trace of your cries left. He moves more of your hair out of your face, the small strands of hair that were either dampened from your tears or the cloth, he isn’t sure. 

But his hands are steady. Sam is pretty sure that his hands have never been this steady in all his life. They’re precise and patient, soft in a way that is only reserved for you. And when you look up at him — with a small sad thankful smile and red rimmed eyes — he’ll just smile back reassuringly, pressing yet another kiss to your temple.  

He’ll ask if it's all better, and you’ll nod. You do seem much better now — calmer, more still — which Sam is glad for. And soon enough, the two of you are tucked tight beneath his covers, the warmth settling over you like a heavy, quiet comfort. You latch onto him immediately, burying your face as deep as you can into his chest, like you’re trying to disappear into the space between his ribs. Your grip on him, however, is no longer desperate but something softer, something lingering. His arms settle around you instinctively, holding you close. The slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing seems to lull you, your body finally relaxing against his. It’s peaceful. Almost perfect.

Though, a small ‘..ank you, ..ammy’ is murmured. The words drowsy, barely forming — melting into the warmth of him as sleep drags you under.

Sam tenses for half a second and his chest tightens briefly. But in the next moment, he isn’t paying it any mind. He doesn’t need to dwell on it. Instead, he just holds you tighter; pressing his lips to the crown of your head, lets himself sink into the warmth of you beside him, and exhales.

He wonders if you’ll remember in the morning — if you’ll realize what you said, if you’ll apologize for it, or if you won’t even think twice. He thinks about if you’ll say it again. Because, yeah, he feels extremely robbed. The thought gnaws at him. It's like it's been tainted with something new and he’s almost eager for it to not be. And maybe it won’t be tomorrow, maybe not even next week, but eventually. Because somewhere, deep in that big, smart, dummy brain he has, he knows that you will say it again. And when you do, it’ll be soft, bright, and full of something that only he could wish for. 

He can already hear it. He can already imagine the way his nickname will sound when it’s spoken by you not through exhaustion or desperation, but through delight. And it’s already music to his ears. Because maybe — just maybe — being called Sammy wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if it’s coming from you.

𖤐 .ᐟ i feel like i rushed the end, but its literally 2 am and im tiredd.  anyways,, tysm for the likes, reblogs, and support i love writing these little stories for u all  ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

[lemotmo]

Sweet Jesus it's high-key hilarious laid out like this.

Q. But like it can go either way, you get that right? They have set it up to where you can decide it's about Tommy or Eddie depending on which way you want it to go. They've written it to be viewed as about Eddie or Tommy. We're not making that up???

A. My brother in Christ you are 100% making that up. That is unequivocally, one hundred percent not what the story is doing. The fact that I have to do this is shameful and proof of utter, willful ignorance, but you asked for it so here it is:

*Tommy comes in for the cruise ship rescue. We found out that he is former military, likes basketball, MMA, and Muay Thai. All things Buck VERBALIZES to the audience are things that he has in common with Eddie. MEANING THEY WERE CHARACTERISTICS GIVEN TO HIM TO SPECIFICALLY HAVE THEM IN COMMON WITH EDDIE.

*Buck acts like a lunatic for the entirety of 7x4 then inexplicably decides it must be about Tommy, despite the episode showing that it was very much about Eddie, so much so that Tommy himself is confused when Buck says he was trying to get his attention.

*They go out, Buck is understandably nervous, and then run into Eddie. Buck panics because he's not ready or sure what to tell Eddie yet. Tommy gets annoyed because Buck won't say they're on a date, he makes a closet joke, basically trying to force Buck to out himself in that moment, when Buck doesn't do it, Tommy gets upset and leaves him stranded at the restaurant.

*Buck apologizes to him, and invites him to Chim's bachelor party and wedding. For plot reasons Tommy accepts.

* Buck and Eddie decide on 80's theme for the party and decide to coordinate their outfits and go as Crockett and Tubbs. Tommy doesn't dress up, he offers up the fact that he is on call as his reason for not dressing up. He then leaves to go fight a fire. Leaving Buck and Eddie to spend the rest of the episode partying together. The show later releases a deleted scene of Eddie telling Christopher how he met his mother and that story proves to be a parallel to what we saw of Buck and Eddie during the bachelor party.

* Tommy shows up at the hospital where he and Buck kiss for the 2nd time. Eddie's reaction to the kiss, along with Buck's parents, are the reactions the show chooses to focus on.

*Tommy then disappears until the season finale. We see them have a dinner date at the end of the episode where Bobby nearly died, and Buck spent the entirety of it with Eddie dealing with Christopher and Bobby. Buck attempts to start a conversation about how he's feeling. Tommy turns it into a daddy sex joke.

*Tommy shows up again in 8x1, but only for one scene between him, Buck and Eddie where Eddie is trying to throw a birthday party for Christopher over zoom. He then disappears until episode 8x5

*In between that we see Buck struggling with Gerard as his captain. We get a shot of Eddie's voice being the voice he hears when he's trying to calm himself down.

