#one day I will understand the tagging system but that day is not today

[therpistlr]

When the System is Overwhelmed: A Safe Space to Vent

To every alter, fragment, and hidden part screaming into the void tonight: I hear you.

This disorder built walls between us to survive what no one should have to endure. Now those same defenses leave us feeling stranded—voices muffled, memories scattered, needs clashing. Some days it feels like we’re a ship with twenty captains and no compass.

What We Need to Remember Right Now:

The chaos isn’t failure - it’s the aftermath of a brilliant survival strategy

No part is "too much" - even the angriest protector or most fearful child belongs

We don’t have to figure it all out today - survival first, then understanding

Ways We’re Trying to Weather the Storm:

🔥 For the furious ones: Ripping paper, screaming into pillows, rage-drawing with red markers 🧸 For the littles: Stuffed animals, coloring books, warm milk with honey 🌪 For the overwhelmed: Weighted blankets, humming a grounding song, naming safe objects

There’s a workbook some of us have been using (Dissociative Identity Disorder Workbook) when we can handle structured work. It has: ✍️ Pages for different alters to speak their truth 🛡 Exercises to ease the war inside 🧩 Ways to map our system without force

But tonight? If all we can do is breathe and exist between switches, that’s enough. The work will wait.

To anyone else riding this storm: Drop a 💙 in the tags if you need your pain witnessed. We see you.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37) heavy dacryphilia, finger sucking, use of “good girl”, use of pet names, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him.

An: I fear that I was going to explode if I didn’t write this. I’ve been in a not good headspace. Blah blah blah school sucks blah blah work sucks blah everything sucks. I’m sorry if this sucks too. Edit - I forgot to mention that this will be a multi-part fic.

Part one. | Part two.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing in this life comes for free.

Your father taught you from a very early age to never take handouts from anyone because they’ll always benefit the other person more. He was an immigrant to Japan, and he worked hard for every yen he made.

He instilled that same work ethic in you.

After being hurt on the job from working in a poor environment, your father became very ill. He couldn’t move around as much. Sitting up out of bed made him feel winded. He slowly withered away into a shell of the man who once raised you.

Your mom was long gone. She couldn’t help out, nor did she even want to.

All you were left with was a pile of debt and utter rage. Had your father not been taken advantage of by greedy corporate conglomerates, he would still be here today.

It inspired you to want to go to law school. Your dad should’ve received a hefty settlement check for what he endured from his workplace conditions. The money wouldn’t have solved everything, but it would’ve alleviated some of the stress your dad dealt with in his final days.

You’ll never forget how hoarse his voice sounded while he was on the phone with different agencies, trying to sue that place who forced him into an early grave.

You’ll never forgive them for stealing your dad away.

If you were more ambitious, you’d work to try to change the system entirely, but you knew that wasn’t your fight to face. You wanted to help the already disadvantaged families who were facing injustices beyond their control.

So, you started law school. You were smart enough for it. You had the heart. You just didn’t have a special last name to fund your college tuition. You were a first generation Japanese American in the family. While both your parents were born in America, you were born in Japan, but you were still an outsider.

You were never properly indoctrinated in the culture. Sure, you knew the basics. You knew proper etiquette and appropriate behaviors to live in Japan, but you didn’t understand the layers of how society operated. It was as if you were never assimilated into society as a Japanese citizen.

Your dad wasn’t born here, so he never could explain to you how your last name means everything in this town.

Despite it all, you’d become a lawyer even if you had to bury yourself into debt to do it. You’d work to put yourself through college. You’d do it and bear a smile on your face because you don’t take fucking handouts.

That lead you to becoming a bottle girl at one of the most exclusive clubs in the entertainment district: Malevolent Mass.

The manager said you had the right look, whatever that means. It didn’t matter. He hired you on the spot despite your lack of a substantial last name.

This would be fine. You’d work at night on the weekends and put yourself through school during the day, and you’d keep it a secret from your school, knowing you could lose your position in the prestigious school.

It was a perfect plan, right?

Yes, it was perfect.

Customers seemed to love your polite attitude and warm hospitality. You had quickly made a name for yourself in the few short nights you had worked there.

It was only your second weekend, and your section was full. It was almost comprised entirely of men and their gold digger wives, but you got use to the sexual comments and predatory smiles.

The environment was heavily secured. When you were hired, the managers made sure to show you where security was posted up at every dark corner. They also showed you where cameras were located and assured you that not anyone could just walk into Malevolent Mass.

However, you were well aware that the most dangerous people often worse suits and golden Rolex’s.

It was a busy Friday night. You had already shotgunned two 5 Hour Energy drinks, and you had been steadily sipping on a Monster throughout your shift. You had been in classes all day, and you were scheduled to work until close at 4am.

“Cherry, can we get another round of champagnes?” a sleazy voice pipes up, calling you by your codename. The club was so security driven that they gave all the bottle girls codenames to protect their identities.

“Yes sir,” you respond with an entirely fake bright smile. Your buzzed customers couldn’t tell the difference especially with the low lighting and bass boosted music.

As you walked over towards the bar, your eyes fall onto another table. A man was leaned back with his hands behind his head. He looked entirely relaxed as a girl was bent over your lap.

A crease formed between your eyebrows. They couldn’t be serious, right? Malevolent Mass had a whole downstairs portion dedicated to public sexual acts and other deviant kinks. Why the fuck were they doing that in the normal club area?

As you took a step further, ready to confront them, you realized that the girl was positioned oddly. She wasn’t angled towards his crotch, instead she was hovering over his thigh.

That’s when you noticed she had a rolled up 10,000 yen note, and she was snorting a white powdery substance off the man’s thigh.

Holy fuck, you were in over your head.

Stumbling back towards the bar, you felt your head start to spin a little. It was probably due to fact you’d only consumed energy drinks in the past 12 hours.

“Girl. You don’t look too good,” the bartender, Yorozu, said as she guided you to take a seat. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Compared to the other bottle girls and dancers, Yorozu was the closest thing you had to a friend in this establishment.

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied, shaking your head. It was just drugs. You needed to take a chill pill. It’s not like people go to clubs like this just for some liquid courage.

Yorozu put a glass of water in front of you anyways, not quite believing your words. “Here. I promise you get used to it all,” she offered with a kind smile.

You gave her an appreciative smile as you took a sip of the water. Your hand was trembling, and you realized you had been sweating.

The water felt nice, and you inwardly warded off energy drinks for the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth feeling like a panicky mess.

“I need another bottle of Dom Prignon for booth 12,” you said as you looked back up towards Yorozu. She nodded and walked towards the back to retrieve the bottle of too expensive champagne.

While she was gone, you took a deep breath and looked around towards the security posts. It felt like a small safety blanket in a place like this. Finishing your glass of water, you felt infinitely better as she returned with the bottle.

“Here you are! Let me know if you need anything else, and seriously, don’t feel bad for reacting that way. It’s a bit of a culture shock for everyone during their first few nights,” she assured you as she handed you the bottle.

“Thanks, I appreciate you,” you replied with a genuine smile. Yorozu had a nice energy to her like you felt like you could get close to her one day. A girl friend would be nice to have in a place like this.

As you walked back over to your section, your lips curled into a frown as empty seats filled your eyes. Had they gotten tired of waiting and abandoned your section?

You felt disappointed as you looked around for your customers. They were nowhere to be found, but one silhouette remained in the very back corner.

“Did you bring that bottle for me? How sweet. Too bad I don’t drink,” a deep gravely voice spoke up with a hint of condescension and pure predatory prowess.

You hesitate as it feels like the air in the club shifts simply from this man’s presence alone.

“You don’t drink..?” your voice is uneasy. You feel off balance while interacting with the man tucked away in a dark corner.

“No,” the stranger replied, and he leaned forward a bit, propping his elbows on his knees as his eyes were staring straight at you. “Don’t be shy, girl. Come closer. I won’t bite…” the condescension in his voice tells you otherwise.

You swallow thickly before slowly taking a few steps closer. As you approached him, you were able to see him in all of his glory. The breath is completely sucked from your lungs as you’re able to finally get a good look at him.

He wore a white button-up top with black slacks that really didn’t leave much for the imagination. His sleeves weee rolled up to his elbows, showing off tattoos on his arms.

His face was hauntingly alluring. His tattoos also went up to his face. He had intricate lines under his cheeks that stretched down to his chin. His hair was a natural light rosy color that was pushed up from his forehead. It looked effortless and messy, unlike most business men who rely way too heavily on hair gel.

His eyes were a soft crimson color that looked like blood that had been spilled. A jarring scar slashed over his left eye, but it wasn’t ugly by any means. No, this man held a god-like status when it came to looks. However, his energy felt nothing short of daunting and corrupt.

“Who comes to a club to not drink?” you ask nervously, having to fill the eerie silence with something. It felt like you were suffocating in this man’s presence.

A rugged chuckle leaves his lips, and he tilts his head back slightly. It feels like his laugh sticks to you, making you relax and tense back up all at the same time. You can feel every yen he’s worth with each chuckle.

“If you must know, I come here for a… different sort of entertainment,” he says as his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes unabashedly roam your body — twice before he meets your gaze again.

“Oh, that’s downstairs,” you reply as you feel relieved. This man was just in the wrong section. Surely, you’d guide him to where he needed to go, and you’d be free from whatever kind of verbal hostage situation this was.

“I’m content with where I’m at,” he says with a sort of finality that leaves little room for argument. “Come closer, doll.”

His arm props up on the back of the curved booth, and his legs part into that sort of manspread position where he takes up a good portion of the booth with his massive size.

“I-“

The man pulls a clip of money from his suit, and he makes a show out of flipping through the money before he lays six 10,000 yen notes on the table.

What the hell.

“60,000 yen for you to shut up and come closer,” he says in a voice that lacks the faux kindness he was putting on earlier.

Every survival instinct in your body was telling you to run, but your brain was telling you that 60,000 yen was enough to cover your student housing and for a train pass for a month.

You slowly inch closer, your heels not even lifting from the ground.

The man gives you an amused look as he raises an eyebrow at you. “How much for you to sit on my lap?”

“I-I’m not a dancer..” you reply sheepishly, wondering if he thought you were one of the performers for the club.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to dance, doll. I’m asking you to sit in my lap,” His lips curl into a feline grin. He’s enjoying toying with you like this. “So, I’ll ask only one more time. How much?”

Your heart is pounding against the confines of your ribcage. It felt like you had a little angel on your shoulder telling you that selling this man your time will only further escalate, but the little devil on your other shoulder was telling you to milk him for whatever he was willing to give.

You stayed silent for a few minutes, calculating what a whole month’s expenses would cost you along with the 60,000 yen you already made.

“90,000 yen,” you sheepishly murmur, bracing yourself for him to yell at you for even suggesting such a high number.

There was a beat of silence before the sound of more money being unfolded was heard. He chuckled as he placed down nine more 10,000 yen notes.

“Look at you being all cute while asking for money from me,” he teased, resting his back against the back of the booth. His hand patted his thigh, signaling for you to take a seat.

“I’m not asking— You offered!” you protested, feeling a bit defensive that he would suggest that you just asked him for money.

“Don’t take such a whiny tone with me, doll. I’m only teasing you,” he says as he gestures to his lap yet again. “Sit.”

You bite your bottom lip as you look down towards his lap. You were really about to sit on this stranger’s lap for money… If your dad could see you now, he’d probably disown you.

Good thing he isn’t here.

You slowly walked over towards him, and you carefully take a seat on one of his thighs, planting your feet firmly on the ground so you’re slightly hovering. You need to be able to get away from him at a moment’s notice.

A strong hand slowly snaked up your back, towards your hair, and you tensed up quickly. The stranger wrapped his hand around the back of your neck.

“If I have to tell you again, I’m taking back my money. Sit,” he viciously growled in your ear.

You were already this far in. You should see this through. This club is safe. You were sure of it.

As you slowly allowed yourself to prop your full weight across his lap, your eyes scan around the club, looking at the security points. None of the men would even glance in your direction as if they were purposefully ignoring your section.

What did you just get yourself into?

“See? Was that so hard?” he taunted as his hand slowly dropped down to clasp around your hip. “Why is an angel like you in a club like this?”

Everything in you told you not to answer that question. As soon as he knew your weakness, he’d definitely use it to his advantage, but he probably already knew money was a good motivator for you.

“I didn’t know there was a no angel policy,” you say, trying to remain casual as you flash him a small smile.

A deep chuckle erupts from his chest. He appreciates you trying to use humor to deflect. Clever girl.

“I suppose you’re right,” he rolls his head to the side, cracking his neck from both sides. The sound of bones popping causes a shudder to go through your body. This man was good at giving a false sense of security. “But angels don’t last long in a place like this. It would be a pity to see you be ruined.”

His other hand firmly rested against your thigh, right above your knee. He gives your leg a light squeeze. “Tell me your name, doll.”

“Cherry,” You respond without missing a beat, giving your code name instead of your real name.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks, allowing his fingertips to glide against the exposed skin of your thigh. Your breath picks up in speed, noticing he’s getting more bold with touching you.

“Am I suppose to?” you ask, genuinely curious if this man was some big shot that you were suppose to know.

You very rarely kept up with politics, only knowing major crime names from your law classes, and you definitely didn’t keep up with conglomerates. This man wouldn’t be the first millionaire to walk through the doors of Malevolent Mass, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Another deep raspy chuckle escapes him. “No, I actually find it quite cute you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

His hand slithered up your back once again, and this time he grabbed a fistful of your head, tugging your head back to look up at him. A gasp slips past your lips as your eyes meet his crimson ones.

“Tell me a secret, cherry,” he hisses your codename like it’s disgraceful on his tongue. “Do you belong here?”

You think to try to get up from his lap, but his other arm has worked to secure you to him tightly. The security men aren’t even glancing in your direction. No one would hear you over the music blasting if you tried to scream, and if this man was as important as his inflated ego suggested, no one would likely even help you.

You’ve done everything thus far to get out from underneath the rich man’s thumb, but it feels like every time you take one step forward, something pushed two steps back.

Do you belong anywhere? No where feels like home after your dad passed. Tears stung into your eyes. Why were you thinking of him at a time like this? He can’t save you now.

The man’s lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the tears building in your eyes. That alone was confirmation enough. You didn’t belong here at all.

His other hand reaches up to your face, and he gently strokes your cheek — a contrast to how tightly he was holding your hair. “Such a pretty crier,” he deep gravely voice coos to you.

You can’t even help it at this point. You try to blink the water away from your eyes, but the tears slip down your cheeks anyway. You just silently cursed yourself for ruining your own makeup.

“You’re a crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked as his fingers brush against your pouty lips, and he grabs your chin carefully. “Open.”

Accepting defeat, your lips part ever so slightly for him, and you can feel the way his heart races in his chest from the sight. He narrowly eyes you as two of his fingers slip past your lips.

You’re momentarily stunned from his thick fingers filling your mouth. You feel a thrum between your thighs, but you try to ignore it. Surely, your body was just betraying you, and his body was betraying him. You were able to feel every inch of his hard on through his slacks. The sight of your tears only served to spur him on further.

When you give his fingers a light suckle, he purrs a praise for you. Leisurely, he thrusts his digits in and out from your mouth. He admires the way you accept them in without a single complaint.

“Such a good girl for me. Try a little harder,” his voice darkly instructs you as he slides his fingers deeper past your tongue, hitting your inexperienced throat.

Your throat involuntarily constricts, causing you to gag and cry more. You hum around his fingers as you whimper. He merely laughs at your pitiful display.

“We’ll have to train your cute little throat to take more, won’t we?” he asked, making a dull ache settle in your lower stomach. You had never done anything like this, and the way he was treating all this so casually filled you with some sort of… excitement.

His words also struck you with fear as you realized this meant he was likely far from being done with his antics.

His fingers continue until you’ve coated them in a thin sheen of saliva. When he pulled from you, you were panting even though he hadn’t taken away your ability to breathe.

He smirked as he gazed at you as if he can tell that your cunt is clenching around nothing right now. It’s like he knows every perverse desire you’ve fantasized about in your alone time.

“You’re a vision, doll. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you,”

Before you could even think to inquire what he meant by that, an unfamiliar male voice spoke up to your side, causing you to flinch slightly. The other man was dressed in basic business attire, but he had a scrappier look to him.

“Sir?”

The stranger tensed, and you could practically see all the playful taunting energy in his face melt away. He stared daggers into the newcomer’s soul. “Speak.”

“Members of the Gojo clan were spotted near Dante’s 7th circle,”

“Dammit, what a pest,” the pink-haired male growled. He clearly didn’t fancy being interrupted.

You perked up a little from the mention of the infamous Gojo clan. You had heard plenty of whispers about the clan fluttering about on campus, and the clan had been brought up momentarily in your organized gangs class before the professor quickly shut down the conversation.

Yakuza clans were talked about in school, but the professors were very careful about what they chose to say, knowing that members were everywhere amongst them.

The stranger carefully moved you from his lap, and he stood up, gathering himself before turning to you. “You behave. I have to go tend to something, but I’ll be back for you,” he said as he reached into his coat, and he casually tossed a whole clip of yen onto the table.

Your eyes widened at the stack of money sitting on the table, and your heart began to race. It felt like the last two hours had been a complete blur, but now, you were face with a thick stack of money — probably enough to cover you for at least three months… and you weren’t even done with your shift yet.

Your excitement was quickly overshadowed by fear. He was coming back for you. How intertwined had you gotten yourself into this mess?

taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.

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a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3

I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE

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Brat Taming

Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.

Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.

His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”

Praise (Receiving)

Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.

Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”

You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”

Somnophillia

You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”

He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.

He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”

Edging/Mommy Kink

You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”

You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on  his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”

You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most,  pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”

Dacryphillia

Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.

“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”

He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”

Cat and Mouse/CNC

Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage  to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”

Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.

“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!

[moongirlcleo]

A Thorough Appointment

Tags: Jealousy, Childhood Friends, MMF Threesome, Counter Sex, Kitchen Sex, Oral, Caleb and Zayne get Competitive, Poly-ish, MC is a little Shit, Porn with Plot, Double Penetration AN: Check out all of my works on AO3! -> | link

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

After a long day of hunting—and a doctor’s appointment you were definitely late to—you barely have time to kick off your boots before walking straight into a storm: Caleb’s jealousy. One rescheduled date, one harmless visit to Dr. Zayne, and suddenly, you’re the grand prize in a competition you didn’t even sign up for.

What starts as a little petty jealousy spirals into a full-blown rivalry, and before you know it, they’re both set on proving exactly who knows how to take care of you best. Spoiler alert: they’re both very, very competitive.

“Your appointment was scheduled for 2:30 today, were you aware of that?” The receptionist at the desk of Akso Hospital said, barely looking up from the computer screen. Her plaited hair curled around her face from under the bonnet on top of her head, giving her a worn but stern look.

With a wince, you nodded.

