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thethingswedotomorrow · 7 months

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I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

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cutielando · 1 month

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maiden win ~ lando norris

Synopsis: Lando finally gets the win he deserves🧡

Words: 1.2k+

Other works: my masterlist

a/n: you guys cannot even understand how happy i am for my man right here. so deserved🧡🧡🧡

♡♡♡♡♡

You had felt something in your gut from the moment you had touched down in Miami with Lando. You had felt good about what was to come from the weekend.

Lando felt the same way, but seeing as the last time he felt that confident about his pace had been Russia in 2021, he didn’t want to jinx it.

The Sprint hadn’t quite gone the way he and the team had wanted. Being taken out before Turn 1 was always painful, especially when it wasn’t even your fault.

You couldn’t get the image of how down and sad he had seemed when he walked back to the garage, even more gutted when the Stewards fined him.

And then qualifying came and he didn’t manage to get on the front row, no matter how much he pushed the car on those medium compound tyres.

Having to settle with starting P5 in the race when he knew what he could get out of the car had not been easy on him.

“I just wish things would have gone my way” he explained to you while you laid in bed in your shared hotel room, late at night before race day.

You sighed, nodding in understanding as you weaved your hands through his hair comfortingly.

“You’ll show them how strong you are tomorrow. Now, more than ever, you need to have faith in the car, in your team and most importantly in yourself” you said, making Lando look at you with admiration.

“How do you always manage to calm me down?” he asked, which made you giggle and run a hand down his cheek lovingly.

“4 years and an engagement later” you joked, making him finally break out into a genuine laugh.

There were so many stolen moments from you guys because of the racing, you would often forget to just be with each other and let loose, forget about everything even for just a little while.

Lando has always stated that he wouldn’t be able to make it without you, claiming you were the only one that could help him unwind and completely disconnect from the races and the stress that came with it. Lately, the stress had got even worse than usual.

“I don’t think my time is coming anytime soon” he said after a couple of moments of comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Why do you think that?” you asked, your hands still running through his soft curly hair.

He shrugged, snuggling closer to your body and now resting his head against your chest.

“It feels like no matter how much progress we make or how many upgrades we bring, something just doesn’t click at the end of the day. It seems like nothing we do is good enough” he explained.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. You could only imagine what he felt like, working so hard with the team and feeling like nothing was paying off, you sympathized with your fiancé and the entire team. However, somewhere deep down in your heart, you knew his time was even closer than he thought.

His win was coming this weekend, your gut kept telling you.

“My love, you have to keep being positive. You’ve shown impressive pace the entire weekend, and what happened in the Sprint had nothing to do with you or how the car performed. I have a good feeling about the race tomorrow, so please just indulge me and have faith in yourself and in your team” you said, kissing his forehead at the end.

He didn’t say anything else but nodded, burying his face even deeper into your body. His eyes slowly started dropping as he enjoyed the feeling of your hands playing with his hair, the only thing on his mind was doing everything he can in the race so you and the team would be proud of him.

He needed it.

♡♡♡♡♡

Being in the garage while watching the Miami Grand Prix had to be deemed as a health hazard. From the precise moment the Safety Car was deployed and Lando was leading the race, having come in to swap his tyres, the entire garage was on their toes.

The tension in the air while watching the last laps was like nothing you had ever experienced, not in all the 4 years you have been with Lando and attended the majority of his races.

Mechanics were chewing on their fingers, pulling their hair or pacing around the garage. You were listening in on the radio as he talked to Will, your heart beating wildly in your chest and echoing in your ears.

The second you saw him cross that finish line and take the checkered flag in P1, you could literally not stop crying. The tears were freely and fully falling down your cheeks, your eyes soaking in the energy and celebrations that were happening all around you.

“Y/N, he did it!! He won!!!” Jon was the one who brought you back to reality when he ran to you and scooped you into his arms, laughing in disbelief.

“I can’t believe he actually did it” you said once Jon put you down, wiping the tears from your eyes to no avail because new ones were just taking their place.

Hugs were going all around the garage, everyone hugging the nearest person to them. Zak and Andrea pulled you into a shared hug, urgently prompting you to follow them to where Lando would be.

At first you were apprehensive, preferring to wait for him at the garage, but you couldn’t deny the two men that were literally dragging you to Lando.

The moment you saw him coming towards you and the team, a whole new wave of tears starting falling down your cheeks, sobs racking through your body once he ran to you and scooped you into his arms, lifting you up over the barriers so he could spin you around.

“I fucking did it. I did it for you, baby” he exclaimed in your ear, making you laugh and nod, kissing every part of his body that you could reach from your position.

“I am so fucking proud of you. All the work you’ve done up until now has finally paid off. I love you so much and I am so proud of you for this” you said, kissing him hard when he finally put you down.

You didn’t care that he was sweaty at that moment, you didn’t care that he could barely catch his breath, you just needed him to know just how proud you were of him for what he had just done.

He certainly wasn’t complaining, squeezing your body against his like you would dissipate in the air if he let you go. The entire team was cheering and screaming all around you, which prompted you to finally pull away.

“Go and celebrate with them. You all deserve it” you said, unwrapping his arms from your waist and pushing him towards his team.

He leaned in to peck your lips once again quickly before he jumped to his team, being lifted and praised by every mechanic around him.

As you watched him interact with his team, some of them who were crying because of how proud they were of him, you realized how lucky you both were.

Lando was so loved, not only by you and his team but by the other drivers as well, who you could see were so happy to finally see him on the first step of the podium.

The Miami Grand Prix was one to remember. The day the entire Formula 1 community came together to celebrate Lando Norris.

The winner of everyone’s heart.

The winner of Formula 1.

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ineffablyruined · 9 months

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I want to talk about THAT smile. The one from the elevator. The one that scares us (or maybe just me).

This one:

It's stayed with me since the first time I saw it. Michael Sheen is an absolute master of his face, so this sinister smile means something. I don't believe that it's a forced smile that he's pasting on before he enters Heaven. It looks absolutely malevolent.

And I just couldn't figure out WHY.

Aziraphale just left everything he loves behind: humans, food, bookshop, and Crowley. Crowley most of all. He was devastated after that kiss, devastated that Crowley wouldn't just come with him so they could be together. He was hurt, shattered, unsure of himself and his decision. So why the practically evil face?