*In episode 8x5 we see Buck buy what he believes is a prop skeleton but turns out to be a real skeleton. We get a lube joke between Buck and Eddie before Buck slips on pumpkin guts and separates his shoulder. Eddie rides to the hospital with him and stays with him, even talking to the doctor while Tommy hovers in the hallway. Once Tommy comes into the room, Eddie finishes a couple of Buck's sentences while he's telling the story to Tommy. Buck gets released from the hospital and goes home with Tommy. He wakes up with boils on his face, believing that the skeleton has cursed him, it was really an allergic reaction to the ibuprofen that Tommy gave him, because Tommy didn't know Buck was allergic. One of them calls Eddie to come over and tend to Buck's boils and despite the fact that Eddie and Tommy are both roughly saying the same thing Eddie is the one they show Buck reacting to and listening too.

*In 8x6 we see them have their 6 month anniversary date. The table next to them is having a divorce party, something the show makes a point of making the audience aware of. Tommy gives Buck basketball tickets, Buck has already told the audience he hates basketball. Tommy makes a joke about Buck taking Eddie to the game if he wants to. Buck didn't get Tommy a present at all. Buck realizes that his ex Abby is Tommy's ex Abby as well.

* Buck goes to talk to Maddie and Josh to get some advice. Josh gives a speech about how to know if he's in love or not, he says lots of things but one of the things Josh mentions is that Buck should honor the queer generation that came before him.

*Buck tells Tommy he is also Abby's ex and asks him to move in with him. He can't give any other reason other than what Josh said about honoring and respecting the queer generation that came before him. Tommy says no and breaks up with him by telling him that he knows how this ends and he's Buck's first, not his last.

*Buck goes directly to Eddie's house immediately following the breakup

*Buck is upset following the breakup and decides to start baking as a way to keep him preoccupied enough not to call Tommy. Buck finds out at the end of 8x8 that Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso

*8x9 opens with Buck and Eddie cleaning the locker room glass at the station and Eddie showing Buck a picture of the hose he put a down payment on in El Paso. Buck is upset by this news, but offers to help Eddie try and find a renter for his house. Buck sabotages all the showings to the point that Eddie tells him to leave. Before leaving Buck overhears Eddie telling the applicant that everything that matters to him is in Texas and Buck leaves upset. During a fire at an animal shelter Buck bonds with the beagle he rescues and shows up at the firehouse with him the next morning. Buck reveals to Bobby and the rest of the team Eddie's plans for moving, despite Eddie asking him not to. Buck tells Eddie that the dog is his new best friend and that unlike him the dog knows how to stay. Buck also reveals that he overheard what Eddie said about nothing L.A. mattering. Later we see Eddie accusing Buck of trying to force Eddie to choose between him and his son, something Buck absolutely did not do, but Eddie says it anyway, indicating that Eddie is the one who feels like he's being forced to choose. Then Buck reveals himself as the new renter for Eddie so he won't have to worry about anything and can move to El Paso and just worry about Christopher.

*8x10 deals with Maddie's kidnapping. We see Eddie driving Buck around and Buck has a mini spiral and tells Eddie that he is just moving back to Texas like it's nothing like it doesn't effect anybody else but it does. Eddie tells Buck that it's not nothing. The next time we see them is the goodbye scene at the uhaul. Both of them are awkward, and unsure of what to say or what to do. Eddie tells him that he knows this thing between them has been hard and they both could have handled it better. It is raining and soft music is playing over the scene. Buck says he baked chocolate chip protein cookies for the drive. They hug and the camera takes close ups of each of their faces. Both men are noticeably upset and struggling. Eddie looks back one more time before climbing into the truck and driving away.

*which brings us to 8x11. Buck can't sleep in Eddie's house and doesn't want to unpack because what he believes it means long term for Eddie and Christopher. Maddie tells him he needs to make new friends. He talks Ravi into going out drinking with him and talks about Eddie the entire time. Eddie sees Tommy and drags him over as a way to escape. Tommy asks Buck how he is and Buck tells him about Maddie and Eddie moving away. Tommy tells Buck he was unaware of this because Eddie basically stopped talking to him after they broke up. Camera pans to Buck smiling upon learning that. After learning that Eddie has moved away Tommy starts to flirt and Buck invites him back to his place. We see them arriving at the house and kissing and Tommy realizing that it's Eddie's house. Cut to the next morning, Buck wakes up alone and finds Tommy making breakfast in the kitchen. Buck tells Tommy that last night was fun but he understands that it changes nothing. Tommy tells him that it can change something and asks what he's doing on Saturday. Buck is confused and asks him why he doesn't believe Buck will break his heart anymore. Tommy tells him he is less worried now that his competition has moved away. Buck realizes he's talking about Eddie and tells him that Eddie is straight, Tommy openly scoffs at this statement which makes Buck even more upset. Buck then says he doesn't have to sleep with everyone he has feelings for and doesn't have feelings for everyone he sleeps with. Tommy leaves and we see Buck telling Maddie, TELLING MADDIE THAT HE USED TOMMY AS A WAY TO DISTRACT HIMSELF FROM MISSING EDDIE. He asks if he should call and apologize and Maddie tells him to learn to be alone. Tim confirms in an interview that Buck did not call Tommy.

