#they want and looked through the whole thing

[inkedinshadows]

First of all congratulations for 1000 followers 🎊🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉 it’s honestly amazing and you deserve all the best❤️❤️❤️ also happy new year 🎆🎆🎆 secondly, all the prompts are super good it, I had such a hard time choosing from them cause they that are all amazing, anyway I think 19, 20 and 21 just fit together perfectly for an angsty Azriel fic.

Broken Vows

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you so much anon, you're the sweetest! <33 And happy new year one month too late oopsie 🤭

Prompts: "I trusted you." + "Don't leave me now. Please. I still need you." + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: Az is not the best partner here (I promise he didn't cheat)

Word count: 1.3k

It must be a dream. A nightmare.

Whatever was happening, it wasn't real. It couldn't be. You refused to believe it.

Azriel was still talking, but you weren't listening anymore. His words blurred together in your mind, yet his first few sentences remained sharp, playing over and over in your head.

I've found my mate.

You had never been the jealous type, so it hadn't bothered you when he began spending more and more time with Madja’s new apprentice. It had started as small talk after her visits and you usually lingered too. Talya seemed nice enough—quiet and reserved yet friendly.

You hadn't questioned it when Azriel started visiting the apothecary for even the slightest headache. But then those visits became too frequent. He went there even when both of you felt perfectly fine.

You should have realized something was off when Azriel became distant. The signs had been there. You had just been too blind to see them.

But the problem wasn't that he had found his mate, was it?

I want to be with her.

A few simple words, and the whole world collapsed around you.

“Baby, please, just look at me.” His voice finally cut through your thoughts. “I know this is hard to hear, but let me—”

“You promised,” you interrupted him. Your eyes met his from where he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Baby…” he began, but you cut him off again.

“You promised,” you repeated, your voice rising as tears pricked your eyes. “You promised!”

Guilt flashed across Azriel's face, and he at least had the decency to remain silent as you pressed on.

“You said you'd reject your mate for me, Az,” you blurted out. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks, but you barely noticed. “It was in your wedding vows, for gods’ sake!”

Azriel shook his head. “It's not that simple. I don't—”

“Isn't it?” you interrupted again. “Because it seems simple enough to me. You just reject the bond, like I did.”

His expression immediately hardened. “I don't want to reject the bond. If you would only let—”

“Why wouldn't you want to reject it?” you demanded.

“Because she's my mate!”

“And I'm your wife!”

For a moment, you just glared at each other. His shadows swarmed nervously around his wings, but then his shoulders slumped and his expression softened slightly.

“Can you let me explain?” he asked, studying you. “Please.”

With a sigh, you wiped your cheeks before crossing your arms over your chest. You simply looked at him, waiting.

“I don't want to lose you, baby,” he said softly.

“I don't see how that is going—”

Azriel stopped you mid-sentence. “Let me finish? Please?”

You rolled your eyes but gestured for him to continue. Listening to him was the last thing you wanted right now, but maybe he was going to surprise you. Maybe he was going to say it was all just a joke, a prank, and you'd be mad, but it would be fine.

You were grasping at straws, and you knew it.

“I still want to be with you,” Azriel said. He shot you a sharp look when you opened your mouth, and you sank back against the couch to let him continue. “But I also want to explore this bond with her.”

You scoffed. “So what? You think you can have both of us?” You shook your head, something vicious twisting in your gut. “That's not going to work, Azriel.”

You rose from your seat to head upstairs. You needed time to think, to figure out what to do. If you stayed, you would only get angrier. You had already cried and had no desire to do it again. But if you left, maybe you could spare yourself the fury.

Though the pain—the ache in your heart—could not be avoided, no matter what you did.

“Talya said that she understands the situation and she'd be willing to—”

You froze on the spot. Azriel must have realized he'd said the wrong thing because he didn't finish the sentence. His eyes dropped to your clenched fists as you turned back to face him.

Your restraint was gone. You wouldn't hold back now.

“You talked to her before you talked to me?” you seethed.

“Well, I…” Azriel seemed to be grasping for words. “She's my mate,” he repeated, as if that was explanation enough.

“And I'm your wife!” You threw your hands up. “I have been for the last two centuries!”

“I'm sorry, baby, but I—”

“Don't you ‘baby’ me, Azriel!”

He lowered his gaze, but you were too upset to care about the hurt look in his eyes. It was nowhere close to the heartache he was causing you.

“You know why I never worried about you finding your mate?” you asked. He looked up at you, but even if he had planned on saying something, you didn't give him time. “Because you promised you'd choose me. You promised you would reject the bond. And I believed it, believed you. I trusted you.”

You were well aware of what rejecting a mating bond felt like, how difficult it could be to deal with. Even without feelings involved, even knowing that you and your mate wouldn't have been a good match, it had still taken you two weeks to feel whole again. But Azriel had been there, filling the empty spot where your bond had been with his love.

You had never regretted your choice. You never had a reason to.

“And now I find out that not only did you spend time with her knowing she was your mate,” you went on, “but that you also want to be with her?”

Azriel’s voice was firm, edged with frustration. “I told you I want to be with you too, didn’t I?”

“Mother above, Azriel,” you snapped. “You think that makes me feel better? I trusted you, but you didn't even try.”

You had fought before. After two hundred years together, arguments were inevitable. But you usually talked it out and reconciled after a few hours—a day at worst. Maybe that was why Azriel didn't look particularly concerned.

Until you slipped the wedding band off your finger and tossed it onto the couch beside him.

His eyes widened in shock, and his usually restless shadows stilled behind him. You both stared at the ring, the silence stretching as your anger faded, leaving behind only a broken heart.

“You can't have your cake and eat it too, Az,” you finally said, your voice calmer now, resigned.

You turned on your heel again.

“I'm leaving,” you announced, already walking toward the stairs. You could go stay with your parents. They would welcome you without pressing for an explanation.

Azriel snapped out of his stupor and stood, reaching for you.

“Don’t leave me now. Please. I still need you.” His fingers closed around your wrist. “I still love you.”

You yanked your arm free, but didn't turn to face him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you bit out, “You should have loved me enough not to pursue your mate. You promised.”

He tried to stop you again, his shadows swirling around your legs as if to keep you from walking away from their master.

“Baby, that's not—”

You turned back one last time. Tears lined your eyes and your voice broke on the words. “I should have been enough, Azriel.”

You didn't wait to hear his response. You didn't try to go upstairs to pack some clothes.

Unable to stomach his presence any longer, you winnowed away.

a/n: technically, this is the end. I wanted to leave it open and hanging, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I am a sucker for happy endings so I might write a part 2 bc I already have an idea :))

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn��t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[lou-struck]

Not Me Thinking About… Katsuki Bakugou trying to lay low while shopping at the grocery store. A black face mask covers the lower half of his face in an attempt to conceal his identity, but the blond still draws stares from the few curious customers when they notice how tiny that red shopping basket looks in comparison to his massive arms. 

He originally came in to grab a thing of shampoo but has since lost track of time. His boots carry him across the fluorescent-lit vinyl tile as he listens to the soft music spilling from the sound system. This feeling of normalcy helps the Hero unwind from another crazy day at work, and his mind drifts to his favorite subject, you. 

The lone bottle of soap rocks back and forth as he wanders through the candy aisle. His crimson gaze scanning the shelves for nothing in particular. A familiar-looking wrapper catches his attention; upon closer inspection, he sees that your favorite candy brand has come out with a new flavor. 

How you can like something so sickeningly sweet is lost on him, he scoffs as he walks away now with two items in his basket. He continues this routine through the produce, beverage, chips, and bakery aisles until he realizes that he has wandered through the whole store, and the weight of his basket becomes uncomfortable, leaving an angry indent in his skin.

Ever since you started dating, his grocery bill has gone up, but he doesn't give a damn. He has memorized your favorite flavors and foods, and if he sees something that he even remotely thinks you would like, it's tossed in his basket without a second thought.

These little acts of service are more than just wanting to see the way your eyes light up when you get to taste something delicious. He does this because he wants you to feel at home when you are at his place.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end

[carisc4pshaw]

Morning delays

In which Spencer and Fem!Reader are late for work yet again because Spencer can’t keep his hands off her. (Smut!)

word count: 1.3k

tags: porn without plot, Smut, co workers, late to work, love, boyfriend&girlfriend, long term couple, showering together, sex, intimacy, P in V, unprotected P in V, Minor breeding kink, raw sex, 18+, fingering (f receiving), mentions of oral sex (f receiving), nipple play.

warnings: 18+!! whole thing is smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them guys!)

notes: I don’t think I missed any tags anyway this is the most sexual thing ever written so I hope you horny people enjoy it.

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

Just before you and Spencer had fallen asleep last night you had set the alarm for 7 am, it probably wasn’t enough time to get ready in the morning but you had a late night watching a movie with your long-term boyfriend not that either you saw much of it because before you got to the halfway point Spencer was on his knees between your thighs sucking your clit and circling your entrance, sliding his tongue into you until you had reached multiple orgasms.

You were certain the alarm hadn’t gone off yet because usually that would wake you straight away but today you were awoken to your boyfriend’s hands up your shirt resting on your breasts and tweaking with your hard-ish nipples. 

“What time is it?” You asked Spencer with a soft moan. 

“Almost 7 am.” 

“Baby we don’t have time, the alarm is about to go off,” You moaned halfway through what you were saying. 

One of Spencer’s hands slid down your stomach, “You want me to stop?”

“Well no…”

“Is your pussy already wet for me darling?” Spencer whispered into your ear. He wasn’t one for dirty talk all the time but when he did it the throbbing between your legs was only ever worse. You needed him badly and by the feel of things, he needed you too. 

You nodded, “Yes Spence.”

“Can I feel?” His hand still moving lower. 

“Yes,” With your signal he slid his hand under the waistband of your panties avoiding your clit as he ran a finger through your folds to collect your wetness, “Mhm Spence.”

“Beautiful, you’re so wet,” He spoke just before the alarm went off. With one quick movement, he took his hand from your panties and switched the alarm off before positioning himself between your legs. 

His large hands landed on your waist gripping you firmly. He leaned down attaching his lips to a nipple swirling his tongue around it for a couple of minutes until moving on to the next. 

His mouth pulled away from your nipple with a loud pop. He rested his hands at the side of your hips playing with the lace of your underwear. 

“Can I take them off now?” He looked straight into your eyes. 

“Please,” You said with a breathy sigh. 

Spencer pulled them off leaving them somewhere in the room, you’d find them later.

“What do you want?” Spencer asked, one of his hands running from your waist to your hip back and forth. 

Your eyes trailed between the both of you where you could see his erection through his boxers. 

“I want that,” You smiled sweetly and innocently. 

“What?” Spencer smirked. 

“Your dick.”

Spencer nodded, “Let me warm you up first.”

With that, he pushed your legs further apart his hands resting on the apex of your thighs, his thumbs nudging your folds due to the size of his hands. 

He used one of his left thumb to run back and forth over your closed folds. 

“Stop teasing we don’t have much time.”

Without another word he plunged his index finger inside of you, quickly curling it inside of you knowing exactly where your most pleasurable spot was. 

“Oh my god. Spence another!” You moaned with a little shout. 

“Yes baby,” Spencer pushed his middle finger inside, pulling them out a small way to push them back in much harder hitting your g-spot as hard as he could.

You reached down between you pressing two fingers to your clit and rubbing it in a quick motion. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer don’t stop,” You moaned loudly throwing your head back. 