I don't subscribe to the Coffee Theory. I think it takes too much away from the emotional and character development and everything the fandom went through in those last 10 minutes for Neil to pull the rug out from under us like that.

So if he's not drugged, then what's the face?

The Metatron just dropped a bomb on him. The Second Coming. Heaven's going to restart the apocalypse. End the Earth. The place where he'd just left the love of his life and everything he holds dear. Make everything they'd fought for absolutely meaningless.

And then I remembered this face:

See how similar they are?

I've seen a lot of people put this down to a repeat body swap theory, but I don't buy that either. I think that would be less inspired than what we've come to expect from the brilliance of Neil's and Terry's minds.

I'm going on a bit of a tangent here for a second, but I promise it will make sense in a minute. When the demons were coming for them, Nina told Aziraphale that he shouldn't wait to be saved by Crowley, that he should come up with his own plans and save himself. And he did, but it wasn't a total plan. It was the beginnings of one. He held them off, but when his plan ran out of time, it put him and the two humans (except maybe not -> looking at you, Maggie) he's come to care about at risk. Then he had to do something reckless and probably stupid, and it worked, but it was too close.

Back to the matter at hand:

These two perfectly wonderful, complete f*cking morons have spent the last 4 years together. Probably daily. And do you know what happens when you spend so much time together?

You start picking up the other person's mannerisms, mirroring speech patterns and body language.

My theory:

Aziraphale spent that elevator ride coming up with a plan. He's come up with something that he thinks will be so clever, so unexpected of him (an angel), so Crowley-esque, that the Metatron will never see it coming. And he's not about to cock it up like he did in the bookshop, show up with only a half-baked plan.

No. He's got something positively diabolical. Something inspired by Crowley. So he makes the face that he's learned from spending four years in the daily company of the original owner of that expression. The only face he could possibly make when figuring out how to save the world and get back to his demon. And thinking about how much he can't wait to tell a Crowley how clever he's been.

That face is 6000 years of togetherness in the making.

#good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #gos2 meta #elevator smile #aziraphale elevator #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 2 spoilers #go2 #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good omens

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thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

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Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #eris x reader #summer court #tarquin #eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris vandaddy #inspired by Hunter Hayes #storm warning Hunter Hayes

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obsessedvibee · 3 months

Text

Can't Sleep

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: lots of dirty talk, m. masturbation, f. masturbation, humping a pillow

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Austin is in Paris promoting Dune part 2 and he can't sleep in his hotel. He calls his girl to chat and things get dirty real fast. Phone sex ensues.

Authors Note: It's been way too long since I've written for Austin. Something about imagining him rubbin' one out just does something to me. So I thought I'd make everyone else suffer too. You're welcome. Comments & reblogs appreciated!

Enjoy!

He tossed the remote to the other side of the bed defeatedly. Flipping through the few channel options on the hotel tv could only entertain him for so long. Looking over at the clock the red number taunted him showing 4am. Being up for the last almost 36 hours would tire out most people but his body wouldn’t let go of consciousness. The jet lag certainly wasn’t helping either. His thoughts flickered to her. Doing the math in his head; she’d only be at 10pm in New York with Paris being six hours ahead. She should be home from work now. Finished with dinner.

He reached for his phone, quickly finding her in his contacts, before pressing it to his ear. The line crackled before it began to ring. His fingers mindlessly played with the string from the waistband of his sweats as he waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounded small and distant through the line and he hated it.

“Y/N, hi,” he rasped.

“Hi.”

A bit of rustling sounded on the other end as she sat up from the couch she was more than likely dosing off on.

“You sound tired,” he said, suddenly feeling guilty, “I should let you sleep.”

“No, no it’s fine,” she assured him, “I think I’m more bored than tired.”

He knew she was lying. She’d fallen asleep on that couch so many times when he’s home with her. Never being able to finish a whole movie without hearing her soft snores as she slept.

He was a little jealous if he was being honest with himself. He was never one of those people that could just pass out as soon as they close their eyes. Even more so if it wasn’t his own bed.

“Have you slept at all since you left?”

He sighed, “no.”

“Aus,” she said sympathetically.

He ran a hand over his face.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hummed, “tell me about your day.”

And she did. From her drive to work to how much the phone rang, how her boss had gotten on her nerves, what she got for lunch, how her feet hurt from her new heels she bought the other day, her drive home, how she had to go back out to get chicken for dinner from the grocery store that she forgot to get yesterday. Every detail she rambled on about, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel less alone. Less like he was on the other side of the world.

“Hey, Austin?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna set you down for a sec, I gotta pee.”

He chuckled, “m'kay.”

He heard the clank of her setting the phone down, and he pulled his phone away from him for a minute checking the time. 4:30. At least the time was moving a little faster now.

Putting the phone on speaker, he checked a few emails while he waited when his phone chimed, with her name coming across the banner with a new text.

Leave it to her to text the person she’s currently chatting with.

Clicking on the banner, his phone swapped apps to the text.

But it wasn’t a text.

His heart rate rose as his eyes took in the photo.

She was posed in their bathroom mirror with a black lingerie set he’d never seen her in before. Her phone was in one hand snapping the photo while the other had her thumb through the waistband of her panties teasingly tugging them lower down her hip, hardly leaving anything to the imagination. Her breasts were barely contained in the bra, the cups hardly coming up over her nipples, her flesh pushed together creating ample cleavage.

He swallowed thickly as he felt the warmth of blood rush to his groin.

“You still there, Aus?” She asked feigning innocence.

He cleared his throat, “yea- yea.” He took a deep breath. “What are you-?”

He didn’t have a ton of words flying around in his head given the normal amount of blood that was in his brain was now being utilized elsewhere.

She giggled, “you need a little help getting to sleep, yeah? So I thought I’d give ya a little help.”

God, what did he do to deserve such an angel?

“Right now?”

Was this for now or after she hung up? This was new territory for the both of them.

“If you want?”

He felt her back tracking and he scrambled to steer the conversation back to the desired destination.

“Shit, yeah- yeah,” he shifted on the bed propping some pillows to lean back on as he rested his hand over his semi in his pants giving a little squeeze. “Are you- are you touching yourself?”

He heard her inhale before speaking, “should I be?”

“Please,” he almost whispered.

He ground his teeth, waiting for any sound from her. Something to feed his imagination. He lightly ran the back of his fingers over the tent in his pants, keeping his nerves on end.