That's it, anon. This is Tommy's entire arc on the show. Where, at any place is anything whatsoever that indicates any of this has anything at all to do with Tommy? Where is it? It doesn't exist. They had 31 scenes together and only 6 of those scenes didn't directly include Eddie or involve Eddie in some other way. Read that again. They had 6 total scenes that weren't about Eddie or didn't involve Eddie. But you expect me to believe that it's really about Tommy because Twitter says it is. Give me a fucking break. It could not be more cut and dry.

Thank you Nonny!

Yeah, we've been saying this for ages now. None of this was about Tommy, it was always Eddie. So yeah... nothing to add here. I think Ali was very clear and precise in her answer. 😋

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

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If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[k-aemi]

omg I'm so obsessed with your writing and fics, they are BEYOND amazing!! can I request big brother Kaiser x lil sis reader, like he get's home and he's super angry and needs to blow off some steam, so he just fucks her silly🙏🙏

kaiser michael ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ meine süße schwester.

smut, dub, mentions of abuse, blood, corruption, lost of virginity, manipulation, in/stepcest, view it however you like.

you and kaiser didnt have the perfect life. not with your mother leaving and your dad there to abuse the shit out of you and kaiser. though, the big brother he is, he always takes in your place when youd be the one in trouble. :(

but it didnt leave you safe, you got beatings too. youd cry to your big brother and hed only comfort you with cuddles, kisses and licking your tears away. promising a better life when you two would get older.

hed never let you leave the house because it was dangerous, but inside the house wasnt so safe either. you knew nothing of the outside world, you only knew how to speak. you didnt know how to read or write because you never attended to school. he says its too dangerous for a girl like you, they could use your sweet body for other uses. though its not like hes any better than those guys.

the rule still flew by when kaiser was eventually recruited to the bastard münchen team. both of your guys life became stable as he was able to make income enough to live comfortably.

the only rules applied to you was to never talk to any other guys. they only want you for your body, not your love like he does.

two, always just be naked in the house, plus its uncomfortable to be restrained by clothes in the comforts in your own home, well thats what he said.

three, just be a cute little sister and help around the house.

four, hes so stressed having to be top of the football team and making sure youre living the best life, tend to his needs at all times, like a kiss or cuddles!

and of course you obliged! your big brother always working so hard makes you guilty, youre so worthless all you do is clean around the house.

youre naked right now with an apron cooking up dinner for your big brother! youre not the best cook but you try your best because you know he gets all tired from football.

you hum in the makings of dinner, only to hear a loud bang at the front door. its kaiser! you go to greet him but something seems a bit off. his eyebrows are furrowed and theres this fiery look to his eyes.

“micha?” you waved the ladle around in confusion. you knew you should mind your own business but you wanna make sure hes in top conditions to do his best when hes out playing in the field!

the sudden impulse of kaiser throwing his duffle bag to the wall and fist clenching makes you jump. he always looks so scary when hes angry you cant lie, thats why you preferred to not bother him.

he lets out a low growl as he walks past you, taking hold of your wrist, tightly. you almost trip from how hard he pulled you.

“a-ah! micha wait ‘m making dinner—!” you just followed behind as you placed the ladle onto a nearby table. he doesnt even respond back to you, dragging you to his—or both of your guys room.

finally reaching his destination, he drags you onto the bed, making a creak sound. you yelp from how harsh he was being right now. hes sometimes mad, but hes never taken his anger out on you before if thats what hes doing.

he climbs onto the bed, his knees resting on the mattress as he takes his shirt off, exposing his tattoo that extended from his neck to his left hand.

“m-micha, what ya doing..?” looking up behind you with your back facing him while he exhales a breath, untying the strings of your apron, taking it off before throwing it to a random corner. now youre bare, all for him to see.

his chest flushes against your back before cooing you. “s’okay prinzessin…just let me fuck your pussy. had a hard day today.” he growled into your ear, massaging your boobs, occasionally pinching the nipple.

you can only squeal at the pain, hes gonna what to your what again? you dont understand the words coming out of his mouth. maybe you should of really studied more vocabulary during your free time so you can learn these slangs hes using!

he marks up your neck, trailing kisses to your shoulders and jawline. “g’na hurt for a bit but you can handle it f’me yeah? for your big brother?” he starts stimulating your clit and you whine pathetically loud. what is this sensation?

“micha feels weird!” you grab hold of his wrist to push back, but you think you just fueled his anger more. “damn it [name] just fucking let me. i spoil you rotten and you cant even let me do this?!” your body twitched when he raised his voice at you. you hate it, it reminds you of your father.

kaiser softens up only a bit when he hears your sniffles, he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “if you listened to me i wouldnt have done that. you g’na listen now?” he licks up your tears just like how he used to back then. using his fingers to wipe the other side of your cheek.

“y-yes ‘m sorry micha.” you mumbled out as your sniffles overpowered your voice, you can barely talk due to your emotional state right now.

