#polyamory but make it toxic

[nat20composure]

Astarion and Agency- The Necessity of Discomfort to Self Discovery and the Infantilization of Victims

Minor Astarion discourse ahead that mentions the treatment of SA victims post-abuse:

I want to open this post up just with like. The statement that I don't think there is a correct way to enjoy media and that I LOVE to see individual head cannons and takes on characters in media. I think that is also, to a degree, an integral part of video games because of how unique the experience of playing a game will be to every person who plays it. But it has been making me feel so incredibly sad looking through fan content, art, or discourse for BG3 specifically because of how many people have taken the route of infantilizing Astarion.

I understand the instinct to shield or protect an individual that you love and care for. I also understand that because of the nature of the things that Astarion goes through, a lot of people also feel very deep emotional stakes in him. I'm one of the many fans of the character who is a victim of SA and CSA, I really do get it. That is also why for me personally it is so demoralizing to watch so many people treat him like he is a child who cannot make his own decisions or stand up for himself. Part of that frustration stems from it feeling like a media literacy issue, and the other part of that sense of defeat is just because it feels indicative of a broader attitude that people seem to hold towards victims of abuse, particularly those who are victims of SA.

To explain what I mean by people infantilizing him: I see so many people refuse to allow him the opportunity to be hurt, or to feel uncomfortable. They see this character who has been through an immensely horrible and traumatic experience, and their instinct is to try and shield him from anything else that has the potential to upset him. I get that the people who want that aren't doing it with malicious intent, but frankly it is not really...Helpful? To try and prevent victims from Experiencing Discomfort tm. I also think it kind of disregards the entire thesis of Astarion's character and arc.

When you go through something that robs you of your selfhood and agency, the world can become a crushingly terrifying place. In Astarion, that fear presents itself in a desperation for power, control, and at the core of both of these desires- Safety. One thing the game is clear about is that he has a right to kill his abuser. He has a right to escape his situation. A lot of Astarion's personal arc is centered around being able to finally do that. But the game doesn't just leave it off at getting him to safety. So much of it is also about him needing to take responsibility for himself and his actions, with needing to learn who he as a person is.

The inclusion of the Gur children and Sebastian as characters is a good example of ways in which the game gives Astarion the opportunity to take responsibility. I think that if the intention of the arc was meant to be that "Astarion should never ever have to deal with being afraid or uncomfortable again", then the Ascended arc wouldn't Come with such heavy moral ramifications, like sacrificing the other people just like him, killing the victims he lured in, literal child murder. The game infers that he doesn't deserve to die because of the things he Needed to do to survive, but it also makes it very clear that there is a difference between addressing an Active Threat and using your fear as an excuse to hurt others. Breaking that cycle of abuse when he finally gets the chance to is what separates Spawn Astarion from Cazador.

Taking responsibility for himself, and letting himself sit in the discomfort of vulnerability ultimately ends up being a thing that he is very proud of and cherishes. If you tell him you will make sure nothing like that ever again he himself says that he doesn't want you to be his protector. And so it blows my mind when people go into all of these discussions about Astarion with this...Weird moral high ground for never, ever making or letting him make choices that might hurt him?

I see this the most when it comes to discussions about the possible polyamorous relationship with Halsin and the interaction with the drow twins in the brothel. So many people are just...outright angry? At other people engaging with either of those options? And I feel like that anger is one) rooted in the projection of their Own feelings on non-monogamy and what a victim of SA can or cannot look like. and two) Relies on undermining the agency that Astarion BEGS you for at every turn.

When it comes to the drow twins, the game adapts Astarion's response to them based on where he is in his own personal development (a really cool thing imo). Obviously, if he still doesn't feel good or safe about engaging with sex he declines and says you can feel free, though he hopes you aren't just doing it because he hasn't had sex with you. I think this makes sense: He's just gotten out of a situation where his Safety and worth were directly tied to him having sex. I imagine he feels afraid that not wanting to have sex with you makes him replaceable or inadequate because at this point in the game, he feels like that's all he has to offer. The interaction is relatively the same if you ask him for a poly amorous relationship with Halsin: He just asks you to reassure him that you aren't only doing it because he hasn't had sex with you, and then tells you he isn't worried about it otherwise.

A lot of people have taken the expression of that insecurity in combination with him still allowing you to go forward and do these things as him just "sucking it up" because he's afraid of losing you. (I am aware Shadowheart says he wouldn't be able to handle it when you ask her if you can date both of them- But keep in mind, Astarion says she wouldn't be able to either, and THAT obviously isn't true of her. For the purposes of this discussion I'm only including interactions with Astarion as a judgement of his character.) I understand that concern, but I feel this take disregards so many other points of dialogue, and is also continually rooted in the baseline vilification of discomfort.

To further go into it, the way that he speaks about both of these interactions changes significantly if you speak to him about it once he is completely free from Cazador, and has had time to allow himself to start reconnecting with himself and his sexuality on his terms. He has absolutely No reservations about an open or poly relationship with Halsin, and says he trusts that things will be ok because he one) feels secure in Your relationship and two) Knows Halsin is experienced and trusts him to not be a messy bitch about it.

I think that shift, in combination with the in game explanation of why he isn't ok with being in that sort of relationship with the other Origin Characters (for Lae'zel and Wyll, he says they'd never agree to that. For Shadowheart, he says she's not experienced with open relationships and that he doesn't think it'd work out. For Karlach, that it would break her heart. And for Gale, he says you need standards.) is a pretty good indicator that he doesn't actually care about polyamory or monogamy. I think the vilification of that choice relies on you picking and choosing when you do or do not believe Astarion or just outright not liking non-monogamy in the first place. This interaction has more to do with the player's choice and comfort level, and so is not as important to the broader discussion I am trying to have in this post.

The interaction that is more pertinent to not Allowing him to make decisions is, I think, the drow twins. If you interact with the drow twins after the completion of the Cazador questline, he is outright giddy at the prospect of interacting with the Drow twins. Specifically stating that he is excited to see how he likes these sorts of things now that he's free.

NOW- I do NOT think that he enjoys the act. The game makes that abundantly clear, and I'm not arguing that he has a great time. He obviously does not, and dissociates during it. That being said, allowing this interaction to happen does not make a player evil or selfish. You are not playing the hero if you decide to moderate his choices just because you do not think he is ready for it. Once again, no one is evil for Not doing it either, and I am not saying anybody has to want to. I am just saying that treating this choice like it is an evil choice to make relies on completely disregarding what He wants to do.

Astarion says so many times in the game that he is anxious about finally having the freedom to find out what he wants to do, and I think that his excitement for the drow twin exchange is one of the opportunities the game gives him to make a choice. He makes that choice- And it sucks for him. He doesn't enjoy the act, and having done it he would be able to move forward knowing that. I think it's really cool and important that the game represents that facet of recovering as a victim. While you are trying to renavigate who you are, you are going to make a million new choices you never had before. And sometimes those choices are going to suck ass. It would be a different matter if he knew these things would hurt him and went ahead and did them anyway. But so many people expect him to move forward avoiding even the Potential of being hurt, and I think that is extremely reductive of his arc and who he is.

Beyond the matter of interpersonal relationships, the choice between Ascending or not Ascending Astarion is not a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. It is a choice between his fear and his humanity. Between letting his trauma and his fear define him for the rest of his immortal life, and allowing him the vulnerability of deciding who he is when he isn't running from the world. When he's willing to listen to the parts of himself that want to do right, that wants meaningful connection, that wants to be proud of himself. That wants to meet himself. To confront who he is when someone else isn't deciding that for him.

Astarion as a character is extremely ambitious, inquisitive, and adventurous, three traits that only become more and more evident as he breaks free from letting his own fear dictate how he lives his life. I don't understand how so many people can see him and want to take the core of his character away from him, when he spends the entire game fighting desperately to take it back.

Victims are not casts of the abuse they have gone through. Their shapes may be changed by the hands of others, they may have to relearn how to be the person they want to be. But they are not broken or irreparable or fragile. They do not need to be freed from the grip of one person to be held tight in the grip of another. It is so fucking unfair and self-important to think that your hands will be the ones that fix them. That your hands know better than theirs. I think the kindest thing you can do for a person is to trust them with themselves, and to listen when they tell you who they are and what they want. Please listen to the voices that have only just learned to speak. It is the only way they can get better at doing it.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #I know this is kind of overdramatic #but like pls pls pls pls #ask yourself why you feel the need to protect victims from the experience of growth #and then consider if that attitude is a fair or helpful one #because freedom includes the right to make choices. even stupid painful ones. #that being said this essay is more for people who played the game exclusively making choices they thought would make astarion comfortable #like ascending him or not participating in polyamory #this essay is NOT for people who just ascended him for dom dialogue with him #bc I think it is a bit silly to tell people who wanted a toxic make him worse dynamic #that they are enabiling toxicity and making him worse #this is just an alternative pov for people who genuinely think it is for the best to do these things

[32girassoisdevangogh]

My interpretation for these two.

Compulsory heterosexuality is what I know best when it comes to queer themes so there's a lot of projection there.

#squirrel and hedgehog #headcanon #TW comphet #Sorry for being the party pooper. I know many have taken the polyamory and sexual-equality route #Since they're my main ship I only focused on them. No idea what to do for the rest #at first it was just about Mul cuz I had his character clear. His situation was an unrequited thing #but my friend offered to do something for Geum and he FILLED A WHOLE PAGE #I added ''About his brothers'' to not make Mul's page look so empty💀 #toxic yaoi #<- that sums it up #it's just the tragic gay inside both of us

[haushinkaisarealgirl]

#Lucky ate with this 😭 #polyamory #it's not that i was ever bad at being committed to one person #it's just that with my insecurity and my codependency #monogamy was never going to make me feel fulfilled with the way that it met my most toxic behaviors and didn't meet other needs #polyamory has helped me grow so so much #in a way that's not even about my partners but in a way that's more true to myself

[sorikkung]

yes i hate yandere fics yes i want to write one the catch is i want to do it My Way.

#the main thing i hate abt yandere tropes is the monogamy of it all 🙄 #like the whole toxic relationship part i guess is kind of The Point but what if it was like... actually fun #basically. yandere tropes are fun when the love interest is just as fucked up as the yandere #like awww babe youll kill them? for me? youre sooo romantic 🥰🥰🥰 #alternatively id fuck w a yandere thats like. i dont care who else youre seeing as long as you always come back to Me. #if u dont Then ill start killing people #which may ruin the whole appeal of the yandere thing to some bc i know its all abt the possessiveness #but i like the idea of a yandere who just kills anyone they deem as a threat to you #rather than seeing other love interests as their competition #itd be cool to have a fic with like... two yanderes both like thid #and they acknowledge each other like. you want to keep them safe too no matter the cost. cool we on the same page #AND THEN THEY KISS!!! #oh yeah baby i will find a way to make even the most toxic monogamy tropes compatible w polyamory just WATCH ME #mischief rambles

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for sabotaging my boyfriend's hookup with his girlfriend by filling his sex playlist with DJ Crazytimes

I (28NB, they/he) have known my boyfriend (call him C, 29M, he/him) for some 15ish years now. As long as I've known him, he has been on and off again with his girlfriend (call him T, 29NB, he/him). Respectfully, and with love, C and T are two of the worst and most annoying people I know. I want to marry them both specifically so that I can study them under a microscope like a parasitic virus.

Technically they're monogamous, but they're both hooking up with other people (myself included), usually the same people, because they have the same taste in lovers (bad). I have suggested that they give actual polyamory a try, and they reject the idea wholeheartedly. I think they get off on their dynamic, and far be it from me to try more than the bare minimum to dissuade them from it.

A couple months back, they got into a fight and broke up (again) because T (who was unemployed at the time) stole $50 from C (who works at GameStop) so that he could pay for a tank of gas (using C's car) to go hook up with another guy a couple states over. C was not upset that T was hooking up with another guy (because he was Also hooking up with that guy and knew he would not have a leg to stand on), but because of the stolen money + car.

C and I currently live together, because you can't afford an apartment on a GameStop salary, and also, like I said, he's my boyfriend. I'm making carnitas tacos next Friday, and T is coming over, because despite everything, he has nothing else to do on a Friday night. I know that C and T are going to get into a huge fight, and I know that it's probably either going to end with them getting back together out of spite or with someone's vehicle getting keyed--I'm betting on both.

Here's where I think I might be the asshole. I would really like to get inbetween them. Not in a "I don't want you to date each other" kind of way, but in a "holy shit you are both so insufferable i would like to get in on that" kind of way. I currently have my thing with C, and I've hooked up with T once in the past, but I would really like to make it official with him as well.

My plan is as follows: C and T are going to be in the same space again next Friday. They're going to fight, then hook up, then get back together again. C is one of those cybersexual "i built my own computer and run it on Linux" people, which is to say, he thinks tiktok and youtube are evil, and he he thinks spotify premium is supporting megacorporations. So, his sex playlist for T (we do not have our own sex playlist) is just an actual folder of mp3 files.

While C is at work, I'm going to log into his computer and change several of those mp3 files to DJ Crazytimes' Planet of the Bass, which I play often, and he is frequently annoyed by. My hope is that he'll realize it was me, he'll come and yell at me for ruining their hookup, T will take my side to piss him off, and the tension will get to the point where they let me join their hookup, and I can ask to date both of them after that.

To be clear, I recognize that I'm also Incredibly Toxic for enabling and encouraging this behavior. That said, I feel like I'm justified in this scenario considering C and T are both Also toxic, and furthermore, it is a known fact that I'm dating C right now, so for them to hook up, C would technically be cheating on me. I asked C's sister (a childhood friend of mine) for her take on whether it would be funny or just annoying, and she just told me that we all deserve each other, so I think I should be good. Am I being uniquely shitty here?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #one of the submissions of all time #the dj crazytimes saga

[benevadeca]

Watching the 1st 2 eps of the new gomens and it's so mediocre but I did forget how much I love how stupid and british they all are. Anyway thinking abt my own same universe ocs again 😔

#lb #mine #txt #my nephilim based origin toxic dyke polyamory ocs would make neil gaiman puke #toxic disaster polyamory divorce / the cooler disaster toxic polyamory divorce

[moodboardsbysarah]

Polyamorous people say that those who judge them “fear their shadow” but really polyams are the ones who fear their shadow. Your whole “”sexuality”” is all about running away from your shadow rather than going into it.

You want to live forever in the ignorant, bliss starting stage of a relationship where you don’t really know each other and you can play perfect. You want to jump ship to the next person who’ll give you shallow adoration and worship as soon as the person you’re already with starts unraveling your darkness… which is what’s supposed to happen in any long term relationship.

The best exploration of your shadow happens when you’ve found someone who you trust and connect with fully enough to reveal darkness together. polyamory is nothing but an excuse to run and keep one foot out the door, when true shadow work requires full commitment to facing the shadow… no running away allowed. At any point.

I don’t see any “exploring your shadow” in the polyamorous crowd. I see the opposite. I see people who are so afraid of their shadow that they’ll rationalize chewing people up and spitting them out for narcissistic supply, and then sugar coat it with “muh shadow work” “b-b-but it’s consensual”. Just because people rightly judge you for your bullshit and make you feel ashamed of it, doesn’t mean it is “shadow work”.