A small moan sounded into his ear, and he immediately began to work himself with her.

His heart was pounding already, imagining her with her legs open on the couch, her hand working herself over her panties.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathed, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweats.

She struggled to find her voice. She took a breath, “you.”

“Yeah?” He worked at tugging down his pants. “What about me?”

“Aus,” she chuckled nervously, “I- I- don’t know if I can do this.”

He situated himself, slowly wrapping his hand around his length, giving her a moment. She always got a little shy with talking filthy.

Not willing to let the mood wane, he chose to take the lead. “I gotcha, just keep your hands busy for me.”

He heard her begin shuffling around before getting settled.

He sighed lazily, beginning to stoke himself, lightly squeezing on his upstroke. His thumb swiped the tip collecting the bead of precum, spreading it around.

“’m so hard for you right now,” he murmured huskily, his voice heavy with arousal watching his tip disappear into his fist.

A little whimper escaped her, rewarding his words, and boosting his ego.

Letting his eyes close, his mind began to tease him with images of her. Her smooth skin, her hair splayed out behind her. Was she starting slow and gentle?

A sharp inhale brought him back to the present.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. A soft moan followed, melting through the phone into his ear. “I just had to take everything off.”

He couldn't help but quicken his strokes as the sudden image of her legs spread, and center bare on their couch overtook his thoughts.

“Wanted to get more comfortable.”

“Fuck-, are you wet?”

She hummed, “so wet.”

Hearing her pleasured sounds were going to be his undoing.

“Put a finger in for me,” he coaxed her.

“Oh-“ she sighed heavily, “Austin.”

His cock throbbed, imagining how warm and tight she must feel. Her glistening folds wrapping around her little finger.

“Keep talking, Aus.”

He bit his lip as a smug smile threatened to appear. He had her right where he needed her.

“Don’t forget about my girls up top,” he spoke, “give ‘em a little attention for me.”

A full moan left her lips, making his cock twitch. He could practically feel her breaths on his ear. His mind kept conjuring up one filthy image after another. One hand in her pussy, the other groping her breast. Forcing his hand to pause, he squeezed at the base as the sudden urge to release overwhelmed him.

As he willed his heart to slow and the pleasured throbbing in his cock to weaken, a bunch of commotion sounded on her line. He listened intently as it quieted and a rhythmic sound started to come through. He reached down to massage his balls, swallowing thickly, “baby?”

A short whine came from her, sounding distant, before she shuffled the phone closer to her panting mouth, “are you close?”

He let his head fall back into the pillows with a huffed laugh, letting his fingers lightly play at the little sensitive spot under the head. “Just waiting on you, darling.”

He began stroking in rhythm with the sounds coming from her, his limbs tightening as the pleasure began to burn in his pelvis once more, “tell me what you’re doing.”

“I got a pillow-” she gasped, “-between my legs.”

His hips jerked, the primal urge to thrust breaking through his conscious.

“”You ridin’ it, like you do me?” He panted.

She couldn't even manage to string a sentence together anymore, a groan being her only reply.

“Cum with me baby, in 3-,” he began counting them down, “2-,”

Her whines were high causing goosebumps to cover his flesh, his fist flying impossibly quick over his shaft. He never thought further than her using her hand to pleasure herself, but imagining her grinding herself onto a pillow would be a fantasy he would be coming back to many times in the future, he was sure of it.

“Aus,” she cried, desperate for him to put an end to the agony.

“Cum for me,” he growled; a white heat flooding his pelvis.

A squeak was all he heard from her as she climaxed, and his cock suddenly became impossibly harder as the buzz in his veins shot through his tip. His head pressed deep into the pillows as his body tensed as his climax took hold. White spurted over his abdomen as he grunted like an animal with every lurch his cock gave, draining his seed, relieving his desire.

Relaxing his body, he quickly was left limp as he tried to catch his breath.

Minutes passed as they both regained a normal breathing rate.

He picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker, “thank you, baby.”

It wasn't long after they hung up that he was able to finally fall into a sweet sleep.

Need some more Austin smut? Check out my other works! > Masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader

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kitten4sannie · 4 months

Text

ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ

ᴍᴀꜱᴋ ᴋɪɴᴋ/ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ ➠ ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ

pairing: intern! jongho x boss! reader (fem)

genre: office au, smut

summary: to relieve some stress after another long day of being the boss, you decide to visit your favorite dom at your local playroom. what you were not expecting, however, was to come face to face with your office’s intern instead.

w.c: 2.8k

warnings: hard (somehow still soft) dom! jongho, sub! reader, established bdsm relationship, jongho wears a teddy bear mask hehe/reader wears a kitty one, pet names (sweetheart, kitty, kitten, are we sensing a pattern here? TT), name calling, praise/degradation, use of hand cuffs, jongho puts reader over his lap ^^, paddling (ass/pussy), spit play, hair pulling, toy usage, strength kink, manhandling, overstim, brief oral (receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: never worked in an office before but this is my ideal office ✨fantasy✨ but also like jongho would be the cutest ??? intern??? he’d just come in and give you a cup of coffee with his sweet little gummy smile ughhhhh :’) enjoy, loves!

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ᴅɪꜱᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ ʙʏ ɴɪɴᴇ ɪɴᴄʜ ɴᴀɪʟꜱ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“I’m really sorry to inform you of this right before the weekend starts, Ms. L/N, but we need to see at least a 20% increase in sales by next month,” your higher-up told you through the speaker phone sitting on your desk, almost distracting you from putting on your coat.

“20%, sir?” you replied cordially, trying to dispel the attitude you wanted to give him at that moment.

“20%, Ms. L/N. You’ve been doing quite well this quarter, but my boss is breathing down my neck, asking me for more…I do apologize, but it’s what we need from you.”

You walked around the front of your desk, sitting on the edge of it to process the information, unconsciously reaching underneath the sleeve of your form-fitting blouse to rub at the rope burns still embedded in your skin from your last visit to your local bdsm playroom, wishing you were there again, not having to focus on numbers and percentages, but on the pain and pleasure that was enveloping your body.

“Ms. L/N…?” the man said softly into the speaker when he didn’t get a reply from you.