“good, knew i could count on you.” he sucks on your delicate neck, nibbling as he rubs his growing bulge on your ass. you feel a bit weird when he grinds on you, letting out little soft breaths and grunts when he does it.

you let out little whimpers as his bigger self towers over your figure, you dont even know whats going on, it feels uncomfortable having that hard thing against you.

you let out a gasp when his fingers stimulates your bud again. letting out soft moans. “ah—micha…mgh!” he grins enjoying the little moans that emit from your lips. he rubs the sensitive bud in a circular motion, speeding up the process as the second came.

you only whine. you wan’ him to stop or maybe just slow down, but you knew hed get mad again. “youre so wet. you want it dont you?” he gives it a slap and you let out a pathetic yelp.

kaiser flips you over, finally staring at your teary eyed face. he loves the sight, he wonders if he can see his cute little sister in more despair as he continues this. he doesnt mean harm, he just thinks its his reward for giving you such a good life, running away from the past.

“want my fat cock in your sweet pussy yeah?” he spreads your pussy lips apart and you let out ragged breaths. you dont understand what hes saying!! kaisers vocabulary and intelligence definitely exceeded yours, hes a football player! hes gonna have to learn how to read and write.

your trail of thoughts is interrupted when you feel a long wet muscle lick your pussy. your thighs quiver as it closed in on kaisers head. “w-what you doing micha!” but he ignores your whines and spreads your legs forcefully.

hes eating you out like some bread crust rust. sucking on the bud and you feel his tongue prodding at your hole. you squeal grabbing hold of his hair, gripping it so hard you might pull off his scalp.

he latches off your pussy with a pop before unbuckling his pants, pulling down his pants to reveal his cock that springs up and down. “should be wet enough.” he says slapping his cock head on your pussy, coating it with your slick.

the sight of his cock intimidated you, what is that! why is it so big and long. “sorry prinzessin. gotta do this real quick.” he leans forward to kiss you, only to muffle that blood curling scream you let out when he intrudes your warm walls with his cock.

your moans and whines are muffled with his kisses, tears spill from your eyes and theyre shut closed. he latches off your lips as he coos you, patting your head. “we got through the hard part, youre doing so good.”

leaning back his hunger only fueled more when he can see that visible bulge forming in your stomach and youre crazy to think hes gonna be gentle now. well not like he was going to in the first place anyways.

“you see how good you take me?” his hand roams over the bulged that formed in your stomach every time he pulled out just to go right back in. it stings, but you gotta comply before hes gonna get super mad and maybe hit you like dad did.

you only nod weakly, your brain becomes mushy from this new sensation youre feeling. youre completely stretched out and you dont think you can adjust to his size.

kaiser smirks to himself, seeing blood spill onto his cock. fuck he thinks thats so hot, he popped your cherry. the smell fills his nostrils and he cant get enough of it. his elbows rest on both sides of your head and he starts his rough thrust, leaving you into a mess.

“a-ah! micha’! wait!” your toes curl and your hands clawed at his back. he loves it, the way youre scratching his back means hes making you feel sooo fucking good.

he wishes he put you on pills of some sort, he wants to cum inside of you so bad. your gummy walls are pulsing inside of him and the feeling is the best. the best pussy ever is his baby sisters.

his thrusts are so strong and he doesn’t even rest to let you catch your breath. all you can do is cry and drool from the feeling. big brothers so mean, hes hurting you and making you cry!

smell of sweat fill the room and it gets hot. you feel knot in your stomach and youre not sure what it is, its the same feeling when you would need to relieve yourself, but somehow a tad different.

“m-micha’ i feel something in my stomach.” your voice barely came to a whisper, its so difficult to talk when big brothers cock making you feel all light headed.

“thats my cock making you feel good prinzessin. s’okay just let it out.” he growled, fastening his pace if that was even possible at this point. there was this mixture of pleasure and pain somehow, you cant wrap your finger around it.

you tighten around his cock and he knows. he knows youre gonna cum. “h-hold my hand please..” kaiser in the heat of the moment intertwined his hands with yours, continuing his thrusts, letting out ragged breaths.

not long, something squirts out of your pussy and kaiser can only chuckled to himself. seeing the way your juices just continued to spill onto the sheets and on his cock made him almost cum. as a matter of fact, he should really start pulling out soon.

just a little more…he swears hell pull out he just wants to indulge in your sensitive walls right now. god you feel so goddamn good. hes having sex with you everyday. he tells himself he’s stupid for not doing this in the first place with you.

“agh—fuck!” he grunts in annoyance before pulling out, jerking his cock as his hot cum spills to all the way to your face<3

you dont even pay no attention to it, youre so out of your mind, catching up with your breath. kaisers dick falls limp and he lays besides you. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“love you s'much."

was it too much? i dunno, hope you guys request more people for me to write :D i see my favorite writers liking my blog o(≧▽≦)o you guys really like the step sibling tropes , also since i had two other similar requests pls take this instead hope its okay with you anons! i dont wanna rewrite too many things over and over (-ω-、)

blue divider: kodaswrld

[omgidklolwtf]

Weekend at home with Caleb

content: domestic, everyday life, cozy, sleepy sex (consensual), multiple orgasms🍎

Weekends with Caleb are your absolute favorite. You spent all of Saturday running errands together. He surprised you with breakfast in bed, waffles with his homemade apple butter. The two of you went to the Saturday street market, taking your time to stroll and browse all of the vendors. Caleb surprised you with fresh flowers while you were waiting in line to get bubble tea. "Almost as pretty as you," he said handing them over and kissing your cheek. It makes you happy seeing Caleb so happy. Being able to openly express your feelings for each other has been like experiencing the world all over again through fresh eyes. Love looks good on you both. You roll your eyes but are grinning, “Caleb you dummy” you chuckle as you elbow him. He hooks his arm around your shoulder, tucking you into his side and guiding you back to his car. "Lets get these ingredients home. I'm going to make us a feast." Your cloth grocery bag is overflowing with delicious market finds. Freshly butchered steaks, little multicolored potatoes, a bunch of mixed herbs and microgreens. Caleb fucked you all afternoon before making you dinner. By the time your heads hit the pillow, you were both sufficiently exhausted.

