#i’m determined to start this one earlier

[milfhunter6698]

Under pressure pt5

synopsis: Upon joining the NYC firm as a new associate, you quickly find yourself facing the pressure of working under the firm’s star senior partner, Victoria neuman. With a reputation for excellence and an eye for potential, she was searching for a junior partner who can meet her exacting standards. You, with your impressive credentials and unwavering ambition, seemed like a perfect fit…until the pressure of meeting those high expectations started taking their toll. 

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, angst, teasing, hurt & comfort, power imbalance, slight AU, some similarities to cannon, mentions of the boys characters (Hughie), slight age gap, rival associates, young!reader, older!Victoria, slow-burn, infidelity.

Notes: It’s sunday ayyy new chapter. I’m posting this right now because I won’t have any time to do so later today sooo i just wanna say, I’ve mentioned before that Vicky isn’t a supe in this, as much as you’d want to but unfortunately she isn’t so sorry boo! This is a sloww burn so ya’ll ain’t getting freaky that fast lol, but i promise it’s gonna be worth it. And oh my gosh? tysm for the follows and comments they make my day i love you all.

“I see your face every time I’m with somebody else. Can’t you see that I want you?” ♩Where you belong—The weeknd.

previous chapter

wc: 3.1k

You finally made it your apartment, exhaustion wore you down, your thoughts racing with that shared moment between you and Victoria, as you found your girlfriend waiting for you. Letting out a sigh, you sat your keys and bag on the kitchen counter. She sauntered over, a playful smirk on her lips.

“Hey, you're back. Missed you," she spoke, her voice soft as ever. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you returned her smirk with a wary one, mumbling, "work."

Her lips met yours for a soft kiss. That same horrible feeling washed over you as you realized the very same mouth that had been pressed against Victoria's just hours ago was now touching your girlfriend's. You broke the kiss abruptly, turning away in an attempt to hide the turmoil written across your face.

However, your girlfriend, oblivious to your inner conflict, pulled you close once more. This time, her kiss was deeper, more lingering, filled with an affection that only intensified your remorse. As your eyes met hers, it pained you because all you saw was nothing but love and trust, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

She leaned in for another kiss, gently biting your lower lip. Usually, this would excite you. But however this time, you felt a sudden wave of worry. Her kiss, which used to feel comforting and familiar, now reminded you of Victoria's from earlier. An unexpected shiver of anxiety rippled through your body making you feel uneasy and guilty.

Despite it all, you found yourself giving in to the moment. With trembling hands, you helped her remove your shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons as you stumbled backwards into the dimly lit bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind. She guided you towards the bed with a determined grace, her eyes filled with hunger that both thrilled and terrified you. As your back hit the cool sheets, she crawled over you, her body a familiar weight that now felt strangely foreign.

Your breath hitched as her teeth left momentary bruises on your skin, and you hissed in warning, "Uh, careful."

She mumbled a quick apology, her lips brushing past your collarbone, neck placing kisses down your abdomen. Your heart raced, and you closed your eyes, her tongue traced a wet path, making contact with your aching clit. Your hands, shot down gripping into her hair.

You couldn't help but let your thoughts drift. Your mind wandered back to Victoria. The kiss, that night at the pool, and that look on her eyes, how badly she craved you. Desperately you tried to shake off the thoughts and focus on her touch instead. But Victoria’s name, continued to play on repeat in your mind, hard to ignore as it teetered on the edge of your tongue, threatening to spill out.

You bit your lip, suppressing a moan. Suddenly, you felt guilt and an unbearable longing mixed with a sense of righteousness. "Fuck Vic—, fuck," you mumbled, your voice a raw, hoarse whisper.

Your body froze. Holy shit... You weren't sure whether she'd heard you or not, though she persisted. "Oh god, stop! Just stop," you pleaded. She then did so, pulling away.

You propped yourself on your elbows, “Hey, I'm sorry. You're great, I just..." You sighed, licking your lips, sitting on the edge of the mattress, a heavy, uncomfortable silence lingered, and it only served to break your heart further.

Rising from the bed, you bent down to gather your underwear from the floor. Slipping it on, you met her eyes, noticing the hurt and disappointment lingering in them. You mumbled an excuse, before you left the room disappearing into the dark hallway.

You stood in the bathroom, splashing water on your face and looking into the mirror. You felt absolutely lost, the memories of Victoria still there, and the growing connection with her a shocking twist of fate creating an unsettling, conflicting feeling.

Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to process the complex emotions overwhelming you, torn between desire and guilt. You didn't want to hurt your girlfriend, but Victoria’s hold on you was so strong that It made it really difficult, the grasp she had on your heart was unrelenting.

The next morning, you entered the firm, your mind still racing from the events of the previous night, thinking about your girlfriend and the possibilities only added to the unease gnawing at you.

As you walk down the hallway, your thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss with Victoria. You’re frustrated with yourself for even allowing it to happen, but something about it keeps pulling at you. Lost in thought, you don’t notice her until she bumps into you.

You share an awkward moment, both frozen for a second too long, before quickly shifting away. She mumbles a polite apology, but there’s a flicker of something unspoken in her eyes. You nod, avoiding her gaze, but inside, your heart pounded.

Later, in the breakroom you stepped into the kitchen, grateful for a brief escape. You prepared a cup of coffee, hoping it will clear your head. Just as you took a sip, you sensed someone’s eyes on you. Glancing up to find Victoria staring you down, an amused smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Why is she everywhere? It feels like no matter where you go, she’s there. Every time you try to focus on your work, she reappears.

“Looks like someone had a fun night.” She spoke teasingly.

Her gaze drifts to the faint bruises on your neck, and you suddenly realize what she means. Your face flushes with heat as you instinctively rub at the marks, trying to cover them up. Embarrassed, you meet her eyes, which only makes her chuckle softly. Your tone was defensive but tried to play it cool, “It’s not what you think.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and takes a step closer. For a moment, you wonder what she’s going to say next, but before she can speak, Hughie walks in, his presence cutting through the tension like a knife.

He was oblivious to whatever was going on between you, he then turned to address Victoria, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all morning. We’ve got that meeting with the partners in five minutes.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you for the first time in days. Hughie’s interruption was a welcome one. You were not ready to confront whatever’s going on between you and Victoria.

She lingers for a moment longer, her eyes flicking back to Hughie, before she turns and follows him out of the room. You were left alone in the kitchen, the lingering scent of coffee mingling with your own sense of confusion.

Your thoughts continued to race. You can’t shake the feeling that things are spiraling out of control. You’re torn between the growing attraction to Victoria and the relationship you’ve so desperately trying to salvage with your girlfriend.

You can’t let this get any messier but deep down, you knew it already had been. The more you tried to avoid Victoria, the more she seems to be everywhere, as if fate is pushing you together despite your best efforts.

Earlier that day, you sat at a small table in Central Park, the sounds of the city blending with the rustle of the trees. The late-morning sun filters through the leaves, casting a soft glow on the table. Across from you sits the client, a middle-aged woman corporate executive embroiled in a complex legal battle over intellectual property theft.

“I don’t know how it got to this point. One moment, I had everything under control, and the next, it feels like my world is falling apart.”

You listened carefully, nodding as she speaks. There’s something about her situation that resonates with you—being blindsided, trying to hold everything together while the ground shifts beneath your feet.

“You did everything right. But sometimes, no matter how careful we are, things go wrong. And when that happens, it’s about how we respond that defines us.”

She let out a heavy sigh, looking out at the park as if seeking answers in the distance. “It’s hard to trust anyone anymore. Especially when the people you thought were on your side turn against you.”