“Er, yeah… I apologize, but I was working and I had an assignment run late.” You wrung your hands in embarrassment, hoping the receptionist would understand. After all, being a Deepspace Hunter wasn’t exactly your typical nine to five.

The receptionist gave you a withering look, causing the apples of your cheeks to burn with heat. She typed something onto her document and nodded toward a small cluster of chairs.

“You can wait over there. The practitioner will call your name when they’re ready for you.”

With a small sigh, you retreated toward the waiting ward, mulling over the previous assignment that had held your schedule up.

Wanderers had been attacking areas of Linkon City in droves lately, keeping all hunters busier than usual. So much so, that you had barely even seen your own partner, Xavier, in weeks. The sheer amount of protocores being turned into the association backlogged the systems, making paperwork become an even bigger nightmare too.

“Ms. L/n?”

Looking up from your hands, you saw a practitioner holding a chart, looking toward you. With a short nod, you stood up and followed the young man as he rattled off a grocery list of questions.

Mumbling a reply, you continued to follow him into Dr. Zayne’s examination room. It smelled of sterilized equipment and a fragrance you couldn’t quite place.

The NP guided you toward the examination bed, to which you hoisted yourself on top of. You silently watched as the practitioner took all of your vitals, quietly charting them down for the doctor to assess.

“Alright, Ms. L/n, Dr. Zayne will be along shortly. When you have a moment, please change out of your clothes into this examination robe.” The NP handed you a flimsy paper gown, and with a smile, he retreated from the room.

Once the door clicked shut, you began to strip down into bareness, hastily tying the rope around your waist to securely tie the gown down.

Settled, you sat on the bed once more and began flipping through your phone apps to entertain yourself while awaiting the doctor. It seemed like only yesterday that you and Zayne were snot-nosed kids, always hanging out together. With a smile, you remembered one such instance where you and Zayne played hide and seek with Caleb, the latter growing upset at being unable to find you until way later. The memory of your youth was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Y/n?” A voice came from behind the door. “May I enter?”

“Y-yes!” you called back. “I’m decent.”

The door opened and Dr. Zayne appeared, looking handsome as ever. He gave you a serene smile and picked up the chart on the counter.

“So,” he began, flipping through the papers. “Looks like you’ve been overexerting yourself again, haven’t you?”

With a sheepish grin, you nodded. “Well, yeah… I mean I’m fine, though, Zayne. Really.”

The doctor gives you a stern look, jaw set. “Y/n, I mean it. You know you’re not supposed to push yourself, else your heart co—”

“I know, Zayne,” you snapped at him. “But I can’t let that stop me from doing my job and protecting the people around Linkon.”

Zayne’s eyes softened as he looked over you. “I know you want to save people. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. I mean it, please try not to overexert yourself.”

Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he set your chart aside. “You always do this, n/n” he muttered, voice softening, though the frustration remained, laced with something unspoken. Something you didn’t want to name.

You blinked, thrown off for just a second. It had been years since he called you a nickname—since the days when scraped knees and childhood dares were your biggest worries. You shifted on the exam bed, folding your arms over your chest like a shield. “And you always worry too much,” you muttered.

Zayne exhaled, shaking his head. “Someone has to.”

A silence stretched between you, thick with familiarity, with the weight of history neither of you addressed. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, as if he could see past the mask of easy confidence you wore. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, something that would break the careful distance you’d kept.

But then his communicator beeped, the sterile air of the examination room shifting back to reality. You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, taking the opportunity to hop off the table, your movements brisk, determined.

"Promise me you’ll at least consider taking a break," he said, quieter this time.

You hesitated, fingers ghosting over the knot of the paper gown before you forced a grin. "No promises, doc."

Zayne watched you go, jaw set, the worry never leaving his eyes.

The afternoon air was crisp as you stepped out of Akso Hospital, the scent of antiseptic replaced by the damp, metallic tang of the city. Sunlight glared off the polished streets, casting long shadows as you made your way to your vehicle—a sleek black hoverbike stationed in the parking dock. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling as you swung one leg over the seat and keyed in the ignition.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence, but your mind wasn’t so easily drowned out.

Zayne’s voice still lingered, edged with concern, the ghost of his words brushing against your thoughts like a whisper from another time. You knew he meant well, that he had every reason to be worried, but slowing down wasn’t an option. Not when the city was crawling with Wanderers. Not when Xavier had been out in the field for weeks without so much as a check-in.

Not when you were already late.

Your eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard—an angry red 3:37 PM blinking back at you.

“Shit.”

You revved the bike, the thrusters lifting you effortlessly above the streets of Linkon City. Buildings blurred past in streaks of neon and chrome, the hum of traffic and distant sirens becoming nothing more than background noise. Caleb was waiting. He hated when you were late—though he’d never say it outright, not in so many words. But you knew. You always knew.

He worried, too, though in his own quiet way.

Your grip on the handles tightened as you wove through the lanes of air traffic, mind cycling through a dozen excuses. The job ran late. Zayne held you up. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but something about the thought of Caleb’s knowing stare made your stomach twist with guilt.

You’d make it up to him.

You cut a sharp turn, your apartment complex coming into view, its glass windows reflecting the golden afternoon light. Your fingers tapped absently against the throttle, your heart still hammering from the weight of the day.

Late. Again.

Would Caleb still be waiting? Or had you let another person down today?

You barely had time to kill the engine before the apartment door swung open. Caleb stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable beneath the warm afternoon glow filtering in from the window behind him.

You could tell immediately—he knew.

“You’re late,” he said, voice deceptively even.

You sighed, tugging your helmet off and running a hand through your wind-blown hair. “I know. I—”

“Had an ��assignment run late’? Or did Zayne hold you up?”

The way he said the name—clipped, pointed—sent a prickle of irritation down your spine. You unzipped your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch as you stepped inside, leveling him with a tired look. “Caleb.”

“What?” He pushed off the doorframe, shutting it behind you with a quiet click. “Just curious how long I was supposed to wait before you finally decided to show up.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was a doctor’s appointment. Not a date.”

His jaw tightened. “Didn’t look that way from what I heard.”

Your breath hitched for half a second. He had heard something.

“Who told you?” you asked, wary.

Caleb scoffed. “Does it matter?”

Yes, it did. But that wasn’t the fight you were having right now.

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Caleb, I didn’t plan on seeing him today. I had to go, I got chewed out, end of story.”

He took a slow step closer, eyes flicking over you, searching. “Chewed out?” His voice lowered, tone almost taunting. “So he was worried about you.”

Your lips pressed into a firm line. “That’s his job.”

Caleb let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Right. His job. Funny, because last I checked, I’m the one who actually has to patch you up when you push yourself too hard.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make this a competition.”

His gaze darkened, something possessive flickering behind his eyes. “I don’t have to make it one.”

Silence stretched between you, thick, charged. You should be annoyed. You were annoyed. But the heat in his stare, the sharp edge in his voice, sent something else curling in your chest.

Still, you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“You know,” you said, tilting your head, voice deceptively light. “For someone who isn’t making this a competition, you sure seem jealous.”

Caleb’s jaw tensed, but you didn’t miss the flicker of something else—something unguarded—before he masked it behind a smirk.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, stepping back.

You arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Forget it. You’re here now. Just… try not to keep me waiting next time.”

You studied him for a beat longer, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you.”

Caleb glanced at you from the corner of his eye, skepticism still lingering in his expression. “Yeah? How?”

You grinned, tossing your helmet onto the couch. “I’ll figure something out.”

The tension didn’t fully dissipate, but for now, it was enough.

Caleb didn’t move right away. Instead, he watched you with that sharp, unreadable gaze, the smirk from earlier fading into something heavier. Something darker.

You barely had time to process it before he took a step forward—then another—until the space between you had all but disappeared.

“Caleb…” you started, voice caught somewhere between exasperation and warning.

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers brushed against your waist, slow, deliberate, tracing the fabric of your shirt as if mapping the shape of you.

“You think this is funny?” His voice had dropped lower, smoother, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in—so close, you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You swallowed, but you refused to be the one to step back. “I think you’re being ridiculous.”

His lips quirked at that, but his eyes remained intense, smoldering. “Ridiculous, huh?”

His fingers flexed against your waist, grip tightening just enough to make your pulse spike. He wasn’t just annoyed anymore—he wanted to prove something. To remind you who you belonged to.

“Caleb,” you murmured, pulse thrumming under the skin of your throat.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was pure velvet, thick with unspoken intent. “If I kissed you right now, would you still think I was being ridiculous?”

Your breath hitched.

He was playing dirty.

Your pride screamed at you to keep the upper hand, to smirk and brush him off like this wasn’t affecting you. But your body betrayed you, heart hammering against your ribs, a traitorous warmth pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you—like you were his.

And damn it, maybe you were.

Before you could form a retort, he tilted his head, nose grazing yours, the faintest ghost of a touch against your lips—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound shattered the moment like glass.

Caleb went still, his body tense with frustration, his jaw ticking like he was barely holding back a curse. You blinked, mind still fogged over as you registered the sound.

Another knock.

Caleb exhaled sharply, his hands leaving your body with obvious reluctance. His head fell forward slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he muttered a single word, voice dark with irritation—

“Unbelievable.”

You, still caught between flustered and amused, barely had time to compose yourself before—

“Y/n?”

That voice.

Your stomach dropped.

Caleb’s entire body stiffened, his grip tightening into fists at his sides.

Zayne.

You pulled away, clearing your throat as you straightened your clothes, ignoring the heated look Caleb shot toward the door.

“Uh—one second!” you called, hoping your voice sounded normal.

Caleb let out a low growl, raking a hand through his hair before turning toward the door, murder in his eyes. “Of course it’s him.”

You shot him a warning look, but he only leaned against the couch, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips. “Go ahead, pipsqueak. Let Doctor Perfect in.”

Oh, he was so not letting this go.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you unlocked the door—only to be met with Zayne’s calm, knowing gaze.

And just like that, the tension in the room shifted again.

You barely had time to school your expression before Zayne’s eyes flickered over you, sharp and assessing. He was calm—too calm—the kind of composed that sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

“Hey,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Zayne’s gaze lingered on you a beat too long before he lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my messages.”

You blinked, stomach twisting as you glanced at your phone—still sitting on the couch, untouched. Damn it.

Before you could respond, a slow, almost too satisfied voice cut in from behind you.

“She was a little… busy.”

You closed your eyes briefly, bracing yourself before turning.

Caleb leaned against the back of the couch, arms still crossed, a smirk playing at his lips—relaxed, easy, deliberate. Like he wanted Zayne to see.

Zayne’s posture didn’t shift, but you caught the flicker of tension in his jaw.

“I see,” he said smoothly, though there was something clipped underneath his tone. His gaze moved between the two of you, his lips pressing into a firm line before he turned his attention back to you. “I needed to check in. You left the hospital in a hurry.”

“She’s fine,” Caleb interjected before you could answer, pushing off the couch and strolling toward you. He stopped just close enough that Zayne had to either stand his ground or step back.

Zayne didn’t move.

You sighed, muttering, “I was going to say that myself,” throwing Caleb a look.

Caleb just gave you an innocent shrug. “Just savin’ you the trouble.”

Zayne’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Right.” He turned his full attention back to you, clearly choosing to ignore Caleb’s presence. “You should be fine, but I meant it when I said you need to ease up. If you keep pushing yourself—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Caleb cut in again, voice lazy, but his eyes gleamed with something sharp. “I make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

Zayne’s jaw did tick this time, and you swore you felt the air in the room drop a degree.

Okay, enough.

You stepped between them, pressing a hand against Caleb’s chest to physically keep him from leaning any closer. “Okay, that’s enough out of you,” you muttered before looking at Zayne. “And I’m fine, I promise.”

Zayne’s gaze flickered down to your hand against Caleb’s chest before meeting your eyes again. “You said that last time.”

You huffed. “I mean it.”

Zayne studied you for a long moment before exhaling, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine.” But the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Caleb, sensing victory, let his smirk widen. “See? She means it, Doc. You can go now.”

Zayne’s eyes snapped toward him, sharp as a blade, but instead of biting back, he exhaled and turned to you. “I’ll check in later.”

The moment he stepped back toward the door, Caleb slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just close enough that Zayne had to notice.

“Looking forward to it,” Caleb said, his tone all mockery and satisfaction.

Zayne’s eyes met yours one last time, and for a split second, you thought you saw something—something that wasn’t anger, wasn’t frustration, but something deeper.

He didn’t leave.

His fingers twitched at his side, his jaw set like he was debating something internally, but his feet stayed firmly planted. He wasn’t going to give Caleb the satisfaction of walking out first.

You felt the shift immediately. The charged air between them thickened, tension rolling through the room like an oncoming storm.

Caleb, always one to push, leaned further into your space, his arm still draped lazily around your shoulders. “Something wrong, Doctor?” he drawled, voice rich with amusement.

Zayne exhaled through his nose, but there was something measured in his expression, something controlled. “I just want to make sure she is actually taking care of herself,” he said, tone neutral. “Not being… distracted.”

Caleb let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I make sure she’s taken care of. Every. Single. Day.” His fingers brushed against your arm as he spoke, slow and deliberate, just enough to make a point.

Zayne’s eyes darkened.

You let out an exasperated sigh, stepping forward to put some space between them before they started circling each other like predators. “Okay, that’s enough of whatever this is,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“This?” Caleb grinned. “Come on, pipsqueak, don’t act like you don’t enjoy a little attention.”

Zayne scoffed. “She doesn’t need this kind of attention. She needs rest.”

“Yeah?” Caleb mused, tilting his head. “And I bet you’d love to be the one to give it to her, wouldn’t you?”

Zayne’s jaw flexed.

You, caught between them, felt like you were standing at the edge of something dangerous—something thrilling. Caleb had always been possessive, but Zayne? Zayne was different. He was steady, rational, someone who thought things through.

But not right now.

Right now, he was pushing back.

Zayne took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I care about her well-being.” His eyes locked onto Caleb’s. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

Caleb’s smirk widened, but his grip on your waist tightened. “That so?” His gaze flicked to you, hooded, deliberate. “What do you think, baby?”

Your breath caught.

You were so not getting in the middle of this.

Or maybe… you already were.

Zayne watched you carefully, the weight of his stare almost suffocating. Caleb’s fingers traced lazy circles against your hip, his expression smug, knowing.

Heat curled low in your stomach.

Damn them both.

You could play coy, pretend this was nothing more than a pissing contest. Or you could really test them.

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “I think…” you dragged out, shifting slightly so Caleb’s grip adjusted and Zayne’s focus sharpened, “...this is pointless.”

Caleb chuckled. “Come on, pipsqueak. You love when we fight over you.”

Zayne exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not fighting over her.”

Caleb’s brows shot up. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched. “I think I need a drink.”

Before either of them could argue, you slipped out from Caleb’s hold, brushing past Zayne on your way to the kitchen. You felt both of them watch you go, their attention a tangible weight pressing into your back.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

And yet, as you poured yourself a glass of wine with slightly unsteady fingers, you couldn't shake the realization:

You liked it.

You took a slow sip of your wine, savoring the quiet moment—if only to let the tension stretch a little further, tighten just enough before you snapped it.

Behind you, you could still feel their stares, the weight of them pressing into you like a tangible force. Caleb was undoubtedly grinning, waiting for you to react, waiting for you to play his game. And Zayne? Zayne was still convincing himself that he wasn’t in this game.

You smirked against the rim of your glass. That wouldn’t last long.

Turning on your heel, you leaned against the counter, tilting your head as you let your gaze flicker between them, slow, considering.

“So,” you said, swirling your glass between your fingers. “You two seem pretty convinced you know what’s best for me.”

Caleb arched a brow, crossing his arms. “That a problem, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes sharpened. “We just don’t want you overworking yourself.”

You hummed. “Right. So which one of you actually plans to do something about it?”

That got their attention.

Caleb’s grin widened, a lazy, dangerous thing. “Oh, I like where this is going.”

Zayne, ever the rational one, exhaled. “Y/n.”

You shrugged, setting your glass down and stepping forward, close enough that they both had to take notice. “You both keep telling me you’re looking out for me, that I need to rest, that I should take care of myself.” You glanced up at Caleb, then at Zayne, letting the air between you all thrum with expectation. “So prove it.”

Caleb was already on board, eyes glinting with interest. He stepped in first, fingers brushing the inside of your wrist as he smirked down at you. “You know I don’t back down from a challenge, pipsqueak.”

You met his gaze, pulse ticking faster as you turned to Zayne, who was watching the exchange with something unreadable in his expression—something deep, something restrained.

You smiled, slow and knowing. “And you, Zayne?”

For a second, he didn’t move. But then—deliberately, purposefully—he reached out, trailing his fingers down your other arm, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “If you want me to prove something,” he murmured, voice low, “then I will.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

This was happening.

Caleb chuckled, dark amusement rolling off him as he leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. “Guess the real question is…” His fingers ghosted over your waist, teasing. “Who makes you feel better, pipsqueak?”

Zayne’s hand flexed subtly against your arm, his touch grounding, steady, intentional. “Tell us what you need.”

A slow, sharp thrill curled down your spine.

This wasn’t just them competing.

This was them laying it at your feet.

And you were going to take it.

Your smirk deepened as you glanced between them, heat curling through your veins. Oh, this was going to be fun.

You let out a slow breath, drawing out the tension as you trailed your fingers up Caleb’s chest, then turned and let your other hand slide along Zayne’s forearm. A test. A challenge.

“Well,” you mused, voice smooth as silk. “You both seem confident.” You tilted your head, gaze flickering with amusement. “But confidence doesn’t mean much without action, does it?”

Caleb’s grip tightened at your waist, his smirk widening. “Careful, pipsqueak. You know I love a dare.”

Zayne exhaled through his nose, steady but watching you, eyes hooded. “You shouldn’t play games you don’t want to win.”

You chuckled, slow and sweet. “Oh, but I do want to win.”

Caleb hummed low in his throat, his fingers grazing up your spine. “Then let’s play.”

And just like that, they did.

Caleb was the first to move—of course he was. He was reckless, fast, the one who always pushed boundaries first. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips just enough to make you suck in a breath, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “That little appointment stress you out, baby?”

You huffed, but before you could snap back, Zayne was already countering—his touch different, slower, methodical. His fingers traced up the back of your neck, barely there, teasing warmth spreading through you as he leaned in from the other side.

“You’re avoiding the question,” he said, voice dipping into something quieter, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “What do you need?”

Damn them both.

Your pulse thrummed as you swallowed, eyes flicking between them. They were the ones in competition, and yet here you were, caught in their little storm, heat rising in your cheeks, breath coming in shorter, sharper.

You had to regain control.

So you smirked and pulled back just slightly, dragging your hands down their arms as you stepped out of their space. Not a rejection—just a tease, a taunt.

“Honestly?” you mused, letting your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, playful. “I’m still waiting for one of you to impress me with your little game.”

Caleb let out a low growl of approval, shaking his head. “Oh, you like pushing your luck, don’t you?”