You feel a tug on your hips that wakes you. The room is still pitch dark and you are unsure if you are awake or sleeping. You glance at the clock, 3:00 AM. You feel wet and aroused when you look down to see Caleb. He is between your legs, your knees draped over his shoulders. One hand holding your hip while the other snakes up your body, under his basketball t-shirt you fell asleep in. He is massaging your breasts while his tongue drags lazily up and down your slit before he probes your clit with the tip of his tongue, swirling and flicking.

He looks up at you before whispering "good morning," his hot breath tickling your inner thighs as he leaves soft kisses before returning his tongue to your clit.

"It's the middle of the night," you say sleepily, threading your fingers through his hair.

"Good evening then…does this feel okay?" He asks as he tugs you down towards his mouth.

Your only answer is a moan as you tilt your hips up against his mouth. "mmm, mhmm."

Caleb chuckles as he continues feasting on you. You squeeze his head with your thighs. You don't worry about hurting him. Not only does it take a lot to hurt Caleb, he enjoys the pain. "They can bear more weight than you think," he has said before in response to squeezing his arms.

You hear a buzz sound then. "Mmm a toy?"

He teases your pussy with it before slowly pushing it inside you. Allowing your walls to adjust to it's size.

"I love that you are not intimidated by a toy." Caleb and you have both enjoyed the vibrations of a toy between you while you fucked. "A little deeper," you say breathily, rocking your hips against him.

"Riiiight here?" He asks, adjusting the toy more deeply, slightly tilting it up into you.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Mmm" he moans against you. "I love tasting you." And you know he does. Caleb has you spread on his bed like an offering on an altar. He worships you like one too. His tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks you into his mouth. The toy holding firm pressure against your gspot. The sight of your big thighs around Caleb's muscular shoulders driving you crazy. You push your breasts together, pinching your own nipples. You are getting close to cumming.

"Caleb please fuck me" you pant. Absolutely desperate to feel yourself splash all over his cock while you cum.

"Command received and approved" he teases. Climbing up the bed, his body hovering over yours, your legs still over his shoulders. He puts you into a mating press position, nudging your entrance with the tip of his cock before shoving all the way to the base. He completely fills you before moving then, drilling your pussy hard and deep. You reach your hands down to grab his thighs, pulling him against you while he bucks. Your bodies are slapping together with such force the headboard is repeatedly smacking the wall.

"Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?" He groans.

"Not without you," you beg, "please." Tasting your pussy had Caleb dripping with pre cum in no time. And now feeling you surrounding his cock has him on the edge.

Caleb locks eyes with you. "I'll count us down."

"Five..." he thrusts deeply, his balls slapping against you.

You clench your pussy, squeezing Caleb as tightly as you can.

"Four..." his hands gripping you so tightly you know he'll leave behind his finger prints.

"Three...you are so beautiful."

You have whole body tingles as you try to wait for the final count. The pressure on your pussy aches for release.

"Two...I love you so much," he says while he fucks you with all of his strength. Your bodies colliding, a perfect fit. Made for each other.

"One..." he half says half groans. You are both panting, moaning, exploding on each other.

"Caleb oh my god," you yell as he thrusts in and you drench Caleb in your cum, while he fills you to the brim with his. You are both soaking wet with sweat and each other's essence but neither one of you wants to stop.

Caleb releases your legs and lays on top of you. The weight of his body feels reassuring. This was not a dream. Caleb is alive and real and here and yours. You move his hair off his forehead, wiping his sweat before kissing him.

"Just hold me like this," he says through muffled breaths, his face against your chest. "Let me keep my cock warm inside you."

You kiss each other and stroke his back, shoulders, down his arms, catching your breath. A few moments pass and then you feel Caleb harden inside of you again. "Mmm Caleb." He starts moving against you then. You are sticky with cum but neither of you care. The two of you content to welcome the sunrise joined as one.

[harrywavycurly]

I still think about how soft Harry turned for his sunshine girl and I imagine all the random voice notes he’d send her during the day when he can’t call her or maybe the voicemails he’d leave and how sweet his little rants would be😩🥹

Hiii babes!! I miss my little lovey dovey HWC Harry so I’m gonna give you some examples of his rant-ish voicemails and voice notes to his sunshine girl! I hope you enjoy!!💖

Find all things Handle With Care here✨

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @namoreno @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @triski73

Summary: These are some voice notes and voicemails your lovely ex frat daddy boyfriend Harry sends you during the week✨

Monday’s Voice Note: “Good morning sunshine it’s…uhh shit…oh sorry don’t be mad…ah okay it’s seven fifteen in the morning and I’m about to go for a run and then come see you before you go to work. I hope you slept good? How did that weird sleepy tea taste? Did it work?…m’not totally sure all those things are actually good for you but if they help then I’m all for it because my sunshine girl needs her full eight hours or she’s a bit prickly…but I don’t mind when you’re a little grumpy..makes you more cuddly and we both know how I feel about cuddling so-oh bloody hell why is all my coffee gone? m’gonna kill that Irish fuck-I mean I love you baby I’ll see you in a bit…I wonder if you’re dreaming about me right now? Hmmm…you’ll have to tell me what you dreamt about when I see you. Love you!”