Right as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his fingers and that familiar coil in your stomach he pulled his fingers out leaving your core pulsing around nothing. 

“What the fuck babe,” You groaned. You were frustrated, the tears began to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry, it just happened when you were frustrated or in this case when you couldn’t reach your peak of pleasure apparently.

“Hey no baby don’t cry,” Spencer wiped the tears from your eyes, “I’m going to make you cum I promise.”

“Why did you stop?” You frowned.

“I wanted you to cum when I was inside of you,” He ran his hand down your hair.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked giving you a kiss. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You reached for his boxers pulling them down just enough that his erection sprung out of them before he discarded the material completely. 

“How do you want me?” Spencer asked. 

You blushed biting your lip, “Like always.”

“Honey, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

You hid your face in his neck, “Raw,” You muttered.

Spencer smirked, you usually did it like that now that you had been together for three years and knew you were both clean but he loved hearing you say it. 

He rested his dick against your folds rubbing the tip against your clit to relax you again after leaving you without an orgasm a few minutes ago. 

You loved how his veins felt against you when he did that but right now you just craved him filling the empty space inside of you.

“Please,” You stared into his hazel eyes that were clouded with lust.

You breathed in deeply as he pushed the head inside of you slowly, his fingers coming to your clit to help as he entered you. He wasn’t too girthy but he had length and his head always stretched you out the perfect amount that you experienced a slight tweak of pain before the rush of pleasure.

Spencer wasted no time in picking up the pace pounding in and out of you quickly since you really had to be leaving soon, mornings were always for rougher faster sex and the evenings were for when he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body.

His tip grazed the nerves inside of you with every thrust and that partnered with the firm circles on your clit you knew you weren’t going to last very long. 

“Close already honey?” Spencer moaned feeling your walls tightening around him. 

“Fuck! Mhm,” You couldn’t speak anymore without a sting of moans leaving your mouth. 

“Good girl, hold it, I’m almost there,” Spencer thrust harder, your skin slapping together and your hips colliding.

“Spence please,” You moaned. 

“Yes okay baby okay,” Spencer groaned, “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No inside please.” 

Two more thrusts and you came around his dick just before he spilled his seed deep inside of you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer kissed your forehead which had a few beads of sweat on it. 

“You felt so good,” You couldn’t help biting your lip and giving him a satisfied look. 

“So did you sweetheart. I’m going to pull out okay?” 

You nodded as he pressed his thumb against your clit only to make small circles as he removed himself from you. It was slightly overstimulating but you knew he was just caring for you and nothing more.

“We are so late, we still need to shower,” You said looking over at the clock. 

“I thought we could shower at work, you know training is first on the schedule you’re just going to get sweaty again,” Spencer shrugged getting up from the bed to find the pieces of discarded clothing. 

“Excuse me? I’m showering before we leave,” You said with your eyes widening. 

“Why?” He asked and you hoped he was reading. 

“Because we smell of sex, from last night and this morning and I have ropes of your cum inside of me.”

Spencer smirked, “Leave it there, that’s pretty hot.” 

“You’re insane,” You rolled your eyes and got up from the bed.

“I was kidding, take a shower but I do like the thought of me being inside of you like that.”

Again you rolled your eyes, walking toward the bathroom, “Are you joining? We will save time and water.” 

“If I ever say no to that question, know there’s something wrong with me,” Spencer said following you through to the bathroom. 

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 1)

Sequel to But you're my stepmom!

Picks up a few months later after your dad and Agatha get divorced and you've started college

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: fingering, mommy kink, slight angst

Fuck. You do not want to do this. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re here. You should’ve said you had anywhere else to be, but instead, your car almost gets hit as you turn the corner in possibly the narrowest parking garage you’ve ever been in. It makes you swear and you stomp on the brakes so quickly you think you might have a bruise from the seatbelt. 

But luckily, you find a spot on the first floor and squeeze between two other cars, muttering a silent prayer that you don’t scrape against them.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans as you get out and walk into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

It’s nice, although you hate to admit it. You would surely not mind spending more time here if it didn’t mean having to see—

“Hey, sweet pea!” 

Him. You look to your right and plaster on a fake smile when you see your father standing there, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey,” you say softly, awkwardly patting his back with a hand as he embraces you. 

He had been asking to get dinner with you at least once a week for the past few months since he and Agatha got divorced. You’ve always found an excuse to get out of it — you had homework, you had exams, you had to work over the summer and you were so tired — but now that it’s your first weekend in college and he knows that you don’t have anything going on, he insisted. 

Plus your mom had sort of asked for you to go at least once. Your dad has been sending you updates about his apartment search and random internet posts that he found funny, and having lived at home all summer, you’ve kept your mom in the loop. She is still obsessed with him, always finding ways to bring him up in conversation, and you wish you were brave enough to tell her to just move on. She was absolutely ecstatic when you broke the news about him and Agatha and she’s been pressing you for updates ever since. 

Part of the reason she wanted you to go see him was to scope out his new place and see if there was any sign of a new woman. There was still no sign about the lady he was having an affair with, so you weren’t sure if things had ended. 

And when he moved out the first time, he took your mom’s can opener and she still won’t let it go. Before you left, she texted you that if you saw it, you should steal it back. 

After the divorce went through, your dad had decided to sell the house and look for an apartment a little closer to his work, and he’s lived in this place for about a month now. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” he asks as he leads you to the elevator. He presses his fob to the button inside and then floor six. You remember him being so consumed with having one of the top floors, like that would make him seem more important. 

You shrug and pick at the peeling skin on your fingers. It’s a bad habit — one of your many. “Pretty good. Syllabus week has been a breeze. Made some new friends.”

“Classes seem like they’ll be fun?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

And then a tense silence falls over the both of you. You haven’t actually seen him since your graduation, which was a whole other level of awkward with your mom there too, and you both know that the two affairs and two divorces has put a strain on your relationship.

It does hurt a little. You wish there was a way you could reach over the cold gap between you and go back to how things were when you were a kid, when you actually liked being around him. 

But too much has happened. 

“Well, I’m really glad you were able to come down for dinner,” he says and you smile tightly. “I can’t wait to show you the place and then we can get whatever you want to eat.” 

The elevator dings and you follow him to an apartment a few doors down and he unlocks the door and lets you go first. 

The floors are a laminate gray, the counters in the kitchen marble white with black pendant lights over the peninsula. The refrigerator is stainless steel and there’s a completely stocked wine cooler fridge built into the cabinets next to the stove. You walk past the kitchen into the living room where the couches from his and Agatha’s house are set up around an entertainment center with a fireplace and a blue rug under the coffee table. 

“What do you think?” he asks, stepping next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders to bring you in close to him. 

You take his fancy bachelor pad in again. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. Maybe just pizza for dinner? We can order and watch a show or something?”

Staying in and having the television as a buffer is a much better plan than going out and having to make small talk that will end up with him on his phone anyway. He agrees and calls to order the pizza while you perch on the couch and scroll on your phone. You already have a text from your mom telling you to call her when you’re done and your chest tightens at the thought of all the shit she’s going to say. It’s fucking exhausting still being in the middle of this — you really thought it would get better, especially now that you’re in college. And yet, here you are. 

“So…” your dad starts, plopping down next to you with a groan once he gets off the phone. He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “You like your roommate?”

Your roommate, Alice Wu, is a sweet girl from out-of-state. You think that you and her will get along just fine and you’ve already agreed on all the rules of cleaning and having friends over. The first week has gone well and you’ve gotten close. “She’s cool. I think she and I will be good friends.” 

He nods and turns on a show you watched awhile and the two of you sit in awkward silence until the pizza guy rings from downstairs. You excuse yourself to the bathroom after your dad rings him in. 

The bathroom is through the bedroom and you take careful note of the sheets still strewn all over the bed and the two pillows at the top. One nightstand is cluttered with a phone charger, earplugs, a lamp, and a picture of you on your graduation day in a silver frame. It tugs at your heart and you instantly look away, not wanting to feel any more nostalgia. 

However, on the other nightstand, there’s just a matching lamp. No hair tie, no other chargers or personal belongings. 

But that stuff is easily hidden, so you go into the bathroom. One toothbrush, one retainer case, one razor. You can’t tell if you’re disappointed or glad. 

At least you won’t have to listen to your mom talk endlessly about a new woman. 

Your dad already has a plate with two slices on it for you sitting in your spot on the couch and you dig into it, suddenly famished. The atmosphere does warm up over time, and it’s no longer uncomfortable silence and you do end up talking a bit about his work and more about your school while the TV plays.

He doesn’t bring up your mom or Agatha at all, and neither do you. In a way, it’s nice to be removed from them for a few hours. Your dad has been villainized by both of them — and obviously he fucked up — but he is still your dad, despite your complicated feelings toward him. 

After a few episodes of the show, you shift to get up, grabbing your plate. “You’re leaving already?” he asks and checks his watch.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I should really be getting back to the dorms,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. Even if the bubble has been nice, you have somewhere you need to be. 

It’s hard for your dad to hide his disappointment, but he gets it and grabs his keys to walk you down to your car. 

“How’s, uh, how’s your mom doing?” he asks. Still putting me in the middle of all the imaginary drama she’s creating with you is what you want to say. But you know that he’ll call her out for it and you’d have to deal. 

“She’s pretty good. Work’s been keeping her busy.” A safe answer. A true answer. 

“Good,” he says and shoves his hands into his pockets and you know what’s coming next. “And Agatha? Have you seen her at all?” 

Imagines of her hot body on yours flash through your mind. Her rosy nipples, her pale stomach, the heat that swallows up her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She’s doing all right, too, I think.”

Your dad nods and stops at your car. “Well, I had a great time with you,” he says and holds his arms out for a hug. You mutter something in agreement and give him an embrace with two pats — the way you’ve done it since you were a kid. “Let’s do it again soon.”

He tells you that he loves you and after you say it back, you get into your car and he watches you as you drive away. 

Begrudgingly, you call your mom and put her on speaker and not even a second later, her voice fills your car. 

“How was it? Did you see anything? Is there another woman? Did you find my can opener?” she asks all in one breath and you take a silent, deep breath. 

You can’t wait to be home. “It was a pretty nice place actually.” Your mom snorts. “There wasn’t any sign of someone else there and I didn’t have time to look around. We just watched a show and ate pizza.” 

She makes a sound. “Wow, father of the year. Maybe he cleaned up the place before you came over.” You hum noncommittally. “What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I’ll take you grocery shopping.” 

“Yeah, let me just check my schedule. Alice and I might be doing something, but I’d love to go there for a bit. Especially for groceries,” you tease and she laughs. 

“I bet your father didn’t even offer to do that,” she says smugly and your face falls. Sometimes you wonder if she does half the things that she does for you just to one-up him. 

“Okay, well I’m almost back now, so I’ll let you know when I’m coming over tomorrow,” you tell her, eager to wrap it up, and about to turn in. “Love you.” You hang up before she’s even done saying it back. 

Once you park, you text your roommate saying that you won’t be back for the night — staying with family — and walk up to the apartment side door, letting yourself in with the fob on your key ring. 

Agatha’s apartment complex is smaller than your dad’s, but just as nice, and you prefer it a lot more. 

After the divorce, she stayed in a hotel for about a week before signing a lease on a place about ten minutes away from where the house used to be. You had helped her pick out the furniture and spent more time here than at your mom’s house the last couple months of school and she gave you a key to it the day she moved in. 