You came out of your temporary fog, sitting up straight and fixing the hem of your tight skirt, despite no one being there to witness your perfect posture. “I can handle 20%, sir. I’ll get those numbers up for you.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite branch manager, Ms. L/N. Enjoy your weekend. Make sure you unwind,” he said, exchanging goodbyes with you, before he hung up.

You were definitely going to do a bit of unwinding, that was for damn sure.

As you collected both your personal and work items, putting them into your sleek briefcase, your branch’s intern knocked on the thick glass door of your office, allowing you to see his perfectly styled, ink black hair through the section of the door that wasn’t completely opaque.

“Come in, Jongho.”

Once the permission was granted, Jongho entered your space to give you a small wave and a gentle, charming smile, resting his own briefcase against his thigh. “Just thought I would come and check on you, Ms. L/N. It’s already half past 8, you know, and you deserve your weekends more than anybody in this building.”

“Oh, please, it’s off-hours, call me Y/N,” you sighed, wishing you could swap the roles of your position in power, wanting to be the one who was told what to do next. “But, thank you…that means a lot. I always try to cram in as much R&R into my weekends as humanly possible.”

“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he corrected himself, holding the door open for you, his inviting aura and cologne relaxing your rigid demeanor just a tad. “Shall we go?”

Once inside the sanctity of the elevator, the both of you watched as the bright red numbers on the digital screen slowly counted down.

When you got down to the twenieth floor, you were suddenly reminded of your daunting task, murmuring, “20%…and next month he’ll want 30…that bastard…”

Jongho acknowledged your passive mumbles about the ridiculous increase in sales you had to somehow pull out of your ass, hoping to ease your mind with his straightforward statement, “Hey, no number talk in the elevator, Y/N. That stays in the office.” His gaze softened. “You know better.”

You quieted down, hoping Jongho couldn’t tell how wet you suddenly were, offering him a gentle chuckle. “Right, no more numbers.”

Jongho tilted his head to the side, his gelled, parted hair falling into his eyes a bit. “Tell me, what do you do to unwind, Y/N?”

Your fingers squeezed around the handle of your briefcase. You couldn’t possibly tell him that you enjoyed getting tied up, punished till you were drunk on pleasure, and fucked by masked men and women until you reached your own personal nirvana, now, could you?

“I like to do lots of things,” you began, turning your head to look at him, realizing he was already looking at you, his gaze intense, but grounding. “Anything that doesn’t make me feel like a corporate drone anymore.”

Jongho nodded knowingly. “It’s important to let go from time to time. To relinquish that power you hold.”

You nodded at his words, unconsciously licking at your lips, having to break eye contact with Jongho first, your attention going to the adorably small teddy bear keychain he had on the handle of his briefcase, smiling at it. “What do you do for fun, Jongho?”

The corners of his lips curled into a smile that you weren’t looking at, his eyes returning to the rapidly lowering numbers on the wall, gently cracking his knuckles to fill the brief silence. “These days, I like to do a bit of roleplaying.”

“Like…DND?” you asked, swallowing dryly, the ding of the sliding elevator door about to draw you towards it.

“Something like that,” Jongho replied, his smile now akin more to a smirk, following you out of the elevator into the lobby.

࿏࿏࿏

“Good to see you back, Miss Kitty,” A man with deep-set eyes, plump lips, and short, choppy hair greeted you at the playroom’s lobby, the rest of his features obscured due to the bunny mask he was wearing. He leaned forward against the sleek receptionist desk, resting his chin on his palm as he pulled out a cutely decorated day planner, his tight butler get-up creasing to accommodate his new position. “Who would you like to visit today?”

“The Bear,” you replied instantly, shifting your weight from foot to foot, your own equally tight office ensemble making you feel constricted in the best way. “Is he free right now?”

The handsome bunny butler opened the planner and used a pen with a small plastic bunny at the tip to write in a time and date, drawing a few hearts around the words. “He’s always free for you, Miss Kitty,” he replied smoothly, before walking over to the door with a key and unlocking it for you. He placed another key, this one with the image of a cartoon bear on it into your hand, giving you a suggestive, though cordial smile. “Enjoy your stay.”

Once past the lobby, you were faced by many other rooms and doors, each one presenting you with a cute cartoon caricature of various animals. You immediately walked towards the one that displayed the same bear as the one in your sweaty hand.

Upon unlocking the door, you were met by a familiar setting. Minimalistic bedroom furniture decorated with lace doilies and soft, plush teddy tears filled the inviting space, the only thing keeping it from completely embodying someone’s sweet grandma’s bedroom were the egregious amount of sex toys, paddles, and whips that lined the wall, small plastic teddy bears decorating the handles of some of the items to further complete the cutesy aesthetic.

The only bear that interested you, however, was the one sitting on the edge of the large mattress in a simple black suit that looked a bit too familiar, his large thighs threatening to rip through his perfectly tailored pants, his sleeves rolled up past his thick forearms, his pretty raven hair falling past the sleek plastic of his mask that was complete with teddy bear ears. “It’s such a joy to have you back in my playroom. Now, what are you in the mood for today, kitty cat?” he asked you in a low, calculated tone, licking over the top row of his teeth.

You felt a shiver go up your spine, taking slow steps until you stood in front of him, licking your lips at the sight of his hands settling on his thighs. “To be paddled and fucked raw, sir.”

Jongho nodded his head knowingly, reaching up to stroke the side of your hip. “Mmm…my kitten’s had a rough day, I see. I’ll be sure to take good care of you tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He stood up, cracking his knuckles out of habit, opening and closing his fists to prepare for what he was about to inflict on you. “If at any time, you want this to stop, you’ll use your voice and tell me to, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good.” Jongho slowly walked over to the wall, his loafers clacking against the wood floor, picking out a paddle and a few other items amongst the large selection. He twirled the paddle around in his hands, gazing back at you through his mask, piercing you with his dark eyes. He kept his sight on you as he made his way back to the bed, spreading his thighs open when he sat down. “Now, you know the drill, don’t you, kitty?”

You nodded, quickly positioning yourself across his lap, feeling delightfully petite and usable now that you were relinquishing yourself to your dom.

“That’s right, sweetheart, feels so nice being on my lap like this, hm? Your pussy’s dripping for me just from the thought of getting paddled red, isn’t it?” Jongho spoke, his voice coming out slow, draping over you like honey, rubbing the side of your upper thigh in gentle circles, watching the way you squeezed them together.