#I see right through this 2 bullshit #lol. #Like I said #be polyamorous #I can respect a bit of degeneracy #but don’t you dare cry that you’re the victim of this degenerate choice #you’re the wrong one in this situation. You are objectively doing the victimizing #I had a polyamorous 2 explain it to me #and I respected her cuz she wasn’t playing the victim of it and being like I’m so oppressed for being a maneater #like some polyams do #if 2 really wants to integrate to 4 they have to embrace their badness #so like #accept that your polyamory is evil and degenerate #making people accept that it’s good is falling back into toxic 2 patterns of always needing to be good and right

[viennakarma]

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

-

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and  got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?” 

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her. 

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and  it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around. 

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders. 

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

Picture credit: xbruised_peachx on Twitter

Sorry but I’m on my young recruit König & old colonel König brainrot again

CW: More polyamory headcanons with 2 Königs. Healthy relationship with old König and toxic relationship with young König, possessive behaviour, jealousy, NSFW 18+ only

The way he greets you when he comes back is so sweet you almost melt right there on the doorstep. He cups your face with both hands, gives you the most tender kiss known to mankind, and envelops you in a soul-warming hug. The love of your life sighs deeply as he holds you; his sweet, adorable wife. The Colonel may be a little tired but he's also extremely happy to be home again.

Colonel König, the older, calmer version of König is everything a woman could want. You married him early because he charmed you right off your feet.

You ride him on the first night because you simply want to show how much you've missed him. Colonel König never objects to you taking the reins every now and then. You see it from his eyes that he’s in seventh heaven whenever you bounce on his cock. He’s just happy to see you take your pleasure from him. He’s the luckiest man on earth because his needy young wife never gets enough of him – it strokes his ego that someone like you wants someone like him.

He always puts his things where they belong and takes a shower before walking into the living room and falling on the sofa with another deep sigh. He looks like he just fought an entire war by himself. When you go to make some dinner, he bounces back up and offers to help. You have to convince him that he can rest while you prepare some food. When you return with the meal, the tv is on but the Colonel is snoring softly on the couch.

He praises you and the meal, and you both talk about your days (or weeks). It calms your nerves just to talk with him. Colonel König is cultured and mature and you can talk to him about politics or the squirrels in your garden or some new documentary you've watched. He can hold any conversation.

He's illegally hot with his deep voice and loving stare, not to mention the thick muscles covered by a healthy layer of fat. You pride yourself on giving him some of that by feeding him so well. He already has a few laugh lines at the corner of his eyes – you pride yourself on giving those to him, too.

In the morning he’s much more vigorous. A good night's rest does wonders to any man, and König wakes up to cuddle you with a good, hard, thick erection. If you’re still sleepy, he will go down on you – he loves it when you’re too tired and warm and pleased to fight him.

He edges you for at least an hour: now it’s his turn to show how much he has missed you and how much he appreciates it that he has a cozy, beautiful home and a lovely, beautiful wife to return to. He’s sure he won the lottery with you, and you’re sure you’ve been blessed with the most attentive gentleman on earth. You feel like floating before you even get to the breakfast table.

Colonel König brings you small gifts and expensive flowers everytime he comes home, and takes you on a vacation to a new, exciting place every chance he can get, which is multiple times a year. You never have to ask for anything because he already got it for you.

You never have to fear you’re too much, or too moody, too this or too that: König appreciates you just the way you are and takes your fits and breakdowns and insecurities and PMS struggles like a champ. He stays calm during any storm and you can always trust him with all your troubles. You stopped apologizing for yourself an aeon ago because you know König doesn’t want to hear it: he only wants to comfort and console you when life has been hard on you. He will do anything to make it better, and if he can’t make it better, he will hold you long and fast until you smile again.

He takes such good care of you that you cried into his chest hair about it once. König only caressed you and said you deserve all of it and more. You could hear the calm, content smile on his lips while you were ugly crying about him being too good for you and spoiling you to bits.

When you asked if there’s anything you can do to return the many favors he’s given you, his face turned super smug before he suggested that you could always blow him. That’s probably the most obscene thing you've ever heard him say, which is why your face was all flushed when you travelled down to suck his already hard cock.

If only he didn’t have to repair the damage left behind by his younger version, you two would be the happiest couple this world has ever seen. Life would be peaceful and his home would stay nice and clean if the young, horny recruit had never walked into your life. He would have more energy and he could go back to work with a peaceful mind if it weren’t for this boy who has yet to learn how to be a man. A boy he couldn't deny you because you must always have everything you want; it's a law he lives by. You saved him from himself, and he will see you happy no matter what.

For some reason a troubled, violent young pup who shows a woman he loves them by bullying and fucking them to a quivering heap is what makes you happy at this point in life. Perhaps it's only a bonus that the rookie takes the blunt of your libido... otherwise he might be in trouble with his younger wife.

It’s just that the Colonel knows he can’t satisfy all your needs. You have a dark side, which he appreciates, and he thinks he’s being a good man when he allows this to happen. He's a good man, both to you and to the rookie who is the cockiest and also the most deranged, damaged little creature he has ever seen.

He tries his best to carve a man out of this poor, traumatized young bastard. He tries his best to give you the opportunity to live your life to the full by having two men who absolutely and utterly worship you... in their own ways.

Because when Young Recruit König comes home?

He’s not tired at all. He’s just excited and pent-up from being away from you for so long. He greets you by lifting you into a bone-crushing hug, sets you down when you whimper, and buries his face into your neck. You never get a kiss on the lips or a peck on the cheek: young König gives you a long, bruising love bite on your neck while you squirm and whine in his hold. He's something of a sadist when he only laughs and asks, “How has my sweet little Muschi* been...?” *Muschi means pussy in German :(

He doesn’t offer to help, he just throws his bags on the floor and asks what’s for dinner. If you have it ready, he nuzzles his face into your neck again and says how much he loves you, how perfect you are, and how he’s going to show how much he missed you after he's had a taste of your delicious cookings.

You watch how he eats almost all of it, a meal meant for an entire family. Colonel König eats like a horse, too, but he’s modest compared to our young rookie who goes to the gym in addition to his hectic job and probably burns 4000 calories per day just by daydreaming of filthy scenarios with you.

Don’t even think about riding him slowly into the sunset. Young König takes you while you’re on your knees, your ass and pussy exposed to his hungry gaze and hard cock. It borders on humiliating sometimes, the way he treats you. You grab for support from the sheets, knowing that it’s useless.

You’re in luck if you happen to cum, because the first round is just him using his little muschi, the tight, sweet hole he’s missed so much. He sounds like an animal until he cums, then kisses you all over when he’s done. You both sound like you're about to cry as he gives you hot, fond smooches where it tickles the most, getting some kind of sick satisfaction from the way you squirm and shudder in his hold again.

Round two is much more gentle and König is way more attentive, now focusing solely on you. Or at least on how you look under him, how desperate and wet your eyes get, how your tits bounce when he makes love to you. Well, you wouldn’t say that the younger version of König even knows how to make love – the old Colonel has tried to teach him, but he seems to get very pissed at anyone telling him what to do and how to do it. Plus he knows he can give you what the old man can or will not: a rough fucking that leaves you breathless, helpless and very much in love.

Because even if the first time is pure madness, the sessions that follow are made of intense adoration. König is obsessed with you and your desperate moans, your tight, wet cunt, the way he can make you cum three or four or even five times a day. He’s not the most gentle, attentive guy but he will do anything in his power to make you shiver, shake, beg, and clench. While Colonel tries to savour you nice and slow, the younger recruit lives for extremes. Sometimes it feels like he’s trying to drive you (or himself) mad.

The sheets have to be changed on the third day of his leave, and there’s not a surface in your house he hasn’t bullied you on or against. After a few days of fucking and living on takeaway food (König won’t let you from his sights for one minute), the young recruit finally calms down and agrees to watch some movies with you. You even get him to do some chores.

He won't help you in the garden like Colonel König because he's interested in the most dangerous, illegal or unnecessary jobs in the house, such as: can he fix the weather vane while balancing on a slippery roof, or would it be any fun if he did some DIY electrical work by himself. But he will help you with your computer, fix you some weed and turn a cooking session into a play fight that ends with you both on the kitchen floor and König sampling you instead of the sauce you tried to offer him.

This young rookie comes home with a wine bottle or some new sexy lingerie for you to wear (and him to tear right off). One day he comes home with a kitten, a scared little orange tabby, and asks if you like it while an evil grin spreads on his face. The poor thing tries to scratch and claw König but he has his gloves on, and when it gets released to your apartment, it runs under the sofa and won't come out, not before König comes up with a solution that involves some tuna. You're 100% sure he either stole that kitten or found it abandoned somewhere.

König leaves you in the good care of his older version, knowing that the aftercare he provided barely counts as aftercare because it’s filled with manic kisses and hugs that hardly allow you to breathe. The things he mutters in your ear when he holds you are usually about you being the best pussy he’s ever had, or about would you like it if he killed the old fart.

The cat turns out to be very vocal and cuddly but it also destroys your curtains and the Colonel's side of the bed. It grows up to be a violent bird hunting machine and an entire menace that, perhaps to no one's surprise, reminds you of your young lover.

Conversations with König mainly include him mansplaining things to you. He boasts a lot and you get the feeling he's actually very insecure under all that brash cockiness. But whenever you try to work on that with him, he soon gets annoyed, frustrated, or horny. Any attention is both poison and elixir for this man.

When you start to cry from him being so intense with you and mean to the man you love (the man who allows this young rookie to eat his food, fuck his wife and practically live in the house he bought with hard work) he says it’s only because he knows you’re not happy with him, not really.

But he can make you happy. He has money too. He can give you everything you want, too. And didn’t he just make you cum twice with his tongue and cock? Can the old man do that, eh? What else do you need? What else could you even ask for?

You have to make your calls and texts to the Colonel in secret even if your arrangement is known to all parties involved. It’s just that the young recruit becomes even more crazy and possessive in bed if he sees or hears you talking to his rival. You get the sense that he's not just crazy and self-centered: he's actually so desperately in love with you that he can't take the reminder that you're someone else's wife.

You tried to live together once, but it ended in both of your lovers in the hospital and you crying next to their beds. They made an uneasy truce after that, and agreed that they should take turns with you.

They mainly talk to each other through you nowadays. The "talking" mainly consist of threats which you never deliver.

Colonel König says he’ll snap the young prick’s neck if he ever hurts you in any way, your body or your feelings. You never say to him that the damage is already done – well, perhaps he hasn't hurt your body, which is sore from all the love, yes, but never abused. But he has hurt your feelings many times by being so callous, intimidating, and reckless.

Your nervous system is constantly on high alert with the young recruit who fantasizes very openly and cruelly about all the things he’d like to do to the Colonel (such as "if he tries to show me how to fuck this sweet Muschi again, I will fuck him to his grave with his own dick" or "I have a bullet with your lover's name on it. Have you ever held a gun, kleiner Schatz? Would you like me to show you how to load a rifle?")

When you remind him that you’re the Colonel’s wife, and won’t listen to such violent, stupid nonsense, the young recruit smiles with another devilish grin and says you needn’t worry: you wouldn’t be a widow for long. He would propose to you once the funeral is over and done with. Perhaps he’ll propose at the funeral. Would you like that…? Would it make you wet?

It's the only time you actually slapped him, and it only got him hard. When you were shocked about that too, he asked why do you think men go to the army in the first place, and urged you to slap the Colonel too and see what it does to him.

What you find a bit funny though is how this entitled young man seems to think about the Colonel everytime he’s inside you. He always brags about how he fucks you better than him, how he knows you prefer his mouth over the old man’s. He knows his cock is bigger too: he compared once when they were having a piss outside. He also knows you should make babies with him: they would be very healthy. Surely you’d choose him over the old Colonel if it came to breeding you? If you ever want children, you only need to ask...

#double trouble au #2 Königs one reader #könig x reader

[myfictionaldreams]

Overwhelming // Mafia!Stucky x fem!Reader

Summary: It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

Prompt: How would the boys help Reader through a subdrop?

Requested by: @southern-goth​ (thank you so much for the request! And for the amazing header that I’ve included in your previous request, I love it!)

Tags: sfw, polyamory, subdrop, dom/sub relationship, mentions of rough sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, aftercare (lots!!), soft steve & bucky, crying/anxiety, size difference, pet names, praising, kissing

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The night was filled with restless tossing and turning from the edge of the bed. There was nothing in particular that you could definitely pinpoint as the reason for the unease but you saw every hour of the night.

Even as Bucky’s warm, solid body found yours across the bed, his mind still deep within the sleep world, he still enveloped himself around you. Normally, the strong beat of his heart against your ear, even his natural musk would be enough to make you feel safe and relaxed in your own peaceful sleep.

However as the clock ticked to 04:30 am, all hope was lost for the land of rest and as you found yourself needing to turn in Bucky’s arms once more, the decision was made. Carefully, as to not wake the sleeping gang member, you inched out from underneath his metal arm, gently laying it back down on the bed.

Stretching out your body, you had to refrain from sighing, for no reason in particular. There was a heavy feeling settled through the centre of your chest, making your body feel heavy and weighted, almost making it an effort to even find the energy to stand.

But you pushed yourself to stand, needing to move and shake off whatever feeling had been disturbing your sleep. Deciding to go and make a coffee, you gave one last glance at the two men still sleeping, usually feeling a happy calm at being able to witness them both look so peaceful. However, your gut twisted, a lump forming in your throat that took a moment to pass.

Exiting the bedroom, your steps were slow and dragging along the carpet. Confused as to why you were feeling upset, almost like there was a rain cloud hovering over your head.

Waiting for the coffee to heat, your mind began to wonder, trying to deduce what might be wrong but in reality, you were already aware, it had just never been this impactful before.

It had been your birthday a few days ago, Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party however, it was the nighttime activities that might have been the cause for your emotions. Not only were you the centre of attention during the fucking but it had been long, intense, mind-blowing sex that left you begging for more, of which your boyfriends were happy to oblige.

The mental headspace that a session like that gave you felt almost euphoric, nothing could be negative, even falling into a little bit of subspace following it, giving the sensation of floating, like being drunk. Then a couple of hours later with the unbalance of hormones (something Bucky had to explain), it would feel like depression with how low your mood would go as you experienced a subdrop. Luckily you were never far from the boys who regularly checked in on you anyway to give the support you desperately needed.

Concluding that this was the cause for how you were feeling, you should have contemplated waking either one of your boyfriends but the shame seemed to overpower any rational thought. You were your own worst enemy during these subdrops and the added exhaustion that was influencing your body, it was a toxic pair.

Steve and Bucky had made the weekend so incredibly special for you, every moment had a smile permanently stitched to your face so for it all to come crashing down and be this needy, depressed person, you were embarrassed and ashamed. The feeling would pass, and it always did so making the decision to just suck it up and keep it to yourself, they’d already done so much for you.

As you poured the now steaming hot coffee into the cup, you heard the recognisable sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind and rather than being excited and giddy which was usually your reaction to your boyfriends, the heavy sensation only increased in your chest.

Unbeknownst to Steve, he padded into the kitchen, smiling upon seeing you with fresh coffee. Walking up behind your much shorter body, his hands cupped your hips, gently pulling you back into his muscular build, his handsome face dropping to give a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Good morning baby”, his voice was thick with sleep, croaking slightly. Trying to play along with it, leaning into his warmth, even though you wanted to run away and cry so he couldn’t see.