Zayne, ever composed, rolled his shoulders back, gaze dark with something unreadable. “Careful,” he warned, though there was no real threat behind it. Only a promise.

You leaned against the counter, tilting your head. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Caleb moved first—again—grabbing your wrist and yanking you flush against him. Your breath caught, but you refused to falter, your hands landing against his shoulders as he smirked down at you.

“I don’t think you understand, pipsqueak,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “You are the game.”

Before you could bite back a response, Zayne was there—his presence grounding, solid, but no less demanding. His fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your head slightly so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Then we’ll just have to see,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “who wins.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Oh, hell.

Before you could even think of responding, Caleb’s lips were on your neck, open-mouthed, hot, his fingers gripping your waist just enough to make you feel him, to know exactly how much he wanted this.

And then—Zayne’s fingers trailed up your throat, tilting your head further as his lips hovered just over yours, not kissing you, not yet, but so damn close you thought you might lose your mind.

“You wanted to be taken care of, didn’t you?” Zayne murmured against your lips, voice a phantom touch.

Caleb chuckled against your skin, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

And just like that— the last shred of control snapped like a live wire.

Caleb, always the one who acted before thinking, always the one who wanted to leave a mark. His teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck before he soothed it with his tongue, his grip tightening on your waist as if daring you to pull away.

But you wouldn’t.

Not when Zayne was still there, fingers tilting your chin, controlling the angle of your head, his breath hot against your lips. “You wanted to play,” he murmured, his voice lower now, thick with something darker. “Are you ready for the consequences?”

You barely had time to suck in a breath before Zayne finally closed the distance, his lips slanting over yours, slow but claiming, the kind of kiss that swallowed you whole. Where Caleb was fire, Zayne was an ocean, pulling you under with the sheer weight of his control.

You barely registered Caleb’s growl of amusement before his hands slid beneath your thighs.

“Up, pipsqueak.”

Before you could argue, he lifted you, strong and easy, and you yelped as he set you on the counter, your legs instinctively parting as he stepped between them.

Zayne barely moved from his spot, standing beside you, watching the way Caleb’s hands slid over your thighs, the way you instinctively leaned into the touch. But when you turned to meet his gaze, something dangerous flickered in his eyes—something restrained, like he was holding himself back just enough to let Caleb get away with it.

For now.

“Jealous, doc?” Caleb teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, testing.

Zayne hummed, rolling his sleeves up, eyes never leaving yours. “Not at all.”

Then he leaned in, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear. “You know how patient I can be.”

You shivered.

Caleb chuckled darkly. “Yeah? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Then his mouth was on you, lips searing as he kissed you like he wanted to burn himself into your skin. His hands roamed, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you closer, your body flush against his.

You moaned against his lips, but before you could lose yourself entirely, Zayne was there again—his fingers sliding up your arm, up your neck, threading through your hair as he pulled you away from Caleb and back into him.

His mouth met yours again, this time rougher, more demanding, as if he was reclaiming his space in this game.

Caleb let out a low, satisfied hum. “There’s that competitive side.”

You barely had time to process the heat in Zayne’s gaze before Caleb’s hands were sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips ghosting up your back, making you arch against him.

“I think,” Caleb murmured against your throat, “we should see just how much she can take.”

Zayne smirked against your lips. “Agreed.”

Caleb nudged you to the edge of the counter, fingers making quick work of your zipper. Beside you, Zayne watched, his expression carefully unreadable—but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched just slightly.

The glint in Caleb’s eye was unmistakable as he slowly peeled your pants down, his fingers dragging against your heated skin. A lazy grin spread across his lips as a flush crept up your cheeks.

“What a perfect spread you’ve got for me,” he murmured, licking his lips.

Zayne exhaled sharply, unimpressed. “If you’re just going to tease her, step aside so a real man can do the job.”

Caleb shot him a glare. “And what, you think that’s you? Come on, doc. Even as kids, you couldn’t take care of her like I could.”

Without another word, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down in one smooth motion. The way both men stared at you—hungry, reverent—sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

Then, slow as a hunter stalking prey, Caleb sank to his knees, lips ghosting over your inner thigh before his tongue swiped a deliberate path over your heat. The precise movement made you exhale shakily, your eyes fluttering shut—until a warm hand caught your chin.

Zayne.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your soft whimpers as Caleb’s mouth worked between your legs, devouring you like a man starved.

You barely had time to register the way Caleb groaned against you, completely lost in the taste of you, before he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. His lips glistened, his breath warm against your core.

“Pipsqueak, we’re moving this to the couch.”

Before you could respond, Zayne stepped in, effortlessly lifting you off the counter and turning you over in one fluid motion. Your stomach pressed against the cool surface, your ass high in the air, as he smoothed a hand down your spine.

“No, we’re not,” he murmured. “I’m taking her right here. Feel free to watch, Colonel.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, but there was an edge to it. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he eyed the doctor with barely contained irritation. “You always gotta be first, huh?”

Zayne ignored him, too focused on the way your body trembled in anticipation beneath him. His zipper slid down, the sound sharp in the quiet tension of the room.

Caleb scoffed at the sight of him stroking his thick length, precum already beading at the tip. “I’m bigger.”

Zayne didn’t dignify him with a response, instead lining himself up against your slick entrance. His breath was hot against your shoulder as he murmured, “Can I move?”

“Yes,” you whispered, then, remembering your audience, “But turn me to face Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened with interest as Zayne shifted you, allowing you to brace yourself against the counter while still facing the other man. The doctor’s first thrust was slow, deliberate, stretching you open inch by inch, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Zayne breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Caleb barked a laugh, stepping closer. “So you have fantasized about her, doc.” His fingers tucked under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “Not gonna lie, pipsqueak, as much as I hate that he’s fucking you first, you look damn good split apart on a cock.”

Your breath hitched as Zayne’s pace quickened, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your hands reached for Caleb’s waistband, already desperate to feel him too.

“I bet you wish it was you inside her right now, don’t you, Caleb?” Zayne grunted, hips snapping forward.

Caleb smirked, shoving his pants down and letting his thick length spring free. “Oh, I know I will be soon. Right, pipsqueak?”

Ignoring his words, you leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. The weight and heat of him sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, especially when he hissed at the flick of your tongue.

“Fuck,” Caleb panted, fingers threading through your hair. “I mean it, though. I need to fuck you too.”

Zayne groaned behind you, his thrusts growing erratic. “Then do it now, before I lose control.” His grip on your hips tightened. “I want to make her come before either of us do.”

Caleb glanced down at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, waiting for your answer. The air in the room was thick with tension, anticipation crackling between all three of you.

You swallowed around Caleb’s cock, then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Let’s make it work, then.”

Zayne paused, considering. “If you turn toward me, Caleb can—”

“No,” Caleb interrupted, voice firm. “You had your turn with her pussy. It’s my turn. You take her ass.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “How about we let her decide?”

Two sets of eyes turned to you, heated and waiting.

You licked your lips, then smirked. “I am feeling a little needy… and I do think I want to feel Caleb.”

Caleb’s smirk was pure satisfaction as he reached for you, cradling you against his chest. Zayne schooled his features into something unreadable, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes as he pulled out and let you step toward Caleb.

“Come here, Y/N,” Caleb murmured, guiding you toward the couch. Zayne followed, his gaze heavy on your back.

Caleb sank onto the cushions, signaling you to straddle him. “Here’s how we do this. You ride me, and doc takes you from behind. You remember your safe word, yeah?”

Your heart pounded, excitement thrumming through you as you nodded. “Got it.”

You sank down onto Caleb’s cock, the stretch making your head fall back as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

 “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered.

Zayne, behind you, let out a slow breath. “She is.” His hands traced down your spine, soothing. “I’m going to put it in, alright? Let me know if it’s too much.”

You braced yourself as he pressed against your tight entrance, the sensation overwhelming in the best way.

“Should I stop?” Zayne asked, voice tight.

You shook your head, body thrumming with overstimulation. “No—just… keep going.”

Caleb kissed your throat, murmuring, “That’s my girl. You can take it, can’t you?”

Zayne gave a rare smirk. “Alright.” He pushed in fully, the stretch making both men groan at the tightness. Caleb’s grip on your hips tightened as he buried himself deeper.

“Holy fuck,” Caleb breathed.

Zayne exhaled sharply. “Agreed.”

The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of their thrusts, the heat pooling low in your stomach. Your body trembled between them, caught in the perfect storm of their attention, their need.

“Guys,” you gasped, “I—I’m close.”

Both of them groaned, their own control unraveling.

“Can I come inside you?” Caleb rasped, his voice clipped. “Tell me I can, and I’ll fill you up.”

Zayne, voice low, added, “I won’t last much longer either.”

Your nails dug into Caleb’s shoulders. “I want you both to come inside me.”

That was all it took.

Zayne shuddered as he spilled into you, his grip almost bruising, his breath hot against your shoulder. Caleb wasn’t far behind, groaning into your skin as he pulsed inside you, their releases mixing within you.

The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, body clenching around them as your orgasm ripped through you.

All three of you collapsed in a tangled mess of limbs, panting, your skin humming with satisfaction.

You lay between them, your chest still rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths, your skin humming with the aftershocks of everything you’d just done. The air in the apartment was thick with heat, the kind that clung to your skin, leaving no room for pretense or denial.

Caleb was the first to break the silence, a lazy, satisfied chuckle rolling from deep in his throat as he draped an arm over his forehead. “Damn, pipsqueak,” he murmured, voice rough, spent, but still carrying that unmistakable smugness. “You really know how to keep a man on his toes.”

You exhaled a slow breath, a smirk curling at the edges of your lips. “I’d say the same for you.”

Zayne, ever composed, ran a hand through his tousled hair, the sharp control he always carried just barely slipping at the edges. He turned his head, gaze flickering over you, assessing, lingering. Then, without a word, he reached out, fingers brushing lightly down the curve of your waist—soft, reverent, a quiet claim. “Are you alright?”

You hummed, stretching slightly, feeling the delicious ache in your limbs. “More than alright.”

Caleb huffed a laugh, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he trailed lazy fingers down your stomach, teasing. “So… who won?”

You bit your lip, flicking your gaze between the two of them—Caleb’s ever-present smirk, Zayne’s sharp, expectant stare. You let the silence stretch, relishing in their anticipation, in the way they both waited for your answer.

Then, you grinned. “Pipsqueak,” you echoed Caleb’s earlier words, sing-song voice dripping with amusement, “this was just round one.”

Caleb’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he tugged you closer, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder. “Cocky little thing.”

Zayne exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but there was something dangerous glinting in his eyes. He brushed his knuckles down your jaw, slow, intentional. “Next time,” he murmured, voice low with quiet promise, “I won’t be as patient.”

His words caused you to shiver. 

Oh. This was far from over.

[aeristudios]

Legal Briefs

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lawyer!Dokyeom x fem!reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pwp, corporate au, 18+, non-idol au 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, riding, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names, slight exhibitionism, oral (m. receiving), clit stimulation, squirting 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.1k 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dokyeom is stressed out over his case, and you use your brain in more ways than one to help him relax.

AN: Thank you to @miabebe for beta reading this for me at the last minute and @miniseokminnies being lovely. This is a repost, as this fic was originally written for another idol. I have decided to edit it and make it fit Dokyeom more. I hope you enjoy it <3. Also, tagging @onlyseokmins because that's your man, duh, lol. If you want to be tagged in future fics, sign up here🤎

Dokyeom is one of the most prominent corporate lawyers in your country, and you understand how hard he works daily to maintain that reputation. You were a lawyer when you met him, so you know the ins and outs of the legalities and how stressful it can be defending clients. Your first time seeing him was at a kickboxing gym you both frequented and then on the opposite end of the court, duking it out to protect your clients involved in a breach of contract. You may have won that battle, but in the end, Dokyeom won your heart, and you left the corporate life behind to be a housewife. 

You walk into the swanky thirty-floor office building, and the security guard greets you as you approach the elevator. You are holding Dokyeom’s favorite lunch, pizza with cheese sticks, secured in a heated lunch box. You also brought fruit and juice, which he has been into lately. It’s a nice day outside, and what would be better than spending lunch with your husband?

You hum your way up to the 20th floor, greeted by the receptionists as the elevator doors open. The anticipation is building, and the excitement and butterflies in your stomach are brewing as you make your way to his office. You speak to everyone that makes eye contact with you. Everyone knows you as the boss’s wife, a hotshot lawyer, giving it all up for love. 

“Hi,” his secretary greets you nervously as you approach her desk. “He seems a bit stressed out today. That case with the pharmaceutical company isn’t going well, and I’m pretty sure I heard papers flying around.”

This concerns you, as it is different from Dokyeom to lose his cool like that. You thank her and tap quietly on the office door, waiting to hear his voice before entering. 

“Yes?” His smooth voice makes your heart jump. 

You open the door, and your eyes widen at the scene before you. There are papers and folders all over the floor. Dokyeom is lying on the sofa, his suit jacket covering his face and his arms folded on his chest.

“I take it you’re having a bad day?” You ask gently, setting the lunch down on his desk.

His face lights up when he lays his eyes on you, jacket falling to the floor as he jumps up to greet you. 

“I wasn’t expecting you here,” he replies before getting up and kissing your cheek. “I would’ve cleaned up.”  

“And miss all this drama?” you tease him. “Come on, I’ll help you put everything back.”

You survey the papers and put the files back in their folders. You know where everything goes because you helped him set up his file system to make his life easier. You may not be practicing law right now, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t had to use your expertise a few times to help your husband win a few cases. You initially quit your previous firm because you felt burnt out and needed a break. Then, when you got married, you wanted to spend time being a new wife and try for a family. Dokyeom supported you in all of that. He never made you feel inferior or less than for stepping away from your career to be at home. Now, it’s been two years, and the children haven’t come yet, but maybe it’s just not time, as lately, you have been missing practicing law.

Dokyeom helps you and profusely apologizes. “You don’t need to apologize,” you wave him off. But this is not like you; what happened?”

His expression changes, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. He takes a deep breath before putting the last envelope into the bookshelf. 

“I am missing a critical piece of evidence, a part of a contract that proves my client’s innocence,” Dokyeom begins, clutching onto the desk. “I know who to subpoena, but the judge is being a real asshole and won’t allow me to access those documents. So my client might lose, and then they’ll drop me, which means bye to our house.”

He removes his tie and takes a sip from his water bottle, his Adam's apple shifting as he gulps. Your very frustrated husband is also very hot, and it’s taking all your willpower to stay on task.

“Listen,” you redirect your focus to his problem. “There’s no guarantee that you will lose this case, and we definitely are not losing our house. Why don’t you eat the lunch I brought, and we will figure it out, okay?”

He nods and kisses you on the forehead, his way of saying thank you that still makes you feel warm inside. You watch him take out his lunch, and you start to eat yours, making small talk about your day as you dig through the cheese sticks. 

“When did you order this, babe?” Dokyeom asks, mouth stuffed with pepperoni and cheese. “You were cleaning up when I left for work.”

“I ordered it right before I came up here,” you say proudly, feeding him some of your pizza. “I got tired of eating lunch alone and wanted to see you. Looks like you needed me too.”

He gives you a kind smile that soothes your soul like a warm hug. You talk more about the case as you clear out your food containers. Dokyeom mentions that he has been trying to get the evidence to no avail for the past week. Watching him stressing himself out bothers you, as you know how hard he has worked on this case, and you want to see him succeed. His eyes were glued to the papers in front of him, skimming over everything to find a possible loophole. You can’t help but take in how handsome he looks, focused on his work, his jaw clenching as his frustration mounts. 

So, you came up with an idea.

“Hey, babe,” you get his attention, removing your cardigan. “I’m going to help you relax, okay?”

He nods, his shoulders still tense up from reading over the paperwork. You move behind him, relaxing your hands on his shoulders before you massage them, making him feel more at ease. You start unbuttoning his shirt, reaching down to rub his chest while leaving kisses on his neck.

“Well, this is one way to do it,” Dokyeom hums, setting down his pen. He moves his head and kisses you deeply, his hands gracing your face softly, pulling you deeper into his rapture of love. You make a move to sit on his lap, taking off your tank top and exposing your favorite bra that pushes up your breasts just right. 

“Was this always the plan?” He smirks, leaving kisses down your neck. His lips suck on your sweet-tasting skin, his tongue trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

“And if it was?” You move in front of him, sitting on his lap, and your skirt hikes over your hips. “What are you going to do about it?”

He chuckles and kisses you more, removing your bra and throwing it across the office. You lift and reach down, undoing his pants and lowering his briefs, feeling the growing bulge hardening along your slit. “No panties? Aw, baby…”

“What?” You smiled coyly. “Do you want me to leave? I can just get up—”

“W-what? No, no, it’s not that,” his cheeks turn pink in a panic. “I hate to rush, but I have to be in a meeting in twenty minutes,” Dokyeom’s breathing hitches as his hand touches his manhood, stroking his thick girth to your naked breasts and exposed ass. You lower yourself until you are on your knees, moving his hand away as you take over. You kiss his dick just the way he likes it, his legs tensing up as you take him in your mouth. His thickness takes over your mouth as you suck him good, your free hand playing with your clit as you watch him cock his head back and curse softly. 

“Baby, you are so good at this,” he murmurs. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

He gently fucks your face, pacing himself so he doesn’t blow his entire load down your throat. Your eyes lock with his as you take him in deeper, drops of saliva spilling out of the corner of your mouth. Dokyeom is ashamed to admit it, but he likes it when you look like this: the makeup on your sweet face ruined with tears because you sucked him off so well. You would never tell him this, but you love how he tastes. The way his smooth cock hits the back of your throat makes you dripping wet, and if you keep up any longer, you will cum on this floor. 

“H-honey,” he sputters. “I have 15 minutes. Get on top.”

You slowly take him out of your mouth with a pop, lifting yourself and positioning yourself to sink into him. You both groan in unison when you are entirely on his lap, your nails digging into the armrest of his chair.

“This won’t take long, I promise,” you mutter, giving yourself a few seconds to get used to his size before slowly grinding on him and enjoying the feeling of him being inside of you. His body tenses at your movements and his fingers massage your clit softly. You unexpectedly let out a loud moan, and he covers your mouth with his hand.

“I know this feels good, bouncing on my hard dick, but you are going to have to keep it down, princess,” he grits. 

Dokyeom knows what that does to you, calling you princess as he fucks you into an earth-shattering orgasm. You’re a squirter, and he knows that, so it was unsurprising that your lower halves were covered with your essence. Your eyes never leave each other, whispering I love you and trading meaningful kisses. Dokyeom’s head rolls back, whispering songs of praise as you continue to ride him on his office chair. 

“Baby, I’m close,” he whines, his hands gripping your hips. You grind on him hard, finding your clit and releasing again shortly after. Dokyeom follows right behind you, spilling deep inside of you as his head buries deep into your neck. As he slows down, he kisses you lovingly, making sure your cunt is full of his cum before pulling out. You're still trying to catch your breath when you climb off of him to clean yourself up. 