“Yes, sir,” you answered breathily, squirming around once his hands were on your ass and squeezing it roughly through your thin skirt.

“Did you bring a change of clothes, pet?”

“Yes, s–”

Rip.

Jongho had torn through your designer skirt up the middle with one swift tug, sighing at the sight of your ass squeezing through the torn material, running the edge of the paddle over the exposed skin. “How many, kitten? How many till your ass is raw and red for me?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your cunt pulsing steadily, knowing what you needed for your own personal satisfaction. “Twenty…”

Jongho’s eyes widened slightly behind his mask, running the broad side of the paddle down your ass, using his other hand to tear open sections of your tights. “Twenty it is, pet.” He then wrapped your hair around his hand to create a makeshift ponytail, pulling it back to watch the way you arched your back for him, your ass raising higher up in the air for his own personal satisfaction. “Time to count.”

Twenty paddles is what you asked for and twenty paddles is what you received, each and every one sending a supreme jolt of pleasure through your body, your fingers squeezing into Jongho’s thick thighs, drool leaving your moaning mouth the second he got to double digits. He rubbed the paddle over your bruising ass in between spanks, rubbing the wetness around your partially clothed cunt from in between your trembling thighs, his cock hard and pressing into your abdomen. “Your pretty pussy deserves to get paddled too, doesn’t it?” he asked you in your ear, squeezing your clit between two fingers, suddenly tearing your panties open, giving him direct access to your dripping cunt, finishing his power move with a direct slap to your slit, making you gasp.

“Six…teen…Please, sir, give it to me,” you requested, looking up at him with shiny eyes through your cat themed mask.

Smack. Rub. Smack. Rub. Smack. Jongho turned your cunt into a puffy, leaking mess with ease, giving you one last, incredibly hard smack on the ass with his paddle, before he reached over for the bubblegum pink toy that was sitting on the bed. “Such a good kitty, taking everything I give you. You need something inside you now, yeah? Something to fill up your tight little cunt?”

A few beads of sweat dripped down your temple past your flushed cheeks. “Twenty…God, yes, please, sir.”

Jongho smiled to himself, suddenly lifting you up and maneuvering your body like you were a simple doll, positioning you on the bed so that your lower half hung in the air along with your gushing cunt, your ankles near your head. He turned the toy on, letting it vibrate inside his calloused hands, too busy sending a few strings of spit directly onto your heat. “Take it nice and deep for me, kitty,” he directed, holding you steady for him, the toy slipping directly into you.

You moaned in response, grasping tightly at the sheets, unable to do anything except take the vibrator as deep as it would go, the ribbed edges of it pleasuring your tight inner walls. “Fuck, gonna cum for you, sir…”

“Not until I tell you to,” Jongho reminded you, relentlessly dragging the toy in and out of you, occasionally taking a break in between thrusts to watch the way your cunt contracted around nothing, taking the opportunity to send a wad of spit inside your hole, plugging you back up with the toy each and every time.

It was when Jongho left the toy fully submerged inside your cunt with the vibration set on max that you were actually going to lose your mind, your fingers digging painfully into your own thighs. “Please, can I cum, sir? I’ve been so good, so good for you,” you babbled, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart, you’ve been an absolute doll for me. Now go on and squirt, kitty. Give me your milk.” Jongho removed the toy completely and replaced it with his hot tongue, fucking your hole and rubbing your clit in quick, tight circles until you screamed, your hot arousal spraying onto his face and wetting his hair, some of it dripping down his mask.

“Thank you, sir, thank you so much,” you sighed out, completely melting against the bed, blinking hazily up at him.

“Anytime, doll,” he replied softly, readjusting his mask, a familiar smile gracing his glistening lips.

Once you recovered, you got up onto your knees, pawing at Jongho’s pulsing cock through his work pants. “You still haven’t fucked me raw, yet, sir…”

“And I clearly haven’t done my job,” he began in a low voice, straddling your lap, positioning your wrists above your head, a soft click resounding in both of your ears, having handcuffed you to the bed. “If I had, you would have no memory of anything…” He bent down towards you, his lips ghosting along the skin of your neck, the heavy metallic sound of his belt being popped open filling the silent air next. “…except for me, and pleasure I give you. Isn’t that right, kitty?”

“That’s right, sir,” you purred, spreading your thighs open further for him, encouraging him to grasp and grope at them once he took his aching cock out, letting it sit heavily on your abdomen.

“But does your pretty red cunt remember the shape of my cock, kitten? After all these times I’ve fucked you completely raw and filled you with my load, it’s surely had to, right?” he asked you softly, as though he hadn’t said such a dirty thing to you, spreading you open with two fingers, pushing the head of his cock into your willing hole inch by inch, eventually filling you up to the brim.

You pulled your wrists against your constraints, moaning wantonly, unable to do anything about your current situation except take what you were given, your cunt routinely getting stuffed with Jongho’s thick cock until you were babbling incoherently. “Sir…! So good, your cock, it’s so good!”

“I know it is, kitty,” he nodded, strands of his wet hair occasionally brushing over your face, pulling his hips back and expertly slamming them back into you, forcing a fresh wave of slick out of you, which formed a rim around the base of his throbbing length. “You’re so tight around my cock, so ready to take my cum inside you…”

“Please, please, please…” you whined, tugging and tugging at your restraints, your body pulsing with indescribable pleasure the longer Jongho pumped himself into you like a well-oiled machine, not even realizing when your mask began to fall off your sweaty, flushed face.

Jongho was in the same state as you, overwhelmed with pleasure, his own mask slipping down the slope of his nose, the tie around his head loosening with each deliberate, though sloppy thrust, your slick, joined bodies melding into one over and over. “Cumming, kitten, cumming inside your pretty cunt,” he groaned out, holding your hips with a cement grip, looking deep into your eyes.

And just like that, you both fell apart completely, your overflowing arousal mixing harmoniously with the seemingly endless cumshots Jongho pumped into your clenching cunt, your masks having fallen off long ago. You simply gazed at each other in pure awe, sweat dripping along your flush bodies, the soft click sound of handcuffs being unlocked joining the background noise of pants, moans, and the steady stream of mattress springs squeaking underneath the moving bed.

࿏࿏࿏

The elevator took its time lowering you and your intern down to the bottom floor of your shared work space at the end of another tiring performance, regrettably filling a role you wish you could be at the receiving end of instead. The numbers on the small digital screen grew more and more irrevelant the longer you and Jongho shared seemingly polite smiles with one another.