You leaned forward slightly, your voice calm but firm, “I get that. But you have to remember, not everyone’s out to get you. Sometimes, the ones who stand by you are the ones you least expect. And I promise you, I’m going to see this through.”

Her eyes softened with a flicker of relief, as if your words gave her something to hold onto. As you spent the next half-hour going over some details of the case, outlining the next steps and giving the client a sense of direction. It was time to wrap up, she stood from her seat and offered a hand.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

“Of course, that’s what we’re here for.” You accepted her hand shaking it firmly, before gathering your things from the table and saying your goodbyes.

You returned home, the sound of the city fading behind as you step into your apartment. You tossed your keys on the counter, your body heavy with exhaustion. The bed felt too large, too cold. You lay down, staring at the ceiling, the silence in the room echoing louder than the chaos of the day.

Your mind drifts to everything—the two women in your life. You wondered if you’re even in control—or if everything is slipping through your fingers. The emotional weight pressing down heavy on you, like a suffocating blanket you cannot seem to pull off.

In the stillness of your room, your phone buzzed on the nightstand jolting you, shattering the silence. Instead of checking it, you let out a frustrated huff, closing your eyes tightly. Desperate to escape any further thoughts, you pulled a pillow over your head, and buried yourself in the comfort of your bed.

It had been another long, draining day, and all you wanted was to clear your mind. As you walked out of the office building, the city’s soft hum around you as the evening light dimmed.

Walking down the stairs, a familiar figure caught your eye, standing near the entrance of the building. You blinked, almost unsure if it was really her. A strange wave of relief washed over you. She hadn’t been around for a while, and maybe you could finally talk things out, fix things.

“Hey,” You called, striding over to her. You could sense something off in her posture, but you tried to push the thought aside. “I was wondering when you’d show up. It’s been a rough week—”

She interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. “Save it.” Your heart sank, the relief you felt moments ago turned into a knot in your stomach. You knew that tone, you knew what was coming. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound calm.

She sighed, glancing away at the cars passing by for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “No matter what we do… it just doesn’t work. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I just… I don’t think this is working anymore.”

You blinked, her words hitting you like a wave. You’d been so consumed by your feelings for Victoria, your confusion, that you hadn’t even seen this coming. “Wait, we can talk about this. We can fix it—”

She shook her head, looking down at the pavement. “I don’t think we can. You’re different now. I’m different. And…” She hesitated before adding, “Is it someone at work? Is it that woman…. Victoria, that you’ve been working with?”

You froze, your throat tightening. How could she possibly know? The question lingered between you and although you wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. You couldn’t lie, but you weren’t ready to admit the truth either.

She took a step back, her eyes soft with resignation. “I thought so.” She gave a faint smile, one that held both sadness and understanding. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. But i guess that’s not me.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, speechless, grappling with whether you continue denying your attraction to Victoria and the inevitable consequences of those feelings.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as a lump formed in your throat. Blinking rapidly, you tried to dispel the emotions threatening to spill over. Your hand came up to your face, rubbing your palm against your eyes to wipe away any signs of weakness.

Watching her walk away, it was over you knew there was no turning back time. Your relationship, once strong and full of promise, had faltered. To ask for another chance now would be nothing short of foolish.

You remained rooted to the spot, your chest aching, a persistent and uncomfortable sensation. A chaos of emotions consumed you, swirling like a tempest, leaving you unsure of what your next move would be.

You stood alone in the copy room, glaring at the stubborn printer that refused to cooperate, its flashing error signal mocking you. The silence in the room was punctuated only by the sounds of your deep, labored breaths.

You clicked the button again, hoping for a miracle. Nothing. A flash of irritation surged through you, building with every failure. You clenched your fists, muttering under your breath, “Come on..” then slammed your hand against the side of the machine. When it still didn’t work, your frustration reached its peak.

You struck the machine again—once, twice—trying to vent the anger bubbling inside. Your world felt like it was crumbling. The breakup with girlfriend, the constant pressure from work, and now this. You pounded the printer again, teeth clenched, but it only made things worse. “Fucking— stupid, Machine!”

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening cut through the tense moment, and you froze mid-swing.

Victoria.

She stood in the doorway, a stack of files in hand, her usual calm, controlled demeanor breaking for a moment as she took in the sight of you.

You dropped your hand and straightened up, embarrassed. Your eyes darted to the side, avoiding her gaze, but it was too late—she had already seen the cracks in your usually composed exterior.

“Are you… okay?” she asked softly, setting the files down on a nearby desk. There was a hesitation in her voice, a rare hint of concern that broke through her usual professionalism.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to wave it off, but your voice lacked conviction.

She didn’t move. She simply stood there, studying you, the room filling with a heavy silence. You could feel her gaze on you, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t want to be under her scrutiny. You knew what she was seeing—the exhaustion, the frustration, the crumbling walls you’d so carefully built around yourself.

“You don’t seem fine,” she said gently, taking a few steps closer. “Something’s wrong.”

You sighed heavily, the weight of everything threatening to crush you. For a second, you considered brushing her off again, but the look in her eyes stopped you. There was a sincerity there that you weren’t used to from her. It wasn’t just curiosity or concern for how you were performing at work—it was something more.

“I just…” your voice cracked, and you looked away, feeling your throat tighten. “It’s been a rough week. I’m dealing with… a lot.”

She didn’t push any further, but she didn’t leave either. Her presence, usually sharp and commanding, was softer now. Patient.

You exhaled and ran a hand through your hair, finally giving in. “My girlfriend broke up with me.”

Her expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief crossing her features for a brief instant before she quickly masked it. She took another step closer, standing directly in front of you now, her usual guarded demeanor softening.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and for once, the words didn’t feel like just a polite phrase. They felt genuine.

You glanced at her, your own feelings a mess, unsure what to make of her sympathy. But something about the way she stood there, unflinchingly close, gave you a strange sense of comfort.

She reached out, her hand brushing against your arm before pulling you into a tight hug. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to send a wave of warmth through you that caught you off guard.

Your body froze for a moment, then you quickly surrendered, burying your face into her neck. The tension in your shoulders began to melt away with each soft breath, your sigh a release of pent-up stress. Your arms awkwardly tangled with hers as you clung to her, her warmth a comforting feeling.

Once you pulled back your breath hitched, the space between you narrowing. She didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned in closer too, her hand sliding up to gently touch your cheek. The moment hung in the air, thick with tension. Your lips were mere inches apart, but just as she was about to close the gap, you blinked, breaking the spell.

She pulled back slightly, her heart racing, she hesitated, her own breath a little uneven, but then she finally stepped back, giving you space.

She gave a soft, knowing smile, she didn’t say anything more about the breakup, but there was something in her eyes that told you she understood more than she let on, an empathy she held back.

She closed the gap, her skilled fingers deftly fixing the printer. With a swift movement, she had it churning out papers. "There you go," she spoke, a small smile tugging at her mouth. Her gaze swept over you once more. Her eyes held a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite understand before she turned, striding confidently towards the door.

You stood there, flushed and still reeling from the almost-kiss. Letting out a deep, long sigh, you rubbed your face before slamming your hands on the table. Your gaze drifted to the floor as a turmoil of emotions swirled through you. Confused, conflicted, angry - you felt everything all at once and it was too much to wrap your head around.

[lovegasmic]

 𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY HIT ON YOU

─── . satoru , suguru , sukuna , kento, toji x f!reader

꒰ request : jjk men noticing you during a night out ꒱

꒰ fluff : curseless au ◞ maybe ooc Satoru and Suguru◞ mentions of reader drinking ◞ suggestive and a bit of touching w Toji ꒱ ★ taglist

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SATORU

it’s even a little bit funny the way Satoru eyes you up and down, casually sipping on a non alcoholic beverage while fixing his sunglasses, not subtle in the slightest, there is to add, not as if he actually tried.

an elbow straight into Suguru’s waist and the dark haired man groans, “fucker...”