Tuesday’s voicemail: “Hey baby I’m just seeing if you’re free for dinner tonight? I forgot you had a meeting during lunch today so just call me back whenever you can…I miss you…oh and I love you…yeah okay that’s it. Love you…I already said that didn’t I? Oh well you can hear it again…I love you…bye sunshine.”

Wednesday’s voicemail: “I am so sorry I couldn’t walk you to work this morning I forgot to set an alarm and when I woke up I saw all your missed calls and…god I’m-shit I’m so late…I’m sorry sweetheart but I hope you have a good day and I’m going to come see you for lunch! I’ll bring your favorite…I love you! I’ll see you soon! Make sure to save a few smiles for me okay? Don’t give them all away…love you.”

Thursday’s Voice Note: “Goodnight my sunshine girl…thank you for letting me pick the movie tonight even though it’s technically your night…I love you and I can’t wait until you finally stop telling me no when I ask you to move in because we both know you want to live with me…or maybe it’s that we both know I really really hate not being able to wake up next to you everyday..two floors of separation is killing me baby and I know one day soon…you’ll just stop fighting it and just accept the fact we are going to be together forever so might as well start forever as soon as we can…and before you say anything yes I stole parts of that from when Harry met Sally but it’s the truth…remember when you said you’d be okay with the wife thing after our first kiss? Well that was almost a year ago…but anyway…I love you…a lot…actually it’s more than just a lot but there’s not a word to describe the amount so…a lot will just have to do for now…I know you’re just now getting out of your bath and putting on all your lotions and potions that make you all soft and uhg…I miss you…fuck this…ohh sorry baby…let me just grab my sweatshirt and—where are my socks? Oh okay here they are…I’ll be there in three minutes and forty five seconds…prepare for a sleepover because I miss you too much. I love you! Don’t fall asleep before I get there!”

Friday’s Voice Note: “Hey sweetheart did you know Niall has a key to your apartment? I didn’t until he walked in while I was in the living room and he scared the shi-crap out of me…when did he get a key? Did he steal it from you?…oh and I’m making pizza for dinner does that sound good? I hope you’re having a good day at work…Miss you and love you like crazy.”

Saturday’s Voicemail: “Hey baby…m’a little drunk but s’all Niall’s fault and god I love you. I’m gonna marry you when you finally let me. But you know that yeah? Yeah…yeah you know that…god hallways are so long and…and ugly? Why are the hallways so hideous? M’gonna come cuddle you is that okay? If it’s not just…kick me off the bed okay? Yeah..yeah I’ll see you soon sunshine…my sunshine..you smell like flowers and sunshine because you’re my sunshine girl…that I love so…so much a lot…m’gonna go now okay? M’at the door! Love you!”

Sunday’s Voice Note: “Baby where are you? You just left me in bed with a bottle of water and some aspirin with a note on my forehead saying…br…feast? That’s…that’s not a real word?…wait oh it says…breakfast…did you go get breakfast? God I’m so lucky that you’re my…my everything…you’re too good to me. I’m gonna go shower because I smell like the floor of a shitty bar…but I love you and miss your cute face so hurry back? Please?”

[slut4thebroken]

Just Business

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x dom!reader

Summary | He’s a brat and deserves way worse than this tbh.

Warnings | Smut, non con more like dubcon tbh, heavy misandry🤭, humiliation, degradation, light praise, cunnilingus, brat taming.

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | Idk this was originally supposed to be way more non con-y than it turned out lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You had an appointment with Robert Fischer at 2pm… An hour later and you were still waiting. Finally his secretary brought you into his office. 

“Ah, yes— The potential partner. Let’s hear it then.” He sighed leaning back in his chair. You sat down on the chair in front of his desk, trying to mask your anger. 

“Our meeting was supposed to be at 2.”

“Yes, well, something came up.” You already didn’t like him…

“If this is the way you treat your business partners, I don’t think we’ll be a good fit,” you started, but he cut you off. 

“I thought they were sending someone to go over the proposal— not an assistant.” He huffed. You clenched your jaw as you stared at him, holding back your emotions. 

“The man you spoke to on the phone who scheduled the meeting was my assistant.” That made him scoff. “You know what? Thank you for your time, Mr. Fischer, but I don’t think we’re a good fit for each other.” You said, standing up. 

He let you get halfway across the room before he stopped you. “Wait.” He sighed. “I... apologize for my lack of professionalism. Please continue with your proposal.” Even though you wanted to leave, you forced yourself to sit back down. 