“Mr Lee?” His secretary’s voice booms through the speaker, startling you both. “Your meeting starts in five minutes.”

“O-okay.”

You can see the time on his laptop, and the 5-minute reminder before the meeting stops flashing wildly on his screen. You find your bra and hurriedly put it on, with Dokyeom already dressed and holding your tank top and cardigan.

“What?” You catch him staring at you curiously. 

“You are so bad.” “Well, isn’t that why you fell in love with me? Aside from me beating your ass in court, of course.”

You finish getting dressed, helping him put his tie back on, and kissing him goodbye before heading out the door. You catch a photo you missed picking up earlier, and something catches your eye that makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Babe.” You pick up the photograph and inspect it thoroughly. “What’s the name of the judge?”

“Judge Choi,” he responds, preparing himself for his meeting. “Why?”

“This wouldn’t happen to be the judge in the 17th court, would it?

You pull out your phone and look him up, confirming your suspicions. 

“Okay, I know that look,” Dokyeom comments, a puzzled look on his face. “What’s up?” 

“This judge used to give me shit when I was practicing, but I always found a way to get around him,” you start. “There was talk about him being a crooked judge and being paid off by companies, but I could never confirm it until now. Look at the picture.”

You show him the photograph of the rival company at an event, pointing at the missing piece of the puzzle: the judge and the company’s CEO, arm in arm, taking a picture. “That’s why the judge is shutting you down, babe,” you confirm. “He has ties to the other guys. Judge Choi should have recused himself a long time ago.”

Dokyeom looks at you, amazed that his wife could figure out why he had this roadblock. “God, what would I do without you?”

“You’d still be losing to me in court.” You kiss him goodbye again, letting him prepare to attend his meeting. You close the door, and his secretary smiles at you and motions for you to come closer to her. 

“You should be more careful in there, dear,” she advises. “The whole office heard you.”

[aventurineswife]

Hiiiiiiiiii I would like a bit where Reader has chronic pain that is acting up and it’s bad enough that they can’t rest because they feel pain no matter what position they try to sleep in so they end up spending the next day in their room privately trying to get their pain under control using every method they can find (while avoiding the ones that turn out to make it more painful) and eventually they throw in the towel and send a message in the Stellaron Hunter’s group chat: “Health is in the yellow, pls send some heals 🥲”

It was meant to be sent to Silver Wolf only, hence the gamer slang; but they accidentally hit the group chat.

Health is in the Yellow

Summary: You, dealing with chronic pain, struggle to find relief throughout a sleepless night and into the following day. After trying numerous methods in vain, you accidentally send a message for help to the Stellaron Hunters' group chat instead of just Silver Wolf. Despite the awkward mistake, Silver Wolf offers help, easing your pain with her unique aether manipulation. The rest of the group chimes in, providing support in their own way, and you find solace in their unexpected camaraderie.

Tags: Stellaron Hunters x Reader, Chronic pain, Comfort, Friendship, Group Chat Shenanigans, Healing, Humor.

Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain, Some lighthearted teasing, Brief emotional distress.

The night had been long—too long. It started with an ache that you thought would subside, but it quickly escalated into a full-on flare-up. Chronic pain had become an unwelcome companion over the years, and some days it felt like it was winning. No matter how many different positions you tried to sleep in, there was no escape from the constant throbbing, a relentless reminder of your body’s limitations. The pillows had been tossed aside, the sheets tangled around you as you shifted in an endless search for comfort.

By the time dawn broke, you were exhausted but still wide awake, pinned by pain. With a heavy sigh, you rolled out of bed and limped toward the bathroom, the cool tiles doing little to soothe your muscles. A few stretches, some massaging, but the pain stubbornly lingered. You tried taking a warm bath next, hoping the heat would ease the tightness in your joints, but all it did was make you feel heavier. Nothing worked.

You slumped back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. “Great. Just great,” you muttered to yourself. This wasn’t how you planned to spend the day, and yet here you were.

You were used to pushing through it, to pretending everything was fine. But today felt different. You could feel the exhaustion weighing on you, the pain cutting deeper with every passing second. Desperation made you reach for the next remedy in your arsenal—deep breathing, meditation, whatever you could think of—but nothing seemed to make a difference. At some point, you just threw your hands up in frustration.

“Alright, screw it,” you muttered.

Grabbing your device, you scrolled through the Stellaron Hunters' group chat, your mind a blur of frustration. The screen was a collection of messages from Kafka, Blade, Firefly, and Silver Wolf. You had always preferred Silver Wolf’s more... relaxed approach to things—she was a hacker, after all, and probably knew a thing or two about fixing broken systems, even if they were your own body.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, ready to message her directly.

It was meant for Silver Wolf alone, a message wrapped in gamer slang, but in your daze, you didn’t notice the subtle notification that it was about to be sent to everyone.

You hit send, and immediately your stomach dropped.

The group chat buzzed with activity almost instantly.

You winced. That was typical Blade.

A ping from Silver Wolf caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, embarrassed laugh at her response.

You typed back quickly, your face flushed from the attention.

You hesitated for a moment. The others were clearly concerned, but they didn't understand. Silver Wolf, however, had always been someone who didn’t ask questions unless she had to, and somehow, that felt better.

“Sorry, that was meant for you. Wasn't thinking straight.”

“I’ve been dealing with it for a while,” you typed. “Just didn’t expect it to flare up this bad today.”

You rolled your eyes at the 'healing potions' comment. Of course, she'd go there.

“I’ve tried everything,” you replied. “Heat, stretching, even breathing exercises. Nothing's working. It's just... too much.”

You smiled faintly at the screen, grateful in a way that you couldn’t fully articulate. Silver Wolf had always been a mystery to you, someone who enjoyed the game of life in her own way. And in that moment, she had leveled the playing field a bit for you.

Within moments, a quiet hum of energy flooded your surroundings. You could sense the subtle manipulation of aether, a digital presence coalescing around you, guided by Silver Wolf’s expertise. The pain didn’t disappear immediately, but it was enough to allow you to breathe more freely. You slumped back into your pillows, feeling a sense of relief that you hadn’t expected.

You chuckled softly, even as the warmth from her healing touch still lingered. For the first time in what felt like hours, you could finally breathe without the weight of pain. Maybe the day wouldn’t be as unbearable as you feared.

“Thanks,” you typed, your fingers finally relaxing. “Seriously, I owe you one.”

And there it was, the chaotic and endearing presence of the Stellaron Hunters, all working in their own ways to ease your burden.

As you settled back into your bed, the message notifications kept coming, but this time, you couldn’t help but smile.

With a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes. The pain wasn’t gone, but for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[junnylunny]

Cafe Owner ˚

! synopsis: you specifically order two matcha lattes every morning for your boss. however, one day, the cute café owner's kind gesture breaks your repetitive schedule and begins a new chapter with him.

! word count: 722

=======================

you hurriedly got in line, relieved to see the short line in front of you.

"next in line, please," a familiar face welcomed the customer: it was the café owner.

a week ago, the café opened on the first floor of your company. in contrast to the past cafe's unpopularity, employees rushed to get a cup of coffee and especially a look at the café owner's face. his charismatic smile could only attract more customers, warming the café, with his built figure defining more clearly as he poured the drinks.

despite also finding the café owner cute, your daily mission was to get back to your desk with two iced matcha lattes in your hand; one for you and your boss.

you looked down at your watch to check the time: 8:30. you had exactly 30 minutes before making your boss cranky- which was the absolute worst.

"i can help the next person," the owner's eyes lit up as he called for you next.

you walked up to the register, being welcomed to a smell of warm coffee from him. 

"hi, how are you?" he greeted you with a charming smile.

"i'm doing well, how are you?" you asked back.

"i'm doing well too," his direct yet gentle eyes made you freeze as he looked down at the screen to input your order.

"would you like your regular today?" he asked, wanting to confirm despite it being your daily order. you stayed silent, your eyes not wanting to track off his face.

"two matcha lattes?" he looked up from the screen after your silence.

"um, yes please," you embarrassingly smiled. you looked away, wondering if he just saw you as the girl who only ordered matcha.

"and order for y/n..." he muttered as he plugged your order and name into the system. hearing him mutter your name, you couldn't help but look at his name tag: jay, you quietly said under your breath.

"yes?" he said, looking puzzled.

"oh, no. sorry," you awkwardly laughed. embarrassed he heard you. "you have my name memorized but i think it's the first time i've ever seen your name tag," you said.

"no, i understand. i see you're always in a rush, and i couldn't miss a regular customer" jay laughed. "and you know what, i'll have your drink covered today."

"what, are you sure? i use the company card anyways,” you looked puzzled at his kind gesture.

"yeah, i'm sure. it's on me." jay assured you.

"okay, thank you," you thanked him.

although it was nice of him to pay for your drink, you were curious to whether or not this occurred to other regulars. is he interested in me or am i reading the signals wrong? you thought to yourself.

anticipating to be discouraged with his answer, you shyly asked, “do you usually do this for other regulars as well?”

he laughed at your question, finding it silly. “not at all.” a small smile appeared on your face, making you feel special, even if it wasn’t true.

"your drink will be out soon," he said. you nodded and left to wait at a table.

within minutes, he came with a tray with your two drinks and a small packaged cookie. "here's your order!" he placed the tray down carefully. "the cookie is for you so don't forget to eat it."

"thank you. i needed this." you said, appreciating his thoughtful gesture.

happy with your response, jay gave you a genuine smile and left to go back to work. as he left, the corner of lips raised as you curled your lips in. unable to hide your smile, you grabbed the cookie and saw the note attached to it.

"i see you come to the cafe every morning and i think you're really cute. i want to get to know you better! i was wondering if i take you out on a date today after work if you have time. :)"

you looked up from the note to look at him working behind the counter. he noticed you looking at him and raised 7 fingers, mouthing the words, "is 7 pm okay?"

you nodded, happily agreeing to the date. you looked down at the note one more time, anticipating that maybe, you weren't going to find ordering two matcha lattes as a chore anymore.

=======================

[thursdayinspace]

post-Milagro ficlet

I got an ask from a lovely anon a few days ago about *the* quote from Milagro: "Agent Scully is already in love." This is part of what will maybe turn out to be a larger WIP, or maybe not. It stands on its own for now. But who knows. Anon: thanks for the ask! I took a bit of a different turn with this, but I couldn't manage post-Milagro fic that didn't have some angst in it. tagging @today-in-fic

Agent Scully is already in love.

A look at the alarm clock tells her it’s 3 a.m. and she hasn’t managed to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she drifts off, the same thoughts jerk her awake again. She can still feel the hand around her heart, the horror and fear, the absolute certainty in her mind that this was it, she couldn’t fight this, nobody was gonna save her this time.

But she’s okay. She’s not even hurt. There’s even a decent chance that she’ll get the blood out of her clothes, even though she’s not sure she ever wants to wear them again. She’s okay, and yet she’s lying here wide awake at 3 a.m., the past few days replaying on a constant loop in her mind. She has no idea why she ever even talked to Padgett. Quite honestly, she has no idea why she did any of the things she did. She has no idea how she didn’t end up hurt or dead.

She knew the risks she was taking. Interacting with your own stalker—a really fucking terrible idea. But it’s only now that she’s truly afraid. Now that it’s over.

Mulder offered to stay with her. He would have let her stay at his apartment, but she had to get out of there, and he understood. A part of her wishes she’d have let him sleep on her couch the way he wanted. Having him close by might be a comfort now. Or it might not.

Agent Scully is already in love.

One more thing she can’t forget, no matter how hard she tries. Padgett was clearly not well, and she never should have listened to a word he said, but she did. She listened, and she heard things that were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And Mulder was there. Mulder heard. She turns her face into the pillow and squeezes her eyes closed. She doesn’t wanna hear it anymore. She doesn’t want those words.

If it weren’t for those words, maybe she could have let Mulder stay. Maybe it would have been okay.

Deep breaths, she tells herself. Breathe. Relax. Think about nothing. Think about puppies and nice hot baths and the smell of freshly baked cookies.

A hand around her heart, squeezing. She can’t move, the floor hard against her back, and she knows she’s dying, she can’t move, she can’t…

Fuck. She rolls onto her back and covers her eyes with her hands as if that could stop the images from flooding her tired mind.

Jolting back to consciousness, her body tight with fear and shock, and Mulder right there, Mulder with his worried eyes, Mulder’s arms around her holding her close, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder.

She wants Mulder. Oh god. She shouldn’t have sent him away when he dropped her off, when he asked whether she wanted him to come up.

She could call her mom.

She could deal with this on her own like a fucking adult who doesn’t need anyone to hold her hand every time she gets scared.

A tiny part of her brain reminds her that this was bad, that she has every right to be shaken up. But she wants her mind to be wrong about this. She just wants it to be over.

She wants Mulder.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Mulder is the last person she can call right now.

They have worked out a system a long time ago for when one of them can’t sleep. Call and let it ring once, then hang up. If the other one is awake enough to reach for the phone, they talk. Otherwise they let each other sleep. She could do that. He’d understand. Hell, he’s probably lying awake expecting her to call. Which makes her that much more determined not to do it.

The last digits she reads on her alarm clock before she drifts off into a restless slumber are 5:28.

At 7 a.m., her alarm rings. She feels terrible. Everyone would understand if she took a sick day. But then she’d sit here all day with her thoughts, with her memories, with nothing to distract her.

**

When she walks into the office, she doesn’t remember getting dressed, she doesn’t remember driving to work. She’s not sure whether she had breakfast or not. She’s not even entirely sure she’s awake.

“Scully!” Mulder sounds surprised, and she manages to lift her head high enough to look at him as he walks around the desk. He comes straight towards her to put his hands on her shoulders. “Scully, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m fine. Just. Didn’t sleep great.”

He doesn’t let go of her, just stands there biting his lip and giving her that soft look that makes her want to weep.

She doesn’t need this on top of everything. Maybe she should have stayed home after all. She’s so good at keeping her feelings locked away. Today, she barely has the strength to stand upright or formulate a single thought that isn’t Oh god, I’m so tired.

“Go home,” Mulder says. “I’ll drive you.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to… I just need to take my mind off things.”

A stranger’s fist inside her chest, forcing the life from her body, merciless, cold. Pain, panic.

Mulder squeezes her shoulders gently. “You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t expect you to come in. I’m sure neither did Skinner. Take a few days. You need rest.”

She shakes her head, regretting the movement as the room spins out of focus for a second. “What I need is to work.” What she needs is to know if Mulder knows. She knows her fear is safe with him. She doesn’t know about all the rest. She needs something to hold onto. Something stronger than the fear. “I’m not going home,” she tells him firmly.

He hesitates a long moment, an eternity. Finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Mulder looks very unhappy, but she can’t do anything about that. She just needs… she just needs something to occupy her mind. Before she passes out on the floor and dreams of a hand around her heart, squeezing the life out of her.

**

“Hey, Scully?”

She blinks her eyes open, disoriented for a second. Her neck hurts and her head is spinning as she sits up. Mulder is standing in the doorway. She’s sitting behind the desk. Right. She wanted to check something. He went to… do something else that she doesn’t remember. “Sorry,” she says, and wipes drool from the corner of her mouth. Falling asleep at the desk is probably not the best way to convince him she’s okay to work. A quick look at her watch tells her she can’t have been out for more than ten minutes. “What is it?”

He waves a file in her direction. “I think we should check this out as quickly as possible,” he says.

“Oh.” She manages a nod. Do they have a case? She remembers talking about something earlier that they decided to dismiss. She can’t even recall what it was. But apparently they settled on something. “Yeah, absolutely.” She pauses, not sure whether she wants to ask. She really doesn’t want him to know that she completely zoned out on all of it. But then again, she can’t exactly do her work if she doesn’t know what they’re even working on. “What, uh. What is the case again? Sorry, I guess I’m a bit… distracted today.”

“Yeah.” He gives her a long look. “The haunted hotel, remember? And it’s just an hour and a half from here.”

“Oh!” she says, pretending to remember, deciding she can read whatever is in that folder on the way to… wherever it is they’re going. “Right. Yes. Okay. And you want us to go there right now?”

“Why not?” he says, shrugging. “No time like the present.”

“Good, yeah, okay.” She suppresses a yawn and tries not to shiver too obviously. She has reached the level of exhaustion where her whole body hurts and she feels like she’s running a fever.

“I’ll drive,” he says. She doesn’t argue.

**

Out of sheer stubbornness, she manages not to fall asleep in the car. She even manages to make conversation. Her speech is barely even slurred. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

Unfortunately, he put the file in the trunk of the car before she remembered to take it from him, but he’s telling her some ghost stories about the place while they drive, so she feels reasonably well-prepared.

“Here we are,” he says, pulling into the parking lot of an expensive-looking hotel that looks not even remotely like she imagined. But after all these years, she’s come to expect the unexpected.

“This is it?”

“Yup.” He smiles at her and gets out of the car. She follows, her legs heavy, but she gets them moving, gets them to carry her towards the entrance of the building.

The spacious foyer they walk into screams “I’m way out of your pay grade,” and she notices guests and staff who all look very happy and not at all like they’re being plagued by ghost sightings. Business seems to be going well. Which is also not what she expected from a place that is haunted enough for Mulder to open an X-file on it. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, and something in his voice makes her turn her head and study his profile carefully.

“Mulder, what aren’t you telling me?”

He stops and turns towards her with a sigh. “I may have done something rash and stupid, and please feel free to yell at me if I completely overstepped any boundaries here.”

“Oh god,” she says. “What did you do?”

“I, um.” He directs his gaze at the floor next to her feet and grimaces. “I may have gone to Skinner and told him we’re both taking the rest of the week off.”

“You…what?”

“And I may have called here and booked us a suite. For two nights. A… vacation, I guess.”

“Mulder…”

“Two bedrooms. And there are go ghosts here, don’t worry.” He pauses before he continues, his voice low and careful. “As long as we’re anywhere near the Hoover Building, you’ll work. I know it and you know it.”

“Mulder, seriously…”

“You need to sleep, Scully,” he says, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re dead on your feet. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. She’s so tired. So very, very tired. All she wants is a bed. All she wants is for her memories to leave her alone. All she wants is to sink against Mulder’s chest and cry with exhaustion and the emotional hangover from almost being murdered. Again. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks so hopeful, so relieved. Another thing that almost makes her cry.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Shit. He makes it really hard for her to feel any other sort of way about him. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

She frowns. “What about all those stories you just told me about this place?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I kind of made them up.”

Her laughter turns into a yawn and he puts his arms around her shoulders as they get their key and find the elevator up to their floor. She leans against him, letting him hold her upright. Now that she’s given in to this, the prospect of lying down and closing her eyes seems so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Oh no,” she says, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything with me. No clothes, nothing.”

He laughs and pulls her tighter against him just as the elevator door opens and they step out. “I’m sorry. I honestly completely forgot about that.”