It got harder over the summer to hang out with her, as you worked at an ice cream shop in the afternoons into the evenings and she was working her normal nine to five, but you made it work. 

Things are really good between the two of you. There isn’t exactly a label on it, per se, but you both know that it’s a relationship. And without your dad in the picture and with her not being your stepmom anymore, there isn’t as much of a need to keep sneaking around — so when she puts an arm around you while you’re walking down the street and kisses your cheek when you say something cute and ghosts her pinky against yours, it’s okay. 

You know things might change a little with you in college now, but you’re ready for it. And if you spend more nights at her place than at your dorm, so be it. It’s not like anyone’s going to know, and Alice will just think you’re staying with family. 

Unlocking the door, you can practically feel the tension seeping away from your body. Agatha makes everything feel better. Even the house you grew up in, the one your mom still lives in, doesn’t feel as home as this does. 

You don’t see her when you first walk in and you walk into the living room to see her typing something on her computer, brows furrowed, and you can just make out the glint of a document through the reflection of her glasses. 

“Hey, you,” you greet, kicking off your shoes. She startles and looks up before slamming her laptop shut and smiling. 

“Hey, honey,” she says and pats the spot next to her while she leans forward to place her computer on the coffee table. “How was it?” 

Agatha had emphatically listened to your incessant complaining about having to get dinner with your dad, but in the end she had also pushed you to go. You groan and flop onto the couch, situating yourself so that your head is in her lap and you’re looking up at her. “It wasn’t that bad,” you admit and she smirks. “Don’t even think about saying ‘I told you so’. I will leave.” 

She tosses her head back with a laugh and you play with the strands of hair that’s falling over her shoulder and teasing your face. “I would never, darling. But I’m glad it wasn’t bad. How is he?” 

Your nose wrinkles. “Can we not talk about my dad? Although, I was just thinking about how much of a reward I deserve for going.” 

“Oh, you think you deserve a reward, do you?” she ribs lightly, raising an eyebrow and poking you in the stomach. You giggle and twist away from her finger before sticking out your bottom lip as pitiful as you can and giving her doe eyes, nodding your head. She rolls her eyes fondly. “What were you thinking, honey?” 

You shrug like you’re just now beginning to think about it. “Well, mommy,” you say, a thrill running through you at her sharp gasp. “I think since I was such a good girl, you should give me an orgasm.” 

“Oh, just one?” she asks playfully, and you surge up out of her lap, turn over onto your knees to face her, and pull her in for a kiss. Your lips move against each other with familiar ease, her tongue licking hotly into your mouth and you moan — her hands slide up under your shirt and rest on your bare skin before you reach down and take it off. 

“As many as you’ll give me, mommy,” you pant, and she grins before starting to suck open-mouthed bites onto your chest. You’re wearing green lingerie but she barely even looks at it before unclasping your bra from behind and tearing it off, throwing it somewhere on the floor. 

She swirls her tongue around your nipple before suckling hard and you whimper, holding her head right against you. It feels like there’s a wire running straight from your boob to your cunt and you quickly feel yourself becoming soaked. Agatha switches to the other one and soon your entire chest is sticky with her saliva and you’ve moved onto her lap, squirming. 

Her teeth nip at the underside of your breasts and you can’t take it anymore. “Mommy, please,” you beg, grabbing her hand and leading it to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers rest there while you quickly unbutton and unzip and then you shove her into your pants, your hand circled around her wrist to just feel her. 

Agatha chuckles throatily and moves her fingers experimentally against you while you try to grind down for some stimulation. You suddenly feel so empty, a molten heat between your legs, and Agatha crashes her lips back onto yours. She sucks on your tongue and tugs on your bottom lip as she finally presses against your clit and your hips jerk. “So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” she huffs and you nod and try to move against her harder. 

When she finally pushes your underwear to the side and runs her fingers through your folds, you keen and bury a hand into her hair, face dropping down into her neck. She sharply gasps when you start breathing heavily against her skin, content to just keep your lips planted against her throat. 

She slides a finger into you and your walls clench around her, trying to draw her even more in. Each time she fucks you, it feels like the first time — the same energy is there, the same electricity. But at the same time, she knows exactly what you need, maybe even more than you do. 

Her thrusts begin to pick up and heat is rising through your body and you can see little indents in Agatha’s skin from where your teeth have slightly sunk in. 

“Mommy, mommy — please, I need more,” you whine and she obliges by pushing another finger into you and curling them just right. A high-pitched sound leaves your mouth and you start riding her fingers the best you can, rolling your hips to match her and get her even deeper. You’re clenching furiously around her as sparks begin to fly in your lower stomach and you can feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm start to build. 

Agatha’s thumb circles around your clit without actually touching it. “God, sweetheart, you look so hot right now, taking my fingers like such a good girl. You feel so good, too. Never wanna leave you,” she babbles, making you convulse even tighter. There’s a slight pink tint to her cheeks and her breathing has picked up and you know she’s affected too. Her fingers are moving faster and she pauses for just a moment, making you whimper, before she stretches you out with a third. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swear, your walls adjusting, and the slight burn only adds to the immense pleasure you’re feeling. “Fuck, fuck.” Your head is spinning, completely drunk with her and her perfume that’s been invading your nostrils the whole time, and you can’t even form a single thought. 

She presses harder on your clit and with the hand that’s not currently inside you, grips your hair and pulls you away from her neck. You can see red blotches staining her skin and the thought of her wearing your marks around gets you even closer. “Look at me,” she grunts, her thrusts becoming more sporadic and you stare right into her dark blue eyes with your pleading wide ones. Your breaths intermix and she looks like she might also cum just from this. 

Agatha lets out a strangled gasp when her gaze flickers from your eyes to your swollen lips to your breasts that are bouncing with your movements in her lap. 

“Mommy, I need — right there —” You can’t even string together a coherent thought and she scissors her fingers inside you, the pressure making you see stars. 

She looks you up and down again, drinking you in like she might never get enough, and her chest heaves with each breath she takes. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” she groans and your head falls back as you keep riding her. “I need you to cum for me, okay? Cum for mommy.” 

“Mommy, fuck, I’m gonna — fuck I love you,” you groan, not even realizing the words slipping out of your mouth, the words neither of you have ever said before, before it’s too late and your orgasm explodes through your body in a way it never has before. You feel it in every crack and crevice inside you and she keeps fucking you just as hard while rubbing your clit and it quickly becomes too much, tears springing into your eyes. 

Agatha’s fingers finally slow down and she coos sweet nothings in your ear and you wonder if she even heard you. It’s been a few months since you’ve been together, but neither of you has really acknowledged the depth between you. 

And you just did, in the middle of sex. 

“You okay?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you nod before she pulls out of you and you wince at the sudden emptiness. You fall back out of her lap onto the couch. She must not have heard it. 

There’s a slight gnawing feeling that begins to grow in your stomach — if you said it for real, in a moment that couldn’t just be blamed on a dopamine rush, would she say it back? 

Does she feel the same? 

Agatha kisses you before sticking her three fingers into your mouth so you can clean them up. “Good girl,” she purrs in a low voice. “Was that a good enough reward?” 

You’re still a little out of it, but you nod dazedly. “Yeah,” you say softly and she gets off the couch and walks over to the fridge to get you a glass of water. “My mom wants me to go hang out with her tomorrow. What are you doing at night? Can I come over after?” 

She pauses for a fraction of a second and then glances at you over her shoulder. “Um, sorry, baby. I have to work all day tomorrow. Some last minute things I’ve got to get done.” 

You hum, a little disappointed, but graciously accept the water. “No worries. Maybe Monday or something.” 

“Yeah, of course. Just a second, I need to go grab something,” she murmurs and then walks into her bedroom. You’re exhausted and you get off the couch, stretching your aching muscles, and you’re about to follow her when her phone buzzes on the end table. 

Thinking it’s just a work email or something, you glance at it and your stomach drops, heart lurches. 

It’s a text message from an unknown number. 

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[tweedlebean]

New link because the old one is busted.

I recommend reading this through because that's kind of the whole point, but I also want to share two bolded paragraphs that I think explain the points most people are instinctively bristling at

These are both from point #2. They're not saying reading is better than listening or watching, but that being able to read is an important skill to hone because it's more difficult to be manipulated when you aren't looking at a face or hearing a voice. Even if the speaker has the best intentions (which you can rarely be sure of) they're summarizing things that they read and telling you their interpretation filtered through their emotions. It leaves less space for you to practice your own literacy, especially in short form.

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

[capquinn]

Sünneli | N. Hischier

summary: when nico holds his baby girl for the first time, it feels like the world has rearranged itself around her. she was born with the sun, slipping into the world as it woke, and before he even realises it, he's giving her a name that feels like it was always meant to be hers... pairing: nico hischier x reader content: dad!nico, fluff word count: 1.3k note: i finally birthed my teeny tiny dad!nico au. hope u enjoy cutie pies <3 ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The hospital room is quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of early morning, the world outside just beginning to wake. The air is still, thick with the kind of hush that lingers after something monumental, something life-changing.

Just a few hours ago, his entire world shifted.

His baby girl was born.

The night had blurred into dawn, exhaustion hanging heavy in the space, but Nico? He doesn’t feel it. He hasn’t stopped looking at her since she was placed in his arms, like his body physically won’t let him look away.

He’s completely wrapped up in her, holding her with a care so instinctual it’s like he was made for this. She’s so small, so impossibly new, her features delicate and soft beneath the warm glow of the sun spilling through the window. His hand — large and steady, his grip still carrying the faintest tremor of disbelief — rests over her tiny back, his thumb tracing slow, gentle strokes against the fabric of her swaddle.

His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks, so soft it barely carries beyond the space between them. He murmurs to her in Swiss, the words slipping from his lips low and full of quiet awe.

"Du bisch so perfekt," he breathes, his lips brushing against the top of her head, lingering there for a moment as if he can’t quite believe she’s real. You are so perfect. "So schön, so klein…" So beautiful, so small...

He rocks her without thinking, the motion smooth and rhythmic, his body moving on instinct to soothe her, to keep her close. Her tiny breaths are warm against his chest, her little mouth occasionally forming sleepy, barely-there movements, like she’s dreaming. Like she knows she’s home. And Nico thinks he could stay like this forever — just holding her, memorising the weight of her in his arms, the way she feels right there, pressed against his heartbeat.

For the first time since she arrived, the room feels still. The tension, the exhaustion, the rush of the last few hours — it’s melted into something softer now, something full and quiet and settled.

He lets out a slow breath, glancing over at you, expecting to find you asleep at last. But you’re awake—exhausted, yes, but completely wrapped up in the moment, watching him with an expression so full of love it makes his breath catch.

He doesn’t say anything, just holds your gaze, his arms tightening ever so slightly around the tiny bundle in his chest, like he’s silently sharing this feeling with you. You both stay like that for a moment, bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the weight of everything settling between you.

You look so tired, but there’s a warmth in your eyes, something Nico knows he’ll carry with him forever. You fought so hard to bring her into the world, gave everything to make this moment possible, and now you’re here, looking at him like he’s holding the most precious thing in existence. Because he is.

His lips twitch into the softest smile, small but full of love. He shifts slightly, adjusting your baby girl against his chest, as if to say, "look at her. Look what we made."