“look at that girl over there” Satoru, again, does nothing to be subtle, motioning towards you standing at the bar with a friend.

“the one you’ve been ogling at while I talk?”

“isn’t she so pretty?”

it’s like talking to a damn wall.

“i’m going to talk to her”

yet Suguru raises a brow as if the sudden approach was not a good idea, “you sure man, she looks kinda busy with her fri—”

and he’s gone, walking with confidence and a smirk to mask the actual nervousness rushing through the white haired’s body.

“hey” is the first thing he says, elbow propped up on the bar next to you, “can I get you a drink?” eyes drop to the glass on your hand, “... another?”

that did not start well, but your smile makes up for the embarrassment, “sure” you say finally, after a second of knowing glances towards your friend, which didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru, so by reflex, the cocky smirk is back.

he orders a drink, asking for your order or perhaps if you’re feeling adventurous, “and while we’re at it... can I have your name?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUGURU

“the trick is to aim for the head” Suguru casually blurts out. mansplaining? nah, he’s genuinely trying to help after watching you struggle in the claw machine for quite some time now, having come up next to you with soft, light steps that did not break your previous concentration.

the truth is, Suguru was looking at you earlier, something about your determination made him prop his cheek on a hand and look at you, entertained by your groans and complaints whenever the plushie you were trying to get just slipped past the cough, broken claw.

“this game is broken either way” you huff a laugh, turning to stare at the eyes of the stranger man, with a soft gaze and gentle smile, “wanna give it a try?”

“only if you tell me your name first” so that’s how he does it. you thought to yourself, offering a chuckle and your name before he nodded his head, “i’m Suguru”

then he’s gently moving you around, with a hand on your lower back so you’re switching positions, sliding a coin into the slot and getting into position.

it was truly not as if he tried to impress you, he did not, but... maybe... just maybe he did, pulling out all his highschool knowledge learnt from his best friends, and avoiding the part where they all shook the machine when didn’t get a prize.

“is that the one you want?” he really did not need to ask since he already saw you struggle to get it, but still waits for your affirmation before proceeding.

“you really are a magician or something” you chuckle, gripping the plushie Suguru just got for you, “thank you”

“no need to thank me... why don’t you... just give me your phone number?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUKUNA

approaching you? pfft no. the... tv screen was more visible from the spot Sukuna currently sat at the sports bar, an important match was happening so the bar was crowded, and oh, coincidentally, he chose a table coincidentally closer to where you sat with other people.

when the night started, Sukuna was focused on the game, until of course, you arrived, and his heart skipped a beat.

“that guy is so into you” one of your friends giggles next to your ear, eyeing at Sukuna while you roll your eyes.

“where did you get that from?” it was obvious the man was not interested, with a lazy position, arms draped over the backrest of the booth and a leg crossed, so uninterested.

“he’s totally into you, I can sense this kind of thing, plus, he stared at you when you went to the bathroom”

that... was true, Sukuna couldn’t help and let his eyes drift from the screen and towards you, checking you out in a way that was apparently not too subtle.

but he was not desperate, he was not the one to approach first, girls fell for him, girls wanted his attention, girls that weren’t as half as pretty as you.

“fuck” he grumbles, annoyed by his own feelings while suddenly and quite unexpectedly standing up to go to the toilet, only for you to land face first into his chest as you were about to leave.

“oh, god, i’m so sorry!" you gasp, noticing the stain of food on his shirt from where your leftovers package smashed into him. and Sukuna should be mad, really, but it was so cute how you rambled apologies and clumsily wiped the stain with napkins.

“i didn’t mean it, i—”

“it was quite expensive”

...huh?, “huh?”

“the shirt” he mutters, the previous stoic expression turning into a devilish smirk, Sukuna was an idiot, watching the color drain from your face, “you better pay it back”

“i... i can tr—”

“do you have somewhere to go after this?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  KENTO

for the blonde, there was no better way than destressing after a long day at work, then getting drinks.

hopefully without his annoying white haired coworker getting on his nerves.

he often does not care about his surroundings, that’s how he is, quietly taking his own drinks without minding everyone, until you arrive.

you look troubled, it’s been a while since you got in and sat at a table in the back, are you sad? lost? did your friends cancel on you? or are you just awfully early to meet someone?

doesn’t matter, but Kento is unable to keep his eyes off you.

he’s being nice, alright? “can I sit with you?” somehow getting up from his seat and coming to you, his smile is kind and points at the now empty table he was previously at, “i came alone, might as well have some company” he says, holding back the need to say ‘pretty company’

“of course” you know he means no harm, sitting quite far in a still polite distance while clearing his throat and engaging in small talk.

without realising the hours pass, between friendly chatter and introductions exchanged, leaving the bar with a promise of a future date.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  TOJI

“did you see the hunk standing at the back?” you and your friend giggle, not so subtly stealing glances at Toji, whose casual pose leaning against a wall and hand holding some cheap beer was enough to make most people at the bar swoon.

“you should talk to him” your friend wiggles her brows playfully, “he’s so your type”

“he’s hot, but kinda looks like a criminal...”

“you love that, don’t you?” and ouch, she was right.

and said comment did not go unnoticed by Toji, who was far but not too much as not to hear your giggling, truth is he was eyeing you for a while, eyes on how your outfit showed your body, and how he wished to come a bit closer and smell what perfume you used.

Toji has never been a man to mince his words, gulping down the rest of his beer and walking to you with a smirk and a brief flirty lick of his teeth as soon as your friend rushed to give you some privacy while still remaining within an earshot.

“have some business with me, doll?” and oh, that should not have been so hot, making you squirm and face heat from being caught.

“i um, no ...?”

“you and your friend have been looking at me for a while” she’s quick to flee after hearing that, not waiting to see how Toji’s hand casually rests on your waist, subtly and almost unnoticeable tugging you closer.

“i’d offer to get you a drink but I think you had enough” liar, he just didn’t have money, “so why don’t we get some fresh air instead?” and you fall for it, squirming and nodding at the promise of what would happen later, or perhaps, at the alley next to the bar.

[br0kenangel]

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.

Aegon was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his baby sister in front of him. She was propped up on a small cushion, her chubby hands grasping at the air as she babbled away happily, her violet eyes sparkling.

“Come on,” Aegon coaxed, his voice filled with determination as he leaned closer to her. “Say my name, alright? Say ‘Aegon.’ Aeeegon.”

The baby girl looked up at him, her expression curious. She blinked slowly, her little mouth forming a small “O” as she tried to mimic him. Aegon’s heart swelled with anticipation.

“Go on,” he encouraged, his smile widening. “Aeeegon.”

She opened her mouth and made a sound—a tiny, excited babble that was nowhere close to his name. “Da-da!” she exclaimed proudly, her face lighting up with a giggle.

Aegon’s smile faltered, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “No, not ‘da-da,’” he said, trying to keep his patience. “Aegon. Aaaeeeegon.”

But his sister only responded with more giggles, clearly finding her own attempts at speech much more amusing than her brother’s frustration. She clapped her hands together, delighted by the sound she’d made, and Aegon could only groan in response.

“Why won’t you say my name?” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He tried again, leaning in closer. “Aegon. Aaaeeegon.”

“Da-da!” she squealed again, this time louder, as if she were very pleased with herself.

Aegon’s frustration was starting to build, and he was about to try again when the door to the nursery creaked open. He glanced up to see Aemond standing there, his silver hair slightly tousled from whatever adventure he’d been on earlier. Aemond tilted his head, his one good eye curious as he took in the scene before him.