As you spoke, Robert seemed to have a hard time paying attention. There were rumors that he was a nepo baby through and through, but you didn’t think he’d actually be unqualified… You were handing him printed notes as you explained that detailed the numbers and what not. However, it didn’t really seem like he even understood what was on the papers… 

“Mr. Fischer,” you said impatiently when he, once again, was just staring out the window.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, looking at you again. 

“Am I boring you?” You asked plainly, reaching the limit of your patience. 

“Not you… Just.. the content…” You couldn’t believe how incompetent this man was. Sighing heavily, you closed your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. 

“Is there anyone else I can meet with? Your father perhaps?” 

“He doesn’t handle this kind of stuff.”

“Clearly you don’t either.” You scoffed before you could help it. 

“I handle it just fine.” He suddenly snapped, getting defensive. “Usually I meet with men who just talk to me, not give a whole presentation like a robot. And I’m not constantly distracted by their tits.” He spat, glancing at your chest for a few seconds before meeting your gaze again.  

You raised your brows, giving him an unimpressed look. “Hm…” You finally hummed, getting lost in thought. Robert was surprisingly misogynistic for how… non-dominant he seemed to be. 

“What?” And he just kept getting brattier… You finally stood up, but you didn’t gather your things to leave. Instead, you slowly rounded the desk until you were standing next to his chair. He turned to face you, looking both confused and irritated. Placing one hand on the back of his chair and leaning down into his space, you used your other hand to grab his cheeks, holding him still. 

“Listen closely, Mr. Fischer because I’m only going to say this once.” You told him, your voice low and stern— almost sensual… He almost seemed shocked, but he hid it fairly well. “My boss wants this partnership to work out. Based on the way you asked me to stay, I’m assuming your father feels the same. I’ve laid out all of the facts for you, but since you can’t seem to understand, I’m going to change the terms of the deal.” He frowned when you blatantly insulted his intelligence. 

“You’re going to prove to me that you want it— that you’re willing to work for it. If I’m satisfied, then we’ll move forward with this partnership. If not, well… I’m sure your daddy will be very disappointed.” 

You felt his cheeks tense under your fingers when he clenched his jaw. “How am I supposed to do that?” He scoffed, his bratty attitude still going strong. You released him and straightened up, looking down your nose at him. 

“Get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” He choked out, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Get on your fucking knees or I’m leaving.” You said harshly. He hesitated for a moment, then clenched his jaw again. Finally, he moved to the floor, kneeling at your feet. “There you go…” You cooed mockingly, making him scowl. You walked around him to take his place in the chair. “Face me.” He huffed, but turned around toward you. 

“Have you figured it out yet or do I need to spell it out for you?” He watched the way you settled back into the chair, your legs spread as wide as your pencil skirt would allow. 

“You… Are you insane? I’m not fucking doing that!” 

“No?” You cooed, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Fine. I’ll leave and I’ll tell my assistant to call your daddy— tell him why this deal didn’t go through.” Despite your words, you didn’t move, giving him another chance. “Or…” Your voice lowered and you leaned forward, reaching out to grab his tie. He let out a choked sound when you yanked on it, pulling him closer. “You can be a good little boy and put that bratty mouth of yours to good use.”

“H-How dare you? Coming here— to a building with my fucking name on it— calling me bratty? I should be contacting your superiors.” He scoffed, making you smirk. Even with the outburst, you could tell he was already crumbling. 

“I wouldn’t call you bratty if you’d stop behaving like a brat.” You said plainly, only making him more angry. “Listen, Robert,” you sneered patronizingly, “either you eat me out or I leave. You don’t have any other options.” 

“No! Are you even hearing yourself?” He yelled, making you sigh. “I- I have a girlfriend. I’m not just going to cheat on her because you’re blackmailing me.” 

“Blackmailing? Please,” you scoffed, “I’m not blackmailing you. And I’d hardly call this cheating.” 

“Then what the fuck would you call it?” He asked in disbelief.  

You hummed softly in thought as you considered it for a moment. “Business.” You all but shrugged. He watched with wide eyes as you grabbed the hem of your skirt and lifted it up above your hips, showing your panties. “Get to it, Robert. You’ve already made me late for another meeting, you don’t want to be the reason I miss a second one today.” 

He gaped at you, his gaze shifting between your eyes and your crotch. “You’re fucking insane.” He finally said. 

“No. I just actually earned my position and I have plenty of experience with bratty men who are used to getting everything they want.” He clenched his jaw and the tips of his ears tinged red with anger. “I won’t tell you again, Robert. You have five seconds to start or I’m leaving.”

Robert let out a heavy breath through his nose, but moved forward reluctantly, practically seething in rage at the fact that you were sitting in his chair in his office in ‘his’ building, demanding he service you sexually. And yet…

He pulled your panties to the side and got to work. At his clear attitude and lack of enthusiasm, you sighed in annoyance. 

“I thought this was obvious, but if you do a shitty job, this deal isn’t going through.” You told him. 

“Fuck you.” He gritted… but obeyed nonetheless. You let out a pleased moan when he dragged his tongue up your folds to your clit before sucking the swollen bud into his mouth. 