And he doesn’t have to say it out loud — because you are looking. And you see it. See him. See the way he’s holding her like she’s the most fragile, most important thing he’s ever touched. See the way his whole world has clicked into place, like this is who he was always meant to be, like fatherhood isn’t something new but something he was always waiting to step into, something written into his very being.

You watch as his lips part, like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Instead, he exhales softly, voice barely more than a breath.

"Thank-you."

Two simple words, but they wreck you.

It’s the way he says them — quiet, thick with emotion, like they hold everything he can’t put into words. Like he’s not just thanking you for this moment, for the little life curled against his chest, but for everything. For every day you spent carrying her, for every exhausted breath, for bringing her into the world, for changing his forever.

His heart swells, stretching wide, impossibly full, spilling over with something bigger than words, bigger than him. His breath shudders, his throat tightens, and before he can stop it, his eyes burn with the threat of tears.

He blinks quickly, tilting his head slightly, gaze shifting toward the window as he tries to steady himself, to catch his breath.

The early morning light spills into the room, golden and soft, stretching across the floor, casting warm edges over the bed, over you, over her. The world outside is waking slowly, painted in delicate hues of pink and orange, dawn easing into full daylight.

But even as he stares out at the horizon, he can still feel her — the gentle weight of her against his chest, the warmth of her tiny body snug against his.

And somehow, that makes it worse. Makes it more.

Like the feel of her, the reality of her pressed so close, amplifies everything. Every emotion swells, raw and overwhelming, catching in his throat. His love for her, for you, for this moment — it’s too much and somehow not enough, all at once.

He glances down again, eyes still damp, heart still aching, and there she is. So small. So new. So impossibly perfect.

And it hits him.

She was born with the sun, slipping into the world as it woke, as if she already belonged to it.

And then, without thinking, the words just come, soft and instinctive.

"Mein Sünneli."

He doesn’t even register that he said it — too caught up in the way she stirs slightly against him, making the tiniest, warmest little sound. His heart aches with it, with how much he loves her, with how much he already belongs to her.

It isn’t until you speak — your voice quiet, amused, full of warmth — that he blinks, finally glancing up at you.

"Sünneli?" you repeat, the word unfamiliar on your tongue, tilting your head slightly as you shift against the pillows, exhaustion still weighing on you.

His brows furrow for a second, like he’s trying to replay the moment in his head, and then it clicks. He glances back down at her, at the way the first light of the morning spills over her tiny, perfect features.

A small, breathy chuckle escapes him, barely there. His fingers brush gently over the fine, downy hair on her head, his voice nothing more than a whisper as he answers.

"Little sun."

He looks back at you then, something so tender, so unshakable in his expression, like there is no other name in the world that could ever fit her the way this one does.

"She’s my little sun."

And that’s it. From that moment on, she’s Sünneli.

It comes so naturally, like it was always meant to be hers. He calls her that again later, when the room is quiet and still, just the soft hum of the world outside, the warmth of her tiny body resting against his bare chest. His fingertips trace the impossibly small curve of her hand, following the gentle rise and fall of her breaths, and the word falls from his lips like second nature, like a prayer whispered just for her.

He says it the next morning too, when she stretches in his arms, letting out the tiniest, sleepiest sound that destroys him, her little face scrunching up before settling again. He presses his lips to her head, breathes her in, and murmurs it against her soft skin.

And every single day after.

Sometimes it’s Sünneli, whispered into her hair as he rocks her in the quiet of the night. Other times, it’s Sunny, slipping easily into English, spoken with a soft smile as she blinks up at him, eyes round and curious, tiny fingers wrapping around his.

No matter which language, no matter how many years pass, it never changes. Because from the moment she entered the world, she was his — his light, his warmth, his brightest, warmest thing.

His little sun.

[murderofravens]

BLACKEST DAY

pairing: cho sangwoo x fem reader

summary: old feelings are rekindled when you encounter your father's old friend at the games.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, sangwoo is 46) badly written smut, face slapping, slightly toxic dynamics, a smidge of some age-gap kink. lots of angst. body worship. this is a oneshot.

word count: around 5k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

life has a funny way of reuniting people.

when you woke up in the hall, surrounded by strangers wearing those ugly green clothes much like yourself, your first thought was— 'i should have brought someone with me.'

you were always rather wary of doing things by yourself. things seem much easier when you have a helping hand to give you advice, or to make bad decisions together.

your first shock came upon the mention of his name, taken by one of the guards.

player 218, cho sangwoo.

your eyes snapped up to the screen where you could see a clip of him getting slapped after repeatedly losing the game.

"former supervisor of team two at joy investments, embezzled money from his clients, invested it in derivatives and figures and failed. current loss, 650 million won."

you looked around frantically before you caught sight of him— handsome as ever, although visibly distraught. his shocked eyes were looking at the guards with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

you had known sangwoo since you were rather young. idolized him at one point, even. he and your father used to be some sort of business partners— which you can guess was another word for friends who gambled and hung out occasionally. most of your years went by with him acknowledging you politely, getting you chocolate everytime he came to visit, and patting your head with a proud smile whenever your parents told him about one of your achievements at school. you wanted to be like him— smart, ambitious and a hard worker.

you'd moved off for college when you were of age, and according to his mother, he had moved to the US for business purposes.

which, as you can see, didn't work out.

you don't really try to make conversation with him, don't even look at his side of the room. mainly because you're embarrassed. there are two reasons— the first being that you don't want to see the man you idolized at a place like this. and the second is personal. your last memory of him isn't something you're fond of. it still fills you with resentment and a sense of sadness— you had asked to meet up with him before you were going off to college, hoping to express your feelings. you'd developed a childish crush on him when you were growing up, and it had expanded into genuine feelings over time.

but he never showed up, and you were left sitting in the expensive restaurant all by yourself. you never revealed that to anyone, deciding to take that moment of humiliation to the grave.

the first game was terrifying, to say the least. while you could tell there was something inherently shady about the whole organization, what left you in genuine shock was the first shot that rang out through the field, killing the person who moved. you were careful about your steps then, walking forward rather meticulously, ensuring you were not a victim in whatever hellhole you've found yourself in.

splatters of blood covered your face as you almost reached the line, hiding behind another taller man. there were a mere 10 seconds left. your heart was quite literally trying to beat out of your chest, and sweat dripped down your forehead. and that's when you first made eye contact with him.

sangwoo, who was bent in half, was panting as he looked at the finish line. his gaze rose, and connected with yours— eyes immediately widening with recognition. you were frozen as you looked at him, jaw clenched and panic stricken. he looked at the timer, and the doll turned away. you quickly began running, and you saw him straighten up as the timer began nearing zero. you jumped across the finish line, and his hand grabbed you to help. you stumbled into him and the both of you fell onto the dusty ground— a mess of sweaty limbs.

you don't say a word to him as the guards guide you back to the hall. he is just as silent behind you, and you wonder if it's because he's embarrassed about being there, or if he remembered what he did to you and is reluctant to acknowledge you after.

"i didn't expect to see you here." he remarks quietly, voice grim. his head is lowered, and there's an almost disappointed look in his eyes.

the audacity.

"i could say the same about you," you shoot back dryly, sitting cross legged on the floor. he looks at you then, and your gaze challenged his.

"you've grown since i last saw you." he adds, and you scoff in response. so what? you were still bitter.

"it's just two years."

he clenches his jaw and looks away, his ears feeling hot. you've always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, and apparently it still applies. you look up at him, eyes accusatory.

"i thought you went to the states." there's a taunting edge to your voice— rather shallow and childish on your end, but you can't help yourself. you're playing with life and death, but still you're angrier about your history with him than anything else.

"all those degrees just to scam people? i'd expect more from someone like you, mr. sangwoo—"

"you don't know what you're talking about," he shuts your words down quickly, voice firm. he's quick to change the topic, visibly agitated. "i thought you went to college. what happened to your—"

"father?" you interrupt, sitting straighter. "he got scammed."

you look at him pointedly as you say the last word, and his eye twitches.

"he gambled away his money on some non existent race. i dont live with him anymore and i need money to continue college and pay rent. my mom doesn't know and i don't wanna worry her." you take a sharp breath, voice getting lower, "my landlady threw me out before i found the ddakji guy."

his face softens with every sentence, an expression close to pity taking over. you hate pity, so you shut it down with a glare.

"don't give me that look," you sigh with exhaustion, running a hand down your face.

"i'm sorry to hear that," he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. he blinks a few times, adjusts his glasses. he doesn't know what else to say, and he's almost glad for the interruption when the staff walks in and announces the results of the first game.

it's so sudden how people begin to beg for their lives— kneeling before the guards, pleading to be spared. it makes you feel sorry and disgusted at the same time— you can understand why they'd do so, but you can't imagine kneeling before an organisation like this in any way. you value your dignity.

when the gunshot rings out to silence the begging crowd, the guard announces the second clause of the contract: a player who refuses to play will be terminated.

your head snaps up at the sound of sangwoo's confident voice.

"clause three of the consent form—" he steps forward, "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

the guard nods, "that is correct."

"then," he looks around, and his eyes fall on you. he looks away, and cocks his head to the side, "let us take a vote."

you almost feel that sense of admiration for him once again— he was always smart, that you can admit. more attentive than others, better at remembering little details. he's stepping forward to directly challenge these guards while people are begging for their lives. he's brave, like he's always been.

you fall in line beside him, and he looks down at you. you give him a slight nod, before your attention is diverted to the next announcement. the staff then show the money accumulated by the deaths of the previous player— 100 million won for each. as the massive piggy bank hanging from the ceiling glows, you can feel him stiffen at the mere sight of the money.

and the voting starts. your number comes soon enough— player 420.

you don't hesitate.

this money is not more important than your life. you need to consider all your options— you're not confident that you would make it till the end. and you don't want to fucking die yet.

you press the cross, and fall into the crowd.

sangwoo's number comes a while after— and you watch him like a hawk. you know he's a smart guy who knows better than to put himself in a compromising situation. you hope he'll help you go home.

until he presses the 'O.'

you feel utterly betrayed once again and he goes to his side of the crowd, not looking at you even once. you scoff to yourself, baffled by his audacity, before redirecting your focus to the voting counter. you start hoping your side wins purely out of spite.

player 001 presses X. your side erupts into cheers and you let out a breath of relief, glancing at sangwoo who stands frozen with his head lowered.

you don't remember much after.

the car ride feels suffocating— everything is dark. there's shuffling before you feel yourself being shoved, and you let out a yelp as your bare skin hits the gravel. "ouch— fuck!"

you hear your name— and recognise the voice.

"mister sangwoo?" you gasp, and hear a pained 'yes'. you can feel a cloth wrapped around your eyes, and your hands and legs are tied. you groan, shifting and writhing on the ground, impatiently trying to free yourself. you feel teeth on the front of your wrists before your hands are released.

you sit up quickly and snatch the cloth off your eyes. you turn to sangwoo then, and quickly untie his wrists. he grunts before sitting up, and the two of you untie your legs.

"shit, it's cold—" you hiss, quickly standing up. those bastards had only left you in a plain white sports bra and underwear. he was naked as well save for a pair of white boxers. the sight makes your skin feel hot, and you take a greedy but discreet glance at his chest before rushing towards your jeans and hoodie that are tossed to the side of the road, quickly getting dressed.

you clear your throat and turn around, only to see him quickly looking away from you, his clothes still in his hands. your eyes narrow knowingly and he wordlessly gets dressed, buttoning up his white shirt.