“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, his voice soft as he walked into the room.

Aegon quickly straightened up, a hint of embarrassment in his expression. “Nothing,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Just… trying to teach her something.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he walked over and sat down in front of their sister, smiling at her with that rare, gentle look he only ever seemed to have around her. She immediately reached out to him, her chubby arms waving excitedly.

“Hello, little one,” Aemond said softly, his voice filled with warmth.

And then, to Aegon’s utter shock, their sister opened her mouth and made a sound—“Amon!” It wasn’t perfect, but it was unmistakably his name, in her own very baby way. She grinned widely, as if proud of herself.

Aemond’s eye widened in surprise, a look of pride spreading across his face as he turned to Aegon. “Did you hear that? She said my name!” he said, unable to hide the delight in his voice.

Aegon’s mouth fell open, disbelief written all over his face. “She said your name?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. He had been trying for ages, and here Aemond comes in and she says his name just like that?

Aemond nodded, a small, smug smile on his lips. “Looks like she likes me better,” he teased lightly.

Aegon’s initial shock quickly gave way to a pang of jealousy. Determined not to be outdone, he gently lifted his sister into his lap, turning her to face him directly. “Alright, now it’s my turn,” he said with renewed determination. “Say my name. Aegon. Aaaeeegon.”

But instead of trying to repeat him, she just looked up at him with wide eyes, and then—she burst into a fit of giggles. Aemond, still sitting beside them, joined in, chuckling at the whole situation.

Aegon’s shoulders slumped again, this time in defeat. He looked down, his earlier excitement draining away. “Why won’t you say my name?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I’m your brother too…”

Just as he was about to give up, he felt a tiny, soft hand patting his head. He looked up, and there she was, her little face full of concentration as she tried to mimic his name once more. “Ae—” she began, her voice tiny and halting. “Ae…gon.”

Aegon’s eyes lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face as joy and pride flooded his chest. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his earlier sadness completely forgotten. “You said my name!”

Aemond watched the scene unfold, a gentle smile on his lips as he saw the happiness on Aegon’s face. He wasn’t jealous—he was just glad that their sister had finally said Aegon’s name, even if it took a little longer.

Their sister, clearly pleased with herself, clapped her hands again, giggling at the reaction she got from her brothers. Aegon, still beaming, looked at Aemond, and for a moment, they both just smiled at each other, all traces of their earlier rivalry gone.

In that moment, the three of them were just happy and content in each other’s company. The sound of their sister’s giggles filled the room, her tiny voice echoing with the names of her two big brothers—names.

Part 1 ♡ Part 3

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[haetero]

all mine.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x afab!reader. WORDCOUNT: 1.9k

CW: jealous sex, mating press (hehe), unprotected sex, breeding kink!!, creampie, kind of angsty but its porn w a little bit of plot. use of high valyrian + a sprinkle of aegon bashing! mdni <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was originally a 500 word drabble and then... i went a bit nuts.. if you enjoyed the fic, pls lmk! not proofread we die like literally everyone lol.

ABSTRACT:

aemond gets caught up with his royal duties and finds himself spending less time with his precious lady wife. determined to take matters in your hands, you make some silly choices involving another prince, which only makes things worse. till it gets better :)

this time, you think you deserved it.

what begun as a harmless jest to get aemond to pay attention to you quickly led to letting aegon drunkenly sweet talk you at supper. and yes, pretending to flirt with your husband’s brother in front of him might not have been the best decision, but you were just having fun right?

wrong.

you were perhaps the stupidest woman in all the seven kingdoms. really, there was no rationale for choosing to engage with aegon for more than ten minutes at a time and yet here you were, ‘giggling’ at his piss poor jokes and pretending to listen to his made up tales of something you couldn’t care to remember.

you could only chastise your past self for your poor decision making skills as aegon whispered into your ear, far too close to your liking. he stunk of the rich, dornish wine served earlier in the evening and his eyes lazily stared at the expanse of your chest. but regardless of whether he was drunk or not, aegon had enough wits about him to realise his brother was furious.

a sly grin on aegon’s face, he seemed to understand the predicament you were in and leaned in to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, before loudly announcing his exit with a parting “my lady”, to further enrage aemond.

internally groaning, you waited till aegon left before daring to take a peek at aemond. but he wasn’t even looking at you.

the complete lack of response terrified you. in fact, you’d almost convinced yourself he didn’t care at all, until you noticed his blanching knuckles gripping his silverware. “aemond, i-," you begun.

in an instant, aemond had gotten up out of his seat and finally looked at you with a look in his eyes that only meant one thing. he mumbled out a quick excusal for the pair of you, before extending his arm towards you with a pointed stare.

you were well and truly fucked.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

before you can realise what’s happened, aemond’s dragged you to your shared chambers at a pace you’re struggling to keep up with. quickly dismissing your maids, he shuts the doors firmly, before turning his back to you and shucking off his outer clothing. you dejectedly do the same, struggling out of your dress. you leave them in a heap on the floor, stripping down till you’re in your underthings.

the sounds of aemond changing have quietened down, spurring you to take a peek at him. he’s left in his pants; his broad shoulders and back on display for you to admire. maybe he'll listen to you if you explain yourself, you delude yourself. tiptoeing over to where he stands, you attempt a sheepish half smile, grabbing onto his bare arm to direct his attention to you.

“please, i’m sorry, i wasn’t thinking, i just missed you,” you start, attempting to make eye contact with aemond. he’s yet to talk to you, pointedly ignoring you. he simply stands there, jaw clenched, refusing to acknowledge you any further.

you feel stupid, really. doing all this to gain the attention of the man standing in front of you and even then, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. you wait for a few more seconds before deciding to save yourself the embarrassment. with a sigh, you turn back to your shared bed and sit yourself down.

you rush to unpin your hair, readying yourself for sleep. the dull throb of want in your stomach has you frowning but you know the only person who could satisfy you is aemond. in your distracted state, you don’t see that aemond’s turned back to face you.

“do you take me for a fool?” you freeze, not expecting that of all questions. you start to respond when he cuts you off with a glare. aemond huffs out a curse and walks over to stand in between your legs. a part of you think he looks majestic from this view, but you’re quick to silence your thoughts as he slightly lowers himself till he’s level with you.

“you missed me, so you thought it best to what? throw yourself at my brother?” the affronted look in your eyes tells aemond he’s wrong but he’s not feeling very charitable as you try to come up with right thing to say. “and you thought i’d just let him have you?”

“no! i swear, i was being childish aemond,” you try to reason with him. the longer you think about it, the faster you realise how childish you really were. but it doesn’t change your intentions. you were unsatisfied and tired. but you also hadn’t been this close to aemond without someone else being nearby in a while. the dull throbbing sensation in your cunt was starting to spread and you fought the urge to rip your underthings off and let aemond have his way with you.

“if you wanted something, all you had to do was tell me, not run off to aegon,” he muses, his right arm coming up to trace the veins in your neck. aemond can feel the way your breath stutters; he takes note of the way your lips quiver and fingers curl up slightly at his words. you not-so-subtly push your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of your lust by yourself.

a satisfied grin curls at his lips and aemond, finally, leans into the slope of your neck. you shiver at the feather-like sensation of his lips pressing into your skin, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself before he pushes you onto your back. “aemond, i need only you,” you shyly mumble, before reaching up on your elbows to undo the clasp of his eye patch.

aemond lets you do as much before throwing it behind him, fixing you with a lust-filled gaze that has you whimpering within a second. he leans over you, and makes a show out of dragging the fabric of your underthings down till he’s rid of them, throwing them to the side. you’re shaking as you watch him eye your cunt with a starving look.

calloused hands grab at the fat of your thighs, kneading the soft skin there before pushing them to your chest. you mewl as cold air fans over your wet cunt, catching the way aemond eyes your hole greedily twitching around nothing. “this is what you wanted, right?”