“Morning”.

As Steve spoke, he manoeuvred around you, finding his own cup to pour coffee into. “You’re up early, how are you feeling this morning?” his question was innocent but it caused your heart to pound.

“I’m fine”, you were thinking coherent thoughts to be able to think of an excuse for being up so early, usually being the last to rise. “How are you? Are you off to the gym?” referring to his attire and it wasn’t like he was travelling far with the homemade gym in the basement.

A subtle frown momentarily crossed over his expression at the monotone way you were answering his questions but he shrugged it away, you would tell him if something was wrong, putting it down to tiredness. “Yeah, need to work off some of the cake from this weekend”, he joked, a twinkle forming in his eye. “After that, I’m all yours”.

“I had you all weekend”, you were quick to take a drink of your coffee, even as it was too hot and slightly scorched your tongue. Steve squinted at you in curiosity, noting your flat tone once more.

“You can have me every second of every day if that makes you happy” he admitted softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. It did make you happy but with the mood you were in, you felt selfish and guilty for this. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m just tired, I might go back to bed”, this was a lie but he seemed to accept it, kissing your cheek once more for comfort and then heading off towards the gym. Finally being on your own, and getting what you wanted it would be an assumption to presume this would make you feel any better but it only made you feel worse. Not realising just how much you were depending on his warmth and the coolness returning to your skin as you sulked into the living room, turning on the TV to a random channel, not paying attention at all.

No, instead you stared into space, holding one of the decorative cushions to your body to try and fill the void that was aching your chest but this of course did nothing. The longer you were awake, the worst you were continuing to feel, emotionally and physically.

It was almost like being hungover, the anxiety that follows a heavy drinking session and the fatigue from the effects of alcohol, except there was no alcohol involved and you were feeling all of these effects just from a hormone imbalance.

As you continued to sit in your pity, Bucky had begun to descend the stairs in joggers and a white shirt, following the noise of the TV to find you sitting on the couch. He didn’t say a single word or notice the off-mood and simply reached your head over the back of the couch, tipping it back to peck your lips.

His touch had caused you to jump slightly having been lost in your thoughts and not heard him approaching but he was already walking into the kitchen, probably to pour his own morning drink, like he did every morning.

As if right on queue, the hulking form of the brunette returned to your eye line, smiling before taking a sip of his black coffee as he sat next to you. “What are you watching, mama?”

The lump had returned to your throat so instead of answering him, you shrugged your shoulders, not even looking at the TV, knuckles adding to the discomfort with how aggressively you held onto the pillow as if it was your lifeline.

Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew were off the moment he saw you on the sofa, alone. Even without the glazed-over look in your eyes or the tension in your shoulders, he had known you for long enough to know what was going on. Carefully placing his cup onto the small table between the TV and the couch, Bucky sighed in frustration. Not that you were in this situation, but because you hadn’t come to him or Steve, wishing your anxiety would understand that they wanted to help and wouldn’t be annoyed or aggravated by you just simply needing them more than other days.

It was half expected anyway following the weekend, that's why Steve and Bucky had made sure that they were home today rather than in the office, making sure only to be contacted in case of emergency.

Not that this had even crossed your mind at all this morning, in fact, if asked, you couldn’t name what day it was in the week because all that consumed your mind was the hope for Bucky to get up and leave. Hope that he would find something he actually enjoyed doing instead of wasting another hour with you.

Of course, this was ridiculous thinking and if Bucky truly knew what was going through your self-sabotaged thoughts, he would probably sit you down for three hours and rant about how absurd and untrue this was.

“How are you feeling after the birthday weekend, it was slightly intense wasn’t it?” he asked casually, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

“A bit”, was your only answer.

He continued to try and ask questions, hoping to draw some kind of a reaction of out you to engage just how severe this subdrop was and so far, it wasn’t looking that positive. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Again, he referred to the activities from the weekend. Your response was half a shake of the head to say no but that was mostly for his benefit, desperate to not have him feeling bad because, in reality, your body was aching. Especially between your legs and upper arms from where they held you in a firm grip. It wasn’t like they hadn’t prepped but they were so much bigger than you, it always felt a little uncomfortable the day after and yesterday, you’d been begging for them to keep going, thriving in the pain mixed with pleasure. However now as the arousal was swept from your body, and feeling as fatigued as you did, it only emphasised the areas that were especially sensitive.

Judging by your demeanour, he contemplated continuing talking to you, to better understand the stand-offish behaviour but with the slight tremble rocking your body, this wasn’t what you needed.

Bucky instead opted to reach for the pillow, attempting to pull it away but you held on tightly, muttering that it was comfortable. The brunette didn’t relent, however, putting a little more strength until the pillow was firmly in his grip and being placed on the table.

Without missing a beat, Bucky was gently pulling on your arms, coaxing you into his lap. Before you could even straddle his hips, you began to sob, the emotions finally overwhelming you.

Grasping his shirt tightly, you cried heavily into Bucky’s t-shirt and he just held you, running his warm hand up and down your spine in slow circles whilst his metal hand rested on the back of your head.

You cried and cried until completely exhausted and only hiccups remained, eyes now sore and Bucky’s t-shirt soaked. Your boyfriend hadn’t asked you any further questions, he didn’t need to, having been right about his theory, Bucky knew you just needed to be close and present with him and Steve once he returned from the gym.

“You’re safe mama, I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere, I love you”. Bucky repeated these four statements repeatedly, over and over until his mouth was dry and even then continued until his fists loosed the grip of his t-shirt.

“I know you’re going to be feeling some negative emotions right now Doll but I need you to listen to me and believe what I’m saying. We love you, this feeling is going to pass and we’ll be right next to you the entire time.”

Bucky’s words did help to break down that mental barrier but now you were completely exhausted.

“What we are going to do first is go upstairs, I’m going to run you a hot bath then we’ll have some food, maybe have a midday nap, we can watch a movie or play a game. We are going to take today slowly but we’re not leaving your side, not until you’re feeling better, ok?”

With your eyes closed, you were only able to nod against his chest in response. His list of activities sounded perfect, the desire to run away having completely disappeared now which you were thankful for but it was only replaced with the sensation to be cradled to his body. 

Luckily for you, Bucky knew this and was more than happy to mostly carry you up the stairs and into the master bathroom, settling you into the bathtub, and helping to discard your clothes before filling it up with water hot enough to relax your tense muscles. Bucky himself didn’t climb into the bath, instead sat on the floor, stroking his fingers across your head exactly how you liked it, smiling as your furrowed brows relaxed.

You could have fallen asleep right there and then, until Steve’s voice was drifting into your ears as he stood at the bathroom door, sweat dripping from his brow. “Everything ok?”

For the first time that day, you properly looked at Bucky, feeling slightly anxious at the thought of him having to tell Steve about the subdrop. But your boyfriend was quick to swipe away the negativity as he said in a low voice, “Remember what I said downstairs? About the list of activities, we’re doing today? Well Stevie here is going to take my place here and I’ll go and cook us some brunch, how does that sound?”

Surprisingly, the corner of your lips lifted into a subtle smile. Bucky beamed at this, the corner of his eyes creasing with the joy he was displaying before he reached across the kiss the tip of your nose and speak to Steve.

You couldn’t hear what was said but Steve was soon joining you in the bathroom and you sat and watched silently as he took off his gym attire. “Enjoying the view baby?” he asked teasingly before helping you to sit forward, giving him room to sit behind you in the water, eagerly pulling your body back to rest against his. “I love you” he whispered as he held you tightly.

If you weren’t so exhausted, you probably would have cried at even that smallest statement because it was all you wanted to hear.

Turning slightly in his embrace, once again you didn’t feel like talking, even though you wanted to repeat your love to him just as much as you had wanted to with Bucky, the words seemed to fail you. So instead you lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat thumping against your ear. Steve understood your intentions, knew these little signs that showed your vulnerability and made sure to tighten his grip slightly, making you feel enclosed more.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Steve eventually had to move the two of you to make sure you were both washed before the water cooled too much. Then once out of the water, he didn’t waste any time helping to dry your body in a large cream towel, dressing you in oversized pyjamas before even starting to care for himself. As the two of you returned downstairs, Bucky announced that brunch was nearly finished and from the smell, it was going to be delicious.

Throughout the entire time, you were attached to either Steve or Bucky, whether that was holding a hand or sitting on either of their laps and they made sure you didn’t do any chores such as washing up. It was important that you rested when feeling this low so straight after finishing the food, they situated into the living room, finding the TV still on from earlier.

You weren’t particularly bothered with whatever movie was selected. No, you were more distracted by the hulky sandwich they’d somehow squashed you into. Your legs were thrown over Steve’s lap, head laying on his shoulder and Bucky was spooning you from behind, it felt like there wasn’t one part of your body that wasn’t touching both of them and you loved it, not even needing a blanket to feel secure in.

Sleep came peacefully now, the ache in your chest having eased after all the comfort you’d been given. Your last thoughts before succumbing fully to sleep were how thankful you were to Steve and Bucky, looking forward to waking up with more energy so you could show them just how much you really loved them.

#mafia au #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky banes fanfic #mine* #bucky #marvel one shot #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 1

I looked away from my other WIPs for only a second and vomited this up. Thanks.

Simon Riley/John MacTavish/female reader 1.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, M/M/F, angst, explicit sex, DP, everyone is bad at feelings (or are they), men are gross and touch you without consent, protectiveness, bar fights, mentions of injury and violence, polyamory, probably could be considered toxic. You should have gotten out.

It was always them, and then you. You, on the outside looking in. Them, on the inside looking at each other. It felt like you lived somewhere different, a place that you weren’t even sure existed. You were a body in the middle of a big bed, empty for weeks and months at a time during assignments, phone silent, dinner table set for one.

It had been your mistake, of course. Because how could it not? They existed, before you, and they would still exist after you, this you were sure of. And of course, you should have known that it would be a problem. That this snarling, festering, rot of feelings would take shape into something that was bad for all three of you. Still, you tried to scratch and claw it away because you didn’t want to accept the truth.

You should have gotten out, long before it had changed from middle of the night entanglements to phone calls and text messages, dinner plans and grocery shopping, mild pillow talk about the future.

You should have gotten out the morning you made pancakes for breakfast, when you and Johnny sat in the window and tried to keep your voices from waking Simon. You had been on your third cup of coffee by the time you noticed his shadow, standing in the dark of the hall, the small smile tugging at his lips just barely illuminated by the kitchen light.

“Did we wake you?” They only just got in yesterday, their sleep schedules still askew and their eyes still heavy. Your fingers tapped anxiously against the mug as he sat between the two of you, large hand pulling the hot liquid from your grip. 

“No, love.” He sipped your coffee, face twisting into regret before setting it aside and pulling you by your ankle towards him. “But no more coffee. Makes you all jittery, yeah?” Johnny chuckled, folding Simon into his arms easily, and rested his face across the dirty blonde mop of hair under his chin. His eyes said something to you that you couldn’t understand.

You should have gotten out the first time they called you Darling. When Johnny had his face in between your legs, lazily lapping at your cunt and Simon fucked him open.

“Darling.” He hissed, the vowels long on his tongue, fingers intertwined with yours. The cramp of muscles in your lower belly tensing with each stroke of his tongue, your body moving in time with his, his moving in time with Simon’s. The dip of his spine arching like a bridge between the three of you, connecting you, pulling you into the water with them, deeper and deeper until you couldn’t swim anymore, until you had no choice but to rely on them to keep you afloat. 

 You should have gotten out the night you and Johnny went to the bar. The night you wore that dress, dark but dotted with little flowers, small ties looped in a knot across your chest. It swung at your hips, easy in the breeze, the hot summer wind snaking across the skin of your legs, cooling the sweat that collected on the back of your neck. Johnny liked it, he had told you once, and you never forgot. It was nice, and felt good, and hid the raw edges of your open nerves. You had felt like a predator. You looked like prey.

The pool stick was slick in your hand, the buzz of the vodka in your system cocooning you in fuzzy softness, your body lax against Johnny’s so he could position you correctly. 

“Now, hit it here…” 

“Like this?” 

“Aye, that’s it.” You struck the ball with the cue, knocking another into a pocket, Johnny’s thrilled whoop lighting you up with heat and butterflies. “Well done love.” He pressed the palm of his hand against your back, teasing his lips across your cheek. 

“Give me a real one.” You whispered next to his ear, and he obliged you easily, the two of you pliant and undemanding against one another. 

“Go for another round?” he shook his empty beer bottle with the question. 

“Sure.” You placed yourself on a stool while you waited, but the line at the bar was too long, and it wasn’t a minute before there were two others, standing at your side, asking you questions and tracing their foul fingers across your exposed knee. 

“I’m with someone.” 

“Who, don’t see nobody.” Johnny’s back was to you, head bobbing as he spoke with the bartender. 

“He’s over there.” You pointed, but it didn’t matter. The finger moved higher. Your own curled into a fist and slammed into skin and bone. A jaw, maybe. Or a nose. You weren’t sure. But your shout was loud enough, and you could see the turn of Johnny’s body, felt the relief of knowing he saw you. Your victim yelled, and in a second later and a flurry of appendages, Johnny smashed a bottle over his head.

When the two of you got home, Simon was irate. But it wasn’t the kind of red vision rage that you had heard whispers of, but something darker, something more distraught. His eyes were tight when he pressed an ice pack to your knuckles, visible discomfort shifting into sympathy when you hissed in pain. 

“Poor darling.” He murmured, lips on your forehead. He was silent for the rest of the night, fingers constantly feeling for you, for Johnny, until the three of you fell into bed together, your back pressed to his chest, Johnny’s arms around you both.

You should have gotten out the first time Simon said the words our girl, the first time you took them both, with your chest pressed to his, his cock sunk to the hilt in your cunt and his fingers spreading your ass open, the cool kiss of lube making you shudder.

You drew a breath, and the bed sunk beneath the weight of Johnny’s knees when he positioned himself behind you. 

“Take it easy.” Simon murmured, hand reaching somewhere you couldn't see, little grunts falling from Johnny's lips until you felt him pressing the head of his cock to your ass, and pushing inside.  It was so much, the pressure making your head spin, the feeling of taking them both forcing gasps of air from your lungs, your face cradled between two giant palms, thumbs stroking your cheeks. 

“Jus’ relax. That’s our girl.” Simon soothed, eyes flicking up to Johnny’s face, heavy conversation transpiring without words, just over your head. 

“F-fuck.” You hissed, the burn and stretch and sting crushing together until you were babbling nonsense, while Johnny fucked you deep and Simon lazily jerked his hips up into you, over and over. When you fell into your orgasm, you dragged them down with you, and your bodies were limp against one another for hours afterwards.

You should have gotten out, the day you fell asleep on the couch with Simon, curled against his body like you fit there, hand stroking patterns into his forearm. You slept for hours, and when you woke up, the sun had set, apartment dark and quiet.

“What time is it?” you blinked blearily and sat up, groping into the dim light for your phone.

“Just past seven.” He’s still in the same position from three hours ago. 