"are we still in seoul?" you ask, and he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up towards the buildings. he nods, and you shiver slightly.

he turns to you and hesitates before moving forward to put his grey blazer over you. you raise your eyebrows in question, and he doesn't respond before checking his pockets.

"are you hungry?" he asks, and almost comically in that same moment your stomach growls. he holds back a smile, and you wrap his blazer tighter around yourself.

you rest your head against the table while you wait. you can feel it pounding, but the smell of hot ramen tempts you to raise it. he takes a seat beside you and places the steaming bowl in front of you.

"do you have the money for this?" you cant help but ask.

"dont worry about it," he says with a wave of his hand, bringing out his chopsticks to eat. you decide to leave the job of worrying to him and get to eating.

you're a rather slow eater, and he doesn't complain. he steps out of the store, and you can see his back as he takes out a cigarette. you slurp up the rest of your food and follow him out.

"i don't feel that cold anymore," you hand him his blazer, and he turns to look at you. you're thankful about your self control, because he is a sight. so devilishly handsome even after witnessing such horrors— his cigarette teasingly hanging off his lips, the smoke wafting up and making his eyes squint just a little. his glasses make him look so much more sophisticated, or perhaps you have a thing for nerdy looking men. you're not a smoker, but he makes it look so good. if you were a weaker woman, you would've gasped. no wonder half of your childhood went by with that barely disguised crush on him— no wonder no guy your age back in college seemed good enough.

you clear your throat, bring yourself back to earth and continue. "you can have it. thank you."

he takes the blazer with a nod and puts it on. takes another puff of the cigarette, and watches you look around.

"i thought you'd come back with an american wife." you almost cringe at your own words. but conversation is conversation, you don't know how else to start. it's a discreet way to find out his relationship status, if any.

"marriage is the last thing on my mind." he responds quietly, taking a puff. you look at the side of his face, and his eyes stare at the road in front of him— thoughtful. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"where will you go?" he asks without looking at you.

you shrug, "i don't know."

"do you have any money?"

you pause, suddenly feeling a sense of dread. you have no money, and what little you got from the ddakji guy, you spent on your rent. which got you thrown out anyway.

your silence speaks volumes. he tosses the cigarette to the floor and stomps on it. you sigh.

"i don't have any money."

"come with me," he looks at you, gaze intense and serious. "i have enough for the both of us. atleast for a few days till we can figure things out."

"why?" you cross your arms over your chest almost defensively, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

he grits his teeth as he glares at you, mouth twitching. he looks away then, tonguing the inside of his cheek before returning your gaze. "you have nowhere else to go. it wouldn't be responsible to leave you alone like this."

you almost scoff— the words on the tip of your tongue. but you were okay with leaving me alone back then? but you don't say it, not yet, because you could use his financial help right now. you sigh, before nodding, and gesturing forward.

"fine, lead the way."

the motel he takes you to looks respectable enough. you look around, eyeing the plain decor. the man behind the counter looks at the two of you, and then gives sangwoo a toothy grin, which immediately alerts you.

"only one room available."

sangwoo doesn't protest. he doesn't have the finances to get two separate rooms either. he opens the room and you go in first, looking around. there's a single bed and some flashy lights, and it makes you roll your eyes. you turn around to settle him with a pointed look.

"it's better than i thought," he grunts, taking his blazer off as he takes in the scene. he steps forward and drags a finger down the side table, examines the dust it leaves on his skin with mild disgust.

you bite your lower lip as you watch him— his shirt stretching across his chest, his hair falling messily across his forehead. his glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

fucking nerd.

his gaze snaps up to you and that's when you realize you'd said that out loud. you wince, looking away and he straightens up, blinking innocently.

"you're still upset with me."

you cross your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. you quirk an eyebrow, and he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from a respectable distance.

you decide to play dumb.

"about what?"

he's not amused. he stares at you, expression serious and intense, "i didn't plan to stand you up that day."

so we're going straight to it, you think.

"then why did you?" you snap, unable to hold back the hurt from your voice, "i waited for an hour. you never came. i wanted to talk to you."

"i know." he nods. he walks up to you then, stands at the foot of the bed. "i know what you wanted to talk to me about. i was scared."

you freeze, looking at him cautiously, your heartbeat rising. "scared?"

"i knew you had feelings for me." he sighs, sitting down beside you. his voice is hushed, making the moment feel more intimate than you'd like. "i could tell that's what you wanted to talk to me about. it terrified me."

your breath feels like it's knocked out of your lungs. you swallow the lump in your throat, holding back the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. "did anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?"

he grunts, takes out another cigarette. he lights it up and takes a long drag— taking his time to respond.

"many people," he says, blowing some smoke through his nostrils. the sight almost makes your mouth water, but you ignore it.

"you're a dick," you shoot back dryly.

"what i am—" he points his cigarette at you, "— is too old for you. surely you didn't think it was a good idea?"

"you could've rejected me instead," you chuckle bitterly, "but you decided to leave me there to look stupid."

"you were too young." his voice is low, and his response almost makes you want to strangle him. he dusts some ash off his cigarette, adjusts his glasses, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your skin feel hot. "i couldn't keep you happy even if i wanted to."

you frown, gritting your teeth. he looks away.

"you looked at me like i hung the moon and the stars." he continues, looking ahead at the wall, gaze distant. "i couldn't maintain those expectations. we were in two completely different stages. you were meant to go to college, study well, get a good job, a boy your age—"

"stop talking like you're my father," you snap before he can finish, standing up. there's heat behind your glare and you almost laugh at his expression, "i had no expectations from you. so stop with your- your little— excuses. what's done is done, right? you've stood me up once, no need to reject me by wording it smartly. i don't wanna be with you anymore anyway."

that was a lie. you just hoped he couldn't see through your act. you're riled up because you're still affected by him, and his polite behaviour is driving you insane— you want to tear away at his walls, expose the passion he hides behind his smart guy facade. you know it because you've seen it in the way his eyes light up when he talks about his ambitions— how willing he is to cross any line to achieve what he wants. you want to butcher his self control and unleash the animal underneath, the one he's so desperate to hide. it's what made you fall for him in the first place.

he merely looks at you boredly, taking another drag of his cigarette. you snatch it off him, bring it to your own lips. he looks at you with mild shock as you take a drag, and you blow the smoke out on his face.

it all goes smoothly until you cough, and he's snatching the cigarette away again, watching you almost amusedly.

"you can't even handle a cigarette," he remarks dryly, putting it out on the bedframe. and that one line finally ticks you off. almost as if on instinct, your hand pulls back and delivers a sharp slap to his face— making it turn to the side. he snorts, adjusts his glasses again before he looks at you, unimpressed.

"you've been waiting to do that, haven't you?" he asks. your nostrils flare with anger. you can't hurt him physically— but your tongue is sharp. you'll use it.

"you're one to talk about different stages in life," you add, leaning towards him. a smirk curls upon your face, "look at you. all that ambition and experience only to end up scamming people."

out of the need to provoke him, your hand shoots out, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"how would your mother feel if she found out?"

it's a low blow, and you would be ashamed if it hadn't worked. it does its work to finally get to him. he grabs your wrist, and harshly pulls you down towards him, knocking your breath out. he shoves you on the bed and hovers over you, panting slightly. you chuckle.

"my life is hard enough," he hisses sharply, body trembling with concealed rage. his gaze drifts down to your lips before settling upon your eyes again. "do you really want to keep testing me?"

you can't help but smile smugly as you stare at him. there he is— almost on the verge of losing his composure. a few more quips and you're sure he'll crumble. it makes your skin feel tingly. your face leans up slightly, your hungry gaze drifting down to his lips. your hand reaches up, pries his glasses off his face. and then you flick his nose.

"fuck you."

the way his mouth comes crashing onto yours is animalistic. he desperately kisses you with the passion of a madman— his tongue entering your mouth and messily colliding with your own. as if to tease him, you bite his bottom lip sharply and he pulls back, eyes widening as a small trickle of blood falls down the corner of his mouth. his hand pulls back and strikes you across the face, and you can't help but laugh. your cheek stings and feels like it's burning— and you're addicted. you hope he'll do it again. you look back at him with an almost crazed look in your eyes, and you can see it finally dawn upon him that he's finally giving you exactly what you wanted.

"you're enjoying this too much, you little minx—" he hisses, grabbing your neck and kissing you again. your hands immediately reach up to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as you try to keep up with his pace. he pulls away and tosses his shirt to the side, and you take that opportunity to use all your strength to flip the two of you around so he's the one on his back. it makes him gasp, and you look down at him with darkened eyes— a finger teasingly running down his chest, making him let out a shudder.

he's the object of all your desires for as long as you've ever known. the man of your dreams, the man that you kept comparing every single one of your college boys to. no wonder they never seemed good enough. how could they? they were no match for this beautiful man laying under you.

with a newfound vigour your head drops to his neck, licking and kissing every inch of his skin. your hungry mouth trails down his chest, breathing in the smell of him, leaving greedy bites in its wake. the sounds your actions evoke out of him are downright pornographic— soft, breathless groans that make you want to consume him entirely. his hand comes down to your head, holding you in place as you worship his body— and you moan when his fingers dig into your scalp.

your lips leave a wet trail and cherry red bites down his torso, until you reach the waistband of his pants. teasingly, you mouth at his bulge, making him hiss in return. his hips buck up slightly and you place a soft kiss to the material before leaning up to his face. his hands wrap around your waist and he flips the two of you over again, desperately tearing away at your clothes.

"i shouldn't be doing this," he mutters under his breath, talking more so to himself than you. you raise your hips and he pulls your jeans down, a throaty groan escaping him at the sight of your panties. they're almost transparent from how wet you are. he frees himself from the confines of his underwear and you watch with fascination as he holds you down with a hand on your stomach. you're panting when he's pushing them to the side and entering you immediately— making you scream from the stretch.

he clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut as he buries himself to the hilt with a grunt. you choke on a pained sob, your fingers digging into his back as he grabs the side of your face.

"it hurts—" you hiss through gritted teeth, a tear running down your cheek. it burns, and he waits a second before wordlessly pulling back and thrusting again. the pain morphs into pleasure soon enough, and you whine as he falls into an easy rhythm, wrapping your legs around his waist. you whine in return, and he gives your cheek a light slap, prompting you to open your eyes. your breath hitches as he looks at you intensely— his own eyes glassy.

"not that young now am i?" you grit out with a glare, crying out as he retaliates with a harsh, pointed thrust. "y-you're my first—"

"fuck," he moans, his head dropping down to your chest. his thrusts get quicker, voice raspy and low, "don't— don't say that—"

"i always wanted you to take my virginity," you moan, throwing your head back, dragging your nails down his back. it makes him hiss, "ever since i was a—"

he slams his hand on your mouth, refusing to allow you to finish your sentence. "shut the fuck up."

he doesn't want to be reminded of the age difference between you two, even though you can tell it gets him hot. the moment his hand clasps over your mouth, you cum with a loud moan. your body trembles but he keeps going— not allowing you a moment to breathe. his eyes are full of rage as he bares his teeth in anger. you chuckle breathlessly against his hand, your eyes fluttering. he looks like an angry cat— you want to kiss him all over his face. his thrusts eventually get sloppy— he's close.

you lock your legs tightly around his waist, and he smacks you again. it surprises you this time, and he takes that opportunity to pull out, jerking himself off quickly.