“yes, yes, please,” you beg. if you weren’t so desperate already, you would have gagged at the sound of your whiny tone. but aemond seems to like your desperation. aemond undoes the string of his pants, before palming himself with a squeeze that has him sighing in relief. your mouth waters at the sight before you.

aemond gives himself a moment before he climbs over you, his frame gently pushing onto your knees in the position you’re in. your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of his warmth enveloping you.

“no, look at me, ābrazȳrys,” your silver haired lover grunts, as he goes to drag his cockhead over your slit. “i should get aegon to pleasure your whorish cunt instead.”

your immediate protests brings a smug grin to aemond’s face. of course, he would never let his brother anywhere near the ethereal sight beneath him, but seeing the tortured look on your face brings him a sick sense of pride. he plays with you like this for a moment, rubbing his cockhead over and over your clit till you’re nearly crying out in want.

after what feels like a lifetime, he decides to push into you. aemond intently watches the way his cock catches at the rim of your pussy before he slams into you. your resulting gasp has aemond’s chest tightening as he loses himself to the feeling of your walls clenching around him immediately.

letting out a strangled moan of your name, he sets a brutal pace from the get-go, ploughing forward until you’re clawing at his neck and shoulders for a reprieve. you’re a quivering mess under him, a mix of moans and cries escaping you. you can feel him everywhere.

a light flush rises on aemond’s cheeks and upper chest, a pink hue that matches the fine dresses you might wear to a banquet or a tourney. your teary eyes trace the faint red lines peaking up on his broad shoulders, evidence of your passion that has your core clenching tighter around him. aemond catches your stare, mouth agape in a euphoric state of mind and pushes your knees down even further, if it was possible.

his wife, his lover, his, his, only his.

"it's okay, sweetling," he vows, fat cock bullying your walls as he moulds himself into you. he bends down to leave a path of kisses trailing down your neck, assuming a steady yet punishing pace into your sopping core. "for me, remember? you can take it for me, right?" aemond groans, drunk on the way your pussy sucks him in, eyes squeezed shut in the pleasure you both share.

leaning back, aemond watches you grip the sheets tightly, he feels the way you soak his cock every time he rocks into your pussy. you've gone half mad, tongue lolling out as you chant his name as a mindless mantra. he drags your knees down to instead wrap around his hips, bringing you closer to plant wet kisses down your neck, nipping at the salty skin. you keen into his ear at the change of position, untangling your hands from the sheets to cling tightly to aemond.

"feel good, love?" he murmurs, trailing his arm down till it lights presses onto your stomach as he drives his cock back into you. "tonight's the night i'm filling you up. that way, my fool of a brother will know to stay away from you.”

you don’t even think you’re making sense as you blabber your agreement. you want, no, you need him to give you his heir. you need him to drive himself further into you till you feel him in your chest, in your heart.

the thought of a miniature aemond targaryen running around has your heart swelling in your chest; the life you’ve always wanted but never let yourself dream of for too long. your lives were far too cruel for such a precious being to be born into it, yet aemond seems hellbent on making it come true as he bullies his cock further and further into your cunt.

aemond slows to a dangerous grind and bends down to capture your lips, his lean torso catches on your clit as you arch up into his mouth. "aemond pl-please, i want it," you whine, your hips buck as his languid thrusts reach a spot deeper than you thought possible. "you're mine," he groans into the heat of your mouth, skilled fingers come down to rub taut circles on your aching clit. he feels the telltale signs of your trembling walls and your greedy eyes beg him for release.

“fuc-fuck, nyke’m bē konīr,” aemond huffs, feeling your cunt swell around his cock as he rams deeper into you. you’re scrambling to hold onto anything; his shoulders, his wrists, the pillow, the sheets.

when you start twitching around his cock, walls fluttering at a pace aemond can't keep up with, he thinks you're the most divine creature in all the seven kingdoms.

and as you cream around his cock, aemond finds himself pushing himself into you one more time, filling you with his hot seed and the unspoken promise to cherish you for as long as you'd have him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

high valyrian translations:

ābrazȳrys - wife. nyke’m bē konīr - i’m almost there.

[foxy-eva]

Afternoon Delight

Summary: You didn’t have sleep in mind when you asked Spencer to take a nap with you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut, Fluff

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) Softdom!Spencer, praising, teasing, grinding, handjob, fingering, rough sex, unprotected penetrative sex

Word count: 2.1k

Masterlist

With a dramatic sigh you closed the laptop in front of you and stretched your arms over your head, announcing, “I need a break!”

Spencer looked up from his book to find your eyes. “Study breaks are very important. You’ll be able to focus a lot better afterwards,” he explained. “Do you want coffee?” 

“No,” you said with a smirk forming on your face. “I wanna go lie down with you.”

Spencer obviously did not get the hint and declined, “I’m not tired but you can take a nap if you want.” 

You got up from your desk to move over to the couch, sitting down right beside your boyfriend. In an instant you could feel the heat radiating from his body. It was almost ridiculous how much you craved his nearness, even after many months of spending most nights together. There was just something about him that almost drove you insane. 

“Did you know that short naps are highly efficient and can help improve productivity. You just have to make sure not to sleep for too long,” he explained in his usual rambling manner. He was still oblivious about your true intentions.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded and winked at him. “What if I took my clothes off for my nap?”

Spencer raised his eyebrows and thought about it for a split second. “Some studies suggest that sleeping naked can have a positive effect on your sleep quality. But knowing you, I’d assume you would get too cold to be comfortable.” 

“So, would you help me get warm?” You chirped, hoping that he’d finally understand what you wanted. 

His eyebrows furrowed at your question, obviously confused about what you were talking about. “I would,” he said, “but it’s probably easier if you just wore clothes, like you usually do when you sleep.”

Usually it didn’t take this long for Spencer to understand when you wanted him. He’d catch onto your playful tone or simply read your body language. He apparently really took your word for it when you told him earlier that you were determined to get your work done with zero distractions. 

But even being in the same room as Spencer was more distracting than you could have ever imagined. 

“Can I tell you a secret,” you snickered as you moved even closer to him. “I’m not really tired.”

The poor doctor looked at you more puzzled than ever. “Then why would you want to take a nap?”

There was barely any space between the two of you left at this point. It still took him a few more seconds to interpret your mischievous grin correctly. 

“Oh!” He laughed. “You want to sleep with me.”

“Wow, I really need to work on my seduction skills,” you giggled while climbing into Spencer’s lap. 

“You’re usually pretty good at it,” he chuckled.

He smiled against your lips when your mouths finally met. With more fervor than you had anticipated he started kissing you, while his hands pulled your hips even closer against his body. His tongue begged for entrance, joining yours in a dance that let heat rush through your entire body. 

It only took a few more moments until you felt a familiar hardness straining against his pants. 

You started to rock your hips ever so slightly while breathing against his lips, “Seems like it’s working.”

Your boyfriend leaned back to look at you. One of his hands found your face and his fingertips began tracing along your cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed. “How could I ever refuse you anything?” 

The hunger in his eyes only grew when a timid sigh fell from your lips. He watched intently as you kept grinding against him while the tension in your body only grew. His hardness twitched against your clothed core as you used his body for your own pleasure. 

“So needy,” he purred as he watched you moving in his lap.

The friction your motions created was making you desperate but it wasn’t enough for you. Spencer knew that, too. He still wanted to see how long it would take you to start begging for him. 