“Oh my god. Why didn’t you wake me? We’re going to miss the-“ he pulled you back into his chest without a word, thumb pressing to your bottom lip to silence you. 

“Didn’t want to. Rather just lay here with you.” Something broke after that, some part of the protection you had built inside yourself crumbled, and you rolled into him, content to be there until Johnny got home and forced the two of you up for pad thai, his lips ghosting along yours and then Simon’s until you were both fully awake.

You should have got out, but you didn’t. You held onto the hot pan too long, let it sear your skin, let it mark you deep and leave a nasty scar. You let yourself sleep in the big empty bed, worry gnawing you alive on the inside, phone silent as you waited for the ‘touched down’ texts or calls, too eager, too invested. You let yourself think, believe, want, something that wasn’t real. It was always them, and then you, after all.

So, this is how you found yourself with two bags by the front door, key sitting alone on the kitchen island, a four-sentence email sitting in your drafts. Waiting to be sent.

Hey,

I’m sorry. I left. The key is on the island. I locked the front door.

-Darling.

#peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #female reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon Riley x John mactavish x reader #simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley #john mactavish #cod mwii #ghost x soap #cod mw2 #soapghost #soap x ghost x reader #dead disco

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— LIVIN IN YOU

SUMMARY : dean actually loves reading. it should have been obvious what he’d enjoy reading the most. he doesn’t hate all books. he likes fun ones, ones with spice and romance.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), smut, smutty thoughts, fluff, sub!dean, dom!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I was doing research on erotic novels for this and Bared to You by Silvia Day was the first book that popped up so I started reading it as research and planned to read only one chapter. It was all I was gonna include but I ended up liking it, and finished it lmaooo X

Dean couldn’t sleep. His bed was too empty, too cold. He moved around trying to find a comfortable position to finally fall asleep in, before he groaned and stared up at the ceiling thinking of what to do to put himself to sleep.

Y/N was out really late with Cas and Jack getting dinner since Cas and Jack went out on a hunt together and succeeded. Dean had just showered and eaten when they came back and Jack was starving so Y/N kissed Dean goodnight and went to take Jack and Cas for a late night dinner.

He chuckled shyly to himself as his brain suggested something. He looked around for his headphones and then searched in his box where he had his porn. Y/N didn’t look inside because she wasn’t interested in it—having him and all that was her reasoning. He hasn’t looked at his porn in years but he still liked collecting it anyway and Y/N didn’t mind that he did.

He finally found what he was looking for at the bottom of the box, beneath the Busty Asian Beauties magazines he had. He was paranoid and embarrassed about the thought of Y/N finding this out. It was a book he hadn’t read when he first got it. He and Cas had gone to the library years back and he was looking for something to teach Cas about sex while Y/N and Sam stayed back at the Bunker, cooking.

Dean led Cas to the erotic novels sections at the bookstore in town and he started to pick random books for him to read, from LGBTQ+ to heterosexual couples, monogamy to polyamory, BDSM, and more. Even Dean learned a few new things and they made him realise how right Rowena was when she said he was “sheltered”.

Dean sat, cross-legged, in the middle of his bed and kept his sheets on his lap to keep him warm. He plugged his headphones into his phone and let Led Zeppelin play quietly as he tried to focus on the words of the book. He was shy about reading it, so he was barely on chapter six of the book titled Bared to You. It was intense and straight to the point while all at once being a slow burn.

The main character, Eva, reminded him a little of Y/N with her wit and stubbornness, while the love interest, Gideon Cross, reminded him of himself if he were rich and more intense.

He wanted to skip straight to the sex scenes, but since it was surprisingly good, he decided against it. Once he’d started reading it—thinking he’d fall asleep quickly a few days ago, he found himself enthralled and captivated page after page as if he hadn’t had much more intense and creative sex with Y/N at least every night and morning.

He enjoyed the book more by imagining it was him and Y/N as Gideon and Eva. It could at least explain the blush that flared up his neck to his ears and cheeks, and the way his cock stiffened and swelled inside his black boxers.

He never touched himself, he just kept reading the fucked up relationship between Eva and Gideon, grateful that—as fucked up as he and Y/N were, they didn’t have something as complicated or toxic as them.

He wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings or his troubles, but he got there eventually as he processed events. Y/N didn’t push, she was just there—waiting for him, and never complained. She trusted him and she was kind, which helped to make her trust him. It was easier since she knew how to handle her own emotions despite how powerfully she felt them. So much about her made him feel safe enough to feel whatever he was feeling without being judged, invalidated, or forced to talk about it.

He didn’t always tell her he loved her in the traditional sense—through words, but he hoped—when he kissed her, when he made love to her, when he cooked for her, when he held her hand, when he smiled at her, and everything else he did—that she knew it was his way of saying it when it was too much to say out loud.

The book wasn’t very long and it was occasionally real to him. He sometimes related to Gideon and Eva, to their trauma, the feeling of being undeserving of love, the fear of vulnerability and intimacy, the inadequate feeling self-hate caused, disgust, and using sex as a coping mechanism. Now, when he had sex, it was because of surges of love and lust from how kind and tender Y/N was with him.

He didn’t feel used or objectified by her, he didn’t feel good about himself only during sex. He felt loved, worshipped, beautiful, and worthy with every press of her lips on his freckled skin, with every movement of her hands on his body, with the adoring words whispered into his mouth, against his skin. He felt it outside of the bedroom when she gazed at him lovingly when he talked about anything at all—and there was a special little glint when he gushed about cowboys. He felt it when he ate and caught her looking at him already with warm and amused eyes, when she cooked and fed him, praising him and complimenting him for looking cute as he ate. He felt it when she listened and kept her eyes on him like he was the only one in the room worth looking at, the way she hung on his every word, and how she was kind to him despite all the hurt she’s felt. She was everything. There wasn’t a single moment he’s spent with her where he hasn’t felt it.

So, even though the story did stress him out sometimes, he liked comparing Gideon and Eva to himself and Y/N. It made him feel proud of their relationship and good about himself because Gideon was really frustrating to him—and yes, Dean was aware how he keeps stuff to himself as well. However, he had never inflicted such anguish on Y/N by doing so, and he can’t keep it inside very long when Y/N makes him open up like a flower when it’s kissed by the sunrise. It’s not forced, he’s not pressured, it's just natural that he does so, bending to her tender will.

He already knew, years ago, when he started to love her. But the moment he actually let it take him over was when he was fresh out of hell, when they stood by his car in the cold, outside that barn where they hid Anna from Uriel and Cas. And he knew he was done for when she looked at him like he was everything, even as she confessed to knowing what he’d done in hell, when he realised that it didn’t alter or affect her feelings for him.

His walls were obliterated as if they were hit by a meteor when she kissed him, when she stole his breath for the first time, when she touched him so tenderly. When he felt her naked skin against his for the first time, and she quietly chanted his name over and over when he claimed her inside the backseat of his car. He was devastated by the gentle caress of her touch, by her soft panting breaths as he teased her, by the taste of her, by the way she tasted him. He felt beautiful—like a star after its death—when he was inside her that night for the first time, when he’d made love to her like he’d never loved anyone else.

He’d always known she was the only person he’d truly love after that Djinn made her his girlfriend in the wish-dream many years ago. When he told her he loved her in that dream-state and as he said them, he thought to himself that those words were only for her, he swore to himself that he’d never say them to anyone.

He’d gotten to chapter thirteen in a breeze and he was still invested in the story. There was so much drama going on between the characters and he was blushing—not just from how hot the sex was, but because he was embarrassed that he actually liked the book.

Just as he got to another sex scene he shuddered when he felt a little draught and he jumped when he looked up and saw Y/N standing with the door open. She looked like she’d been caught, she was frozen and blinked at him with confusion and surprise.

Immediately, he closed the book and turned it onto its back to hide the cover, then removed his headphones. She relaxed and smiled softly at him, “I thought you’d be asleep.” She stepped forward, her eyes filled with love as she reached out for his face. He stared up at her with a deep blush on his face, he was anxious to be discovered by her, but he closed his eyes when her fingertips gently brushed across his cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” he murmured and opened his eyes, glancing up at her through his thick lashes. Her smile widened slightly and she cupped the side of his jaw, letting him rest his breathtaking face in her soft palm.

“I’m here now,” she whispered. He smiled softly, lifting his hand to hold her wrist and moved it to his mouth so he could kiss her pulse. “Let me get cleaned up, I’ll be right back.” He nodded gently, closing his eyes when she leaned down to kiss his forehead. He leaned into her with a content smile, then offered his lips to her when she pulled away. A single press of her warm mouth on his made his lips tingle, but he let her walk away, and licked his lips as he watched her leave his room. He let himself bask in the aftermath of her tenderness for a few seconds. He just stared at the door she exited from, his eyes drifting away little by little as he bit his lip, deep in thought. Thinking of her—naked, mostly.

Shortly after, he made quick work of hiding his book where it had been and returned his headphones to where they were before as well. He sighed and threw his phone on the wooden bedside table carelessly. He felt a bit of adrenaline at the thought of being discovered and arousal from having been fantasising sexual encounters with Y/N.

Still, he innocently returned to his spot on the bed. He moved beneath the warm sheets of his bed—sitting, and rubbed his eyes when he heard his bedroom door opening again. Y/N was standing there for a while, smiling at the way he rubbed his eyes before she entered. She quietly closed the door behind her and walked towards him, “what were you doing before I interrupted you?”

He stared at the black shirt she wore. It was his Led Zeppelin shirt with a grainy black and white image of a zeppelin and orange coloured words. He smiled at how big it fit her—like a minidress. His adoring, honeydew eyes fell to her bare legs and her blue ankle socks with white clouds, to the grey slippers on her feet.

She climbed onto the bed and he bit his lip, shyly looking at his hands, “listening to music and reading some book about wraiths. It was interesting, so, uh, I couldn’t fall asleep after all,” he lied and she chuckled. She still raised a brow as she inspected his flushed state, and moved the sheets to straddle him, unaware that he was hard. He exhaled shakily when she sat back on his thighs and his hands flexed on her legs as she rested her arms on his shoulders. “How’d it go with Jack and Cas?” He cleared his throat and held her hips, hoping to change the subject even though he only wanted to pull her onto his cock.

“Good,” she murmured, “Jack wanted a burger, milkshake, and some fries.” She smiled down at him, then kissed his lips softly oblivious to the way it only fueled his lust. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed softly. “Cas was just sitting there all stiff, but he relaxed a little when Jack started to ask questions about how all of the food they served was made.” She cupped his face in both of her hands, feeling his ticklish stubble on her palms and the heat of his blush. “You’re warm, are you okay?”

She sounded concerned and she brushed her lips against his forehead to see if he was sick. He only nodded to reassure her he was fine and captured her lips with his in a needy kiss. He brought her hips forward, finally letting her know what was going on down south. She gasped against his mouth at the friction against her clit and he groaned softly at the sound of it, tightening his grip.

“A book on wraiths made you hard?” She teased breathlessly, her eyes fluttering shut when he kissed the corner of her mouth. Her heart rate picked up with excitement and her skin started to get warm with the rush of blood through her body.

“Shut up,” he murmured, kissing across her jaw, nibbling gently on her jawline. He trailed his opened mouth down her neck, his tongue sliding against her soft skin, tasting her and breathing in the fruity scent mixed with the aroma of flowers in her soft hair. “I was thinking of you,” he told her, his voice deep and husky, it made her pussy quiver.

“What about me?” She whispered, her fingers buried in his short hair. He slowly moved his hands up her back beneath the shirt she wore and brought his mouth up to her lips, but he didn’t kiss her.

“The first time I was inside your tight, hot, wet little cunt,” he growled, taking a moment to see her reaction.

“Dean,” she gasped, her stomach fluttering with excitement. Pleased with her response, he pressed his lips against hers, passionate and thrilled with a newfound confidence. He pulled the shirt up and off her body quickly. Her hands returned to his hair to tug at the short strands, drawing out little grunts from him that went straight to her clit. He didn’t give her much time to catch her breath, instantly returning to her lips once he removed the shirt, not that she needed air as she robbed him of his own oxygen with the depth and passion of her returned kiss.

He gently prodded at the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened up to him swiftly, a sudden neediness controlling their actions. He could taste chocolate on her tongue when he licked into her mouth, savouring the flavour of the milkshake she must have ordered as his fingers toyed with the hem of her panties. He felt his skin electrify when she moaned at the gentle strokes of his hot tongue.

“I wanna make you come,” he whispered against her lips. He pulled her closer, her breasts squeezed against his broad chest which was covered in a black Henley. The cotton rubbed against her breasts deliciously and made her nipples tighten. He turned her over onto her back with his arms around her waist and he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took.

He looked down at her, seeing her shiver now that she wasn’t warmed by his body heat and took a moment to admire as she laid naked beneath him. His eyes drifted away from her pink cheeks to look at her full breasts, down her slightly concaving stomach, and finally her pink underwear. His hands flexed on her thighs, slowly rising to her hip bones where her underwear was resting.

“Take me,” she whispered, reaching over to lift his shirt up off him as well, “however you want,” she told him quietly. He groaned softly at her words, quickly taking his shirt off to do as she clearly wanted him to. She stared up at him with wide eyes that swallowed him whole like beautiful, hungry black holes.

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured, looking away from her blushing face fro a few seconds just to remove his boxers. Like him, she’d looked away from his face to watch him strip completely, her little tongue dipping out to moisten her dry lips at the sight of his stiff cock. He looked up at the right moment, caught her quite literally salivating at the sight of his dick leaking at the tip. “Wanna taste?”

That was usually her line, when he’d stare at her glistening folds debating on whether to fuck her already or eat her out. Unlike him, she’d say it bashfully. She’d move his attention away from between her legs because she was just like that sometimes. He adored her to pieces with every fibre in his body.

As she crawled over to him, he sat back on his legs, his hands stretched out behind him as his cock bobbed with excitement. His eyes were on her, right where they belonged, watching her lower herself slightly and very teasingly dipped her tongue into his slit, tonguing away his precum. His breath hitched and his hands fisted the sheets, his hips instinctively moving upwards.

“Yummy,” she said playfully, moving up his body. He stared at her with parted lips, panting as his cock ached for attention, but her hands slid up his thighs and stayed there.

“Please,” he moaned impatiently. She blinked at him once, a little smile on her face making her even more irresistible. She shifted slightly, but his eyes were glued on her as she slowly trailed her fingertips up his cock. She became flustered and averted her gaze to his lips, leaning forward just a bit when he became a little too intense to stare at. Dean felt his lips tingle as they brushed against hers, but he let her have control, let her tease him by refusing to just kiss him senseless.

Her touch was teasing, light and slow as she moved her hand up and down at last. Her thumb swiped over the slit, spreading the warm precum that had started to bead out, her mouth watering at the sight. But instead of continuing to tease him, she moved onto his lap, pulled away from his face to guide his cock to her soaked entrance. And just with the sensation of her warmth around the tip, he whined.

The sound made her insides quiver and she cursed under her breath, a little smirk tugging at her lips. His hands clasped her thighs painfully, the tortuous way she slid down the length of him made him roll his hips up impatiently. The breath she took had caught in her chest at how good it felt to be this close to him once again.