"i can't afford taking risks," he grunts, clenching his jaw. you whine in response, pouting slightly, and he gives you an exasperated glare before he's cumming all over your stomach with a shaky groan.

you pant heavily as you come down from your high, and almost as if on fire— he quickly dresses himself. he pulls out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket, gently wipes off the fluids on your stomach. he just watches you on the bed— his eyes examining his handiwork. you notice his gaze lingers on your cheek. after a few minutes, he wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. you roll your eyes as you pull up your jeans too. a few moments pass, and you breathe a puff of air through your nostrils.

"are we going to talk about this?" you call out. there's no answer. you get up and rush to the bathroom door, except he's locked it. you can hear light splashing of water. you scoff in disbelief, going back to the bed. you lay on your side and grab a pillow, your lips wobbling as you go over everything that happened.

this was not how it was supposed to go. he was not supposed to seem this detached. you'd expected atleast a cuddle after sex.

you don't realize when you fall asleep. it's morning when you wake up— sunlight streaming in through the window and directly onto your face, making you wince. you stretch, look over your shoulder.

sangwoo isn't there.

you immediately go to the bathroom. it's empty, though the tub is full. you frown in confusion before turning back to the bed. there, a note on the side table has you stopping.

'i'm sorry,' it said, in his handwriting. placed along with it were a few won bills.

you sniffle as you stare at the note— the writing on it almost mocking you. you crumple it up, your fist shaking as you resist the urge to cry. suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and it makes your entire body stiffen.

a card slides from the little space under the door. the same one you remember the ddakji guy giving you. the shapes on it just look sinister now. the number on it is different this time.

your breathing gets heavy as you stare at it— your head beginning to hurt. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing.

you're alone. you wonder if leaving in the first place was a mistake. your feelings are conflicted— and worst of all, you feel used and betrayed. you're not sure if you should go back to the games. you're not sure if you could survive without any money.

sangwoo had left. you don't know where he is and you have nowhere else to go. no home, and you don't know how you would face your mother. you don't know how long the money he left you could go on.

you don't want to die. but you can't keep living like this either. you bite your bottom lip as you contemplate your options, the hurt from sangwoo's departure still lingering in your chest like a stab wound.

you pick up the card and place the call.

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby @sky-forts-and-burning-citadels @flow33didontsmoke

[elijasz]

I know a lot of people wont be with me on this but give me a moment of your time anyway. This whole trend of mindless consumption is related to the huge amount of media and input we have access to nowadays. I believe that we should limit what we consume and only consume things we have found through social interactions, word of mouth or because we looked it up. There is SO MUCH media out there. More than we could ever consume in many lifetimes. We have to limit this. Not by creating less! My gods please don't create less! But by consuming only things that people have created for the sake of creation. If you create for the sake of money, like Disney does, you'll lose your depth. Mass produced culture is worthless and temporarily relevant. It dies eventually.

We HAVE TO take more time to create amazing things. Wait 10 years for the next movie, or book etc. A month is not enough to write a good book or make a good movie. Half a year isn't enough to create an amazing animated film. Please start taking your time to create and consume again. And consume with awareness. Meaning consume things that took time and effort to create and aren't made by some huge company because they want to sell you the next mass produced piece of culture.

So finally, I have a quest for you: Go to an art gallery or museum or even a library. Gather information on a topic or artist that/who fascinated you when you encountered it/them. And then tell someone about it. Ask them to join you on another trip to a gallery or museum. Hook them into something that is worthwhile. (I don't mean just old art etc. There are art galleries with small, young artists aswell) Get off the internet and see culture in person. Even just go through a walk in the city, listen to street musicians, look at street art and graffiti. Because in person, culture has a limit. Both in time and location. You need to put effort into consuming it. And because you put in effort, its worth more to you.

I’m not even an anti-internet person like I love the internet, I just get so frustrated with the passive way people have become accustomed to using it now. not actively seeking things out or engaging with communities, just turning their brain off & letting the algorithm feed them whatever it wants. & I can’t help but feel like that’s partially to blame for the current state of things (anti-“woke” backlash is easier to digest if you turn your brain off when online)

[withlovemark]

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? ��

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

[moonstruckme]

you rang for steve requests!!!

you write him so soft and boyish and nice, i've been wanting to request something and i just got an idea!

maybe some hurt comfort about reader coming to the starcourt parking lot to pick up steve (and robin and dustin) as soon as they hear abt the fire? or the emts asking steve who they should call and he just says rs phone number, and then like a "you came" "you called" moment?

I did ring, thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: season 3 canon events, reader is in the dark but won't be for much longer, mentions of physical injury, fire, suspicious governement folks covering shit up as suspicious government folks do

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 868 words

Your throat is impossibly dry the whole drive to the mall. Dry, and tight, like you couldn’t swallow if you tried. The parking lot is filled with everything from firetrucks to military helicopters, which you won’t think to wonder about until later. You’re scanning the smattering of people for Steve before you’re even out of the car. 

You don’t actually remember parking. Or pulling your keys from the ignition, or opening your door. The next thing you know you’re breathing in smoke and bumping shoulders with firefighters, your focus narrowed on the back of an ambulance. 

“Steve?” 

Your voice is hoarse, but he looks up like he can sense you. You see his lips form your name, brow bunching in that cute way of his. You start running. 

“Steve!” 

“Hey, hi.” He stands from the chassis of the ambulance, rocking back a little when he catches you. You hug him fiercely. “What’re you doing here?” 

He smells like smoke and oddly like iron, his skin damp with sweat. You don’t care; you curl your face into his neck. “I saw the fire on the news.”

“So you…drove towards it?” 

“I knew you were here!” You pull away from him, suddenly furious. “Why do you always have to work on your stupid project at night?” Steve’s been up to something lately. He won’t tell you about it, but you know it involves Robin and Dustin and something to do with translation. Steve says it’s not important but he acts like it is, and he’s been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the whole thing. “Where’s Robin? Is she—” 

“She’s fine, she’s over there.” Steve juts his chin to the right. Through the smoke and chaos, you can just make out her familiar silhouette. She’s standing with a couple of kids about Dustin’s age. 

You let out a breath that turns into a shiver, and Steve cups your arms, rubbing up and down almost thoughtlessly. It melts down your anger into something wetter. When you look at him again, your voice is rough. 

“What happened to you?” 

“I’m fine, honey.” 

“Steve, your face.” 

He touches it, as though the tableau of black and purple bruises had slipped his mind. It’s hard to tell if his wince is from pain or remorse. “Right, yeah. Um…” 

“Mr. Harrington.” A voice comes from behind you, brusque and tired-sounding. You press closer to Steve instinctively, protective, but Steve’s face lights with recognition. 

“Oh. Hey, Doc.” 

You turn, too surprised to do much for covering your bemusement. Why would a doctor be wearing military gear like this, and be followed by a soldier carrying a gun? 

“Can we speak to you for a minute?” 

“Sure,” Steve says, but you talk over him. 

“No.” 

The man—Doc, whoever he is—looks at you as though just noticing you’re there. You steel yourself, but his gaze is more kind than hostile. Sympathetic, even. 

Steve squeezes your hip gently. “Y/n—” 

“No.” 

You don’t know what these people want with Steve, but you know you don’t like it. Your instincts are screaming at you not to let him go. To keep him close, preferably forever. 

Steve looks past you. “Can you give us a minute?” 

They go without a fight, seemingly assured in your boyfriend’s ability to placate you. You don’t want to be placated. You feel patronized and pent-up, and you blame that for the stinging tears that invade your vision. You cling to the fabric of Steve’s shirt like a vice. 

“Hey,” he lowers his voice, head dropping to meet your eyes. “It’s fine, they just wanna talk to me.” 

“Why? Can’t it wait? You just got out of a burning building, you—” 

“It won’t take long. They just want me to tell them what happened.” 

“You haven’t even told me what happened.” Your voice tightens and splinters, fist clenching so hard in Steve’s shirt you can feel your own nails through the fabric. Steve grabs your face in a panic. 

“Honey, it’s fine. Okay? It’s fine. I’ll tell you,” he says in a rush, then pauses. Something new comes over his expression, and he drops his forehead to yours. Lets out a breath. “I’ll tell you, I promise. Later, okay? This’ll just take a minute, and then we’ll go back to my place and talk. Alright?” 

You feel silly, sniffling and with tears on your cheeks, but you nod. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes out. His grip on your face gentles, cradling your jaw as he bends to kiss you. 

It’s meant to be a brief, conciliatory kiss, you know, but with all your overwhelm and all Steve has no doubt been through it heats up fast. You’re both gasping when he pulls away, using a thumb to wipe the wetness from your cheeks. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promises you. 

“You better be,” you threaten. You’re really quite serious, but Steve smiles, and naturally the sight of it makes your lips tug too. 

“I will,” he says. “Just, wait here, okay? Right back.” 

You hop up on the ambulance as he goes, making his way through the smoke to where Doc and his armed buddies wait for him by a helicopter. You couldn’t take your eyes off him if you tried.

[d0rothydraws]

Piercing

(You have nipple piercings and Sylus finds out. I might do a part 2 is people want it i have ideas.)

You never thought that you would be the kind of person to do this yet here you were. You were out with some friends, as one does. Maybe you were slightly tipsy, maybe someone planted an idea earlier that night. You didn't really know. All you did know is you were laying on a padded chair, shirt off as a man was piercing your nipples.

Now you knew you wouldn't regret it. If anything, you could always take them out and the hole would close eventually. But as the piercings healed and you got used to it, you loved it. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be and also it was like jewelry only you could see. Well, you and..

The night Sylus discovered your piercings was a night you would never remember. You had been what some would call dating for a month or so. While you tried to take it slow because you felt like that was the responsible thing to do, things just felt very natural with him. Though physically, you didn't take the leap yet. At least, fully.

There were plenty of nights where you were on his lap. His hand between your thighs, lips on yours. Yet for some reason you didn't feel ready to fully reveal yourself to him. Call it insecurity or maybe even the fear of it all ending up being for nothing, like usual. You didn't really know.

It was your weekend off work and you came over to his place to destress. You had made plans to watch some movies, play some board games and maybe even finally if you were brave enough, take that final step of intimacy. Coming straight from work Friday night you were still in your work clothes as you arrived. You already had everything you needed at his place. A whole dresser of clothes, your own shampoo and body wash. Any toiletries. If you ran out, he restocked. It was like a second home.

Sylus was still out finishing up god knows what which meant you were alone to your own devices. A fresh change of clothes was calling your name. Moving through the house you entered a room that you continued to deny was yours even though it had more of your items in it than your own room in your apartment. Opening the dresser you pulled out a tank top and some shorts.

Maybe you were still tired from work, maybe you couldn't hear over the song you were humming. Either way, you failed to notice that you no longer were alone. You turned your head to toss your work shirt in the clothes hamper to be washed and in turn was met with ruby eyes. They weren't looking at yours though like usual. They were looking lower.

It took you a moment to realize, you pulled your bra off with your shirt. Not the best for your bra's lifespan. But the best for convivence. So there you stood, in front of Sylus. Topless as your little secret was exposed. You felt heat pull in your gut. This isn't how you wanted the big reveal to happen, but the look on his face made you feel.. powerful. He looked hungry. You even seen his adams apple bob just a bit as he swallowed. With just a simple action you made this man look like he was going to devour you. But even still, he knew you had boundaries. No mater how badly he wanted to touch you.