“Yeah.” She feels such a rush of fondness for him it makes her aching heart flutter in her chest. “I’m noticing you don’t have a bag with you either.”

“Well.” He lets go of her to open the door to their suite and lets her walk in ahead of him. “We’ll just have to spend the next couple of days in hotel robes.”

“Maybe we should go out and buy a few things,” she suggests.

“Or,” he says, “you go and lie down and I’ll go out and pick up a few things for us.”

“But—”

“Scully,” he interrupts. “Trust me. I think I can manage to find a pair of sweatpants and a couple of t-shirts for you that will fit.”

“Underwear,” she says and blushes.

“I can manage that too,” he says, and she’s too tired to feel embarrassed about anything right now.

Agent Scully is already in love.

“Mulder?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“That’s not difficult,” he says, “since I’m the only partner you’ve ever had. There’s not really that much competition.”

In lieu of an answer, she hugs him, pleased when he puts his arms around her in return. She doesn’t feel the hard floor against her back when he holds her, she doesn’t remember what it felt like when her vision went black and she felt herself dying.

She really wants to ask him if he knows who Padgett was talking about. If he believed it. But she won’t. Not right now. There’s time. And maybe she already knows the answer. Either way, it’s true. And she’s too weak to fight it.

“Thank you,” she says.

He pulls her closer and sighs against her hair. “I just want you to be okay,” he says softly.

“I will be,” she promises.

Agent Scully is already in love.

Whether it’s friendship or something else that he’s offering, she knows that whatever shape his feelings come in, she’s never been loved like this before. By anyone. And even with all the ghosts in her mind, she feels like she might finally get some sleep after all.

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[4: guess i have a type]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: you begin to recognize some similarities between ellie and good ol’ spidey… guess you have a type, huh?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Beep, beep, beep!!

You wake up with a grumble, last nights— er, this morning’s activities had done a number on you.. you weren’t used to so much excitement.

“What time is it?” you mumble against your pillow as you fumble for your phone, the bright light guiding your hand under the sheets, “Gotta call Gwen later.. let’s see.. FUCK!”

You scramble outta bed, tossing the blankets off you and your cat as well, who hissed at you very angrily for disturbing his fourth nap of the morning.

“S-Sorry,” you say to your cat as you scramble to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and rushing through your skincare routine. You decided to forgo the makeup today and instead just apply some light mascara and fix your brows up, maybe add some concealer.. and blush.. and maybe just a litt—, “No time!” you scold yourself.

You set your makeup bag down and run for the closet, rummaging around for .. “Ah, there it is!”

You snap the cheap metal buttons of your uniform together, the yellow polo with a red collar and pocket hugging your torso quite nicely, well, as nicely as a 30 year old uniform could, then you slid on the matching red skirt, your tights for extra warmth, shoes, and you can’t forget your name tag that read ‘Mary Jane.’

You quickly feed your cat some snacks, apologizing over and over as he ate and then made your way out. As you ran down the stairs, you pulled your trench coat on tight around you, hiding any part of your uniform.. you weren’t embarrassed about working at a diner but you knew your so-called friends, coworkers, and classmates wouldn’t be so understanding.. after all, you are from a well off family, so it would look funny.. besides, you don’t need anymore rumours going around about you.

As you’re about to round a corner, you bump into an all too familiar someone.

“Woah, slow down,” Ellie chuckled, her hands on your waist to stop you from toppling over.

“O-Oh, morning, Ellie..” you blushed, the memories of last night still fresh, you pulled the coat even tighter, you sure as hell did not want her to see you in this dorky uniform.

“Where you off to? You seem to be in a rush,” she commented, her eyes lingering on your form but before you could answer, your bus was pulling up.

“Sorry, Ellie, uh, chat later? I really gotta go!”

Ellie knew exactly where you were off to, she had stopped by that diner the other day to check out the schedule.. they should really get a better security system, she thought.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I know, I know! I’m sorry Darlene, I had a late nig—.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Missy! Just get out there and start taking orders, okay?”

You nod, thankful she didn’t give you another lecture. You liked Darlene, she was like a really cool mom.. who smoked a lot.. and drank a lot.. but she let you keep all your tips so she wasn’t so bad, you gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks, Ma.”

Darlene was like a mom to everyone in the diner, she treated everyone like they were one of her own, it was nice being apart of a ‘family.’

Your morning was full of truckers asking for refills on coffee, business men asking for the paper, ladies of the night coming in after a wild night, and.. Ellie?

“Morning” she smiled at your coworker as she seated her, that goofy lopsided smile made your heart flutter a bit.. actually, you couldn’t tell if it was her smile that was making your heart flutter or if it was the idea of being found out.

You had to hold back a gasp as you dove behind the counter, praying she didn’t see you and as you crawled your way into the kitchen, so close to freedom.. Darlene rounded the corner..

“The hell..? What are you doing down there?” she prodded you with her foot.

You put a finger to your lips and gestured for her to come lean down, she reluctantly did so, grumbling about her knees, “Darlene, can I please, please, please go on my 15 minute break? A girl I lik— uh, know is here..”

“Your break now? You can’t take that until.. another hour!” She pulled you up by your collar, like a mama cat carrying it’s kitten by the scruff.

“Please!”

“No, no way.”

“What if I said I’ve taken up smoking, huh? Then you LEGALLY have to let me take a break.”

“You? You take up smoking?” she scoffed, “Nice try princess, get out there, now.”

You whimpered and straightened your apron as she shoved you out of the kitchen, when Darlene said now, she meant yesterday.

Before the door could swing shut, Darlene poked her head out, “Oh, and we’re changing your section.. you’re now serving tables 11-17.” you could feel the shit eating grin’s aura as she laughed her way back into the kitchen.

God fucking damn it.

“Morning..” you mumbled as you pulled out your notepad, “What can I get you.. Ellie?”

Ellie’s eyes lit up as she laid them on you, “Hey, uh, Mary Jane?”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Hey, hey, slow down! Hm.. what can you recommend MJ?”

“The waffles here are pretty good.”

“I’ll have that then, oh, and coffee, too. Five cream and five sugar.”

You laugh, “Are you serious?”

She stared at you with a deadpan look, “Yeah?”

“Oh my god.. you are.. Ellie, that’s, like, a lot of sugar.. literally diabetes in a cup.”

“I don’t like the taste of coffee.. tastes like burnt shit.”

You scoff, “Then why do you drink it?”

“Keeps me up.”

“You don’t need the caffeine, just take the five sugar packets and you’ll probably still run the same since you’re already drinking sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Shut up, just get me my coffee,” she mumbled.

When you had served Ellie her food and coffee, you expected her to leave right after like every other customer ever but no.. like always, Ellie had to differentiate herself from the crowd. She did leave the diner but she waited in her truck outside. So, when Darlene said you could leave and head to school, Ellie was outside waiting for you.

“Don’t wanna keep lover girl waiting, do ya?” Darlene had said when you clocked out.

The blush from her comment still on your face as you walked to Ellie’s truck and knocked on the window, “Hey, what’re you still doing here?”

Ellie straightened up, “Uh, thought you might like a ride..?”

“You didn’t have to, Ellie.”

“Wanted to do something nice for you,” how could she be so effortlessly sweet.

You nodded and hopped in, her truck was an older model, a chevy. It was nice, inside smelled like pine and cologne..

Do her and spidey share the same cologne?

Now that you think about it, they have a lot of similarities… they’re both nerds, smell like pine, tobacco, and that cologne, same height, and the same music taste.. weird.

Could Ellie be.. Spidey?

You almost let out a laugh at the thought. There’s no universe in which Ellie is Spider-Man. For one, she’s too shy compared to the flirty masked man, two, she’s never been able to hold a conversation with you without turning it back to tutoring.. and three, she’s a girl.. not a man.

Guess I have a type.

“To school or..?”

“Uh, school.. can you drop me off at the cafe across the street? I wanna change before class..” you say, a little embarrassed.

Ellie doesn’t say anything, she just nods as she pulls into the cafe parking lot.

You huff, “Hey, Ellie? Um.. can.. can you not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m embarrassed but y’know.. kids at our school can be mean when it comes to class and..”

Ellie nods, “Don’t I know it?”

You feel a pang of guilt as she says that, you knew Ellie wasn’t as well off as your family was.. in the first two years of college, she was belittled because of it. You didn’t participate in it, of course, but you wish you hadn’t just stood by and turned the other way, “Sorry..”

“I-It’s fine, fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.. but.. can I ask you a question?”

You nod, “Sure.”

“Why are you working there? You also model.. it can’t be to make extra cash, right? I mean your family is rich and—.”

You interrupt her, “I.. I know. My family’s rich and whatever but come on, there’s no way that my family, a family of politicians would ever want me to be a doctor. To them, being a doctor isn’t anywhere as good as being senator.. or governor..” you scoff.

“Fuck, sorrry..”

“Mhm.. so when I told my father that I wanted to be a doctor, he told me that I’d have to do it on my own since he didn’t see it as an ‘investment,” you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “So that’s why I work two jobs and apply for all those scholarships..”

“I had no idea, Y/n.. that’s really something.”

You smile at her.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Why the fuck does your name tag say ‘Mary Jan’,” she pointed at your name tag, the perplexed expression on her face eliciting a laugh out of you.

“Oh, that.. well, Darlene, er, my shift manager gave it to me like that. I guess Mary Jane was a waitress who worked there before me, she was a aspiring actor, apparently, she’s on broadway now.. so, I decided to keep it, hoping that her luck might rub off on me,” you giggled, “That and when I first started modelling, I had this creep stalker so I took on the name Mary Jane in hopes that it’d shake him off.”

Ellie laughs, “Makes sense.”

You nod and grab your duffel to head inside, “I’ll be right back.”

Inside the cafe’s restroom, you bury your face into your palms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t believe she saw me in this dorky uniform! I must look like a hotdog!

After putting on your normal clothes, you touched up your makeup and hair and made your way back out.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You ended up studying in the library late into the night. You had to pass this test coming up and you didn’t feel like seeing Ellie again. As much as you liked her, you couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated that she wasn’t affected by that night’s events… had she felt nothing?

You were too entranced in your thinking to realize that someone had sat right next to you at the bus stop.

“Hey, got a light?”

You rolled your eyes, prepared to fight off another disgusting man, “I don’t so why don’t you just—!” Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes laid on the red and blue figure in front of you, “Fuck, sorry.. didn’t know it was you..”

Spidey laughed into his fist as he nudged you with his shoulder, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Ugh, I have this test in chem coming up so I had to study.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell—.”

“What was that?”

“Uh.. why.. why didn’t you tell your teacher?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What?”

“Nothing!”

You chuckled, “Y’know, you remind me a lot of this girl I know. “

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, haha, you two are way too similar, so similar that I found myself wondering if you were the same person, “you giggled.

Ellie’s should left her body.

“Whaaaatttt, that’s crazyyyyy.”

You giggle, “I know, there’s no way you two are the same person.. I mean she’s way too awkward,” ouch, “she doesn’t look all that athletic,” damage: -20, “she also can’t really flirt,” i totally can.. just not without the mask, “Also, you’re a man and she’s a girl..” damn.

Spidey’ sighed, “Yeah.. I don’t know.. she sounds cool!”

You nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “Yeah.. she’s ‘cool.’”

“Do you.. do you like her?”

You blush, “I don’t know.. maybe? Like, I like her, hell, we even made out but.. turns out that I was the only one affected by it.. she doesn’t even seem all that bothered or anything.. I don’t know, maybe I just played myself? I’m pretty sure that if I were the last girl on earth, she would still never go out with me..” you rub your eyes, “Argh, I don’t know.. she’s hot and cold, too hard to read.”

“Sorry..,” you hear Spidey mumble.

“At least I have you, hm? Good ol spidey, here to save the day.”

He looks at you, you wish you could peel his mask back to see what kind of face he was making, without thinking, your fingers lift up to his face. He notices and within the blink of an eye, he’s gone..

ELLIE’S POV:

“F-Fuck,” Ellie whispered, her hand on her chest to steady her breathing as she peaked around the ledge of a rooftop at you, still sitting and waiting for the buss, “That was too damn close, Ellie, what the fuck were you thinking? Shouldn’t be letting her get that close..”

Ellie felt guilty as she watched you all alone, you must be feeling pretty shitty right now, huh? I mean, not only has Ellie left you high and dry… but now, so has spidey..

Ellie lowered herself onto the ground, even though she left you down there all by yourself, she wasn’t gonna leave you vulnerable in New York City at night.. so might as well get comfy while we wait for your bus, right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou

[russellsppttemplates]

You're a racewinner (Lando Norris)

The one where Lando won his first Formula One race

Note: english is not my first language. That race took years out of my life and all of the tears out of me, but I couldn't not do something for this moment ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to smut at the end, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Baby, can you come here and help me, please?", Lando called from the hotel bathroom, "I can't place this quite right".

Getting the plaster from your boyfriend's fingers, you fiddled with it a little before holding Lando's jaw so he could face you properly, "stay still,", you whispered, applying the sterile material on his nose cut with a tender touch.

"Thank you, lovie", Lando mumbled once you peeled both hands away from his face, pecking your lips, "couldn't help myself when I have your beautiful face so close to mine", he snickered.

Shaking your head at his capacity of turning you into mush, you pecked his nose gently, "are you going to play padel the whole afternoon?", you wondered.

"I'm not sure, I think so - we have dinner reservations downstairs though, Will, Mark and Oscar said they'd join us as well", he offered.

"Okay", you nodded, grabbing your laptop so you could get on with work at the desk in your room.

"Do you have a lot of work to do today, angel?", he asked, kissing your naked shoulder as he looked at the screen. For his life, he couldn't understand half of what you had written in there, let alone actually do any of the smart tasks you had in there.

"It's not too bad - it's the administrative boring stuff that I actually enjoy doing", you admitted. There wasn't much to it, and while your colleagues found it boring, you found comfort on the sequential and system like steps.

"I'm going then - call me if you need anything, okay?", he kissed the top of your head, "I love you".

"I love you too, Lan - enjoy yourself!", you kissed him back before he grabbed his things and left the room.

It certainly wasn't something you did for every race, but whenever it did, you'd fly in earlier with Lando and work remotely whenever he had his own duties and activities.

After King's Day, you and Lando flew over to Miami, the sunshine greeting you to contrast with the gloomy days you had back home. Warm weather always made you feel happier and you welcomed the golden hues on your skin after spending the first two days basking in eachother's presence by the pool and walks along the beach.

By the time Lando came back, he was met with you putting your laptop back into your backpack, "all done for today, beautiful?".

"Yes - for the week actually! There was a meeting that was cancelled and the other was pushed for next week, so I went ahead with the rest and it's all done!", you smiled, "I was about to shower when you texted saying that you were on your way back".

"You were waiting for me? Such a good girl", Lando whispered on your ear after wrapping his arms around your towell covered body, "let's go then", he pulled you with him.

After a shower filled with soft touches that were a thin line away from teasing, you both got ready for dinner, meeting the rest of the group at the restaurant.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?", Mark asked Lando once you were already enjoying your meal.

"What's tomorrow?", you questioned.

"I'm going the yoga class with Hilton - actually, you can come to that now that you don't have the meeting anymore", your boyfriend suggested, "you're a good... yoga practising person".

"That one on the beach? Am I allowed to go?", you asked. You wouldn't mind having a muscle stretching session.

"I'm sure they can put a mat down for you", Mark offered, "I'll text them about it".

"Lando will just get distracted by you and fall on his face - at least you can add to that plaster", Oscar joked before taking a sip of his water and earning himself a kick in the shin from your boyfriend.

.

"My girlfriend is actually quite good - I asked her to teach me some of this stuff because i didn't want to be too bad at it", Lando admitted, winking at you while he dusted the sand off of his fingers.

So far, the class was one of the funniest videos you've ever watched Lando record. He was really taking on the job and the part seriously, answering Alli with all of the lines you had told him about yesterday. Since you were sitting further at the back, you could giggle freely at his antics, stealing quick looks from eachother every chance you could.

"Look at this excellent form!", Alli complimented as she watched the rest of the class.

"She's talking about me, not you guys - me!", Lando chirped in as he stretched his arms up.

"Now this one is really good to stretch your hips", Ali added as she moved into a different position.

"Work on this one, lovie!", Lando shouted at you, "but be careful, okay?", he ensured as he looked to see if you were doing it well.

"I'm good, Lan, thank you!", you giggled, shaking your head before changing your feet position on the mat.

"Are you afraid of the sand?", Alli asked.

"I don't like the sand, no", Lando snickered, swatting the grains away from his hands, "Y/N will tell you all about it since she's always making fun of me because of it - she's lucky she's cute otherwise I might get mad", he argued half jokingly.

As the crew tidied the area, Lando crept up behind you, hugging your waist and pulling you to his chest, "did you like it, love?".

"It was nice, yes - my back and hips feel better actually", you smiled, resting your hands on top of his around your tummy.

"That's good", he placed a soft kiss on your neck, "how about we go and take advantage of that then?", he whispered.

"Lan, we're outside and we were doing yoga!", you scolded softly despite the goosebumps erupting on your skin. The warm Miami air didn't have anything to do with that reaction, so Lando knew you were just as bad as he was.

"We'll go to our room, of course - you look so good in these leggings and this top", he turned you around to face his chest, his hands grabbing a handful of your hips and butt, "I can tell you want it too", he smirked.

Playing coy, you fiddled with the string of his hoodie. How he was wearing it under this sun and warmth, you had no idea, but it would be a plus to touch and admire his body underneath it.

"You don't need to do anything else?", you asked. Despite your desire, you would never do anything that go between his work duties.

"No, I'm free for the rest of the day", he smiled.

As soon as you got the okay to leave and call it a day, Lando was a man on a mission to spoil you and let you lose yourselves in eachother.

.

Media day was usually the quietest day, but given the media and celebrity attention the paddock got for this Grand Prix, it was quite packed and action filled.

"Hello handsome", you greeted Lando once he came to meet you in the lounge for some lunch.

"I'm tired and I haven't done any racing yet", he muttered, "the social media team made me film this video which I think you'll like", he said, getting his phone from his pocket and showing it to you.

"Aren't we full of ourselves, hm? It's a video of your handsome face", you pointed out teasingly, kissing his cheek before watching it again.

"Are you saying you don't like it? If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have watched it again and again", Lando tickled, ending up having to hold your back so you wouldn't fall to the ground.

"You look very handsome, baby", you agreed with him, catching your breath as you sat on his lap.

"We also met Jimmy Butler and the team brought one of the trophies out - it was so cool, look!", he showed you on his phone, flickering through his gallery.

.

The first sprint qualifying session gave the team a 1-2, followed by Lando's pole position for the second session was applauded by everyone in the garage, "I'm not sure how it's going to be with the compound change though, but everyone else is also changing so we'll see", Mark observed. 

The car seemed to skid away slightly, the grip level from the new tire not allowing Lando a smooth turn as you watched his on-board for the third and last qualifying session. 