Her lips were on his again, at last, swiftly aiding the passion that made her tummy warm, that made his body burn with so much heat he felt like a sun had started to burn inside of him. He loved it. Being loud on purpose. Losing himself in her completely and giving in, letting her take control and please him the way only she knew how to do.

A loud moan slipped past his lips, into her loving mouth when she sat fully on his lap. The way she tightened around him after each sound spurred him on. His hands moved up her sides, grasping tightly at her hips, hoping to mark her skin as he tugged her forward, fervently giving himself pleasure.

“Just wait,” she murmured against his lips, pulling away to push his shoulders until he was lying down on his back. He whined in response, bratty—cutely refusing to stop. His head tipped back, letting his body relax into the bed while he lifted his hips up, his lips parting to vocalise more of his pleasure. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she chuckled breathlessly, staring down at him—utterly enraptured by his impatience and his determination to make himself feel good.

“Need to cum so ba-Fuck!” He screwed his eyes shut when she lifted herself up and roughly slammed back down. She smiled and laughed, slightly amused and then leaned forward to kiss him, his eyes barely starting to open, only to flutter shut again when he got lost in her kiss.

“You’re so fucking desperate, D,” she teased, her lips brushing against his hairline. A whine from him at her words showed her that he liked it and she moaned in response, continuing to ride him as eagerly as he wanted her to.

His eyes were fixated on hers, heavy with lust, pupils dilated with both love and desire. The way she lifted herself with such agility tore more sounds of pleasure from his throat, deep and rumbling groans that came from within his chest and made her smirk smugly at him. It was so hot, it drew so much arousal from her that lifting herself up and down was embarrassingly smooth, the squelching sound of her pussy being filled by his cock echoed around his room and made his moans get louder.

His grip on her hips tightened, blunt nails digging into her flesh, his back arching from how rough she was fucking him, giving him so much pleasure he thought he’d explode. “Fuck, baby, ‘m so close,” he moaned. His mind was hazy, his skin burning hot and sensitive so that even the way she dug her nails into his chest added to his pleasure. He loved being on the bottom, more than he’d like to admit.

“I could cum just listening to you, Dean,” she panted, leaning over him slightly, one of her hands clutching the pillow his head rested on. She changed the angle of her hips, her clit rubbing against his pelvis, her other hand slid up his chest, wrapping around his throat and squeezing gently.

“Shit,” he gasped, his hips bucking upwards.

“You’re so kinky,” she chuckled, “how about you just cum already, D?” She clenched around him, a gasp slipping past his lips. He shook his head, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip to hold back another moan, his stomach tightening as he tried holding back his orgasm. “Fine,” she chuckled, grinding down on him to stimulate her clit until he was whining, bringing herself closer to the edge as he squirmed beneath her.

“Oh… fuck,” he moaned loudly, his orgasm washing over him before he could even stop it. An arousing look contorted his face as he came, quick curses and whispers of her name puffing past his parted lips that left his mouth and lips dry, making him look so beautiful.

“That’s right, D,” she chuckled, biting her lip to muffle a moan when she felt the warmth of his cum inside her. She started to lift herself up and down again, hard and fast until she reached her own orgasm, her velvety walls squeezing him tightly, and he took it despite how sensitive he was starting to get.

He let her finish, his fingers bruising the flesh of her hips until she stopped shuddering completely. Her entire body turned to jelly, a little smile growing on her lips, gazing at each other in the slight darkness of his room. Only one lamp allowed him to see the state she was in, flushed and a little sweaty like him.

Her gentle eyes swept over his face, watching neutrally as he sat up tiredly, a languid smile on his face when their breaths became normal again, “I didn’t expect that,” he murmured hoarsely, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her cheek. She relaxed in his arms, placing a little kiss on his lips before resting her cheek on his shoulders.

“Y’know I don’t believe you, right?” She mumbled against his shoulder, smirking when his hands stilled on her back. He recovered quickly, his hands continuing to venture up and down her spine, ignoring the feeling of their cum oozing out of her.

“What do you mean?” he chuckled deeply, “I didn’t plan on us having sex tonight.” He knew he sounded unconvincing, but mostly he knew that she wasn’t talking about that at all.

“What were you reading?” She asked, pulling away to analyse him. He swallowed nervously, licking his dry lips as he thought about what to say, but he still felt dazed from his orgasm that no lie to get himself out of the situation came to his mind to rescue him. “Tell me, if it gets you this worked up, I might have to give it a read,” she teased, lifting herself off him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, smacking her ass when he saw she was purposely lifting herself up slowly. She plopped down next to him, rubbing her thighs together as her pussy continued to throb with. He bit his lip gently and admired her, dragging his hand up her soft and warm thighs to reach between her legs where she was completely soaked. “I’m too embarrassed to tell you,” he chuckled, gently massaging her sensitive clit.

“That’s okay because I already know,” she whispered, moving his hand away from between her legs so she could return to his lap. His lips parted, a look of confusion and embarrassment turned his face red, his lips parting with no words being formed. “I clean your room, D, it’s not just magically without dust all the time.. Plus I’m curious about your porn, okay? Some of those ladies are crazy fine,” she chuckled, kissing him passionately.

He pulled away from the kiss, giving her a dirty look that made her laugh. “I’m going to throw them out if you say that again,” he pouted, his fingers mindlessly caressing her thighs.

“Don’t be jealous of them, you know you're my only girl, Dean,” she teased, burying her fingers into his hair and tugging him forward to give him one of the best kisses of his life. He moaned softly, his hands flexing on her thighs, instinctively bringing her closer so her body was pressed against his. He whined against her mouth, pouting at again. Her teeth dug into his plump lower lip, seductively pulling it before she let it go and smiled down at him.

She snickered when she saw the confused look on his face. “I don’t even know what that means,” he mumbled cutely, tracing a few freckles on her legs. She sighed dramatically and grinned at him, getting up to clean herself with a random hand towel he had in his drawer.

He watched her naked body move itself away from him with another pout on his face, waiting for her to look back at him. She did eventually, smirking and shaking her head. He blushed, becoming a little shy, he turned over onto his side to watch her but also to stop himself from doing things to get her attention.

She turned the water on in the sink and leaned against it to clean herself up, letting him see his work. He held his breath, heat spreading over his face like a fire in the forest, his hands clutching his pillow. His eyes were fixated on her every movement, inspecting the way she spread her folds open to clean herself thoroughly despite the sleepiness that made his eyes heavy.

“Enjoying the show?” She smirked, glancing up at him. His eyes snapped up to her face and he shrugged with a little laugh.

“Always.” She stood normally and walked towards him again, into his soft bed until she was right next to him. The towel was slightly wet, and she folded it to use a clean part on him, carefully taking his soft cock to clean him. He hissed quietly, watching her face at first, and then watching how gentle she was with her hands, reaching down to his balls to clean where their cum and her arousal had dripped down. “Round two?” He whimpered and she smirked, pulling her hands away from his dick.

“As horny as I still am, you need to sleep, baby.” Her shoulders shook with silent laughter and he nodded, a lazy smile growing on his lips. He loved this. She moved out of bed to place the dirty towel somewhere to remind herself to wash it tomorrow, and then to wash her hands before she made her way to his drawers to pick a clean pair of boxers for him and clean panties for herself.

She slipped the Led Zeppelin shirt on again and handed him the Henley he’d been wearing, but he childishly put it on the nightstand, “no, I want easy access in the morning,” he whined, stopping her from taking his boxers to him. She laughed softly, then returned their underwear to the drawer neatly.

“Does that mean I’m the little spoon tonight?” She asked, amused, taking his shirt to fold it neatly and placed it back in place. He nodded, fixing the blanket so she could join him beneath them. “Okay, pretty boy,” she murmured, smiling as she made her way to him beneath the sheets, kissing him softly and mumbling goodnight against his lips before turning around. His arm slung over her waist, a happy smile growing on his lips, snuggling closer to her warm body as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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[thebibliosphere]

Just in case any ambiamorous people saw @ polyphilliablog’s “hot take” on their socials today, please disregard how unkind and gatekeepery it is.

Its unfortunate that they feel comfortable spouting such belittling and exclusionary personal views on a page thats supposed to be about education, but just because they are a well-known educator in polyamory circles, doesn’t mean their view about this is correct.

You’re not an inherently bad person if you identify as ambiamorous. You are not trying to “trick” polyamorous people into monogamy, and nor are you coercing your monogamous partners into polyamory/hurting people--or whatever the Hell else Leanne was trying to imply.

It's also not a “phase” nor does it mean you’ve refused to “make up your mind.” It just means you’re happy in either a monogamous or non-monogamous relationship structures. That's it.

And even if it is a “phase” good for you for exploring your sexuality and preferred relationship structure! Just do so with respect and consideration for other people’s feelings, and a lot of communication. Y’know, like how you should with any relationship, polyamorous or otherwise.

Honestly, it just feels like such a projection of their own experiences with toxic people and assuming that the common factor between them is ambiamory and not the fact that some people are just shitty.

Honestly so disappointed in them today.

#discourse in the polyam world #ambiamory #polyamory

[written-in-flowers]

Appreciated: Wooyoung x Fem!reader

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst, romance

Word Count: 9k

Summary: After helping a friend out of her toxic relationship, her situation makes you appreciate your boyfriends even more than before. When Wooyoung makes a specific request, you indulge him.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: established relationship, polyamory, poly relationship, free-use fantasy, free-use kink, oral sex (f. receiving), breast play, nipple play, pet names, multiple positions, mentions of toxic relationships/toxic partners, sad but with a happy ending, talks of suicide but super brief and nothing happens, members being absolute angels and simps

Previously on Idol Companion

***

You didn't feel like going out tonight. After having dates with San, Mingi, Yeosang and Hongjoong, your energy bar ran low. You know this is one of the downsides to your job, and you should suck it up and get dressed. Wooyoung deserves as much attention as the rest of the group; you didn’t want him to think you didn’t like being with him. Most clients would pout or make a remark about you not being worth the time anyways. Then again, your boyfriends aren't like any clients you've had before. Sitting up from Wooyoung’s bed, all the tiredness you’d gotten from the day washed back over you. Your morning consisted of gym time with Yunho and Mingi, a few dance classes with your toddler group, running last minute errands and then lunch with friends. You’d come to Wooyoung’s apartment and crash onto his bed before he even came home. 

You knew Wooyoung won’t be bothered, but you couldn’t help feeling the anxiousness. You hated being the person who brought down their smiles or disappointed them. Leaving his bedroom, you found Wooyoung already standing in the kitchen with a can of soda in his hand. Long black strands pulled back from his face, Wooyoung wore a black shirt with matching shorts. Personally, you loved your boyfriends barefaced and casual. Something about their natural beauty attracted you, and you couldn’t help looking him up and down when you saw them. He lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgement and took a sip from his drink.

"I wanted to ask you something," you said, getting your own drink from the fridge. 

You noticed he’d paused, studying your expression before saying. "I do too, but I think we're thinking the same thing so you go first."

"Staying in for tonight?"

"Yes, please," he slumped against the counter, "I'm glad you asked. I really didn't feel like putting myself together and going out."

"Me neither," you leaned on the counter beside him. You popped open your drink, then took a few gulps of it before continuing, "I went to the movies with Yeosang last night. I went to the festival with Hongjoong the night before. I went to a concert with Mingi and San the night before that. I went to the gym, had some toddler dance classes, and then ran errands. I'm just…wiped out," you sighed deeply. "I'm sorry."

He smiled, "Don't be. Our schedule has been super crazy and dance practice ran longer today so I'm all bleh." He wrapped you in his arms, "Take out and a movie?”

“I’m tired of eating out,” you said, “I’ll cook something and we can pick a drama to watch or whatever.”

“You sure?” you felt his hand rub the small of your back, “I know how tired you are.”

“I can make something simple and quick.”

“Then, I’ll help,” he concluded. “I think there’s some meat leftovers we can finish, and we’ll cut up some veggies and rice? Simple and easy?”

“Alright.”

Wooyoung went looking for meat and vegetables in the fridge, while you poured a few cups of rice from a holder. You smiled softly to yourself at the relief of a night inside. Having eight boyfriends can be challenging at times. You realized early on that you’d bitten off more than you could chew with Ateez. You found yourself stretched thin from all the tour traveling, kpop conventions, fan sign events, dance practices, recording sessions, and group and solo dates. You lived with only Yunho and Yeosang, but you regularly drifted between the three apartments to be with all of them. It became a lot sometimes, but thankfully, they understood and helped lighten the load for you. Dumping the cups into the rice cooker’s pot, you began washing the rice out when your phone vibrated in your pocket. Busy cooking, you didn’t answer immediately. 

“Any show in particular you want to watch?” Wooyoung asked as he brought a package of meat to the island counter. You always let him cut and cook meat since he was better at it. Rice and vegetables are your expertise. “I saw this new zombie drama on Netflix. We could give that a try if you want.” 

“I don’t know about a zombie one,” you said, finishing with the rice and putting it to cook. “Everything is about freaking zombies nowadays. I want something different.” Putting the rice on, you grabbed the various vegetables Wooyoung brought to start washing them thoroughly. “There’s a drama about a woman who’s like a double agent for a mafia guy and the police. Mihee told me about it and she said it was good. If we hate it, we can just watch another one.”

Wooyoung stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “Nah. Sounds like something I need to pay attention to, and my brain is mush right now.” 

“Then maybe I should cut the meat,” you joked, bringing your vegetables and cutting board over to the island counter. “Your mushy brain might slip up.”

“And have you cut your finger again? I’m good,” he laughed. “I like my food to not have human blood in it.” 

He cut the meat into thin slices, while you carefully chopped the onions, carrots and celery. “We can try this boxer drama I saw,” he said, side eyeing you with a smirk, “As long as you don’t drool over the leads.”

You rolled your eyes, “I do not drool over the leads.”

“Yes, you do,” he laughed, starting to season the meat on the cutting board. “I remember how obsessed you became with Lee Dohyun when we watched Sweet Home together. Then you did it again with Wi Jahoon after Squid Games. You watched everything you could find and got all excited when your friend told you she went on a date with Dohyun.” 

“I couldn’t believe it!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t see him as being the type for that kind of service. She was so lucky.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung said, offended. He took the meat from the counter to the stove, putting oil into a pan. “I’m right here, you know.”

You giggled when he poked your side, and then you gave an apology peck. “Oh, you know I’m all yours.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket a second time, and you wiped your hands to at least see who called. Expecting your mother’s number, a pit of worry settled in your stomach when you saw the actual name. ‘Mihee’. Wooyoung focused on cooking the meat, so you answered her call. 

“Mihee-ah, what’s up?” you asked, making sure not to sound worried right off the bat. 

“YN-unnie,” you heard her soft-spoken voice squeak your name, and you frowned, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What happened now, honey?” you kept your concern in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t handle this anymore. It’s too much,” she sobbed. “They’re so…I can’t be here anymore.”

“What did they do?” 

Lee Mihee, a short woman with bright eyes and a friendly smile, came up in the Companion industry beside you. Always bubbly and full of life, clients often noted her way of brightening up their day. She’d gotten into dating groups like you did, and did very well since she could mold herself to fit any personality. However, while you had ATEEZ, who were angels, she’d gotten with Galax1. You’d met them a handful of times at music bank shows and conventions and their vibe immediately threw you off. They’d been kind enough at first, since they doted and praised Mihee often, but from what she’s told you things changed over time. 