"My my, kitten." He said, his voice low as he tore his eyes away from your chest to look at you. "Now that is a surprise I wasn't expecting." His voice was teasing but playful. He chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder if you have any other secrets to uncover."

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline of being walked in on or the look in his eye but your body moved before your mind caught up to you. You stood in front of him as you took his hand and moved it to your breast. Your heart raced as his fingers began to play with the piercing. Taking a deep breath to try and steady your nerves and quickly growing heat that was beginning to boil inside you, you took a step closer so his hand was pushed even more against the soft tissue.

"Why don't you come find out?"

That's all it took before his lips were on yours. His free hand moving to cradle your head as his other hand continued to play with your nipple. You stepped back. He followed. Another step back, and again. Each one until the back of your legs pressed against the bed. Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at him. He looked back at you, his eyes intense but waiting. He was letting you have full control, for now at least.

"I always wanted to try something." You admitted, feeling your heart in your throat. You motioned for him to sit on the bed and as he did you straddled him, not able to stop yourself from pushing your hips against his just enough to make him groan. You had barely done anything to him. You weren't even fully naked. Yet you could feel how much you effected him.

You curled a hand into his hair as you guided his lips to your chest. He didn't need anymore instructions. His teeth toyed with the metal, pulling slightly as it made you gasp. His tongue brushing against your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth. Your head fell back as your eyes closed. A groan vibrated against your skin as he licked and bit at your sensitive skin. After a few minuets he pulled back with a growl before he moved in on the other one. His hips rutted up against you making you moan. His hands moving to your hips as you moved back against him. It felt like he was devouring you.

You heard a slight wet sound as he pulled away from your nipple to lick up your chest and neck. Shivering as the air hit your sensitive, wet skin. A hand moved up your side to cup one of your breasts, thumb and finger playing with your piercing. His voice was a low purr that made your skin tingle.

"I'm not going to be able to keep my hands of you, sweetie."

~

I havent written anything in so long im tired im sorry. i found this prompt in my drafts and ran with it

[astercontrol]

omg I have some complicated feelings about this.

so there's one comment in the notes about how "lazy" employees would refuse to send an email for customer convenience even though it would take "just 2 seconds" to send. Which... yeah, valid complaint

but it's more than just "laziness" on the part of employees (although there definitely are a lot of employees who have lost all empathy for what customers and patients are actually going through, and that's its own whole problem, and it's frustrating as hell for those employees who still do care).

It's also a systemic "laziness" on the part of corporations: a refusal to put certain things in their own employees' job descriptions and to allot enough staffing to do those things.

yes, at my pharmacy job it could take 2 seconds to send an email, IF there was an established template for emails and an easily accessible button to select, customize and send it for the patient who currently needs it. But if it isn't so seamlessly integrated into our job, it will require composing the email from scratch on our own.

Which still isn't a LOT of time and work… but, suppose it takes 1 minute. Then multiply by, say, 30 customers who need it done per day per employee (in a busy pharmacy day shift). That's 30 extra minutes of work for the employee who gets those 30 calls. Who, in many cases, is already assigned more work than physically possible to complete in a day, even skipping all breaks, and will be penalized for taking any overtime. If this extra email-sending is not explicitly a required part of the employee's job description, an already overworked employee is not likely to try and make time to do it.

Now, I'm the kind of employee who still does this sort of thing for patients who ask. And I did this even at my worst and most overworked jobs. Where it was thankless work, each individual case more likely to get me yelled at than praised by management (although, once I'd established it as an expectation customers had, I'd then also get yelled at for not doing it, by both customers and management, once the managers got the customer complaints). No-win situation for everyone.

Another source of frustration for the busier pharmacies I've worked in: The responsibility of calling for prescription transfers. Everyplace I've worked has had basically the same rule: If a patient wants to get a med transferred from one pharmacy to another, calling for it is the responsibility of the pharmacy that is to receive the prescription.

I think the reason is partly corporate self-interest ("no pharmacy takes on the extra work of making calls to give away their own customers to another pharmacy. The pharmacy getting the new business has to work for it.") But it's also probably an issue of responsibility for error-- if I call another pharmacy to transfer out a prescription because a patient told me to, I'm at fault if I've been given the wrong contact information and end up transferring it to the wrong pharmacy.

Or, if the patient hasn't even looked into whether the other pharmacy even CAN fill this prescription, they just think it'd be more convenient-- then, if I call the other pharmacy to transfer, they are likely to assume I know what I'm doing (especially if I get an entry-level, barely trained employee, as is often the case). They'll accept my word that they should be able to fill it. And then, if it ends up being something they don't sell, or an insurance they don't accept, THEN we've got the prescription stuck at a pharmacy that can't do anything with it, and it'll be another whole mess to get it back, and then it's my fault for not just leaving the work to the pharmacy that's invested in getting the new Rx.

In practice, though, the way it's done is ALSO an absolute mess.

At my busier former workplaces, it would go like this:

I pick up the phone. It's one of our current patients, calling to say they need their prescription transferred to another pharmacy. I tell them that they will have to call the other pharmacy to call us. They fight back, pointing out that this is extra work for everyone (because at that point, me calling the other pharmacy would be just one more call, whereas them calling the other pharmacy and having them call me would be two more calls.) I agree but reiterate that it's our policy. The patient hangs up. Then later-- assuming that those two calls out of my control actually went through-- our pharmacy will hear from the other one, and we'll start the transfer process.

BUT I'd better have made sure I added a clear note on the patient's profile about their earlier call, AND that my coworkers actually bother to look at the profile notes. Because, turns out that call wasn't just wasted time on the patient's part-- even though the patient may now think it was.

Because, if we don't have any record of the patient's earlier call, then whichever of my coworkers received the new call is now just getting a random out-of-nowhere call from another pharmacy asking us to give them one of our customers! And there've been issues with pharmacies that have done that without even having the patient's permission. SO we've got to call back again to confirm with the patient that they actually want this. It's the most excruciating game of phone tag and everyone involved totally hates it.

And this is before I even get into the subject of calls that involve doctors' offices or fucking insurance companies.

Which… no, I'm not going to get into that now. (crashes in exhaustion)

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[harrycinnamonbun]

sugardaddy!lewis au - cinnabun thoughts 18+

sugardaddy!lewis who picks you up from university in his sleek ferrari, your favorite coffee and pastry in the front as you get in. you try to ask him where he was taking you through bites of the croissant, but he just smiles coyly and rubs your thigh affectionately. you huff in faux annoyance but never object, he takes care of you well, too well, and you were always eagerly along for the ride. you bit your lip as you toyed with the gold ‘LH’ necklace that adorned your neck, looking out the window as he raced through the streets to try and guess what surprise he had in store.

sugardaddy!lewis who delights in the shock in your face as you arrive at the private airport tarmac. he helps you out of the car with a kiss on your cheek, reassuring you that the trip wouldn’t take long. you were glad that he quelled your anxious mind, knowing you had an exam tomorrow afternoon. his hand rests possessively on your back, guiding you up the steps to board the luxurious jet.

sugardaddy!lewis who finally tells you the destination once the plane takes off: new york city. you squeal with excitement, jumping on his lap and kissing him all over his face. he knew you would be pleased since you always talked about wanting to spend a whole day shopping at saks 5th avenue and bloomingdale’s. finally your busy university schedule allowed the two of you to take the trip. he loved taking you places, spending time with you made his life more exciting. a pretty little thing like you who adored him was nothing short of heaven. 

sugardaddy!lewis loves to see you happy and to achieve that, money was no object. he trailed along supportively as you made your way through the department store, stopping at each designer label that drew your eye. you bought a dress from chanel, shoes from christian louboutin, and jewelry from tiffany and cartier. your weakness though, were bags. a bag from ysl, a bag from hermes, a bag from loewe… lots of bags, but lewis was more than pleased to buy them for you. after each swipe of his card you gave him a kiss and whispered a sweet ‘thank you’, the promise of something for him in return lingered in your voice. 

sugardaddy!lewis who fucks you on the king size bed in the penthouse of the plaza hotel, shopping bags abandoned and scattered all over the floor. your moans echo off the walls of the suite, your nails running down his inked back as he thrusted deeper into you. ‘my good girl, always so spoiled’ he drawls into your ear, taking time to leave bites and kisses down your neck as he picks up his pace. he treasured you, his sweet baby, and you deserved only the best. so he bought you the most expensive things, took you to the nicest restaurants, and fucked you like a queen. your orgasm came over you fast, the third one that night. but you just smiled tiredly up at him, begging for more. 

sugardaddy!lewis who orders room service for breakfast, sparing no expense on getting anything you may even remotely want. you woke up to a buffet at the dining table, your eyes glinting with delight. you were still sore from last night, groaning as made your way around the table to pile your plate high with the delicious food. you sat on lewis’ lap in your silk robe, stuffing your face with pancakes as he sipped a cup of coffee. he listened attentively as you chatted about your classes and trivial gossip, always enamoured by the way you expressed yourself. his fingers caressed your waist, subtly claiming you, even though you would always be his. 

a/n - couldn't stop thinking about this tbh needed to get it out of my brainnnnnn.

hop in my requests and gimme some au recs, help me get the creative juices flowing :)

masterlist

[d-z20]

Made to Suffer, Made to Serve (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Caught in Agatha’s web of control, you find yourself entangled in a night of unrelenting dominance and submission, where every command is law and every touch is deliberate. With Rio trembling beneath you and Agatha’s sharp gaze keeping you in line, there’s no room for hesitation—only obedience.

-OR-

You thought you were just here for a drink, but now you’re balls-deep in Rio while Agatha micromanages your stroke game like an overbearing coach. When you disobey her order, you quickly find the roles reversed.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom stone top Agatha, sub bottom Rio, switch Reader has a penis, 'good girl' used for reader, edging, overstimulation, degradation, orgasm control, begging, breeding, blowjobs, rimjobs, pegging, 69 positioning, a singular spank

Words: 2.5k

A/N: Requested fic :)

AO3 | Masterlist

You don’t entirely know how you ended up here. One moment, you were just an acquaintance—someone who had, maybe foolishly, entertained Agatha’s invitation for a drink. The next, you found yourself wrapped up in something far beyond your usual experiences. It started slow—a knowing glance from Agatha, a playful touch from Rio that turned into something more. And somehow, it had escalated to this.

Now the air in their dimly lit bedroom is thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Rio is sprawled out on the bed, her wrists bound loosely with silk, her body trembling, her face a portrait of desperate need. She’s been like this for hours, denied and teased until she’s nothing but a quivering, overstimulated mess, her mind emptied of anything but want. Her lips are parted, her eyes glassy, and her whole body is trembling, just on the edge of breaking.

And Agatha—Agatha is standing beside the bed, looking as put-together as ever, her sharp eyes glinting with satisfaction. She’s the perfect picture of control, arms crossed over her chest, her mouth curled into a smirk that’s equal parts amused and cruel.

“Look at you, Rio,” she hums, tilting her head. “You’re fucking pathetic. Just a dumb little thing, shaking and whimpering because you can’t even think anymore, can you?”

Rio makes a sound—half whimper, half gasp—but doesn’t answer because she can’t. She’s too far gone, her body so desperate for release that she can do nothing but lie there and tremble.