Jongho tilted his head to the side, his hair falling in his face, his eyes containing a sparkle that you were fully aware of. “Are you going to relax again this weekend, Y/N?”

“Mm, yes I definitely need it after my last meeting with my boss,” you sighed out, leaning in his direction, your shoulders touching. “They’re asking for a bigger increase in sales this time…30%, they say.”

“Ahh, ahh,” Jongho tutted softly, shaking his head, the palm of his hand pressing against the small of your back, his dark eyes gleaming. “No numbers, Y/N.”

“No numbers,” you repeated gently, a delightful shiver going up your spine, the ding of the elevator reminding you of where you were currently, and where you would be going very soon. Your eyes began to gleam as well. “Except when I count for you. Right, sir?”

Jongho jingled his little teddy bear key chain around in his hand, his lips curling upwards. “Precisely, kitty cat.”

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mead-iocre · 5 months

Text

Our New Normal | Leah Williamson x Reader

Our New Normal (1/4)

“Okay girls. We’re starting in a bit. Everyone ready?

You force your eyes away from the grinning blonde beside you, trying to smother your grin underneath your palm. It was media day and you were currently sat beside your teammate, best mate, and girlfriend– Leah. That was normal. These days, the social media team often choose to partner the both of you together for content because of the “natural chemistry” you both have; plus, the fans seem to echo the same thoughts– the proof lies in the large amount of views the videos of you two would get on the team’s Youtube channel. To those outside of the team, and your friends and family, most people only know the two of you to be really (really) good friends who happen to play for the same team. Those close to you know that the two of you have been dating for a little over a year now.

You and Leah had first met playing for the England U17 team, instantly clicking and forming a friendship that was tested when you both ended up signing for different clubs. Leah signed her first senior contract with Arsenal; meanwhile, you had chosen to stick with the club that had offered you the best contract as a promising young talent– Manchester United. This meant that for a while, the only chance to meet up with the Arsenal defender was during match days where your teams played against each other, or during England camp. Memories of swapping roommate arrangements so you could room together, and early morning walks to catch the sunrise are some of your most treasured memories till this day. It was hard to say goodbye to the blonde after international break was over, but as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

And that was very true in this case.

In between late night conversations and good morning texts, and the frequent weekend getaways from Manchester to London whenever either of you had time to spare outside of football, it was hard not to fall for her.

You always knew athletes were your type– your childhood crushes were David Beckham and Marta– but it still surprised you when you came to the glaring realisation that you were in love with your best friend. There was a lot to love about her– from her calm and collected demeanour, her ability to make you laugh, the way she seems so wise beyond her years, her passion for the sport, and the way that she just gets you. Hand on your heart, you could wholeheartedly swear that no one else in this world understands you better than Leah.

That was why when your agent told you that Arsenal had put in an offer for your transfer that coming season, you did not hesitate to express your own interest in joining the club. Not only was Arsenal a dream club for a lot of other players considering it’s rich history in success in women’s footballl, but Leah was there too.

And speaking of Leah, you were adamant that Leah was not to know about your potential transfer to Arsenal. You did not want to risk disappointing the blonde if things did not work out the way you wanted them to. After all, football is unpredictable.

A few weeks into the transfer window and you were already patting yourself on the back for how tight-lipped you’ve been about your next club– with offers coming from Chelsea and Lyon coming in and creating buzz on social media amongst fans and football journalists. Leah knew that your contract was up this summer, and being the nosy person that she is, she has been pestering and trying to get you to spill where you’ll be heading next. Not a day goes by where Leah isn’t slyly bringing up your transfer into one of your conversations.

——————————————

“Twitter says you’ll be going to Lyon” You roll your eyes at the blonde in front of you. As usual, you had decided to spend your pre-season break in London, mainly to see Leah, but also so you and your agent can meet with a couple of people at Arsenal to further negotiate your potential transfer in person– which Leah obviously does not know about.

You bring your mug up to your lips, hoping to hide the grin that was forming on your lips. Leah has recently started bringing up the transfer rumours that were making their rounds on social media, and every time you tried to brush them off, the blonde would grumble and moan about how you rude it was that you were keeping her in the dark.

You came into town late last night and slept over in the guest room at Leah’s flat. She proudly pointed out the new dresser she bought a few weeks ago and told you that you can start leaving some of your clothes and stuff inside so that when you come over next time, you won’t have to bring so much.

For a moment, you were worried she knew about the transfer. But then again, that was just Leah– thoughtful, sweet Leah.

“Didn’t know Twitter was my agent now” You send her a cheeky smile over the rim of your coffee mug. Leah narrowed her eyes at you at your obvious attempt to ignore the real question. She reached up to adjust the grey beanie warming her head from the slight chill outside, fidgeting around to make sure her freshly cut bangs were still neatly tucked underneath the beanie.

“So where are these rumours coming from then?” You watched her scowl down at her mug, avoiding your eyes, and instead picking at the brown napkin sitting by her saucer. She scrunched the napkin in her fist tightly, before smoothing it out again on the table with both her palms. She was nervous, you can tell. You wouldn’t have heard the next bit if she had said it any quieter. “Lyon is too far. don’t want you to be so far”

You put your mug down back and place your palm on top of Leah’s. It’s moments like this where you want to share the news of your potential transfer to her club, but you would hate to break her heart if it doesn't even up going through. You didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. You notice her palm is a bit cold so you inch forward in your seat, closer to the blonde in front of you, and hold her hand in both of yours. You rub and squeeze her hand, playfully bending down to blow warm air onto them, hoping to share some warmth with her. She gives you a small grin in return, keeping her hand snug in yours.

“I can promise you, Lee, I’m not going to Lyon. I want to stay in the WSL”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me” Leah was stubborn, you knew this, but sometimes it astounds you just how determined she is to get her way.

“Because there is nothing to tell yet, Lee” You give her hands another rub, your thumb tracing the lines of her palm. Her hands were a lot warmer now thanks to them being cocooned in your own. “Louis said we are getting offers but we want to take our time and make the right choice– you know how he is about the transfer business.”

Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you, or maybe it’s the way her hand fits nicely in yours, but you want to give her something that can ease her mind a bit. “I heard a few London clubs are interested and have put offers down…“

You were obviously talking about Arsenal, but the blonde didn’t know that.