“Today was Chulsoon’s birthday,” she began, taking deep breaths to keep her voice steady, “And we all were going to go out for dinner.”

The name alone made you clench your jaw. Chulsoon was Galax1’s visual and main vocalist. A soft, fair-skinny boy with wide eyes and an angelic voice, he is the Yeosang equivalent. Except Yeosang is a real fairy prince, whereas Chulsoon is a goblin in disguise. He never fails to make a disparaging remark about Mihee, usually in a nonchalant tone. You nearly threw a shoe at him when he told Mihee she should lose some weight, since her dress was tight in the middle. 

“Yeseo was coming with us.”

You groaned at the mention of her name. It isn’t uncommon for groups to bring in more partners as they progress in their career. You knew groups that had three or four of them. However, the normal procedure is discussing a new partner with the group’s current partner. Mihee told you that Galax1 did not do that. They brought Yeseo home after a single meeting, and told Mihee that she’d be living with them. No discussion. No contract alterations. You advised her to go to the agency and renegotiate her contract, since they did not tell her they’d be adding a new girlfriend. However, you guessed she never did this due to the group’s leader talking her out of it. This situation might’ve been okay if Yeseo actually got along with Mihee, who is now the group’s Main Partner. Mihee told you she did not. She was spoiled, entitled, and demanded all the attention. 

“And she made a mess of things and embarrassed you?” you guessed ahead, dumping the vegetables into an oiled pan. Wooyoung scrunched his nose in a question, and you mouthed ‘Mihee’, which made him nod and continue cooking. 

“No, no, not that,” she said. “I get dressed to go to the restaurant with everyone, and Chulsoon sees me and-and says that I look too pretty and need to change because this is supposed to be Yeseo’s night. His parents are going to be there, and he wants to introduce them to her.”

Your jaw dropped, “He actually said that to you?”

“He-He did,” she replied in a sob. 

“Don’t tell me you actually changed?”

“I did. I didn’t want to ruin his birthday and Kwangmin told me that Chiwon’s mom was looking forward to seeing me.”

“Let me guess: Chiwon’s mom never said that?”

“No!”

Kwangmin was Galax1’s comedian who likes making jokes and is their mood-maker. Another skinny man with a dimpled smile, fans adored their ‘sunshine boy’. Little do they know, sometimes his “pranks” went too far and could be downright hurtful. Sadly, Mihee is usually his target. You hadn’t forgotten the time he’d pantsed her in public, her face beet red and tearful as the embarrassment filled her insides. Nor the time when he purposefully ruined her birthday party video by replacing all the nice photos with terribly altered ones. Each time he claimed it was a ‘joke’, but nobody was laughing. 

“I felt so stupid and humiliated,” she sobbed. “I almost did not go to the restaurant, but I’d already gotten dressed, so I went anyway. When I was…When I was…” you heard her take deep breaths. 

“When you did what?”

“When I was in the car, Yeseo kept complaining that I still looked too pretty and that she didn’t want me there,” she said. “She said me crying was just going to draw all the attention away from her.” 

“Ugh, that bitch.” You felt like going to their dorm and smacking the insipid bitch. “What happened then?”

“Chiwon told me to stop being a cry baby, and that not everything is about me.” 

Kwang Chiwon. You’d consider the group’s leader your worst enemy if you actually cared about him. In front of fans and cameras, he’s a hard working artist who cares about his younger members. Off camera, he proved to be a different guy; he tended to be Mihee’s worst tormentor. He could cut her down with a single remark. He’d break her things, then blame her for making him so mad that he did it. He never showed concern or care for her. You could tell how much he truly disliked Mihee. You guessed the Companion idea was not his doing, but his managers or his members. His cruelty hurt the most because Mihee had loved him the hardest. 

“I stayed in the car for a bit to calm myself down, but when I got inside the restaurant,” you heard her take more deep breaths before bursting into tears again. 

“Babe, babe, calm down and breathe, okay? Just breathe. Just breathe in and out.” You heard her breathing shakily, and she continued. 

“The host says my name isn’t on their party list and I couldn’t go inside.” 

“What?”

“Yeah, he said that it wasn’t there and I wasn’t allowed to go inside with them.”

“They did that shit on purpose,” you seethed, anger distracting you from the vegetables you’d put in the pan. Quickly, you put them into a plate before they burn up. “They never planned on you sitting with them. They did it to humiliate you, again. Mihee-ah, why do you stay with them? You can get out of your contract easily.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean ‘you can’t?”

“I don’t make enough from them to leave. They’re not as popular as your boyfriends. They don’t make a lot of money yet,” she said. 

A Companion’s pay is usually determined by the group’s budget. Since your boys make millions, you can live comfortably on your own, if you wish. Galax1 did not do so well. Hardly anybody really knew who they were, and you’re glad that karma turned back on them. 

“It’s so horrible here,” she sobbed. “They never think about me anymore. They make food, and if I’m not there with them, they don’t make enough for me.” 

This made you pause over your current meal. A meal you’re cooking with your loving boyfriend Wooyoung, who always made sure you ate well. You couldn’t picture them ever leaving you out of anything. Yeosang is incapable of being mean, and Yunho is too caring. Hongjoong, above them all, takes care of you as much as possible. 

“And I never told you about the time Kenny grabbed my arm hard and left a bruise.”

Kenny. The group’s ‘muscle pig’. You’d seen his muscles, and imagined him being capable of that. 

“They used to be so nice to me. I…I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know what happened.”

“You didn’t do anything. They’re the assholes. They’ve taken advantage of you too many times.”

You could never see Jongho making jokes at your expense, or San using his strength to physically harm you. 

“We used to all be so happy. I remember when Chulsoon used to make me pancakes after our date nights, and when Chiwon would let me sit in his studio with him to listen to his songs,” she lamented. “Kenny used to sing me to sleep when I had nightmares, and would take me out for coffee after our gym sessions. He doesn’t even want me going with him anymore. I don’t know what I did, Unnie. I don’t know where I went wrong or why they stopped caring about me. Everything is always my fault even when it’s not. I’m always the bad guy, the one in the wrong, the asshole. They hardly notice me or talk to me some days. They’re more concerned with their new pet than they are with me.”

“Then leave them and let her deal with their bullshit,” you told her. 

“Maybe I should terminate my contract.”

The words shocked you beyond belief. All thoughts of your night with Wooyoung went out the window in a single sentence. 

“No, Mihee-ah,” you said firmly. “Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s not like anyone would care!” she cried. 

“That’s not true, Mihee, and you know that. So many people would care,” you replied with a plea. “I’d care. Saehee, Jihye, and Sumi would care. Your parents and grandparents would care. Your sisters, who adore you, would care. Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the only way I can get out!” 

“No, it is not.”

“I can’t afford to leave. My contract isn’t up for another year. I…I have to do it.”

“No, you do not,” you told her. 

There are only two ways a Companion can get out of their contract without paying: they’re dignosed with a terminal illness or they try committing suicide. You’d heard of Companions ending up in hospitals because they tried ending their lives. A few of them actually succeeded. The idea of Mihee, sweet and gentle Mihee who never hurt anyone, doing something like that brought tears to your eyes. 

“Where are you?” you asked her. “Mihee-ah, where are you?”

“I walked back home. I couldn’t stay there. I didn’t want them to come out and find me,” she said. “It hurt so much. Everything they do hurts. It’s like they don’t want me around. They treat me like I’m a nuisance to them…I’m a punching bag when they’re mad. I’m a joke to them.”

“There are other ways to get out of your situation, Mihee.” 

“How?!” 

As you stayed on the phone with Mihee, you texted another friend of yours: Jihye. She lived closer to Mihee, and would get to her faster than you could. 

You: MIHEE WANTS TO TERMINATE!! 

Jihye-babe: OMG WHERE IS SHE??

You: at her place. I’m trying to talk her down now. I’m too far away to get there in time.

Jihye-babe: omw don’t worry

“You can go to the agency dorms and get a room,” you said, “And tomorrow we’ll go Sungmi and she’ll find a way to help you out. They should have records from your medical appointments. If you tell the therapist what you’re thinking of doing-”

“-I haven’t been going to my appointments.”

“Why not?”

“Chiwon says I don’t need to go. He says I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Mihee, please,” you sniffled. “Jihye is on her way to you.”

Mihee continued crying, and hearing her cries broke your heart further. Several awful visions went through your head as you listened. Not Mihee. You texted Sungmi, your agent. You told her everything Mihee said, and her response relieved you. 

Sungmi: I will get her a room in the residency building, and send someone to go pick her up. Jihye will be there?

You: Yes, she’ll be there. She can’t afford the fees right now, though. 

Sungmi: I’ll waive the dorm fees for now. I’ll arrange a payment plan with the bursar’s office tomorrow morning.

You: Thank you, Sungmi. 

“Sungmi is sending a van to come pick you up,” you told Mihee. “You can stay there for a while.”

“I can’t pay.”

“She’ll work that out later. We want you to be safe, babe. You’re going to be okay,” you comforted her. 

You felt so helpless. You felt useless. 

“They’ll come get me back anyways,” she sniffled. “They won’t let me go.”

“The agency will make them let you go.”

If there is one authority who could stop this, it’d be your agency. You’d joined The Eden Agency years ago when you saw their dedication to taking care of their employees and workers. You knew all the stipulations and restrictions they put into their contract clauses to keep everyone safe and happy. You couldn’t believe Galax1 somehow made it under the radar this long. Your hands clenched into fists as you stayed on the phone with Mihee, who gradually calmed down until you heard Jihye in the dorm. The savory scents of the food you’d cooked did not penetrate through your anger. How could they do this to her? You couldn’t fathom why someone would do this to a person they claimed to love.

“The van’s here,” Jihye’s voice came through Mihee’s phone. “I’ll go with her to make sure she’s settled in okay.”

“Keep me updated, yeah?”

“Totally.” She gave a sigh, “I can’t believe those assholes. Saehee and Sumi are gonna meet us at the agency. When can you be here?”

“In an hour,” you said, putting the vegetables on the counter with a concerned Wooyoung. “I’ll bring some food for her. She’ll be hungry and the cafeteria will be closed.”

“Good idea. I got a bottle of soju in my purse.”

You didn’t laugh, though you wanted to. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, cool. See ya.”

Both of you hung up, and suddenly you did not feel hungry anymore. Wooyoung stood on the other side of the counter now, chopsticks in his hand as he picked up a bit of meat to put in a perilla leaf. 

“What’s wrong with Mihee?” he asked, with concern on his face. 

“She…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You felt as if saying it might embarrass Mihee. “She had a big fight with Chiwon, and he said a bunch of nasty things to her.” You picked up your own chopsticks, but only picked at the cooked vegetable sides. “She was having a panic attack, so I texted Jihye and Sungmi. She can’t keep living with them. They’re so terrible to her, and that new girlfriend of theirs is no help either.”

“I can’t believe she stayed with them this long,” Wooyoung told you after chewing his food. “I remember doing Kingdom with those guys, and they were so rude. They hated each other, and were hard to work with.” He snorted, “You should’ve heard the way they talked about you when you told that Kenny guy off.”

Yes, you remembered Kingdom. You also remembered Mihee doing her best to keep the six idiots happy. “What did they say?”

“He’d told San that we should keep a leash on our woman,” he snickered, “And that if we put your mouth to good use, it wouldn’t gab so much.”

You groaned, “Ugh, they’re so gross. What did you say?”

“San almost kicked his ass,” he said, eating his meat and leaf. “Hongjoong-hyung told him it wasn’t worth it and took him away.” He shook his head, “I felt bad for her. If they talk badly about other women, I can’t imagine the things they say about her.” 

“They’re so mean to her,” you told him. You picked at a bit of meat and rice, but barely tasted it. Your worry for Mihee ruined any taste you might’ve enjoyed. “I don’t know why a group would keep a Companion they obviously don’t care about anymore.”

You did, but you felt disgusted saying it in the open. So Wooyoung said it for you. 

“Because they want a free cook and maid,” he said, eating one of the sides you made with rice. “I’m sure they can be charming when they’re horny and want a quick fuck from her too.”

“Gosh, don’t say that. I don’t want to think about what that’s like for her.” You ate from each dish sparingly, “I don’t know what I’d do if you guys started treating me that way.”

“I do.”

“Oh?”

“You’d kick our asses,” he smirked and laughed before sipping from his Coke can. “We’d never fall out of love with you, babe. You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

You smiled, “Even if I wanted to leave tomorrow?”

“Even then. I’d spend the rest of my life trying to win you back if you did that.” 

You believed him. Out of all the members, Wooyoung took to you the quickest and easiest. Yeosang joked he skipped a few steps in becoming friends with someone, since by the next time you saw him, he already kissed your cheek and called you ‘love’. You told Yeosang that Wooyoung is simply an affectionate person who likes talking to people. When their debut came and Wooyoung could put his name on your contract, he became the most physically affectionate of them all. It’d been his opinion you trusted whenever you met a new person, since he picked up on vibes and moods fairly quickly. 

“So, I’m assuming drama night is being postponed?” He did not say this in a disappointed voice, but a playful one. 

“At least for a little while,” you winced. “I’m sorry, Woo.” 

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” he assured you. “Mihee is one of your closest friends, and she needs you right now. I’ll be here when you come back.” He stood up to grab an empty food container, “Take her some food so she’s not hungry. Home cooked food is the best when you’re feeling down.”

You gave his cheek a kiss, then began packing food and snacks for Mihee while he cleaned. When you finished, you turned to see him by the sink. Everything paused all of a sudden. Mihee spends portions of her day cooking for her “boyfriends” and is then left to clean it all up. Your boyfriends never let you do anything on your own. Every time you cooked, one of them offered to help as best as possible, even if it was being Designated Food Taster. They might talk over who cleans up afterwards, but they never bring your name into it, especially if you’re the one who cooked. You couldn’t imagine any of them treating you how Galax1 treated Mihee. 

“Wooyoungie,” you called him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, angel.”

‘Angel’. A name so commonly given to you. What did Galax1 call Mihee? “If we all went out somewhere fancy together, would you make sure my name was on the list?”

“Psh, of course,” he put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, “We’d make sure your name is the first on it.”

“And would you ever tell me to change my clothes because you didn’t want me to deflect attention from someone else?”

“No,” he squeezed some detergent into the washer, then said, “Is this about Mihee?”

“Yes.” 

“YN,” he closed the door and turned it on, “Never in a million years would we treat you that way. In fact,” he walked over to you and held you in his arms, “We do our best to put your happiness first. It only works out that you’re always doing the same for us.” He kissed you softly, then said, “I love you, YN. Not just because the sex is incredible and you’re insanely gorgeous either,” you both laughed together. “But, you’re a kind, compassionate, empathetic person who would drop all her plans to go help a friend who needs her.” He gently rubbed your arms, scanning over your features, “I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, you know that. I can’t believe you’re even asking these questions.” He kissed you again, and said, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Hearing him say this warmed your heart, but also made it hurt for Mihee more. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was her. You slipped from his arms to grab your bag from the couch, and left out the door. 

Not before Wooyoung reminded you to take a jacket. 