“There you go…” You cooed mockingly, spreading your legs wider for him. He rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother with a retort. “God you’re fucking pathetic.” You muttered, looking away from him, bored. You examined his desk, snorting a laugh at the online game that was on his computer screen. At the sight of the coffee cup, you picked it up and took off the lid to smell it— black with sugar… not your favorite, but after sitting in that lobby for over an hour, you deserved a pick-me-up. 

When he heard you drinking, he pulled back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Three, two,” and just like that, he was back between your legs. You scoffed a laugh and took another sip of the coffee. “Only a man would be so pathetic and incompetent, he has to eat me out just to make a simple business deal.” You muttered to yourself, loud enough that he could hear though. With the exception of Robert, you made a mental note to tell your boss to stop giving you all the stupid potential business partners. 

“At least you’re pretty though.” You sighed, running your freehand through his hair, making his eyes snap up to your face. God- his eyes… So fucking pretty— They’d probably look even more pretty all glossy with tears… “I swear, if you weren’t such a dick, I’d take you to dinner instead of making you eat me out like a common whore.” You frowned, feeling almost disappointed. “But maybe you’re only a dick because I haven’t put you in your place yet.” 

He tried to pull back, but you just grabbed his hair and yanked him forward again, burying his face in your pussy— You were mostly talking outloud to yourself anyway, so he didn’t need to worry about doing something as silly as talking back. 

“I’ll wait and see what your attitude is like after you make me come all over your face, then I’ll decide whether I should have my assistant set up dinner or not.” You decided. Robert tried to speak, but you were holding him against your cunt too firmly. “Shh… You’re so much prettier when you’re not running your mouth, sweetheart.” The way his cheeks went bright red made you grin sadistically. 

“Use a finger.” You commanded, getting antsy for your orgasm already. Robert huffed, but used the hand that wasn’t holding your panties to slide a finger inside you. “Good boy.” You smiled. He let out a quiet sound when you started petting his hair again. 

“You should feel lucky, you know. I’ve been so busy recently that I’ve barely had any time to get off for almost two weeks straight so I’m already getting close.” He let out another muffled sound in response, slipping a second finger inside you. “Oh, look at you… Such a good boy taking initiative.” You cooed mockingly. Was he just trying to get this over with faster? Maybe… But you didn’t really care. You’d have plenty more opportunities for Robert to take his time now that you were going to be business partners. 

The constant suction on your clit with the way his fingers curled inside you made your back arch off the chair, pushing your hips down onto his face. Robert might’ve been a spoiled brat, but damn if he wasn’t amazing at eating pussy…

“God- you look so fucking pathetic with your pretty face buried in my pussy… and you love it, don’t you?” He grunted something unintelligible, but it wasn’t an obvious denial, at least. “Yeah you do.” You chuckled. 

“C’mon, Robert… Be a good boy and make me come— make your daddy proud and secure this partnership all on your own like a big boy.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you patronized him, but he didn’t get angry or try to pull away. He just let out another sound and started sucking and licking more enthusiastically. 

You brought your other hand down to his head as well, holding him firmly against your cunt. Your toes were curling in your heels as the pleasure continued building, until finally it all snapped. 

You bit your lip to stifle a moan, knowing you couldn’t be too loud since you were still in an unlocked office. Robert whimpered when you forced his face against your pussy hard enough to squish his nose against your pubic bone and limit his breathing. Despite that, he never stopped sucking on your clit or moving his fingers inside you. Your cunt was gushing and pulsing around his digits, your clit throbbing in his mouth as waves of pleasure rolled through you, and nonsensical praises left your lips. 

“Fucking hell… I needed that more than I thought I did.” You said through a breath, panting heavily. As you sagged back into the chair, you loosened your grip on him, but didn’t let go completely, you just let him pull back a tiny bit. He was also panting, the lower half of his face almost completely drenched, his cheeks a dark pink, and his eyes glazed over with what you assumed was lust. 

“You were better at that than I thought you’d be…” You told him, but he barely reacted. “Take your fingers out and suck them clean.” You ordered, wanting to test whether he was still just out of it, or if you actually broke him down already. 

He carefully extracted his fingers, then put them in his mouth, his eyes fluttering as he sucked off your arousal. 

“Huh.” You said to yourself, slightly shocked— That was way too easy… As another test, you picked up his coffee cup and took another sip, making sure he was watching. 

He just licked his lips, then cleared his throat. “…Are you going through with the partnership?” He managed to say, and you couldn’t hold back a smirk in time. 

“I need to think about it some more. My assistant will call you tomorrow to arrange dinner plans. I’ll give you my decision then.” You finally released his hair and ran your fingers through it a little, trying to smooth it out so it didn’t look like he just had his head buried between your legs… “Do you have anything you want to say to me for giving you another chance?” 

“Thank you.” Your smirk turned into a pleased smile and you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Keep being a good boy and I’m sure this partnership will work out just fine.” He nodded dumbly in response and you stood up, fixing your panties and pulling your skirt back down. Robert just stared up at you, almost in a trance, and watched in awe. 

“Oh, and, Robert?” You leaned down a little, taking his warm cheeks in your hand to make sure you had his full attention. “The next time you think you can get away with being a brat to me, you’ll be doing much worse than just eating me out.” You smiled sweetly, making his poor, fucked out little head lag as he struggled to understand the real meaning behind your words.

(Also yes, I already started part 2 lol)