"I'm happy with everything, just not one thing", you heard Lando say in the post qualifying interviews.

You didn't get to see him before he went to the media pen, so you couldn't whisper sweet words to him before he went out there. Not that he would listen to them too much anyway. If there was something you learned over the years is that you should let him come to you, no matter how much you wanted to hold him in your arms.

He was always too hard on himself and it was no different after this qualifying. You waited around for him, chatting with some of the team members while you did so to pass the time.

"Lando!", you waved, calling him so he could notice you.

"I need to go to my driver's room", he offered his hand out for you to hold and follow him.

Once you were inside, you wrapped your arms around Lando's neck, kissing his neck multiple times and rubbing his back.

"I can't believe I did that? Not even a rookie would've done that shitshow, it's like I forgot how to drive", Lando muttered, shaking his head.

"Everyone struggled with the grip Lando, they were either eating up their tires or squiding away", you reasoned with him, "I don't think any of the guys thought they had a good lap".

"Mine surely wasn't", Lando scoffed.

"Hey, look at me", you said sternly, cupping his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't looking elsewhere.

You had to let him come to you, but that didn't mean you couldn't give him a piece of your mind first.

"You have been with this team since you were a kid, Lando, and everyone inside this hospitality is rooting for you, bad day or good day, everyone has your back, and as well as you don't win on your own, you don't lose or get a bad result on your own. Everyone out there is supporting you and no one thinks you're a failure or a bad driver", you stated.

You knew what was going on inside his head, Lando reasoned with himself - there was no point in lying to you or saying that he wasn't feeling like that when you could practically read him like a book.

"You're only as good as your last race, Y/N that's how this sport works", Lando offered.

"Then let's make this one count - the weekend has barely begun", you rubbed his cheek.

"I have to go to debrief", Lando mumbled, looking down before he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you, thank you", he whispered, squeezing your wrists before kissing them too.

"I love you too, all of you and everything that you do", you winked before he left his driver's room.

As soon as all of his duties were taken care of, you went back to the hotel, deciding to stay in for the night after a long shower.

"Come here so I can play with your hair and magically pull away all of those bad thoughts going on inside there", you smiled, finally sitting down on the bed.

Lando didn't want to seem needy or clingy, but every time you reached for the body moisturiser to scoop some of it out and rub it on your skin, he felt himself deflate a little, having to wait a little more to be able to touch you.

Crawling to your hold, your boyfriend rested his head on your chest as his arms circled your waist, feeling your fingers do as you had told him.

"Do you think tomorrow will be better?", he muttered.

"I don't know for sure, but I hope so", you answered honestly, "you deserve a good result tomorrow, you deserve all the good things, love", you added.

"I don't deserve you", he mumbled, looking up at you.

"You do, Lando", you kissed his forehead.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me", he stated, "whether I deserve you or not is another ballgame, but I hope you never leave me".

"It's not on my plans, no", you chuckled despite the seriousness of your words, "do you know what is though? Sleep, because tomorrow you have a big day", you kissed his lips, "go to sleep, baby".

"I love you, baby - sweet dreams", Lando whispered.

"They always are when you're here with me", you murmured.

.

"Fucking hell", you groaned, "is he staying out?", you wondered outloud.

The team radio with the veredict came in quickly, deciding that the risk they would be getting into by continuing the race and potentially worsening whatever damage the car had was not worth the points that would be up for grabs. Like so, they would retire the car, so Lando jumped out of the car and crossed the track.

"He shouldn't have done that", you muttered, noticing the other people around you looking at you curiously. Most of them were paddock guests who you had never seen before, so you excused yourself as politely as you could, waiting for Lando to come back from the pitwall and into the garage.

He exchanged a few words with the team before he approached you.

"I'm sorry it didn't go the way you wanted - do you want me to fight anyone?", you tried to get a smile out of him.

"Sometimes these things happen, there was nothing I could do", he kissed your forehead, "they're bringing the car back but it seems to have not been that bad - I was worried about the suspension damage but it doesn't look too bad from what they can see on the computer", he offered, "I need to go to the media pen, lovie".

"Go go, I'll be here if you need anything", you smiled, feeling him squeeze your hand in his before he found the team member he was supposed to go with.

A couple of hours later, race qualifying rolled around and despite P5 still being a good position, you could see that Lando was struggling a little bit and he would surely blame himself on his lack of skills.

"Is he coming straight here or the media pen?", Ria asked you.

"I'm not sure", you mumbled, looking around to check for any signs of where your boyfriend would be headed.

When Lando came back to the garage, you were the first person he looked for.

"Hello hello", he said, squeezing your hand once more before greeting the rest of the group.

"That was not bad, P5 means a lot is up for grabs still", you tried, not really sensing the mood he was in which was unusual for you.

"It felt better yesterday, we still have to check about the changes we made and decided what to keep and what to undo", Lando offered without a prominent emotion on his tone.

"I'll be here when you're back", you told him.

"I still have the debrief and I'm staying as long as I can", he stated, "you can go to the hotel if you want to".

"I'll wait here", you kissed his cheek before letting him go.

His mood wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't the worst you had ever seen it, so you had to make do for now. Getting your book from your bag, you went up to find yourself a spot in the lounge since Ria told you they would be going back to the hotel.

"Are you ready to go?", Lando announced his presence a couple of hours later, stepping closer to you with his backpack on his back already.

"Yes", you said, putting the book back and getting up, "What is that?", you wondered as you pointed to the envelope on his hand.

"A fine for crossing the track - twenty-five thousand euros because I got out on my own, and it's that little if I don't do anything else again", he shook his head, "do you want to have dinner out or in the room?".

"Whichever way you prefer, handsome", you replied earnestly.

"Are you doing it because you feel pity for me? Is that why you're that quiet and following my lead to whatever I say?", he mused, letting his insecurities get the best of him, "because I told you, it happens and I'm fine".

"It could never be out of pity when it is, always, out of love, Lando", you smiled, pecking his lips and heading to the car so you could make your way back to the hotel.

.

Lando woke up earlier than he expected considering how tired he had been, sensing your even breathing pattern next to him. His mind filled with strategies, outcomes and potential situations that could arise, so he definitely wasn't sleeping until nightime.

"Good morning", you surprised him as he didn't think you were awake yet, your eyes greeting him as he turned around to face you.

"Good morning, lovie", he smiled, getting your hand from under the pillow and kissing your knuckles, "you're awake already?".

"Couldn't sleep anymore - you?", you mused.

"Same - means we can have some morning snuggles", Lando offered as he pulled you closer to him.

"Do you want to talk about the race?", you mumbled after you kissed his lips.

"You know me too well, don't you?", he chuckled, kissing you again while he traced patterns on your waist.

"We've been dating for nearly seven years - it would be a little weird if I didn't", you pursed your lips jokingly.

"I don't know, I keep thinking about all the things that can go wrong and what I can do in that situation - P5 isn't bad but I'm not sure I can extract all of it", he sighed.

"You're too hard on yourself", you mused, "there hasn't been a challenge that you didn't want to face, you never backed down from it and it's not something you're going to start doing now, baby", you stated.

"Do you think I have it?", he mused. He wasn't sure what it meant, but right now he didn't know anything.

"Of course you do, it will come to you, my love", you tried to build his confidence up, "you're such an amazing, skilled driver, you climbed up the ladder on your merit, and your team is backing you up. With some work there, that podium can be yours, Lando".

"I don't know", he tsked still.

"Well, I do know, so you'll have to trust me", you moved under the sheets, supporting your torso on your hands so you could hover over Lando, "this one is for when you'll start doubting yourself", you kissed above his left eyebrow, "this one is in case you need a little push", you kissed his right eyebrow, "this here is for good luck", you kissed his forehead, "this one here is because you are the best driver out there", you kissed his nose, "this one is for how much you deserve to be on that podium", you kissed his cheek, letting your eyelashes tickle him, "This is for the amazing person that you are", you kissed his jaw, "And this one is for how much I love you and how proud I am of you", you landed a kiss on his lips, letting yours melt into his to show you just how much you meant all those words.

Lando felt loved unconditionally. There were no better words to describe what he felt. No matter what he delivered on track, you were always there for him. To congratulate him when things went well and to comfort him when he needed. It didn't matter if he was P1 or P20, your love and affection was a constant in his life.

"I never want to know what life is like without you by my side", Lando cupped your cheek, rubbing the skin.

"I'm not going anywhere", you promised.

You stayed in bed until the alarm rang, then getting ready to go to the track. Lando kissed your temple before he went to the debrief meeting, leaving you to grab a cool drink to deal with the Miami heat.

"I love you, be safe out there", you smiled, kissing over his left eyebrow.

"I could do with a little more luck", he admitted, blood rushing to his cheeks as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss his forehead like you had that morning in bed.

Lando continued getting ready while you occupied your spot on the garage, giving him a little wave before he went to the grid.

"He seems hopeful today", Mark nudged your shoulder as he sat next to you, "I don't suppose you have something to do with it", he smirked.

"What do you mean?", you wondered.

"Yesterday he wasn't exactly cheerful, but he walked into the debrief saying that today was a day full of opportunities", he clarified.

"Just helped him see the other side of the coin", you blushed at his assumption.

The race got off to a bumpy start, making you hiss as soon as you watched the cars get through unharmed, "that was a close call", you muttered.

Just as Lando had set the fastest lap, you watched Max go outside of the track slightly and hit the cone and later giving Oscar first place since he needed to pit, "the car pace looks good, doesn't it?", Jon told you.

"Oscar is coming to the pit and Max is right behind Lando", you muttered as you heard your boyfriend's radio and watched the mechanics get ready with the new tires for Oscar.

By lap thirty, still under the safety car, Lando was the one to pit and you couldn't help but do the math, "He's going to come out at the front, isn't he?", you looked at Jon and Mark, wanting to check your calculations right.

"Yes, look at him go", Jon pointed to the screen.

From then on, your heart beat as fast as it ever had, your eyes focusing on the gap between Lando and Max as your leg bounced up and down.

"Y/N, you should take it easy", Jon said, "you're going to work yourself up and it won't be good", he noticed. The way your eyes watched the race combined with the heat, your innate lack of water intake and the way your blood pressure seemed to be going, his worry was genuine.

"Mas just said on his radio that he's struggling with his car", Mark said as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don't jinx it, don't jinx it", you whispered as you looked at everyone else around you.

Everyone shared the nerves you felt, everyone held on to see what was happening while keeping an eye on Oscar's brilliant drive after all that came his way.

"Should have dated an accountant", you mumbled before getting up, pacing around the small area once you made sure you weren't annoying people too much and not blocking anyone's view, "my heart wouldn't be like this", you took a deep breath as the last five laps warning came on the screen.

"Love how Oscar is the one with the fastest lap all the way down there - it's such a shame, he deserved more", you pointed out in an attempt of distracting yourself.

"Three laps!", someone yelled.

As you saw the rush to the checkered flag and your boyfriend's car be the first one to cross it, the garage and pitwall erupted in celebration.

"HE WON! HE WON! LANDO WON!", you yelled, crying into your hands after the initial shock wore off, Mark and Jon hugging you as they celebrated, "this is amazing? Aren't you amazed?", you yelled.

Lando's screams and laughs filled your ears as you listened closely to your boyfriend's first reactions after crossing the finish line on his first win, the pout being replaced with a massive grin even though you were still crying happy tears, "we did it, Will! We did it!", he boasted.

Once you were allowed, you joined the rest of the team and ran to Parc Fermé, stopping by Natalie once she spotted you for a quick hug.

"Will! Will! Will!", you called your boyfriend's race engineer once the team kindly let you go to the front, "Congratulations!", you hugged him, "I'm so happy!!", you squealed as he laughed.

Your phone rang with a FaceTime call coming from Max, "Hiiiii!", you beamed.

"Are you at the front?", he asked, "he did it, Y/N, he fucking did it! I'm going to add Adam here, just let me go here...", he tapped his screen until you noticed a new square forming on your phone.

"Hiii!", Adam and Cisca accepted the call quickly, "Y/N! Where are you now?", Cisca asked.

"I'm at the front here, slightly on the side!", you yelled as you showed them the number four car park in front of the number one plaque, "Look at him!", you squealed.

Lando was quick to get out safely, celebrating his first position and getting weighed in before taking his helmet off, leaving it on the ground and diving into the team who congratulated him enthusiastically.

"He's so happy and he has his big smile that makes his eyes crinkly!", you cheered as you stood next to Mark, making sure you didn't get shoved or pushed around too much.

"She and Lando are so cute, ugh, I can't deal with it", Pietra groaned.

"He's very lucky to have you, Y/N", Adam agreed before you saw Flo and Cisca.

"Lando No wins no more, hey? Y/N, have you seen him? He must be so ecstatic!", Flo offered.

"Stop it - I just passed by Natalie on my way here and she recalled the first time I watched a race from the garage when I was nineteen! Nineteen, might as well have been a baby! And I cried a little more, nearly choked because I had to run here and my breathing was ragged", you muttered, "I think the guys are putting him back down", you mused.

"Dude! Broken Rib time!", Zak yells once Lando was back on the floor, hugging your boyfriend before Andrea did the same.

"Now make room for the missus - she also gets to hug him all in one piece", the italian engineer encouraged while he helped you with the barrier.

Seeing Lando was enough to get your eyes to water again, not caring about hitting your phone on his back once he pulled you into his arms, nuzzling his face on your neck.

"I'm so proud of you, baby, you drove brilliantly out there", you let out, kissing his skin before cupping his face with both hands once Zak took your phone away from you, "you're a race winner, Lan, you're incredible and I love you so so so much", you told him before smashing your lips on his.

"Did the microphone pick that up?", Zak asked everyone on FaceTime after waving at them.

"It did - they're the cutest, I told you! I'm team Lando-Y/N until the end of time", Flo chuckled as she watched you and Lando look at eachother as if there was no one else around.

"I love you, babygirl", your boyfriend gave you a big smile, "this is for the team, for my family, my friends and for you! I love you, Y/N Y/L/N!", he said as he walked back with the FIA staff member that was guiding him to the cool down room.

Getting your phone back, the mechanics let you stand at the front with Will who gave you your phone back, "I'm back, the crybaby is back", you stated, wiping your cheeks.

"Mum is no better, Y/N, don't worry about that", Flo joked as you watched Cisca crying too.

"You and Lando are so cute, ugh, I can't deal with it", Pietra groaned.

"Stop it - I just passed by Natalie on my way here and she recalled the first time I watched a race from the garage when I was nineteen! Nineteen, might as well have been a baby! And I cried a little more, nearly choked because I had to run here and my breathing was ragged", you muttered.

At the podium celebrations, you grabbed a good spot to watch your boyfriend finally go on the highest step, accepting a hug from everyone who came to offer their congratulation on your boyfriend's achievement.

"You do know we are watching on TV, right?", Max wondered as you waited for the call for Lando to step on the podium.

"Of course I know - I'd feel bad for you if you were actually paying attention to what I've pointing the camera at -, I just need your company because I think I've cried all the tears I have in me and if you're not here with me, even if figuratively, I might fall apart again and that won't be good", you reasoned as you switched the camer around to show your face again.

Hearing the anthem and watching Lando raise his face up to the sun added magic to the serene moment until they sprayed the champagne between them, Lando saving some from his bottle to try and get the rest of the team too.

After all the media content was take care of, you and Lando headed back to the hotel ao you could get ready for dinner.

"You have a really big smile on your face, Y/N", Lando pointed out as you showered together.

"Look who's saying it", you blushed, grabbing his jaw so you could kiss him, "I'm so happy and so proud of you Lando, it doesn't fit inside my heart or my body what I'm feeling right now".

"I can't believe it still", he mused as his hands found themselves on your naked waist, "thank you for being here - today and every day you're with me", he joined your foreheads.

Dinner was lovely and you left to the party straight after, meeting up with Max once you were inside and in the reserved area. You danced all night along attached to your boyfriend who didn't seem to want to let you go, teeth nipping at the skin on your neck.

"Do you want another one, baby?", Lando asked and you shook your head no, kissing his lips.

"I'm good, Lan", you smiled, twirling him and kissing his lips.

"You two could stop fawning over eachtoher, you know? Y/N didn't rest until the whole paddock was informed of your win, as if they hadn't watched it happen and now this?", he chuckled playfully, "you two make me sick!".

"Can't help it if I'm proud of Lando!", you stuck your tongue out at him.

When you left the club to go back to the hotel, Lando walked with you on his arms with your back to his chest, allowing you to walk on your legs still but his rush setting the pace you were doing it with.

"Lando!", you squealed as you balanced yourself, holding on to his arms like your life depended on them "we're are we going?".

"I'm taking you to our room, put the no disturb sign outside and have my way with you in any way you allow me to", he smirked

"Our flight leaves in a couple of hours", you reasoned, a big smile on your face mirroring your boyfriend's.

"Then I'm going to take advantage of those hours we have left - I can't wait until we get home and what I want to do with you is not mile high club appropriate", he winked, "I'm a race winner, babygirl, and the celebrations are just getting started", your boyfriend said, tapping your butt once again.

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ [ch.2] for when you see me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park jongseong x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

The whiskey still burned in your chest when you woke up. You hated the feeling of alcohol within your system, but god does it soothe your tangled mess of a head.

Sunlight stabbed through the blinds, unforgiving. You groaned, rolling onto your side, half-expecting the bed to dip under someone else’s weight. But the sheets were cold. Empty.

Just like always.

The CD player had long since shut off, but the song still looped in your skull.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes until colors burst behind your lids.

Pathetic.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. Leah’s name flashed across the screen, followed by a string of texts:

Leah: u alive?

Leah: also sarah says sorry abt last night. she didn’t know it was ‘that song’

Leah: …u gonna answer or am i sending mira over?

You typed back with one thumb.

You: i’m fine. don’t worry.

A lie. But what else was new?

The boxes in the corner taunted you. You’d only opened one last night, and already it felt like picking at a scab. The rest were a minefield of old playlists, ticket stubs, and the kind of photos that made your ribs ache.

You kicked the nearest one under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

The day was bright and bold. You set yourself up on your feet and got ready. Today is work day.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

“Going to Floor 26.” The pristine elevator voice echoed around you as you got in it.

The studio was your sanctuary. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Atlas Records had given you the space after your first album surprisingly went platinum immediately after it was released (only days before it went double.) It was a token, a ‘reward,’ they’d called it. As if the pristine soundboards, the premium tech setup and gears, and some Grade-A acoustic paneling could make up for the fact that they owned you.

You slumped into the chair, scrolling through the latest track list your producer had shoved at you: that and a mere bunch of memos from the people upstairs.

Upbeat. Radio-friendly. More of what’s working, just like last cycle.

You crumpled the stupid paper into a ball and threw it straight into the can.

"Rough night?" You almost flinched as you heard a booming voice behind you.