***

They’d put Mihee in a room by the time you arrived at your agency building. The resident rooms are meant for the freelance Companions who only go on dates. Much like a university dorm, it came with a bed, desk, dresser, and a communal bathroom down the hall. With the cafeteria giving three meals a day, Companions could also get discounts at the agency cafe and on their health checkups. You’d enjoyed living there, since it brought you closer to people who did what you do and it helped you out during rough times. It’s why it’d been your first choice when considering refuge for Mihee, who’d been too distraught to think straight. Unfortunately, the dorm came with a fee that they’d take from every check you received. A fee Mihee could not afford immediately. 

“I’ll work something out with the bursar's office,” Sungmi told her as she settled into her new room. “You stay here and rest for a few days, alright? You’re in a safe space now.”

“Th-thank you, Sungmi-unnie.” 

Sungmi gave her a tight hug, patted her head, and said goodbye to you and the others. Jihye, tall with long blond hair, waited until Sungmi left to open her purse. “I brought soju,” she smirked, “We could all use a drink. You, especially,” she told Mihee and began searching for complimentary cups. 

“Have they contacted you at all?” Saehee, short and round-faced with a brown bob hair cut, took a seat on the bed beside Mihee. 

Mihee still wore the shimmery lavender dress she planned on wearing to the dinner. Her tears smudged most of her makeup, and her lip tint wore off and left her lip liner still there. You hated seeing her this way. You pulled out the makeup wipes you kept in your purse, and gave it to her to clean herself off. 

“No,” she shook her head, her voice still thick from sobs, as she pulled out a wipe, “I texted Chiwon, but he…”

“Left you on read?” Sumi asked reproachfully. She took a soju cup from Jihye. Sumin, tanned with medium length black hair, stood wearing her gym clothes still. Out of the five of you, Sumi worked out the most. “Ugh, he’s so disgusting. I don’t know why you’re so bummed. He’s not even that cute or that successful. I won’t be surprised if their group doesn’t disband in a year or so.”

“They embarrassed themselves with that last comeback,” Jihye snickered, handing you and Saehee a cup. You didn’t drink it. You didn’t think you could stomach anything else. “Like, that song of theirs. What was it called? ‘Dick Me Way’?”

You stifled a laugh, “I think it was called ‘Milky Way’.”

“Psh, could’ve fooled me. It did not sound like they were saying ‘Milky Way’.”

“I thought they might at least be curious as to where I went,” Mihee said to you. “They might not care, but I thought at least Josh would text me. He was always decent towards me.”

“Fuck Josh,” said Saehee, who downed her soju shot immediately. “He’s a dick too. I don’t care how nice he was to you. He still lets them treat you like garbage.”

You unpacked the food you’d brought for everyone to pick at while they talked. Mihee started extolling tales about the things her partners did off screen: how they preferred Yeseo over her, the mean remarks they made about her appearance, how angry they’d get if she made a mistake. It upset you far too much to keep on eating. You thought about what Wooyoung told you about your happiness being their first priority. If they commented on your appearance, it was out of concern and not maliciousness. 

Chiwon told Mihee she ate too much. Yunho would tell you that you didn’t eat enough sometimes, often bringing you snacks during shoots or water when he saw you didn’t drink enough. 

Kwangmin once gave Mihee an empty Gucci box as a present. Hongjoong took you to a fashion show where he made sure the designer had clothes for you to wear too. You’ll never forget his face when he saw you in the final outfit. 

Kenny once told her that she’d have to pay her own way to go with them on tour. Seonghwa always made sure you were included in tour plans because he didn’t want to leave you behind. You never paid a single cent. 

Her boyfriends did not care where she went, what she did or who she did it with. She texted their group chat hours ago, and none of them responded. If you go too long without contact, at least three or four of them will call to check on you. Mihee told you that they rarely spent time with her anymore. Your boyfriends would rather be with you than anywhere else. Mihee’s stories made every complaint you’ve ever made about your boyfriends miniscule and childish. So what if Yunho played games until late into the night? So what if Yeosang was a messy eater or Jongho did not always pick up after himself? They adored you. They loved you. They’d do anything you asked of them, and if they could not, they’d find a way to make you happy. You wished Mihee would find someone like them. 

You stayed with the girls in Mihee’s dorm until eleven o’clock when visiting hours ended. You put leftovers in Mihee’s mini fridge, kissed the top of her head and hugged her tightly. 

“Thank you, YN-unnie,” she said into your shoulder, her voice muffled by your jacket. “If you hadn’t done this for me…I don’t think I’d be here right now.” 

This made you hug her tighter. “I’ll come by tomorrow around two and we can go to your place together to get your stuff, okay? Get some rest.”

“I will,” she nodded.

With one last cheek kiss, you left Mihee’s room and met with Jihye and the others down the hall. In the elevator, she said, “Good on you to text me. When you told me she talked about ‘terminating…” she visibly shuddered, “I almost had a panic attack.”

“I was worried she might’ve already done it,” said Saehee, crossing her arms nervously. “I felt super sick thinking about it.”

“Me too,” Sumi agreed. “Is it messed up that it made me think about my own relationship? Like, I can’t see Yongbok or Changbin ever being cruel to me like that.”

“I don’t think so,” Saehee told her. “When she told me about Kenny almost hitting her once, I thought about Seokjin and how he can be sometimes. We might get into arguments, but he’d never try to hurt me or make me cry just to feel like he won.” 

“It makes me realize how lucky I am,” you said quietly as the elevator reached the bottom floor. “Yeah, it’s tough juggling eight guys on my own, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything else in the world.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

The four of you walked Saehee home first and then Sumi. Jihye went with you to the train station where you waited for the train to take you home. 

“Do you think Mihee will be okay?” asked Jihye. “I mean, they’re the first group she’s ever dated and she was so in love with them. What if they try to get her back or she can’t get out of her contract?”

“Sungmi will fix that,” you assured her. “If anything, I’ll pitch in some money to help her out. I’m sure Saehee will too, since her boyfriends are such big superstars now.”

“I’ll hand some over,” Jihye said. “I happen to know some cute clients who are into girls like Mihee, so if she ever has trouble getting on her feet again, I can slip their names to Sungmi.” 

You nodded at her suggestion, and put your hands in your pockets. “I just want her to be happy and safe. She deserves that.”

“She really does.” 

When the train arrived, you hugged her goodbye and went onboard. On the way home, you checked your phone for the first time since seeing Mihee. As expected, Wooyoung was the first to message you. 

WooWoo 🦊: Are you on your way home soon? It’s getting late. 

You: I’m on the train now. We lost track of time. 

You took a train selfie to appease him, but also because he’d ask for one anyways. 

WooWoo 🦊: Beautiful 😍 is she okay now?

You: Yeah, she’s settled into the dorm and I told her we’d go get more of her stuff tomorrow afternoon. Jihye only got the essentials, but she needs more clothes and stuff. 

WooWoo 🦊: I’m glad. I like Mihee. She’s sweet. Now, get home quickly. I have a surprise for you. 

This message prompted you to go into the group chat you shared with all the members. You mainly used it to discuss group dates or to idly talk about your days as a whole. Anything you had to tell them, you sent it there. As the train stopped at another station, you started typing:

You: My friend Mihee’s staying at the residency dorms at my agency because she talked about killing herself. She told me tonight all about how awful her boyfriends are to her and the terrible things they’ve done. It’s so disgusting it makes me sick. I feel so sorry for my friend because she’s a lovely person and very special to me, but her situation has made me realize how lucky I am. 

Tears started brimming your eyes as you continued. 

You: since the day we met, you’ve been nothing but good to me. Even when you had nothing to offer me, you still did your best to make me happy. You give me so much freedom, which a lot of Companions don’t always have. You don’t keep me on a strict diet. You don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear. You include me in everything you do, and never make me feel left out or unimportant. You never push past my boundaries and respect my privacy and space. When I’m with any of you, I feel safe. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me, and if you accidentally do, you make up for it and apologize. I feel special and beautiful and important when I’m with you. I love each of you so much, and I hope we’re together forever. 

The messages poured a few minutes after you wrote this. 

My Bear 🐻: you know we’d do anything for you, angel. You’re such a special person to me, I couldn’t live my life without you now that I have you. 

Yuyu 🐶: The last thing I’d ever do is hurt you. I love you too, baby ♥️

Hwa 🐰: why would I not include you in everything? You’re my angel, baby. 

Prince Yeosang 👑: I always want to be a person you feel safe with. I know you have your bad days, and I want to be someone who uplifts you. I love you, my princess ♥️♥️

Choi ⛰️: Noooo now I’m crying!! I love you so much, angel. I want us to be together forever too. 

Mingi 🦁: I love you too, angel. You’re the first person I think of when I’m down, because you know how to make me feel better. I don’t ever want to be without you ♥️

Choi ⛰️: we were so nervous when we first met you kekeke 

Joongie 🐱: you know I love you more than the air in my lungs. I could never hurt you, because hurting you would be like hurting myself. You’re a part of me. 

Hwa 🐰: waaaahhh hongjoong putting us all to shame!!

The one person who didn’t answer in the chat texted you privately instead. 

WooWoo 🦊: I’m sorry about your friend. I hope she is okay now. I saw what you put in the chat and I wanted to tell you something: 

WooWoo 🦊 : There was this book quote I read once that really stuck with me. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”. It stuck with me because that’s how I feel about you, YN. I feel like if we met in a different lifetime, you and I would still fall in love because we’re the same. It’s why you’re in every music video, because we’d love you in every universe. I love you, YLN YN. I love love love love love you. Come home soon. I miss you. 

You wiped the tears trickling down your cheek as you reread their messages. San recounted the night you’d all met. 

Two weeks before their debut, the boys’ schedule was packed with dance practice, studio recordings, promoting themselves, singing and rapping lessons. They did not have much free time, but management set up a date between you and them. You’d been going through financial troubles from your previous relationship, which left you desperate for a good gig. While going on random dates helped in the short term, it was contracts Companions typically sought out. You decided on a trial-run with an eight-member group to see how things went, and if it worked out, you’d sign a contract with them. A one-year contract where you’d be the sole girlfriend sounded promising. You’d handled groups before now, and a year-long contract is a reasonable starting point; you worked out anything longer after a few dates. You’d seen photos and videos of ATEEZ that KQ sent you, since it’s only fair you see what they looked like. The ‘99 line had all been 18 or 19, and Jongho turned 18 right before then. Only Seonghwa and Hongjoong could be actual romantic partners for you. They’d been so young back then, you realized as the train passed another station. They’d seemed harmless enough, and you really needed a good job. 

You never expected to be with them this long. But, when you met them at the barbeque restaurant that night, you really enjoyed their general vibe. You saw their close-knit brotherhood right away, and the genuine care they had for one another. It was something you noticed in groups from smaller companies; they worked and lived together, which built up a natural love for one another. That love soon stretched over to you. Smiling to yourself, you recalled how shy they’d been around you that night. Wooyoung, Mingi, San, and Yunho did a majority of the talking despite their nerves. The other members revealed later on you’d been much prettier in person, and it intimidated them. 

Walking home from the train station, you thought about those days fondly. You’d often meet up with them at the Han River, where you’d go riding bikes and eating street food together in the spring. They didn’t have much money to spend on you, but that didn’t matter to you. Their company soon became enough for you. You remembered a night when you went to eat after dance practice, and you’d sat specifically with Yeosang because he thought you wouldn’t be interested in him. Shy and anxious, you managed to get him to open up to you like a clam, and his shyness melted away. Once, you went to a convenience store with San and Wooyoung after everyone went to sleep. The three of you played hide and seek down the street. 

It’d been under a street light on the corner that Wooyoung kissed you for the first time. 

“Wooyoung, I’m back,” you said into the apartment, knowing well Jongho is too busy gaming and Hongjoong is likely still in his studio. 

He appeared from his bedroom, smiling at the sight of you. He kissed you as easily as he’d kissed you that night on the street. Wooyoung had taken you gently by the waist, bringing you to him and kissing you passionately.

“Glad you’re home,” he said, taking your bag to put on the hook while you slipped out of your shoes. “I have a surprise for you.”

“As you said in your text,” you replied. You couldn’t help the nostalgic feeling inside your chest. Looking at the man in front of you, it dawned on you how much he’d grown up. “Where is it?” you asked him, getting into your house slippers. 

“Come with me.”

He took your hand and led you to his bedroom. You gasped when you saw what he’d done to his bed. Having taken one of his plain white sheets, he’d tied a string across the top so it created a canopy, then placed fake electric candles around his bed to add light. Blankets from the couch outside, plus several plush pillows added more comfort to his large bed. A laptop plugged into the wall sat on a tray with snacks and drinks in a cooler next to the bed. A blanket fort. 

"Wooyoung-ah," you smiled at his setup, "This is so cute."

"What you said got me thinking about our first time together," he said, bringing you to him as he closed the door. "When we made that pillow fort to watch movies and then we…got all hot and bothered?"

You noticed the seductive tone in his voice and let him kiss you. "Well, if I remember correctly, you were the hot one. I was perfectly fine with hanging out."

"I couldn't help it," he said, bringing you over to the bed where he let you climb on top of him. You mounted his hips, deepening the kiss as you remembered the first time. "You felt so nice against me like this," he gently pushed his hips into yours, "I really wanted to wait for a more romantic moment, but I couldn't wait anymore. And…" he pecked your lips as his hands went down your body, "It isn't like you tried stopping me." 

"Maybe I didn't want you to," you sneered, starting to grind into him. "I meant what I said though," you said, "It really makes me appreciate how good you are to me." A thought then occurred to you, "I wish there was a way I can show my appreciation for you."

Wooyoung picked up on it right away, holding you by the waist as he rolled you on your back. In between your legs, you could feel him right up against your center. His shorts made it much easier to feel him through them, and you couldn't resist grinding into him. Suddenly, Wooyoung drowned all your senses. The fresh scent of his shampoo still clung to his black strands, and to the smooth, supple skin under his shirt. His body heat warmed you against the chill seeping through the nearby windows. Your love for Jung Wooyoung blossomed the night he kissed you under that light. It flourished when you both made love in his blanket fort, soft and passionate and completely wrapped up in one another. Your hands stayed at his shoulders, the bones and muscles tensing under your touch before flexing against it. Everything became Wooyoung. Like the very first time, the small enclosure he created turned the world into one for two.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck while your hands slipped under his shirt. “If you’re into trying new stuff tonight, that is.”

“I’ll do whatever you like,” you smiled, gyrating into him slowly so he groaned against your neck. “You’re always thinking of me when we do it. I think it’s only fair that I do things you like too.”

“I want you to watch TV while I fuck you.”

“What?”

“I saw this porn video the other night where the girl watched TV while the guy fucked her,” he explained, “And it was so hot. I want to try it with you.”

Free use. That is what he was talking about: partners having sex even if the other partner isn’t particularly horny. It’s in a consensual way, of course. “Oh?” you smiled, “But does it really count if I’m horny too?”

“You can pretend not to be,” he said. 