His fingertips were buried into the supple flesh of your hips, keeping you close to him as you started to struggle to keep moving. With your face buried into his neck, he could feel your hot, heavy breath against his skin. 

It was too much and not enough for you at the same time. The lace of your underwear was soaked with your essence at this point. You felt like you might combust if you didn’t find release anytime soon. 

“Please,” you finally whispered into his ear, desperate for him to take over. 

“What is it, my sweet girl?” He chuckled as he leaned back to find your eyes. “What do you need?”

The smirk on his face revealed that he knew exactly what you needed. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Please… I need you,” you begged. 

He found your lips in a kiss, soft and sweet like a silent promise to always take care of you. When he motioned for you to get off his lap, you whined at the loss of pressure against your center. 

“I know, love,” he cooed. “Just be patient for me.”

Your legs felt weak when you stood in front of him, waiting for his next move. He got up from the couch and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom, where he slowly began undressing you. The second your bra dropped to the floor, his fingers began toying with your nipples. His thumbs brushed over your hardened peaks while he kissed you again. 

You really tried to be good for him while he took care of you but it became almost too much. You took a few steps back to lean against the closest wall, your knees suddenly couldn’t be trusted to hold you upright anymore. Spencer followed without a comment, clearly enjoying witnessing your desperation. 

His hands were still on your breasts, caressing them just the way he knew you liked. When his palms finally descended further down your body, a relieved sigh fell from your lips. He removed the remaining pieces of clothing until you stood completely nude in front of him. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmured against your neck. “So patient with me.” 

Hearing his praise aroused you even more and you could feel your desire dripping down your inner thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be long now until he’d let you feel him. He took a step back to let his eyes roam over your body while he undid the buttons of his shirt. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled and noticed a rosy shade spreading over his cheeks as he kept undressing.

When he finally revealed his body to you, you could barely take your eyes off him. Closing the distance once more, your hand dared to make contact with his cock. Spencer’s eyes widened at your touch and it became obvious that he struggled to keep up his demeanor. He would never admit it but he was just as desperate as you were. 

His hardness felt hot and heavy against your palm and his tip was already leaking when you began moving your hand. Spencer’s breath hitched right before a moan escaped his throat, a sound so sinful it almost drove you insane. He indulged in the sensation a few more moments before he took over the situation once more. 

“Get on the bed,” he demanded with a firm tone and you did as he said. 

However, when you lay down on the mattress he shook his head. “No, I want you on your knees.”

You didn’t need further instruction to know exactly how he wanted you. You turned around,  got on your knees and bent over, your forearms pressing into the mattress. Heat rushed to your face when you took in the position he wanted you in, aware of the view you gave him. 

He stood right behind you when he purred, “So pretty. I love seeing you like this.” 

His hand made contact with your backside, grabbing your flesh before descending down to your cunt. Your glistening folds were so sensitive that your entire body trembled at the sudden contact. He let his fingertips glide through your slit before focussing on your already swollen nub. 

“You’re dripping wet and I have barely touched you.”

You were already too far gone to even respond to that. A fit of moans fell from your lips and you buried your face into the sheets to stifle the sounds. Spencer’s free hand found your hair and gently tugged on it to turn your head. 

“Don’t hide those beautiful moans from me. I want to hear what I do to you.” 

When he finally entered you with two of his fingers, you couldn’t help but grind your hips back against his hand. He curled his digits inside you, pushing against your walls to finally help you fall over the edge. As much as you loved feeling his fingers inside of you, you were still desperate to feel more of him. 

You needed all of him. It was impossible to wait any longer. 

“Please,” you pleaded once more. “Please, Spencer.” 

“What do you need, my love?” This time his question seemed genuine. 

“I need you,” you mumbled. “Need you inside me.” 

“I am inside you,” he teased with a playful tone in his voice. 

“No,” you whined. “I need your cock!” 

The crudeness of your words shocked and excited the both of you at the same time. Spencer finally gave in, granting you what you had been begging for all along. He removed his hand and positioned himself behind you before he let his tip glide through your folds to cover himself with your arousal. 

Then, without another warning, he pushed into you with one swift motion. He didn’t give you time to adjust to the intrusion, instead he instantly began fucking you with a ruthless pace. His hands gripped your hips to keep you in place. His fingertips were buried into your skin so deeply, you were sure to find bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Feels so good.” 

He gave you exactly what you needed, pushing into you over and over again until your mind was completely blank. You couldn’t think about anything but him, how he handled your body, how he filled you out so deliciously, how only him could make you feel so good. The pressure inside you grew as the room filled with your moans and the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding. 

“You love it when I take you from behind, don’t you my sweet girl?” 

“Yes!” you cried as you started dancing along the brink of euphoria. Even though you could barely take his forceful thrusts, you still wanted more. “Harder!” 

The entire bed shook under the force of his motions until he felt your walls tighten around him. With a few more skillful strokes he pushed you over the edge, feeling you pulsing around his erection as your orgasm washed over you. Spencer slowed down to let you ride out your high, watching how your entire body trembled with pleasure. 

When he slipped out of you, he was still painfully hard. As pleasurable as this position was for the both of you, he craved your nearness more than to find quick release. 

Spencer Reid was a romantic after all. 

“Can you turn around for me, please,” he cooed. 

You did as he said and welcomed your boyfriend on top of you. His demeanor had changed when he entered you again, his motions were slower but still purposeful. His facial features were soft and his eyes filled with adoration for you. You wrapped your legs and arms around him to keep him impossibly close before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. 

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. 

“I love you more.”

It didn’t take long for Spencer’s movements to get erratic as he got close to his own climax. 

“I’m so close,” he sighed. “You feel so good.” 

You ground your hips against his, intensifying his thrusts. You kissed his lips once more before whispering, “Come inside me.”

That was all it took for him. His body began quivering as he throbbed inside you, sharing his warmth with you until he had nothing left to give. After he caught his breath, he gently moved a strand of hair out of your face before softly kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and finally, your lips. 

You still held him close inside your arms, refusing to let him go just yet. Your bodies were still connected even after he had gone soft. Spencer tried to move but you didn’t let him, still craving to have him close.

“Just a little bit longer,” you sighed.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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[pucksandpower]

Break In, Breakdown

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: when a break in destroys your peace of mind, Charles is determined to do all he can to help you regain it

Warnings: armed forcible entry

You wake with a start, your heart pounding. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the spacious apartment.

You sit up slowly, straining to hear any other noises over the hammering of your pulse. Charles is away for the night, called suddenly to Maranello earlier to test new upgrades.

You’re alone.

Sliding out from beneath the covers, you tiptoe to the bedroom door and ease it open. The living room is cast in shadow, shards of moonlight slicing through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Broken glass glitters across the hardwood. A cool breeze drifts in through the now empty pane.

You freeze, listening. The only sound is the thudding of your heart. Whoever broke in must still be here. You consider your options. The front door is on the other side of the living room — you would never make it. The balcony? No, you’re too high up.

That leaves only one choice. The bathroom.

As soundlessly as you can, you close the bedroom door and lock it, then dash on trembling legs into the en-suite bathroom. You lock this door too, then scramble for your phone. Your hands are slick with cold sweat as you dial Charles’ number.

“Hello?” His voice, groggy with sleep, comes over the line. In the background, you hear the muffled sounds of his hotel room.

“Charles!” You whisper urgently. “Someone broke into the apartment!”

“What?” All traces of sleepiness vanish from his tone. Fabric rustles as he sits up quickly. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m locked in the bathroom. I heard glass breaking and got scared. I didn’t know what else to do!” Your voice cracks as you struggle to keep it low. Tears blur your vision.

“Shh shh, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” Charles soothes. “Did you see anyone?”