Mira, your manager, leaned against the doorframe, sipping a matcha latte with extra foam. Walking just enough meters beside you, she offered another cup with the same taste — your favorite.

"Something like that," you muttered, taking the cup and popping the lid off instantly. You smelled the fresh aroma, before sipping soundly.

She arched a brow. "Leah’s wedding, right? Tell me about it."

You strummed a dissonant chord on the nearby guitar. "Played ‘Wonderwall.’ The crowd loved it."

Mira didn’t laugh, sitting with her back against one of your designer chairs. "Liar liar, pants on fire."

You shrugged. "It’s in my contract. Must lie convincingly to press."

“Press!? We lived in the same roof for a year and that’s all I am to you?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m famous.”

She groaned, taking it lightly. But then her eyes flicked to your hands—the way your fingers trembled ever so slightly against the strings.

"Who was it?" she asked, softer.

You didn’t answer. You could feel her eyes burning through your thick skull as if almost reading the contents of your brain.

She exhaled. "Take the day, hmm? Sleep it off. We can push the schedule to—"

"I’m fine." You grabbed the nearest lyric sheet, jaw tight. You sat across her in your leather chair, focusing on sorting out the busy contents of your workspace before speaking yet again. "Let’s just work. We’ve got three hours before we go, yeah?"

Mira studied you for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah.”

After taking a long winding breath, she slowly went to the door to take her leave.

“If you start crying into the microphone later, I’m charging you for ruined equipment." She retorted one last second.

“Blah blah, go do your manager things!” You smiled as you tried to throw a crumpled sheet to her.

“Alright, alright!” She shut the door gently, leaving you alone on your vices.

Right ... you were going to sing today. A lot.

When you least expected it, the skill you had fun as a hobby had already become a chore.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

The neon sign outside flickered—YE OLD TAVERN—in all its peeling, ironic glory.

You hadn't set foot in this place since your university years. Back when sticky tables and cheap beer felt like an adventure, not exhaustion. Back when he was still beside you, laughing into his drink as you butchered a karaoke song.

Now, the bar was packed—word had spread about the "intimate, unplugged" tour Atlas had forced you into. Authenticity sells, they'd said. Fans eat this shit up.

You just wanted nothing but sleep.

"Five minutes," Mira muttered, nudging you toward the old stage—a vintage relic of this bar’s storied past, all with a single mic stand waiting.

The crowd was a blur of your fans; young adults like you, some adults that you remind of their youth, and a lot of younger people that definitely fit the criteria of modern fans, holding up LED signs and phone screens. You adjusted the guitar strap digging into your shoulder and forced a smile.

Your signature voice flowed through the space like a gentle autumn breeze, carrying warmth and nostalgia with every note. The raw emotion in your delivery resonated deeply with your supporters, who hung on every word and inflection.

You can definitely see it in their eyes. They were enamored by you.

Your voice filled the room with a simple kind of magic. The crowd melted into the music as you sang, each word honest and raw. This wasn't just another show - it was real, and everyone could feel it.

Then you saw him.

Blond hair, roughly swept back to the side like he'd run a hand through it one too many times. Broad shoulders under a fitted black shirt. That face—sharp, unfairly handsome, watching you with an intensity that made your fingers twitch against the strings.

Jay.

Right there. On the side of the bar area, sat on a comfy wooden stool.

Your breath caught. And his too.

He hadn't meant to come.

But then he'd seen the posters outside the tavern—your name in bold letters—and suddenly he was nineteen again, sneaking in with his new ID just to see you play again and not miss his shot.

Now, he‘s frozen as he sees you perform so whole heartedly under the might of a single incandescent light.

You looked beautiful. Real.

Not the polished version from magazines or Leah's wedding—where you'd stiffened the second Sarah requested that song. Where your voice had cracked on the chorus, raw in a way no studio could autotune.

Where he’s just able to see you again.

And now here you were, strumming the opening chords of something new—voice low, rougher than he remembered. The crowd swayed, but Jay didn't move.

Couldn't.

Not when you glanced up mid-verse, gaze snagging on his like a caught breath.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

You finished the set in a daze.

No one noticed the way your hands shook. No one except him.

Backstage—if you could call a storage room with a large old leather loveseat a ‘backstage’—Mira shoved a bottle of branded distilled water into your hands. "Good crowd. Atlas'll be happy."

You didn't answer.

Mira sighed, looking at you with that same concern yet again. She knows your situation, and she feels bad being so helpless and useless to ease your pain the way you want.

She taps your shoulder and presents a light grin back at you. "Van’s out back. Avoid the fans, yeah?"

You nodded, seeing her leave the room shortly.

Until when can you stomach this feeling? This sensation? Being trapped in world you dreamed of was never in your plans, yet here you are, sitting inside your gilded cage.

As you took a deep breath, you fixed your hair and showered yourself in your favorite perfume yet again. You took a faithful step and approached the exit.

When your senses met the stench of New York’s streets opposite the alley door, Jay was already there. Leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, like he'd been waiting for years.

"Hey," he said.

The streetlight caught the gold in his hair. God, he looked good.

"Hi." Your voice came out hoarse. You walked slowly, approaching him with some needy caution. Just for yourself.

A beat of silence passed. Then Jay pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "You killed it in there."

You scoffed. "It was a dive bar, Jay."

"Yeah. Our dive bar."

The words hung between you. Quiet, and more of that still silence.

“The dim lights suit your features.”

You shot up a glance towards Jay, hearing him say such a ridiculous thing in the middle of your self-inflicted turmoil.

You could say the same for him.

Right then, you forced yourself to look away. "Shouldn't you be with … Naomi, right?"

Jay's jaw tightened, his hands flexing against his sharp jaw. "I … wanted to see you."

Why?

You didn't ask. Couldn't possibly.

Instead, you watched as he pulled something from his pocket—a crisp white card.

PARK JONGSEONG, with some unreadable fine print at the side you couldn’t see much under the street lights. His name is embossed in sleek black and accents of regal purple.

"If you ever want to grab matcha," he said, holding it out. "No pressure."

You stared at it. Four years ago, you'd have taken it without hesitation.

Now?

"Jay," you said softly, "what about … her?"

As he opened his mouth—

Ring.

His phone lit up. As your curious eyes darted over, the name span the screen. Naomi.

Jay cursed under his breath, still not answering as he held out for your advise.

"I should—"

"Yeah." You stepped back. "I don’t mind."

He hesitated, card still extended. "Just please... think about it."

Nervous as you can be, you took the card in hesitation.

“A card, huh?” You flipped the sheet of stiff paper on your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Jay perked up his one-sided smile, genuinely happy at the gesture. You couldn’t help but smile back — it was contagious when you see Jay act that way.

“Park Jongseong … got your whole government name here too, hehe.” Jay couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that comment, and neither could you.

Then he was gone—turning by the corner—swallowed by the city lights.

You stood there, fingers clenched around his card, until Mira honked the car horn.

“Drive or bust, superstar!”

Lost in thought, his voice played like a broken record in your head.

Think about it.

As if you could do anything else.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HAHAHA THE GODS HAVE GIVEN ME THE SIGN SO ITS UPDATE TIME AND OH WE'RE IN CHAPTER 2!! what is all the juice abouttt, find out next chapter~ also excited for en-chella!! GO TEAM WOOOOOO

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

my masterlist! | don't forget to reblog! | made by writhyv 💘

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Anatomy Class

kai parker x reader

summary: kai + magic + boredom = trouble

tags: high school au, siphoning, magical fingering, masturbation (semi-public)

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i tagged this right next to my dad; you're both 18 in this!

“You have to promise to use this wisely and not get caught with it. Not in school, and certainly not at home,” you reiterate to Kai for maybe the third time in twenty minutes. 

“I know, I know! Trust me, princess, I know the risks.”

“If it runs out, I can give you more, but if my parents suspect something’s up, they’ll find a way to contact yours.”

“But what if I run out before the day’s over and it’s just wasted? If I don’t use it, it drains.”

You sigh. “What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know… can’t I just play with it a little? I can’t do that much damage during school hours. Worst I could do is make some kid trip over his shoelaces.”

“Kai!”

“I’m kidding! But seriously, Y/N…”

“Okay, I see your point. Do whatever you want with it, just don’t get caught.”

“And if I run out, you’ll give me more?” He hates to sound greedy, but he’s desperate.

“Of course. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have permanent access, so as little as I use mine, I might as well give it to you.” He nods. “But again, be careful.”

“I will.”

“Okay. We’re coming up on the school now. Take my hand.”

He does, and then you nod to him to siphon. “Tell me when to stop.”

Your hands glow, but it doesn’t hurt. Kai says when he siphons his siblings, it hurts them. But you don’t feel any pain. If anything, your body warms with a tingly, pleasure-like feeling. After about thirty seconds, you start to feel a little dizzy though, and decide that’s a good time to cut him off. 

“Stop.”

He drops your hand immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No pain, just a little dizzy.”

“Okay,” he confirms. He’d hate to hurt the one person who’s ever given him any love and attention. 

“How do you feel?”

Kai smiles as the magic runs through his veins. He lets out a small moan that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Good,” he finally answers. He then takes the pencil you’ve stuck behind your ear and makes it float in the air. 

“Good,” you say, stopping for a moment to kiss the side of his face. You take your pencil back as the school comes into view. “See you in class?”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you walk up to the doors together, then part ways for your first class. 

You have third period together, but Kai sits all the way in the back, while you’re in the middle row. The teacher assigned the seats, and rudely placed his kids by favoritism: most engaged in the front; most uninterested in the back. Kai’s incredibly smart, but that comes to his disadvantage in school. Most of the lessons are boring; he passes them with flying colors and faces little challenge completing them. He finishes early, or already understands the material, and ends up tapping his foot or fingers during class. Mr. Peters interprets this as disrespect and boredom. 

Today in class, you’re reviewing the different systems in the body. Yet another topic that Kai has practically memorized. The final exam is in three weeks, though with the material being as difficult as it is, Mr. Peters has decided to start studying early. The material isn’t too much of a challenge for you, though Kai still has you beat in that matter. 

The man makes a list of topics on the chalkboard, then slowly goes down his list asking and answering questions about each one. He asks something and the class responds, but every so often, someone asks their own question, and he launches into a huge explanation for it. It’s during one of your classmate’s questions that you suddenly start to feel a heaviness in the bottom of your stomach. 

Immediately, you put a hand to it. Your mind races to think of what could’ve caused it. You hadn’t eaten anything weird that day, nor have you had any aches or pains all week. In the middle of your train of thought, the feeling shifts lower. There’s a pressure traveling south. In the next moment, it feels like circles being rubbed down along your body. Intentional pressure. Kai. 

Your brain provides the reason as soon as you recall your morning: you gave him magic. 

“Do whatever you want with it,” you had told him. 

Well, he sure is now. 

Slowly, you turn to face him. His hands are hidden from sight, inside his desk, but the smile creeping on his face is unmistakable. He’s certainly messing with you. 

Stop, you mouth to him. 

The bastard only winks. 

You turn back around and cross your legs over each other, squeezing them tight. There’s no freaking way he’s doing this in the middle of class. 

The pressure suddenly increases. You can almost feel the pads of his fingers touching you - one on your clit, two brushing your folds. You bite your lip so hard it might bleed. Your hands are clenched into fists underneath the table. 

“Kai, stop,” you think, hoping there’s even a point one percent chance he can read your mind. He doesn’t, though, and if anything, mimics dipping between your folds, feeling your walls. 

“The organs involved in the endocrine system are- Y/N,” your teacher stops mid-sentence to look at you, “are you okay?!”

You release your fists, hoping to look less suspicious. “Yeah. I have a stomach ache. Do you- do you mind if I go to the restroom?”

Mr. Peters hurries to his desk for a hall pass. “Not at all. Go to the nurse if it doesn’t feel better in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You take it and hurry out the door.

You spare a glance at Kai on your way out. He smirks at you when you look at him, but then looks back at his hands, clearly focused. The feeling sharpens, and you dash out the door. 

As soon as you reach the bathroom, you fling yourself against the wall in the nearest stall. You’re still biting your lip not to moan, but don’t fight the need that brings you to unbuckle your belt to relieve some of the built-up tension. Criminally, it seems Kai can still control you despite the distance. You can still feel his finger-pads petting your walls. The pressure is still on your clit, and it only grows by the minute. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling yourself getting close. 

You drop two fingers to your clit, rubbing it yourself. Your knees almost buckle, and you have to push your toes against the edge of the toilet to not slip. 

“Goddammit, Kai.” It’s a whisper, but you really hope no one else is in the bathroom right then. 

You focus on the way he feels on you, as well as the added pressure you’re giving yourself. Within two minutes’ time, you come. It hits you hard. Your knees almost give out, despite the way you tried to hold yourself upright. Your chest heaves; the sensation sends pleasure throughout your whole body. Your vision gets spotty, and soon, your lip starts to bleed. It’s overwhelming in all the best ways. 

After another few seconds, Kai seemingly retracts his fingers. You curse him the minute he does, remembering you’re in school, and you’re supposed to be studying in class right now. 

The moment you get your bearings, you stumble to your feet and towards the sink. You wash your hands and grab onto the solid material to ground yourself; your brain is still swimming in post-high fuzzies. 

“Fuck you, Kai,” you think, again telepathically, hoping he can hear you. If he can, you’d bet your life on the fact that he’s wearing his signature smirk. 

When you finally recover, you make your way back to class. You offer Mr. Peters a half smile and report that most of it is gone. “Must’ve been something I ate this morning,” you lie. 

He replies with his own smile and a nod, and goes back to teaching. 

The moment you sit, you turn to see Kai, who is, in fact, smirking at you. You give him a playful roll of your eyes before turning back to the lesson.

Luckily, that’s his only shenanigan for the day. During lunch and your other classes together, he dares to act innocent. You would scold him for it during lunchtime, but Jo is sitting with you today, preventing that entirely. 

The walk back to school provides the perfect timing. 

“Malachai Parker,” you say in your best authoritative voice.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Did I do something wrong?! Did I do- you know what you did.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Third period. You and your magic fingers. You-”

“Oh,” he has the nerve to laugh, “that. Did you like that?”

“Did I like that?! Kai, during class?!”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t get caught. I didn’t get caught.”

You scoff. “I did not mean for you to do that!”

“But you liked it. What’d you do in the bathroom?”

“What?!”

“Why’d you go to the bathroom?”

“To hide the fact you were fingering me in class! What do you think I went for?!”

“Did you come?”

“Excuse me?”

“Simple question, princess.”

“I did not-”

“Don’t lie to me now.”

“Fine,” you bite your lip, “I did.”

He smiles. “Got you. Knew you liked it.”

“That was so inappropriate! I’d never think you’d be so bold. And when did you know when to stop? You did, like, ten seconds after I finished.” 

He chuckles like it’s a game. “The last five times I’ve fingered you, it’s taken you five minutes on average to come. I watched on my watch; three minutes happened in class, two in the bathroom. I gave ten seconds to spare to either get you there if you needed extra time, or to ride you through it. Turns out, I’m pretty spot on.”

“Putting your brain to great use,” you mumble, “and my magic.”

Suddenly, he looks nervous. “You’re still gonna give it to me, right? I didn’t lose my chances to have it, did I? Because I can behave. Y/N, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You change your attitude to match his. “Oh, baby, no. No, I’m not like that. Don’t you worry about stuff like that. I’m still gonna give you magic, even if you use it in questionable ways.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But one condition.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Wait until actual study time, like in the library, to do it. Not in class. Unless we’re watching a movie.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“I love you, you little weasel.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname. “I love you, too.” Then he chuckles. “I fingered you in class.”

“Kai!”

[bubblef1zz]

Hello, everyone.

Are your days going well? How are you feeling today compared to yesterday, do you know? Well, nonetheless, here's my message to you all, as CDD systems.

— Feeling unreal or as if the world around you is unreal as part of your CDD symptoms is normal.

— Parts not having names and going by their role or characteristics is okay. Eg: The little one. Some parts simply may not want a name; that's okay.

— Sharing your headcounts online is not a necessity, so don't feel bad for not wanting to share this information.

— Be mindful to not share your triggers online; whether negative or positive. Don't feel forced to share triggers in the spaces you may be involved in.

— Not knowing every little detail about yourself is fine and even normal. Don't feel forced to find those details immediately; take your time and work at your own pace.

— Asking for management advice is okay. Asking for help is okay. Struggling is understandable and normal when you have a disorder. You are not a burden for seeking help and/or advice.

— If you feel anger, sadness, and such to high degrees, I'm here to tell you that that's okay. Having trouble understanding 'the why' is okay, and you're not a 'monster' if you get to that breaking point and lash out.

— Try not to compare your system to the systems online. Do you have lots of introjects? That's okay. Do you have only a few? That's okay. None? That's just as okay. Are there only 2 alters in your system? That's okay. 10? 40? That's okay. Are you polyfragmented? That's okay; it doesn't mean your experiences aren't real. OSDD1? P-DID? The same goes there. Your experiences aren't fake just because you may experience less amnesia. Your experiences aren't fake if you experience more amnesia. Your experiences aren't fake if you have amnesia of having amnesia. Your experiences aren't fake if you have more emotional amnesia.

I hope this makes someone's day better!! I added more tags to this post to try to reach more CDD systems.

[gyllenhaalstories]

HEART-SHAPED BOX — HOLDEN WORTHER 💝

summary: *intercom noises* valentine's day is the season of love, good prices on chocolate and sad puppy-eyed cashiers. thank you for shopping at retail rodeo.

warnings: reader is gender neutral! mention of death, food & eating, fluff. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 1785

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/saradika-graphics

tag: @jakegooglyeyes ❣️

notes: i'm finally writing for holden!!! this fic was brought to you by my depression & my heart shaped palm pal plushie (and by @sizzlingcloudmentality, thank you for your help ily). happy valentine’s day! i’m sending you all so much love. ❤️🥀 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The door opened before you and a bell announced your arrival. On your left, the security guard greeted you with a nod and a tired smile. On your right, you saw a young man with his nose in a book.

"We close in ten minutes." He mumbled.

You did not plan to linger in the store anyway, but you added speed to your steps. You scanned the store and let your feet take you towards the aisle with the biggest amount of obnoxious decorations.

Holden turned his head and saw you, the only customer in the store, heading straight to the Valentine's Day section.

You saw a poster of Cupid, pointing his arrow in direction of a sad looking display of flower bouquets. You assumed the best flowers were purchased earlier today, by tender lovers and guilt-ridden partners. You grabbed the bouquet that looked like it would last until the morning before wilting away.

Not without taking you in from eye to toe first, Holden focused on his book again. He flipped the worn-out corner of the page.

Your gaze lingered on one of the stuffed animals that were arranged in a row, desperate to be taken into a loving home. You bent over and picked up different candy bars instead. You made your way to the cash register, though you stopped by the last seasonal display first. You grabbed one of the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates before you dumped your loot on the checkout belt.