You considered it for a moment, then said, “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” 

Wooyoung beamed and kissed you. He dragged the bed tray beside you, then put on a random movie he knew you liked. You supposed you’d simply lay there and let him do what he wanted while you focused on the movie. Spreading yourself out a bit more, Wooyoung laid on top of you as he kissed down your throat to the neckline of your shirt. The movie’s beginning credits started rolling right as he slid your shirt over your chest, and pulled your bra down under them. You tried keeping back the gasp when his warm mouth touched your skin, a wet tongue immediately circling your nipple. He kept your arms by your head as he flicked his tongue over each one, and you forced yourself to not grind into him. The tip grazed across the hard peaks once or twice before he suckled on them, a low groan emitting from his throat. You tried focusing on the film, a horror movie you enjoyed so you had something distracting you from the pleasure. But, it only just barely worked. As you watched young Drew Barrymore answer the phone while making popcorn, Wooyoung slid further down your body. 

You shifted around to let him pull down your leggings completely, leaving you in your panties and socks. When you felt him sliding off your panties next, you nearly gasped. He lifted your knees up to your stomach and started lightly swatting his tongue on your sex. You clutched the sheets, forcing yourself to focus on the teenage girl panicking as a killer plays cat-and-mouse with her. How did porn stars do this? Once you felt the flat of his tongue gingerly lick your pussy open, you moaned softly to yourself. Part of the free-use kink is that the other partner doesn’t react, but damn, Wooyoung’s mouth worked you so easily. So easily, in fact, you should be ashamed of it. Keeping hold of your thighs, Wooyoung focused his attention on the center of your clit where he rolled the tip around several times. 

“Name the killer in Friday the 13th,” said the killer on screen.

“Jason!”

‘No, you moron. It was his mom…’ you couldn’t help thinking. 

Right as Drew Barrymore is freaking out over her dead boyfriend, Wooyoung reached into his bedside drawer for something. You thought it must be the condom, since Wooyoung practiced so little patience when in the heat of his arousal. After a bit of fumbling around, a distinct hardness touched your entrance. 

“Which door am I at?”

‘Run, idiot. Get out of the hou-’

Wooyoung filled you right to the brim, and you couldn’t help giving a soft moan. Unlike San, who needed total silence to concentrate, Wooyoung had no problem focusing on you as the movie went onwards. Hands holding up your knees, he kept you in place while he pumped in and out of you. You looked over at him for a moment to see he’d removed his shirt and tugged down his shorts. He watched himself fuck you slowly, stretching your sex and filling you each time. You knew you weren’t supposed to acknowledge him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering. When he felt you looking at him, you turned your head to the laptop.

Two hands grabbed your chest, and he bent down to kiss and lick them while he kept his slow pace. You’d truly become a toy for him to fuck; a doll that fulfills his every whim. You loved it. Something about Wooyoung  having his fun with you while you remained indifferent to it turned you on. Soon, his hips snapped into yours quickly, his groans turning into grunts in each stroke. You tried not moaning, since you knew that was not part of this kink of his. You watched the movie, trying to pay attention to the parents finding their teenage daughter gutted and hanging from a tree. The movie moved onto Neve Campbell in her bedroom, typing at her old computer before her boyfriend came in through the window. 

Eventually, he withdrew and helped roll you onto your front. You wouldn’t lie: you quite enjoyed this position and they all knew that. They knew your body so well it was almost unfair. They never failed to pleasure you first during sex, and they knew they’d get a very nice favor in return each time. Straddling your thighs, Wooyoung spat on his tip and went back inside you. You nearly whined from how the new position had him touching your g-spot directly, and the force causing the bed to bump lightly against the wall. 

“Stay like that,” he huffed, returning to the same speed as before. “Just like that…”

You put your eyes on the laptop, but you barely paid attention to the screen. Wooyoung started bottoming up into you, and his weight kept you from pushing up to meet him. You purse your lips to keep back the mewls his long strokes created. How could he expect you to sit still while he took you this way? Your fingers dug into the soft pillow underneath you, clawing at the smooth fabric. You tried not showing any signs of pleasure, but you couldn’t help the need growing inside you. You badly wanted to push against him, pick up the speed and be the naughty, dirty slut he liked. But, this is what Wooyoung wanted, and you wanted him to enjoy himself too. 

In a few more thrusts, you felt Wooyoung stiffen against you. Falling forward, his forehead pressed right on the top of your head as he rode out his orgasm inside you. His damp breath tickled the back of your neck, and his moans drowned out any sounds from the film in front of you. Listening to him cum had your pussy clenching around him each time he sunk inside. Your need for release came almost painfully, the restraint being too much. When he dared to pull out, you immediately tackled him so he fell backwards on the opposite side of the fort. Wooyoung said nothing as you mounted him quickly and began riding him. 

“Someone couldn’t keep it together anymore, huh?” Wooyoung chuckled, holding onto your hips as you bounced on him. “My dick feels too good?”

“Way too good,” you whined, rolling your hips on him. You didn’t care if he’d already come, you knew he wouldn’t stop until you did too. “Play with my clit, Wooyoungie,” you said, “Make me cum, please?”

“Of course, angel.” 

Whirling his thumb around your clit and his tip prodding your g-spot again, you unraveled a few seconds later. Your body tensed in each orgasmic wave and you were soon clawing at Wooyoung’s chest from the force. Slowly, you fell from your climax as quickly as it arrived, and collapsed beside Wooyoung. A small pang of guilt made you frown. 

“Sorry,” you said to him. 

“About what?” he panted, looking over at you. 

“For not going through with the whole ‘free-use’ thing,” you replied. “I don’t know how porn stars do it, honestly.”

“You just need practice, baby,” he insisted. He rolled onto his side, and pecked your lips, “You still did so well. It’s not your fault you’re so…sensitive,” he smirked, pinching your nipple idly before kissing you again. “Trust me, I still loved it. Didn’t you?”

“I did,” you replied, turning on your side to face him. “We can always try it again later,” you suggested, “If you want to, that is.” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he grinned, bringing you close to kiss you deeply. He paused for a moment, brushing your nose with his, and said, “I love you, YN.” 

“I love you too, WooWoo.” 

He chuckled at the nickname and you kissed once more. You briefly thought back to Mihee, who likely ended up alone after sex with her boyfriends. Not you. Your boyfriends would never leave you without smothering you in kisses first. 

They simply adored you too much. 

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x fem!reader

[call-sign-shark]

Little Lamb part. 1|| Arthur Shelby x Reader x OFC

Summary: They came into your life when you were desperate, convinced no one would ever want you and yet you found yourself not one, but two lovers madly infatuated with you: The infamous Arthur Shelby and his young wife.(Yandere! Arthur Shelby x Reader x Yandere!OFC)

TW: (for the entire short series) Toxic dynamic, polyamory relationship, murders, torture, graphic depiction of violence, heavy allusion to smut, obsessive behavior, possessive!lovers, angst and horror. Inspired by the song The Things I Do For Love by Bludnymph.

Words: 1.4k

Notes:

✞ Since I'm stuck with Tangled Desires' new chapter I thought about taking a break to write a very short three-part story (no more than 1.5k per part). All is already written and it will be posted during the week. It 100% can be read as a stand alone.

✞ Heaven in Reader in the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes.

NEXT PART

Love had never been kind to you. The statement might sounded tough but so was the truth. You were either too shy to make the first move, or when you did you undeniably ended up with your heart crushed because you were too nice and, your relatives said, too… understanding. Too soft for this world and painfully too weak for Small Heath.  When you left your hometown to start your new barmaid life at the Garrison pub, desperately looking for a job and a new start in life, all your friends had laughed at you: how could a meek little lamb like you could willingly throw herself in this hell, where hungry and violent wolves lurked in every corner, ready to tear her in millions pieces? Still, you paid no heed to their warning and left everything and everyone behind you, fueled by the firm will to prove them wrong.

Surprisingly enough, working at the Garrison had done some good to you despite spending your first days shaking like a leaf each time a loud man talked to you. This, but also hiding behind Harry when the Shelby brothers flooded the place with their piercing blue eyes and their sharp caps. Unfortunately, you had to learn the entirety of the job and it involved plucking up the courage to pour them their drink. They merely noticed you, far too concerned by whatever shady business they were talking about until scrapped but tender fingers brushed against your skin. Slightly jumping, you raised your gaze towards their owner and was quickly met with steel blue iris overhung by dark lashes. "Leave the bottle, love." The oldest of the brotherhood said, gently taking the whiskey from your hand before offering you a surprisingly charming smile.

"You're welcome, Mr. Shelby." Did you manage to reply without any stuttering? No, you didn't but you were already surprised by your ability to actually produce a sound when faced with certainly the most ruthless of these gangsters. You turned your heels, Arthur's eyes burning your back as you walked to another table.

As weeks passed, you grew up more confident and started to navigate more easily in this cursed city. In Birmingham, working as a barmaid was the same as patching up souls: exhausted working-class men, vile gangsters, drunkards, or sad men all found a bit of happiness in the bottom of their glass and in the waitress’ warm smile. Most of your life your softness has been deemed a weakness but here, in the crowded Garrison, your softness wasn’t one. It was a gift that mended the hearts of your clients, and the more you soothed these troubled souls, the more the weight of your own broken heart was alleviated.

You never exchanged more than a few words with Arthur Shelby, but the fact he always asked you to serve him his drinks and thanked you with a pet name was enough for you to feel like a schoolgirl noticed by one of the popular boys around. Yeah, it sounded stupid even in your head but you couldn't help.

Tonight had started the same as ever: you put the whiskey glass on the table and proceeded to walk away when, suddenly, his hand kept you from doing so. With his long fingers wrapped around your wrist, blood still stuck under his nails, the gangster's baritone voice purred “A sweet little lamb you are, ay.” He punctuated his sentence with a seductive wink that made your heart beat faster than usual. “And a fucking pretty one too... How's the night going?"

"Terrible, Harry's in such a bad mood! I haven't found the time to sit and rest for five minutes -- My feet hurt so much I feel like I've walked miles." You said, you joked, hating the idea of whining.

"Why don't ya sit now, little Lamb?" Arthur raised a brow, his thin lips hid behind the whiskey glass.

"Because I'll get scolded, silly!"

Arthur didn't think twice -- he never did actually. His grip strengthened a little bit more around your wrist and, without the slightest warning, he pulled you until you tripped on your own feet and fell right on him. As nimble and quick as a cat, the lanky gangster caught you in his arms and made you comfortably sit on his lap.

"Ar-Arthur?!" You hiccuped, eyes wide open and cheeks flushing red.

"Hell, no one's gonna scold ya as long as ya stay in me arms, ay!"

Quickly swept away, your surprise turned into the most irresistible chuckle he had heard for a while. "Only five minutes alright?"

"Nah." Arthur snapped his fingers to get Harry's attention and raised his hoarse voice, "She's taking her night off to drink with me, mate." He shot you a quick glance and, with his smile growing wider, put on a show "By order of the Peaky Blinders!"

No matter how violent people said he was, you couldn’t help but find yourself enthralled by his dangerous aura and carnivorous smile. Moreover, it was needless to say that he never exhibited any of these brutal behaviors with you -- Quite the contrary, you found a loyal guardian in him, who would walk you home each night to ensure you were safe.

"Y/N, you better forget about him right now... You're really going to be in trouble" Harry stated after he noticed that you were dolling you up before the gangster came, rearranging your hair and putting on some awfully expensive lipstick you had brought earlier.

"Is my taste in men that bad for you to worry?" Your light reply didn't make him laugh, quite the contrary.

"I'm not joking! I don't want you to get fucking killed!"

"Killed? Someone's very pessimistic. Everything will be fine, Arthur would never hurt me okay?" You reassured him with the softest voice you could before your attention shifted to the gangster, who had just arrived.

Arthur noticed the lipstick and did seem to like it considering how his steel-blue eyes lingered far longer on your mouth when you talked to him, wondering how beautiful your red lips would look tightly wrapped around his cock but he didn't let his intrusive thoughts show, "Hey little lamb. I've got someth' to ask you."

"Anything?" You early replied, your smile beaming and your eyes shining.

"Apart from my usual whiskey, I'd like something else. There's a bottle of red wine hidden under the bar, I'd like ya to pour one glass of it, I'll be right back."

A glass of wine? Your heart missed a beat at the realization that he had remembered the day you told him you liked red wine. Butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach, convinced that maybe he was finally going to ask you out, you did as he said and, when done, carefully placed the two glasses on the wooden counter. When his booming voice echoed in the pub again, you raised your eyes and smiled, ready to call him but your voice got stuck in your throat.

No.

As you stood there, frozen in shock, your heart seemed to fracture into a thousand tiny pieces at the sight before you. The man you had secretly longed for, the one who had occupied your every thought and fueled your every feverish dream, was accompanied by a young and stunning lass with her arm tightly wrapped around his. Each caress exchanged between Arthur and her, each whispered word, felt like a betrayal. In that moment suspended in time, tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Of course, you already took notice of the wedding ring on his finger, its shining gold shining brighter than the other silver ones he was always wearing but you had tricked yourself into thinking it was only a jewel. After all, he wouldn't have flirted with you if he was married right? That was what you kept telling yourself, and even not entirely convinced you hoped it would eventually turn out to be true if you believed in it strong enough. He was married, here was what was true. Not only he was married, but the woman by his side was so resplendent with her angel face, her long snow-white hair, and her revealing red dress that your heart felt cold.

"So, you are the little lamb, aren't you?" Her mermaid-like voice emphasized the pet name Arthur had given you, snatching you from your numbness. All the confidence you had gained these past months vanished with the sole power of the eerie frost of her eyes, silently telling you that she knew everything. Impatiently waiting for your reply, her dagger-shaped and perfectly polished nails tapped against the wood, their menacing clicking song making another awful realization blossom in your mind.

Harry didn't think about Arthur when he said you would end up killed. He thought about her.

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[crimeronan]

i think what enthralls me most about mal/alina/nikolai is that i don't THINK the polyamory was intentional at all. or at least not the specific polyamory i'm reading. like, i think the intent was to subvert the trope of an angry rebellious royal and an angry rebellious chosen one who refuse to form basic political alliances through marriage even though it just makes fucking sense. and then i think the writers' further intent was to distance mal and nikolai from their worst shitheadery in the books by uniting them thru a deep emotional bond and genuine respect and trust and care for each other. like. it's an arranged-marriage throuple that has a lot of potential for toxic misery and the writers wanted to sidestep that by going "okay, but maybe it's more interesting if they're all friends who love each other instead"

then the EXECUTION of that concept is like. not only are nikolai and mal so chill with the other dating their girlfriend that that Alone makes the polyamory pseudo-canon, but nikolai and mal's friendship is also -- apparently intentionally?? -- written with a SHITLOAD of parallels to nikolai and alina's relationship???

i think the intention in THAT is to reinforce how nikolai and alina have a strong non-romantic platonic partnership. because nikolai does the same things that he does with alina with mal, too! who, you know, is a man! and who is not nikolai's betrothed! see! everyone is such good friends!! :D

and so of course the way it reads onscreen to me, spiders georg polyamory kitkat, is just. nikolai has two hands. and is bisexual. and wants to crawl into bed with both alina and mal so bad it's fucking UNREAL,

they're perfect. polyamory rights.

#you know. it's the same as with trc. the more you try to convince me this is intensely platonic Because it happens w more than one person #the more i'm like. wow romance doesn't have to be limited to one eprson tho. polyamory rights! 💕 #i love it. i love everything happening here. im thrilled #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #grishaverse #malkolina