“Oh fuck off. It’s true then– Chelsea?” You wince slightly at the sudden increase in volume in her voice. From the corner of your eye you see a few customers turn their heads towards your table, probably cursing you both for ruining the peace and quiet inside the coffee shop. Leah attempts to tug her hand free from your grasp, but you don’t let her. “Shush, Lee. You’re being too bloody loud–”

“Yeah well sorry about that, I just heard my best mate might be going to our biggest club rival”

You squeeze her hand in warning again when her voice continues to go beyond what was sociably acceptable on an early Sunday morning in a quiet cafe. Pretty blue eyes meet yours, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted, ready to argue back against whatever comes next; the slight wrinkle in the middle of her forehead just begging to be smoothed out by your thumb, so you do exactly that. “stop frowning, Lee. Your whole face will get wrinkly”

She moves her face away from your touch, annoyance clearly written all over her face. You can tell she was up to her limit with how secretive you were being because it’s never been like this between the two of you– you usually tell each other everything.

“Nah think ‘bout what I’d look like if you signed for Chelsea then! I wouldn’t even want to look at you anymore”

You frown at that. Ouch. You snatch your wrist out from her hold. “You don’t mean that–“

She must’ve seen the hurt on your face, because her gaze immediately softens and she shifts forward in her seat. “No, no of course not, baby”

That was normal.

Leah was the kind of person who had nicknames for everyone close to her. It wasn’t unusual for her to slip in a term of endearment here and there, although you were certain it was purely platonic. That doesn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat every time you hear it directed at you.

Leah reaches out, grabs one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together. Her hands aren’t as cold anymore and they feel nice against your own. This is normal too. Leah might not seem like it to others, but she can be incredibly affectionate– or least with you she is. She loves to randomly grab your hand and hold it in hers during walks, she always wants to share your blanket during movie nights even if there are other blankets, she’ll tug you over so you can sit on her lap– saying something about “so there’s space for others to sit, baby”– and she’ll always kiss your cheek hello and goodbye.

With the hand that’s not currently occupied with your own, she reaches out and gently nudges your chin up so your eyes meet. “Hey. I always want to see you. I was only jokin”

She grins and winks at you before she continues with a sight pout on her lips. “I just really don’t want to see you in blue”

“Oi! I’d look good in blue, Williamson” You proclaim a little too loudly, jolting in your seat. You were far too caught up in your conversation with Leah to realise that this time it was you who was disrupting the quiet, even almost spilling your mug of coffee over from where it sits by your arm in the process. Leah notices and immediately goes to move your mug further away from you– just in case.

“I know you already look good in blue, baby. Any shade of blue really. Just not Chelsea Blue”

——————————————

It’s weeks later, and the deal has finally been made. You were going to be a Gunner. Just like Leah. You had made another trip down to London, this time without seeing Leah, so you can shoot and film content for the announcement to go up on social media. Although there were a few reports online that listed Arsenal as a potential club for your next move, it was always overshadowed by fans and journalists wholeheartedly believing that you were off to Lyon all thanks to your agent’s cheeky media “leaks”. Once Leah caught wind of Arsenal’s interest in you, she apparently started pestering Jonas if there was any truth behind it. Luckily, you managed to convince him to play along with your secret and keep her in the dark. But that will all change soon.

You spent a few hours at the Emirates taking photos with your new red and white kit, filming your first interview as a Gunner, and filming a few shorter videos for tiktok. Now that it’s official, the only thing going through your head was how you will tell your best friend. Obviously, you wanted to tell her before the rest of the world found out, but you didn’t know how. Eventually you decided that the simpler, the better. Although it’s a special occasion– the mere idea of being in the same team with Leah for both club and country is exciting– but it’s not a proposal or anything, so you don’t know why you were overthinking this.

It only has to be you and Leah. That would be enough.

(Pt. 2 coming soon!)

Our New Normal Pt. 2

my first fic on this site. pls be nice :)

-- kisses, butter.

#woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #leah williamson imagine #Our New Normal fic

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rottenaero · 1 year

Text

AO3

Part 1

Part 4

Part 6

Part 5 of the roommates idea

Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.

Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.

This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.

Basically, I wanna know if I should;

A.Post it on ao3 as is

B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)

C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)

I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.

This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.

After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.

Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.

Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.

Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.

“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”

He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”

He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.

“Lets go, nerds”

Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.

One of his kids were gonna die.

Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse

Eddie was being hunted.

Two more students have been murdered.

He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.

They were royally fucked.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”

The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.

“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”

Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.

“I’m driving.”

She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”

“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”

“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.

“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”

Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.

“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Right, but you like him like that, though?”

“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.

Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.

“See? You little butthead, I was right.”

Theres a rustle of leaves and then,

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.

“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.

“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”

The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”

His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”

“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.

He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”

Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”

He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

“9:27…”

“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.

Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.

“Skull Rock was North.”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”

He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.

“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.

It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.

“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”

Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”

Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.

He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”

Tag List

@bxlthazar@i-have-three-feelings@leverage-ot3@mightbeasleep@badcaseofcasey@joruni@original-cypher@aceflavouredyougurt@flustratedcas@lovelylilbadone@labels-are-for-the-weak@steddieassheg0es@gregre369

#steve being “just you like that” is him being a tiny bit afraid eddie will fuck up and burn himself #hes just self-sacrificial like that #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddie #ficlet #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #and they were roommates #oh my god they were roommates #crisisinverted17 #crisisinverted17's roommate au

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thatbitchery · 6 months

Text

SUCCESS FORMULA 101

Lets talk about what really makes a person succesfull. No I don't mean the recycled stuff & the magical thinking manifesting stuff. Let's talk the real stuff. What really, like really really makes a woman succesful?

1 . The idea- decision gap

Planning is a productive form of procrastination. You overestimate the amount of control you have over time- space reality if you think you can anticipate the future & hold your own. Exhibit A: covid. Yes get your skeleton nailed down and have a second third fourth opinion but you have three days after the idea to begin execution. Do not overplay your power, you don't have that much control and your powers of perception are based on the past, not future. If you must plan get the first draft down then work with that. Here's a secret- you know those ultra succesful people you know? They're making it up as they go. Adaptation>> planning. If you want success reduce your idea to execution gap to max 3 days then go get it. Risk aversion is the enemy of innovation.