Holden and you watched as the items went on their merry, and very slow, way. He began with the bouquet of roses that he handled carefully. He continued, grabbing each candy bar, a loud beep resonated like a heartbeat every time he scanned one into the system. "You're eating all of this alone?"

You squinted your eyes, displeased by the judgment that emanated from this guy. Maybe his day was as rough as yours, but he did not need to make it worse...

"You'll get sick." He proved that your quick analysis, although understandable, of his judgment was misplaced. "That's a lot of chocolate." He repeated as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register. You did not catch sight of the total value of your purchases when it reduced significantly. Valentine's Day wasn't over yet, but Holden gave you the discount that started tomorrow.

You handed him the money, he gave you back the change.

"Someone around here got sick eating blackberries."

You put the money in your wallet, but you dropped a few coins when he spoke again.

"Then she died."

What a weird attempt at small talk, you thought to yourself. Or perhaps he started copying that girl who worked on the intercom. Every time you shopped at Retail Rodeo, she would make some strange announcement that felt both concerning and insulting.

"It's kind of poetic." Holden spoke while he put the sweets in a bag for you. He admired the bouquet for a moment before letting you grab your items.

"What is?"

The encouragement to share more of his thoughts made a faint grin appear on his face. "Love being the death of someone." Holden said, forcing the conversation to take on a more serious tone. "I'm a writer. I write poetry." He justified himself. You simply nodded. "The blackberries are just stupid. Should have washed them first."

You scoffed at the macabre joke.

Holden smiled again.

You walked away with your bag and bouquet in hand, the security guy wished you a happy Valentine's Day.

Holden went through the closing routine, ignoring the perplexed questions from the security guy who reminded him of all the trivial tasks he needed to do. Sweeping the floors, double checking the safe, writing things he bought off his paycheck... Holden hurried out the door before Corny threatened to let their boss know about his wrongdoings.

You plucked away at the petals of one of the roses as you continued to walk. You turned your back to the eerily empty parking lot, turning a corner to reach a different street.

"Wait," Holden let out, clearly not loud enough for you to hear. "Wait!" He insisted.

You heard footsteps behind you. Your first instinct was to start running until you recognized the voice. You turned around, noticing that Holden's backpack made a funny noise. Like it was empty, except for one or two objects that got thrashed around. "Did I forget something at the store?"

"No, huh..." He panted, he ran quite fast to get to you. His ankle started to hurt again, there was no way in Hell he'd ask Corny for a ride home. Holden preferred to keep his interactions with his coworkers to a minimum, especially with the guy who worked security. All Corny wanted to talk about was Bible study anyway.

You stopped walking altogether, waiting for Holden to explain why he chased after you this way. You doubted he could blame that on poetry.

Holden let his backpack slide down his arm so he could reach the zipper. Like a magician with a tricked hat, Holden pulled out a stuffed animal. One of the teddy bears you looked at earlier. "Here."

You grabbed the bear from his hands, smoothing out the fur of its face so it could see better.

"Now you have someone to share the chocolate with, so you won't get sick."

A genuine smile lit up your face, you appreciated the gesture. "You didn't have to."

Holden shrugged, fixing his backpack on his shoulder again. "Were you going somewhere?"

You explained you were headed home, you lived nearby.

He replied that his folks lived a couple of streets away from you.

You found it strange that you had never seen this young man before, considering that funny coincidence. You did not reject the company.

Holden walked by your side, though not in a straight line. He bumped into you a couple of times, it helped to dissipate the awkwardness with chuckles and apologies.

You told him your name, he told you his. You had figured it out, you could see his name tag peeking from under his unzipped hoodie. "It's nice to meet you, Holden."

He gave you another smile. You made him feel comfortable enough to ramble about a few things, mostly his favourite book that he was reading when you walked in the store. Holden described how he related to the main character and their mutual struggle with the hypocrisy of the world.

You listened intently, nodding and humming along. You could tell he was not used to having someone to talk to. Words came out of his mouth like the strong torrent of a river after a day of heavy rain.

Speaking of rain, drops started to stain Holden's hoodie. It was probably best to find shelter until the rainy clouds passed. You would not make it back to your respective houses in time.

You opted for the diner nearby. You clutched on tightly to the teddy bear as you ran with Holden struggling to catch up on you.

The two of you were greeted by the door bell ringing, announcing your entrance, and the middle aged waitress who told you to wait for a second so she could get you a nice table. Holden followed you to the the area the waitress prepared for you, by the large windows.

You heard the waitress use the term lovebirds when she left to fetch the menus, you did not feel the need to specify that Holden was a guy you had literally just met. The waitress insisted on bringing you a milkshake to share. The diner sold strawberry milkshakes for Valentine's Day, she informed you.

He watched you set the stuffed animal on the table while you waited for the food. Holden repeated a gesture you did earlier, fixing the fur of the teddy bear's face so it could see better.

You smiled, this was sweet.

Your fries arrived and both of you dug in hungrily. Holden's fingers brushed against yours, and giggles filled the silence when he pulled his hand away to let you eat first.

You exchanged another shy grin or two. You looked out the window, the rain had not calmed down yet. You did not mind too much. You did not mind it too much either when Holden's foot accidentally grazed against yours under the table.

Holden studied the features of your face. The way your gaze lightened when you noticed the rain was still pouring, as if you seemed glad to have an excuse to spend more time here with him. The way your shoulders relaxed and you ate with more appetite. The way you seemed to be feeling better now than when you walked into Retail Rodeo earlier. "You're like me," Holden realized. "You're not very social."

You shrugged. "I warm up eventually."

Holden nodded. "Eventually..." He repeated in a whisper. That set a goal, that gave him an unexpected purpose. He pulled his straw out of the milk shake and pushed on the cherry that was propped on top of the pile of whipped cream.

You chuckled. Maybe he wanted to share, or maybe it was a subtle manner to signal that he did not like cherries. Either way, you picked the cherry up and ate it.

"I want to know everything about you." Holden declared as you drank a sip of the milkshake. He had talked a lot more than you did, it was time to turn the tables.

You leaned your back against the cushion of the booth. You looked outside again, the rain had stopped.

Holden waited for an answer, not so patiently. He stared at you again as if he tried to read your thoughts before you spoke them out loud.

You opened your mouth, but the waitress showed up at the same time to grab the empty plate of fries. She gleefully informed you that your food was on the house. Lovebirds on a first date deserved a special treatment.

Holden's gaze grew more serious, he frowned slightly. He assumed you did not want to see him again.

"Someone told me I'd get sick if I ate all the sweets I bought today... And I have this big heart-shaped box of chocolates to share." You glanced at the stuffed animal for a second or two, then you locked eyes with Holden. "Don't worry, I'll eat the cherry ones."

Holden gave you his brightest smile. Someone wanted to spend more time with him, and a pretty person at that. The good days were rare to come by. He would not be able to get rid of you in his head. And he certainly would not forget about this special Valentine's Day.

[mapofsouthdakota]

The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 2400ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. 18+ due to psychological thriller/drama/angst galore. This is the end, guys. I don’t even know what else to say without dropping spoilers, just know I’m vibrating with feelings and self-restraint. You are warned.

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290 @justpassingdontworry @sylvieisoffline

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven

Emergence | Chapter eight

The Maze, the bathroom, you

“Caleb—”

Your hands shake as you press them against him, gripping at his arms, his chest, anywhere that still feels solid, still offers some sense of him. Your breath catches, panic ripping through your lungs like fire as your fingers dig into the lifeless muscle, desperate for something—anything—to hold on to.

“Come on, come on, come on—”

Your voice is frantic, the words tumbling out in broken gasps as you grasp at his limp arm, trying to will life back into it, back into him.

But Caleb—

Caleb just smiles.

That same lopsided smirk, faint, but unmistakably his. Still Caleb.

His head lolls against your lap, violet eyes flickering, unfocused, in and out of presence, in and out of you.

His left hand twitches, fingers flexing, reaching—

You grab it.

Hard.

Pressing it against your chest like a prayer, something that can keep him here.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay—”

A ragged breath slips past his lips.

He tries to speak, but it’s barely anything at all.

His hand tightens around yours.

“Still… here,” he murmurs, voice sluggish, fighting its way through static.

Your throat closes.

Tears slip down your cheeks, falling onto his skin, onto the sweat-dampened strands of his hair as your other hand presses against his face, tilting him toward you, making him look at you.

“Stay with me,” you beg.

His fingers twitch against your grip.

Another flicker of movement. Another weak, exhausted smirk.

And then—

His eyes close.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, you

The morning air is crisp, a faint chill still clinging to the edges of the Maze’s open courtyard. The sky is an endless sheet of artificial blue overhead, mimicking the real thing, though neither of you have seen the real thing in far too long.

Caleb stands in front of you, barefoot on the smooth stone, shoulders squared, hair a tousled mess from sleep. His eyes hold a sharpness now, a weight behind them, but they aren’t cold. Not today.

“You’re stiff,” you tease, pressing your palms against his shoulder blades, urging them down.

His muscles tense at first, an old instinct, before slowly easing under your touch.

“I have an excuse,” he shoots back, voice dry, but there’s a glint in his gaze as he tilts his head toward you. “I did just have a major system reboot.”

You snort, stepping around him to face him head-on.

“Oh, so now you’re blaming your bad form on losing your enhancements?”

His lips twitch. That familiar, lopsided smirk—the one you’ve known since childhood, since before war and wires and loss.

“If I still had them,” he drawls, rolling out his wrist, testing its movement, “you’d be flat on your ass right now.”

You raise a brow. “Bold claim for someone whose legs almost gave out five minutes ago.”

His smirk deepens, the kind of smile that is so unmistakably Caleb that it makes your chest ache.

He exhales sharply—not quite a laugh, but close.

The sound is warmer than firelight, like the hush of heat lingering on a summer afternoon.

It feels real.

Like something untouched by the past, untangled from what came before.

Caleb rolls his shoulders, exhaling through his nose, shaking out tension from his muscles. His movements are slower now, nothing like the efficiency he once carried.

But he’s still moving.

He stretches his fingers—his left hand—watching the way they flex, testing his grip.

Your gaze lingers on his right arm, on the stillness there.

It doesn’t hurt like it used to—not as much.

But there’s something about it that still makes your throat tighten.

You nudge him lightly, drawing his attention back.

“Again,” you say, voice softer now.

He raises a brow. “Again?”

“You’re getting slow, Colonel.”

His eyes glint, something stirring behind them, something familiar.

The old Caleb, the one who lived for a challenge, who always met you head-on.

He moves.

And you match him.

Light footwork. Controlled strikes. Muscles re-learning what they were built for.

For once, there is no winning, no losing.

Only movement.

Only breath.

Only each other.

——————————————————————————

You glance at your watch.

The day has slipped past like sunlight on glass—there, and then gone, without you ever noticing.

The second hand ticks on, smooth and steady, unhurried in a way that feels almost tender.

You lift your gaze from where you’re sitting on the ground, arms draped over your knees.

Caleb is stretched out beside you, head tilted back, sweat-dampened bangs clinging to his forehead.

His chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths.

For the first time in so long, he looks… at ease.

Not calculating.

Not adjusting.

Not waiting for something to happen.

Just existing.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he cracks an eye open, smirking.

“Admiring the view?”

You scoff, nudging his ribs with your foot.

“Just wondering how long you’re gonna keep pretending to be exhausted.”

He catches your ankle before you can pull away, his grip loose but firm.

“Who says I’m pretending?”

His fingers brush against your skin, a fleeting touch, but it lingers in a way that makes your breath catch.

The next moment, he’s pulling you toward him, shifting until your body is hovering over his.

You brace your hands on either side of him, your breath coming just a little faster.

“You should take responsibility,” he murmurs, his voice all warm amusement as his hand skims up your spine, anchoring you against him.

“For what?”

His mouth finds yours, slow, unhurried.

A kiss that doesn’t feel like a question.

Doesn’t feel like a test.

It just is.

You exhale against his mouth, your fingers curling into the artificial grass beneath you.

His hand moves, tracing over the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, dragging you closer. Your bare skin presses against his, the warmth of him bleeding into you, like time has stretched just for the two of you, giving you this moment.

His breath is slow, his touch teasing, his lips parting just enough to let you deepen the kiss, let you linger, let you melt into him the way you want to—

The way you both want to.

Because right now, there is only this.

Only the heat of your bodies pressed together, the slow slide of damp skin against damp skin, the way his tongue flicks against yours, savoring. His hand fists in your hair, tilting your head just so, deepening the kiss as his body shifts beneath you.

The way his voice breaks—just slightly—when you grind down, a slow roll of your hips that makes his fingers tighten against your waist.

“We have time,” he murmurs against your lips.

——————————————————————————

Time moves differently now.

Some days, it slips by unnoticed.

Other days, it lingers, stretches, waits for you to breathe it in.

The soft hum of the Maze has long since settled into silence. The walls no longer shift, the doors no longer seal. The world outside still waits, open and endless. But here, inside these walls, inside this moment—there is no urgency.

Caleb lingers at the counter, bathed in the golden hush of late afternoon light, his back to you, shoulders relaxed but still broad. One hand moves absently, fingers trailing over the smooth surface of a glass, tracing slow, absent circles along its rim. The other arm hangs at his side, still, motionless—a quiet contrast, a reminder of what was lost and what remains.

The air around him is thick with the unspoken weight of something settling into place.

He doesn’t turn.

So you close the distance.

Slowly, you step forward, arms slipping around his waist, pressing your body against the solid line of his back. His warmth seeps into you instantly.

You rise onto your toes and press your lips to the healed scar on his neck. Your chin finds a resting place between his shoulder blades, your breath fanning gently across his skin as your hands slide around his waist, fingers curling into his stomach.

For a moment, neither of you move.

He exhales, long and slow, his muscles shifting beneath your touch, his body recognizing yours even before his mind catches up.

And then, softly—so softly it’s almost lost between heartbeats—you whisper:

“We have time.”

A pause. A flicker of something unseen. Then—he turns.

The movement is slow, as if he doesn’t want to break whatever fragile spell you’ve woven around him. His good arm slides around you. Fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, gripping tighter than necessary, like he needs to feel you, needs to be sure you’re here.

And then you’re pressed together, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

His forehead dips, brushing lightly against yours. A breath, a moment, an inhale of something neither of you can name but both understand.

And when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, rough around the edges, like something is catching in his throat.

“Yeah.”

His arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly close.

“We do.”

And for the first time in forever, time is just that—

Time.

Not running out.

Not something to fear.

Just something to have.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, the bedroom, Caleb

It used to shift, to creak, to hum with movement—walls bending, doors locking, corridors realigning in perfect rhythm. A machine built to hold, to test, to keep. To keep you.

But now?

Now it is still.

Silent.

The hum is gone. The shifting corridors have settled. No need for traps, no need for control, no need to twist the world into something unbreakable.

His body is weaker now. Slower. More fragile. Not the Caleb you once knew. Not the war machine, not the Colonel, not the thing built from metal and wires.

But his mind?

His mind is still his.

And you’re the only thing on his mind.

He remembers your hands trembling as you cut into him, the way your breath hitched when he stopped moving, the way you whispered his name over and over, begging him to stay.

And he remembers waking up.

The first thing he saw—

You.

Tired. Eyes rimmed with exhaustion, fingers still coated in his blood, refusing to let go of him.

He remembers the way you touched his face, murmured his name like it was the only thing keeping him here.

He will never forget that.

And he will never forget you.

Even as his body has forgotten movements it once performed without thought—

Even as the Maze stands open, even as the world waits beyond these walls—

Your body is warm against his.

Soft. Real.

Pressed into the curve of his side, your breath slow, steady, completely at peace. His good arm is draped over your waist, fingers curled loosely against your ribs.

He could tighten his grip.

Could pull you closer.

Could whisper something against your ear that would make you shiver, remind you exactly whose arms you’re in, exactly where you belong.

But he doesn’t.

Because he doesn’t have to.

His eyes roam over you, devouring every detail like he hasn’t already spent a lifetime committing you to memory. The subtle flutter of your lashes, the soft part of your lips as you breathe, the gentle weight of your fingers resting over the dog tag against his chest—each one a quiet tether. You fit against him like a truth he’s always known. Like you were never meant to be anywhere else.

His gaze flickers to the headboard.

Thirteen days.

That’s how long it took to push you past the point of keeping track. Days, slipping through your fingers like water, until the habit faded, until your hand no longer reached for the headboard in the morning, searching for something to carve. To turn this from a game of survival into something else.

His gaze drifts down, to the watch on your wrist.

The one he gave you in the beginning. You’d thought it was a taunt then—a cruel little joke wrapped in charm.

You used to think time meant nothing in the Maze.

But now you understand:

Time means everything here.

His cruel little gift, a quiet reminder you’d carry with you.

Not to remind you of what you’ve lost.

But to remind you of what you have.

Every second, dedicated to each other.

His breath shudders as he exhales, his body unconsciously curling into you. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin, barely a whisper.

You shift, stirring, but you don’t pull away.

Caleb presses a kiss to your temple, his voice barely audible.

“Still here, Pip-squeak.”

Not a question.

A fact.

His heartbeat slows.

His chest rises, falls.

His body feels weightless, lighter than it has in years.

He lets his eyes close.

And the only thing he sees is you.

Your face.

Your hands.

Your voice, saying his name over and over, pulling him back from the brink, bringing him home.

His breath steadies.

And for the first time in years, decades, lifetimes—

Caleb sleeps.

But when he wakes, he knows.

Knows that the plan worked.

Better than expected.

Better than he hoped.

Because now, even when you look at the open doors—

You don’t run.

You don’t fight.

You stay.

And in the end, that’s all he ever wanted.

Because the Maze is still his.

And so are you.

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

The Maze

The Maze is open.

But you don’t leave.

And neither does he.

The doors are unlocked, the pathways unguarded, the world outside waiting.

But you’re still here.

And so is he.

——————————————————————————

Curtain.

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: I didn’t know what to name this postlude, but then I stumbled across Sleep Tokens newest single and the timing couldn’t have been better. It’s a total match. Please give it a listen—it’s the absolutely perfect outro. Anyways, that’s it, peepz. It’s done. These two freaks probably just spend eternity butt-naked, living their best life. Thank you so much for your support and kind comments in the previous chapters. Any thoughts, questions, feedback (positive and negative) is highly appreciated. (I’m so excited for Caleb’s myth omgomgomgg). Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[jessaerys]

one thing i dislike about ao3 that i've been thinking about every time i browse FF.net is overtagging. nowadays the majority of fics tell you upfront the major plot points or are tagged in such a way that they are easy to infer, what sexual acts are going to happen and what may or may not be triggering and it's like. yeah i understand the many utilities of this system but they work at the expense of the joy of discovery. to this day i remember fics i read on ff.net with sudden major character death plot twists or surprise violence or sexual content that haunt me (in a good way) or influence my writing or made me realize i was into something weird because none of that was in the one liner summary. sorry to be old man yells at cloud but fandom culture today doesn't toughen you up like it used to