You hug your knees to your chest. “No, the living room was empty when I looked. But they have to still be here!”

A tense silence. Then rapid French. You imagine Charles running a hand through his tousled hair, brow creased in thought.

“The police are on their way,” he says finally. “They’ll be there soon. Just stay hidden and keep talking to me, alright?”

You nod before remembering he can’t see you. “Okay.”

For a few moments, the only sounds are your shaky breathing and the muffled noises of Charles moving around his hotel room. You flinch as a loud bang echoes through the apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. Whoever broke in is still here, and on the move.

“I heard something,” you whisper to Charles. “I think they’re looking for me.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Charles’ voice remains steady, but you hear the undercurrent of fear. “Help is coming. Just stay quiet and-”

He cuts off as the bathroom doorknob rattles violently. You slap a hand over your mouth to hold in a scream.

“Y/N? What was that?” Charles demands.

“They’re trying to get in!” You whimper. “The doorknob ...”

Another bang shakes the door. You scramble into the empty bathtub, trying to make yourself smaller. If they get in here, you have nowhere to go.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Charles speaks urgently. “I need you to stay calm. Breathe. The police will be there any minute.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper.

The intruder hammers on the door again. Wood splinters — it won’t hold much longer. You think of Charles’ smile, his bright green eyes. You wish more than anything he was here with you now, holding you in his strong arms. But he’s hours away, and can do nothing but listen helplessly as danger looms.

“Charles?” You say softly.

“Yes? I’m right here.” His voice cracks.

“I love you.” You put as much feeling into the words as you can. Just in case they’re your last. “So much.”

“Oh god, Y/N ...” Charles trails off. You hear a muffled sob. “I love you too. More than you can imagine. You mean everything to me.”

The bathroom door splinters open. A masked figure looms in the doorway, gun glinting dully in their hand. Your scream lodges in your throat.

Charles is saying your name, voice panicked. You can’t find the air to respond. This is it. You close your eyes as the intruder raises their gun.

A deafening bang. Your scream. Then … nothing.

When you force your eyes open, the intruder is being detained on the floor. In their place stand two police officers, weapons drawn.

“Madame, are you hurt?” One officer approaches slowly, holstering his gun.

You shake your head mutely. On the phone, Charles is frantically calling your name.

“I’m okay,” you gasp out. “The police are here.”

Charles’ ragged exhale echoes your own shaking breath. You cling to the phone like a lifeline. He murmurs reassuring words as the officers help you from the tub and wrap a blanket around your shoulders.

When you finally end the call, your hands shake so badly you nearly drop the phone. You wish desperately to feel his arms around you.

But the police insist no one can enter until the scene is processed. You wait alone on the sofa, raw fear seeping from your bones and leaving you limp and exhausted. As dawn lightens the shattered window frames, Charles’ car screeches into the street. He’s still in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants, hair wild from raking his fingers through it. The moment his gaze lands on you, he’s across the room, gathering you against his chest. You cling to him, finally letting the terrified tears fall.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he murmurs against your hair.

You breathe him in, the familiar smell of his skin and cologne. Here, wrapped in his embrace, you can almost believe the words are true.

***

Morning light filters through the blinds of Charles’ childhood bedroom, casting stripes across the quilt tucked around you.

It’s strange, being surrounded by remnants of his boyhood. Posters of racing legends. Miniature models of the Ferrari Enzo and Michael Schumacher’s F2002. A framed picture of a beaming preteen Charles standing in front of a gleaming kart. You trail your eyes over the silver trophies lining the shelves. Hard to believe that bright-eyed boy would become your own champion one day.

It seems easier to focus on the distant past than to think about the present.

You’ve barely slept, your body tense as a livewire beneath the covers. Every small noise makes you flinch.

Charles’ arms tighten around you. His chest rises and falls steadily with sleep against your back. Being here, wrapped securely in his embrace, is the only thing that kept hysteria at bay through the long night.

You shift carefully in his arms, turning to study his face. His features are relaxed, lips parted slightly. Dark stubble shadows his jaw. He looks younger like this, the crease between his brows smoothed away. You reach out to brush an unruly lock of hair off his forehead.

At your touch, his brows pinch. Slowly his eyes drift open, blinking against the sunlight. He offers a drowsy smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.” You try to return the smile, but it wavers. Being awake again means facing the suffocating weight of remembered fear.

Charles’ own smile fades. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reaches to cradle your face in his palm. “How are you feeling?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat closes up. You just shake your head, feeling the sting of tears.

“Oh, mon amour.” Charles pulls you against his chest. You cling to him, fighting back sobs.

He begins to slowly stroke your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

You do, great heaving sobs muffled in his t-shirt. He holds you silently, lips moving against your hair in a continuous litany of comfort.

When the storm of weeping passes, you keep your head tucked beneath his chin. His steady heartbeat thumps against your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you whisper finally.

His arms tighten around you. “I know. But I promise, you’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”

You nod against his chest. But the truth haunts you — nowhere feels safe anymore. Not when someone invaded the place you called home. Violated your very sense of security.

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, Charles pulls back. He tilts your chin up until your tearful gaze meets his.

“Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you feel safe again. We’ll find a new apartment, one with top of the line security. I’ll hire personal protection to be with you whenever I can’t. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

You search his eyes, finding only earnestness and love shining back. “You’d really do all that for me?”

He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Of course. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Your safety and peace of mind are the most important things in the world to me.”

Fresh tears well in your eyes, but this time touched by gratitude. You lean in to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Thank you. Just … thank you.”

He smiles tenderly, kissing the tip of your nose. “Always.”

The bedroom door creaks open slowly. Charles’ mother peers in.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustles into the room bearing a heavily laden breakfast tray. “I’ve brought up some breakfast. You both must be famished.”

She settles the tray over your laps before perching on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she pats your blanket-covered knee.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Her eyes, so like your husband’s, are full of maternal concern.

You muster a shaky smile. “As well as I can be. Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

“Of course, of course!” She waves a hand. “You’re family. Mi casa es su casa, as they say.”

Charles reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he smiles gratefully at his mother. “We really appreciate it, Maman. This means the world to us right now.”

Pascale pats his cheek fondly. “I’m always here if you need me. Both of you.” She stands. “Now, eat up while it’s still warm!”

After the door clicks shut behind Pascale, Charles passes you a mug of hot tea. The chamomile soothes your frayed nerves. Under Charles’ attentive care, you manage to eat a few bites of crepe. But your appetite remains muted, stomach churning with anxiety.

Sensing your lingering unease, Charles sets the tray aside. He shifts down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow beside yours. You roll onto your side facing him.

His hand comes up to trail soothingly along your arm. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

You chew your lower lip. “Just hold me? I’m still feeling really shaky.”

“Of course.” He opens his arms and you nestle against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumps beneath your ear.

You cling to him like a life raft, fighting against the rising tide of panic. “I can’t stop imagining it all happening again. What if they find us again?”

Charles frames your face in both hands. His gaze bores fiercely into yours. “Listen to me. I will never let anyone hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. I promise you that.”

His passionate sincerity helps loosen the iron bands constricting your lungs. You can breathe a little easier.

“Okay.” You whisper. “I trust you.”

He presses a fervent kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild that sense of safety for you. For now, just try to rest. You’re exhausted.”

He’s right. Bone-deep fatigue drags at you. But every time you close your eyes, visions of leering masked faces loom in the darkness. You shrink closer to Charles with a whimper.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” His arms tighten around you. “Focus on me, the sound of my voice. Picture us somewhere you feel totally at peace.”

You press your ear over his heart again, letting its steady rhythm center you. “Tell me about it? The peaceful place.”