2. Embarrassment

My mentor taught me to not only anticipate but be fully amenable to embarrassment. Especially if you're looking at a career in creative and performed arts you can NOT skip this one. You want to be a singer? Writer? Influencer? Blogger? Vlogger?There will be a reddit thread about how much you suck. This is the fabric of success. Resilience is a woman's best friend. Embarrassment is the portal to growth. First day in the office messing everything up asking stupid questions underdressed with that accent- that's the price you pay for sitting on that CEO seat one day. The way to the top is from the bottom.

3. Boredom

Success is found in the small, mundane, repetitive, boring day to day tasks. It's hard to get far especially in corporate spaces because the boredom is crippling & we are innately a progressive species which means dopamine & adrenaline seeking so you leave your boring tasks for the high of chasing a new goal- no. Get very comfortable with boredom or move to creative arts. Success is found in consistency and consistency is found in repetition. Closing that million dollar deal isn't what made you succesful. It was the repetitive boring practises of sitting through meetings with a collective IQ of 18 that taught you patience, negotiation, jargon and attunement. It's not meeting the right guy that gave you a successful relationship it was your 8 year long friendships that you no longer pay attention to that taught you to communicate, empathise, have boundaries , the right way to love & be loved and recognize value. We tend to credit the spikes for the outcome when it's the consistency of the mundane that got us where we are. Success is the really boring stuff. Really really boring stuff. Success is a buildup.

4. Hierarchy

The swapping of "self sabotaging stupidity" with "feminism & empowerment" is easily one of the greatest downfalls of our generation. Social species= hierarchical you're not being a boss babe queen by speaking to your superiors in a condescending manner & inserting your opinions bc "you have a right to whatever". Uh , you don't. You don't have the right to embarrass your boss or call him out, you don't. Be the boss first then you can call the shots don't let rich kids on tiktok trick you into thinking you can get away with disrespect. Know your place. Power isn't taken its transferred. Meritocracy >> democracy if you want the right to throw your mouth around be the CEO then you can call the shots till then act your paycheck & plan your exit or social climb to a point your opinion matters because meritocracy will always trample democracy. Don't be stupid.

5. Baby & the bathwater

Another culprit for my generation's failure is the witch hunt & self righteous campaign that's cancel culture & virtue signalling. Influencers build their reputation on it so Candace Owens gets to call Beyonce out but you shut your mouth. Learn the concept of dichotomy and learn to take what resonates with you &go. The higher you climb the success ladder the lower your morals go & the more terrible people you have to tolerate so you'll sit 4 hours on a table with a sexist ugly pig making wild sexual innuendo because once that deal is signed your dreams come true. If you're walking a path of self proclaimed righteousness where you can't talk to people who do this and that don't bother. & this level of dissociation & delusion that allows you to think of people as good or bad will get you manipulated left right center. You want to be succesful? Not your monkeys, not your circus. Take what's yours and go. Don't lie to yourself & sabotage your own progress bc you're on a little righteousness campaign.

6. Learn to use people

The greatest resource on God's pretty beautiful earth is human beings. And time. Every single thing you want will come from a person, learn to use people & be used by them bc a relationship requires an exchange of value, don't be a greedy leechy taker. The most important part of success is human resource. If you're struggling with communication & negotiation dedicate everything you have to fixing it. The capital city of success is mutually beneficial relationships ie relationships where people consciously consensually use each other in an equilibrium of value exchange.

7. Emotional intelligence

Sucess doesn't like emotions. In fact those two are sworn enemies since the dawn of the planet. When emotions walk through the door success jumps out the window. Now, I want us to understand- when I'm saying this I'm not saying be a robot- you're not. Emotions are important. They're a compass. You look at them, listen to what they're saying and decide what to do with that. I'm not saying make an enemy our of your humanity, emotional intelligence isn't synonymous with emotional negligence. I'm saying you don't make decisions based on them. You don't express them in public unless it serves you to. You don't shut them down- don't be a psycho- but also don't make them something theyre not- an identity. It's a compass. You need it to move in the right direction, but you carry the compass not the other way around.

8. Offensive

This is where women in particular mess it up- never play defensive. Ever. Unless it's a backhanded game & manipulation tactic always play the offense. Defending yourself is weak af. Find a way to be on the offensive. Victims don't make it. They don't. They get the sympathy & provision & that's it. Success is a literal jungle hun especially corporate your little tearjerkers might get your bf to not leave you but in your office they'll get you abused & disrespected & shamed. Again- it is within the nature of a social species to attack its weak & at home you're safe bc your friends & family really do care about you but corporate & success is a competition. They hit low. They hit hard. It's merciless, you're competing for the same thing. Always play the offense. Always be in the offense. It's better to be the bully, if you get bullied you bully them worse &let everyone know yeah no I bullied him now what? Exactly. Be the mean girl. Be the bully. Take the offensive. Offensive is progressive. Defensive is survival.

9. Routines

Ive found that most people don't know the difference between routine & schedules. Wake up @5 to workout is a schedule. Working out before breakfast is a routine. I'll tell you this as someone with ADHD but an unbreakable routine, if you can not keep up with the time you'll mess up. You don't need to allocate time to set a routine. A routine is a sequence of events that's turned habitual. So if my routine is wake up work out drink water get my vitamins in it doesn't matter if I wake up @ 5am or 1 pm that's the sequence of activities that will take place. Routine is about muscle memory. It has to be subconscious. You have to instinctively know this is whst I should do & have it so ingrained that you don't even think about it it just happens. Training your muscle memory is a superpower. >86% of your day is governed by muscle memory. Think about that. If you just subconsciously headed to the gym and made a healthy meal & studied. Like, while spaced out. Just think about it. Like I said success happens in consistency & repetition. Quick take a guess how muscle memory is formed.

10 Reality

Success is delusion averse. Take the world for what it is and people for what they are & reality for that- reality and stop trying to substitute millions of years of evolution & adaptation with cheap politics, values and morals. Don't be dumb. See the world as is not as you wish it was. Forget all the self soothing politics you're buying into and go science. You can not undo in one century what's been in motion for eons though. Sociology & politics are just self soothing distractions. The world is what it is when you die it'll be exactly what it I'd, you're the one that'll have burned herself. Don't be stupid. Women can't be stupid.That XX is synonymous with Xtra Xmart okay? Okay.

TBY

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