Agatha chuckles and turns her gaze to you. You’re kneeling between Rio’s legs, gripping her thighs, your own body tense with the weight of the situation, your cock hard and aching with need. As much as you try to convince yourself you’re just here for the ride, you can’t deny the thrill that courses through you, the way your own arousal tightens deep in your chest.

“She’s been waiting all week for this,” Agatha murmurs, stepping closer, her fingers sliding along your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her gaze. “Haven’t you, sweetheart?” The question is meant for Rio, but she never takes her eyes off you. “And you—don’t get any ideas about mercy. You’re not here to be kind. You’re here to fuck her.”

You swallow hard, nodding, and Agatha smiles. It’s not a kind smile. “Good.”

She steps back, watching as you line the tip of your cock up, pressing against Rio’s soaked entrance, the heat of her making you groan under your breath. Rio whimpers, her body arching off the bed, her bound hands clenching in the sheets. But you don’t move yet—you wait, waiting for Agatha’s command.

“Slow,” Agatha instructs, her voice smooth and firm. “Make her feel it.”

You press in just an inch, and Rio’s whole body tenses, her legs trembling. A high-pitched whine escapes her lips, her head tipping back against the pillows.

Agatha laughs softly. “Look at her. She’s already falling apart.” She leans in close, whispering against Rio’s ear. “Poor thing. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you right now, wouldn’t you? Just desperate to be filled, to be used.”

Rio nods frantically, panting, her thighs squeezing around you, trying to pull you in deeper. But Agatha tuts, shaking her head. “No, no. You don’t get to move. Our sweet little guest here does. They’ll fuck you when I say they can.”

You bite your lip, dick throbbing, but you hold steady, gripping Rio’s hips, waiting. Agatha watches you for a long moment before nodding. “You can give her what she’s been begging for. But she’s not to cum. Not yet.”

You thrust in deeper, and Rio sobs, her whole body convulsing around you. She’s barely coherent, babbling nonsense, pleading with every breath, but you obey Agatha’s command. You pull back, slow and torturous, before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that keeps Rio teetering right on the brink.

Agatha hums in approval, her fingers tracing over Rio’s flushed, sweat-damp skin. “That’s it. Keep her there. Keep her suffering.”

You don’t question her. You don’t slow down, either. Because Agatha told you to, and because you love the way Rio breaks under the pleasure, her body writhing, her mind slipping further and further away until all she can do is take what’s given to her. Exactly as Agatha intended.

You feel Agatha’s hand press slightly at the base of your spine. “Good, that’s it,” she hums, voice rich with satisfaction. “You see how pretty she is when she’s like this? Completely ruined. Just a body for you to use.”

Rio whines at the words, eyes glazed over as she rocks helplessly against you, trying to take more, trying to chase what you still refuse to give. She’s drenched in sweat, her skin burning hot under your touch, her thighs trembling from exertion. You almost feel bad for her; you almost give in to the way her walls clench around your aching cock so insistently.

But then Agatha grips Rio’s chin, tilting her face up to meet her dark, knowing gaze. “You want to cum, don’t you?” She coos mockingly.

Rio nods frantically, lips parted, but no words form beyond another needy sob.

Agatha chuckles, dragging her thumb over Rio’s bottom lip before tapping it lightly. “Too bad.”

Rio sobs again, throwing her head back, and Agatha turns her attention back to you. “And you, darling? You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?” Her tone is amused, but there’s an edge to it, a command hidden beneath the casual question.

You swallow, nodding. “Yes, Agatha.”

Her smirk deepens. “Then keep going.”

And you do. Because you want to. Because Agatha told you to. And because you love every second of watching Rio unravel, just as Agatha intended.

However, you’re barely holding on yourself—the way Rio clenches around you, the way she sobs and whimpers, her body shuddering with every precise, agonising thrust. It’s intoxicating. You grip her hips harder, driving yourself deeper, feeling that tight coil in your stomach wind itself impossibly tight. Your breath stutters, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out—

“I’m—fuck—I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so good.”

Rio keens at that, her entire body tensing, eyes glassy with tears as she chokes out, “Please, please—need it, need you to—”

“No, you’re not,” Agatha interjects coldly. Before you can react, she grips the back of your head, yanking you back just enough to force your gaze on her. Her eyes are sharp, unwavering.

You swallow hard, hips faltering for a split second, but her fingers tighten, nails scraping against your scalp. “Neither of you are allowed to.”

Your hips stutter, the order cutting through the haze of pleasure. You try to slow down, to hold yourself back, but Agatha's grip tightens, and then—a sharp smack lands on your ass, stinging and sudden. You jolt forward, a gasp tearing from your throat.

“I didn’t tell you to stop though, did I?” She scolds, voice smooth but firm.

A shudder runs through you, and you pick up the pace again, fucking Rio harder. You’re barely thinking anymore, just chasing that thin thread of control, focusing on Agatha’s steady presence, on her authority, on her voice. The heat in your gut coils tighter, every nerve alight, but you know you won’t last much longer.

Minutes pass, each thrust pushing you closer to the inevitable, until finally, your body betrays you. With a strangled grunt, you cum inside Rio, biting down hard on your lip, trying to play it off, trying to keep moving, to keep fucking Rio like you haven’t just disobeyed a direct order.

But Agatha sees. Of course she sees.

Her fingers dig into your jaw, forcing you still. “Oh? What’s this?” Her tone is mocking, full of condescending amusement as she watches it start to seep out of Rio, slick and glistening.

“How pathetic,” she continues, shaking her head.

Your whole body tenses as her words cut through the haze of your orgasm, as her fingers tighten in your hair again, pulling you away from Rio. “I gave you one order. One.” She shoves you back roughly, forcing you to pull out completely, leaving Rio twitching and empty beneath you. “And you couldn’t even follow that.”

You sit back on your heels, panting, your thighs trembling from exertion and shame as you watch Agatha’s lip curl in disgust. “Couldn’t even hold it. Couldn’t even control yourself for a few more minutes.” She huffs, shaking her head. “And you really thought you deserved to keep fucking her?”

You don’t answer; don’t dare to, because you know anything you say will only make things worse. Agatha tilts her head, considering you, before reaching out, fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

“I think you need a reminder of your place.” Her voice is deceptively soft, but the promise beneath it is anything but. “And how to follow simple instructions.”

You shiver, anticipation and humiliation twisting together in your gut as Agatha smirks.

“Clean it up.”

Your stomach clenches. The demand is clear. Hesitating would only make things worse. Swallowing hard, you lower yourself between Rio’s trembling thighs. You press your tongue to her swollen folds, tasting yourself as you lap up the mess you made. The mortification only adds to the heat pooling in your belly. Above you, Rio whimpers, her body twitching, overstimulated, and wrecked.

After untying Rio, Agatha watches you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl. Now, get on all fours facing me.”

You obey instantly, positioning yourself as instructed. Agatha tightens the harness at her hips, running the silicone tip of her strap over your lips before pressing it between them.

“Suck.”

You take her in, moaning softly as she pushes deeper. There’s no affection in the act, no real pleasure for her—this isn’t about stimulation, not for Agatha. She’s using your mouth for convenience, nothing more than a means to slick up the strap, to prepare you for what’s next. She doesn’t react to your gags or the way you hollow your cheeks; she just watches with sharp, expectant eyes, waiting for you to do your job properly.

Behind you, Rio shifts, her breath warm against your ass before her tongue flicks out against your tight hole. The sensation makes you whimper, your body twitching under the dual stimulation.

A moan rips from your throat, muffled by the stretch of Agatha’s strap. She chuckles, fingers tangling in your hair, controlling your pace. “Look at you. So easy to break.”

Rio’s tongue is relentless, licking, teasing, and delving inside, and it leaves you trembling. You push back against her, needing more, but just as you start to lose yourself, Agatha shoves you down beside Rio.

“Enough.”

She wastes no time, spreading Rio’s thighs once more and thrusting in and out of her roughly. The lewd squelch echoes in the room, and Rio sobs in pleasure, too wrecked to form words. 

The force pushes more of your cum out, slicking the inside of her thighs. Agatha swipes it up with her fingers, then smears it across the strap before positioning herself behind you. “Ass up, baby.”

Your stomach clenches with anticipation as you do as you’re told and your breath hitches as you feel the pressure against your entrance. She doesn’t rush, doesn’t let you adjust—she just pushes in, inch by agonising inch, until you’re stuffed full, stretched, and shaking.

You whimper, pushing back against her, desperate for more. Agatha sets a rhythm, slow at first, making sure you feel every inch of her claim. But soon, it turns brutal. 

Your head drops forward, overwhelmed. And that’s when Rio moves beneath you, positioning herself so both of you have your heads in between the other’s legs.

“Go on,” Agatha orders. “Rio has earned her orgasm; let’s see if you can give it to her.”

You obey without question, lowering your mouth to Rio’s swollen, dripping folds. Your tongue flicks over her clit, fast and relentless, and Rio is right back on the edge after being denied for so long.

She chokes out a sob, her hips bucking up into your mouth, but Agatha’s firm grip keeps her pinned in place. “Stay still,” Agatha commands, voice sharp, “or I’ll make you wait even longer.”

Rio whimpers, but she obeys, her body trembling with restraint. And then, as if to urge you on, you feel her lips wrap around your length, her mouth warm, wet, and desperate as she takes you down her throat.

You groan at the sensation, hips jerking forward before Agatha’s firm hand at your lower back reminds you who’s in control here. Still, the wet heat of Rio’s mouth has you seeing stars, her tongue swirling, sucking, desperate to take everything you give her.

You work her just as ruthlessly in return, sucking and lapping at her oversensitive clit, feeling her body tense and quiver beneath you. She’s so close, hanging on by a thread, and then—with one last flick of your tongue—she shatters.

Rio climaxes with a strangled, broken cry, her entire body convulsing as pleasure crashes over her. Her legs quake, her hands clawing at the sheets as she drowns in her long-overdue release. It’s messy, overwhelming, and absolutely beautiful.

You cry out, caught between them as Agatha pounds into you from behind, forcing you further into Rio’s mouth. It’s too much, too good, every nerve alight, every sensation amplified by the relentless pace.

Agatha grips your hips tighter, thrusting harder. “Don’t you dare cum again until I say so.”

She doesn’t stop. If anything, she pounds into you harder, using your body as she pleases, pulling you closer until you’re dizzy, breathless, and utterly lost in the pleasure.

You can feel yourself unravelling again, pleasure coiling tight and desperate. “Please,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please, let me—”

Agatha hums, dragging her nails down your spine. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You nod frantically, eyes squeezed shut. “Please. Please, I—”

“I don’t think you do,” she considers for a moment, “but you’ve already proven you can’t hold off, so do it, cum for me,” she relents.

Relief and ecstasy crash over you at once, and you shudder as you finally reach your peak, your cum spurting down Rio’s throat as she swallows you greedily. The pleasure is blinding, your body quaking from the intensity.

Agatha pulls back slowly, letting you collapse beside Rio, utterly spent. She strokes a hand down your spine, her touch almost gentle. Almost.

A satisfied hum leaves her lips as she surveys you both—wrecked, used, and thoroughly ruined beneath her. She leans in, fingers curling under your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Next time, you’ll do better.”

A flicker of something warm pools low in your stomach at her words. A promise. A threat. A guarantee that this won’t be the last time she has you like this, weak and obedient under her command.

And god, you can’t wait.

-----

Agatha for sure knew exactly what she was doing and wanted you to end up disobeying her because she wanted to peg you. She just likes watching you struggle first

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