“Hmm ...” He strokes your hair thoughtfully. “How about a tropical island? Powder-fine sand, so white it’s nearly blinding. The water so perfectly blue and clear, like colored glass. Gentle waves lapping the shore.”

You can picture it perfectly with the aid of his lyrical descriptions. The sun warming your skin, Charles’ hand clasped in yours as you stroll the beach. A light breeze tossing his hair as his laughter mingles with the cries of seabirds.

“There’s a little cabana right on the water, with an open balcony and gauzy curtains fluttering in the wind ...”

Lulled by Charles’ calming voice, you feel your body slowly relax, sinking into the mattress. He continues spinning vivid visions until you finally drift off. Safe in the circle of his arms, nightmares can’t reach you.

When you wake, sunlight slants through the blinds at a different angle.

Afternoon.

You’re curled on your side, Charles a solid weight against your back. His chin rests atop your head, arms wound protectively around you even in sleep.

You snuggle back into his embrace. For the first time since the break in, you feel a spark of hope. With Charles by your side, you know you’ll get through this. He’ll keep you safe.

***

Keys jangle outside the door of your new apartment. You look up from your book with a smile as Charles steps inside, hiding something behind his back.

“What are you up to?” You ask, marking your page. Ever since you moved, Charles has been full of little surprises to help you feel at home.

He grins, eyes glinting. “I have someone who wants to meet you.” From behind his back he produces a tiny black Doberman puppy with soulful dark eyes. It squirms eagerly in his hands.

You gasp, immediately reaching for the pup. Its pink tongue darts out to lick your fingertips. “You didn’t!”

Charles laughs. “I wanted to get you a guard dog, one specially trained to protect you. She’ll go everywhere with us once she’s fully grown.”

Cradling the puppy to your chest, you nuzzle into her silky fur. Her tail thumps happily against your arm. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest little guard dog ever,” you coo. Looking into her deep brown eyes, one name springs to mind.

“I think I’ll call her Princess Fluffykins.” You grin up at Charles.

He rubs a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Princess Fluffykins it is.”

The newly christened Princess Fluffykins snuggles into you with a contented whine. Over the next few weeks she rarely leaves your side. At night she curls up at the foot of the bed, a tiny furry protector. During the day she trots after you from room to room, always alert for any signs of danger.

But none of her vigilance stops her from demanding regular belly rubs or stealing socks to play with. Princess Fluffykins she may be, but she’s still a puppy at heart.

As the weeks pass, she sprouts into a leggy adolescent, all huge paws and awkward angles. But her devotion never wavers. She accompanies you everywhere, even to Charles’ races.

The first time you arrive at a circuit with Princess Fluffykins straining at her leash, you get some strange looks. People eye the muscular dog warily, giving you a wide berth. Princess Fluffykins has matured into an intimidating specimen, despite the sparkly pink collar now circling her thick neck.

Charles just grins, ruffling her perked ears. “I know she looks scary, but I promise she’s a softie,” he assures the dubious Ferrari mechanics. Right on cue, Princess Fluffykins flops to her back, tail wagging furiously until someone gives in and rubs her belly. Charles winks at you. “See?”

When Charles disappears into briefings or practice sessions, Princess Fluffykins patrols tirelessly by your side. She positions herself between you and anyone who approaches, watchful eyes tracking each stranger. But the moment she detects true danger, her demeanor shifts in an instant.

One particularly eventful race weekend, a drunken fan gets belligerent shoving past you for an autograph. Princess Fluffykins is on him in a flash, knocking him back with a deep bellow. He recoils instantly, throwing his hands up and stammering apologies. You cling to Princess Fluffykins’ collar as she nudges you protectively behind her muscular bulk.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her bristling fur until she relaxes. Over Princess Fluffykins’ broad head, you give the chastened fan a polite smile. Message received.

As you make your way to the garage, passerby give you and your four-legged bodyguard a wide berth. But Princess Fluffykins ignores the murmurs, attention fixed devotedly on you. Her responsibilities may be serious, but everything about her remains hilariously contradictory — the bejeweled collar, fluffy fur, even her tendency to doze off using Charles’ race boots as a pillow. You wouldn’t have her any other way.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins becomes as much a fixture at races as Charles himself. On mornings when you’re feeling anxious, you clip on Princess Fluffykins’ leash and walk the familiar route to the paddock, drawing comfort from each heavy footstep echoing your own. The bulk of her pressing against your legs makes you feel sheltered … protected.

When Charles is busy with sponsor events and interviews, Princess Fluffykins is your constant companion. She positions her large frame strategically to keep you shielded from jostling fans in the crowded paddock. Her intimidating presence and rumbling growl are enough to make even boisterous enthusiasts reconsider approaching too closely at the wild after parties.

At night in hotel rooms, Princess Fluffykins curls up on the foot of the bed, ever alert. The sound of her steady breathing soothes you to sleep. And in new cities where sounds and shadows put you on edge, her solid weight pinning your feet beneath the blankets makes you feel anchored.

On bad nights when phantom terrors jerk you awake, Princess Fluffykins’ huge head rises at your distress, the light glinting off her collar. She pads up the bed to nuzzle your cheek until the panic fades.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins’ watchful presence steadies something deep inside you. Late at night, her snores harmonize with Charles’ to drive away the ghosts. Her grinning face waiting eagerly by the door when you return from a quick trip to the shops makes your apartment feel like home again. When you scratch beneath her chin, for a moment you forget about the threat, remembering only softness.

On the anniversary of the break in, emotions run close to the surface. You’re quiet on the drive to the paddock, hands knotted tightly in Princess Fluffykins’ fur. But when the time comes to part ways with Charles for the day, you find courage in Princess Fluffykins’ wiggly butt and lolling tongue. You give Charles an extra fierce hug, breathing him in.

“Love you,” you murmur into his shoulder.

Charles cradles your face in his hands, eyes serious. “I love you too. We’ve made it through so much this past year. You amaze me more every day.”

You lean into him a moment longer before braving a tremulous smile. “Go show them what you’ve got.”

With Princess Fluffykins a steady presence at your side, the day passes in a blur of heat and roaring engines. When at last Charles appears, wreathed in sweat and victory, you leap into his arms with a joyful shout. Laughing, he swings you around before setting you down to ruffle Princess Fluffykins’ ears.

“I think this calls for celebrating, what do you say?” His eyes are bright with triumph and love.

You lean down to adjust Princess Fluffykins’ glittering collar before twining your fingers through your husband’s. “I say absolutely.”

Though the path forward held both beauty and pain, with loyal souls like them by your side, you never had to walk it alone.

[fastandcarlos]

Pregnancy Squabbles : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: after walking out the door that morning, lewis is determined to fix things with his pregnant wife, only for things to not quite go to plan and send him into a panic

Your eyes shut in frustration as you heard the apartment door opening, knowing exactly who it was. You remained frozen to the spot in the kitchen as you heard Lewis’ footsteps march through, glancing up as soon as he walked into the room, noticing the spring that was in his step. 

That soon stopped however as he noticed you staring across at him, standing still to match your own stance. The enthusiasm from his day seemed to quickly disappear as the tension that was in your apartment from the morning crept back in. Neither of you quite knew what to say, an uncomfortable silence present.  

Lewis was the first to move as he walked over to the sink and grabbed himself a glass, filling it up from the tap. He took a seat at one of the barstools in the middle of your kitchen, refusing to back down as you began to move again. 

“How’ve you been today?” Lewis asked, watching your eyes turn away from him. 

You could only manage a hum in response to him, placing one hand over your growing baby bump as the other reached to turn the oven on as you began to prepare food for you both. Lewis frowned, not expecting you to be quite so blunt with him.  

“Love, please can we not carry on with the arguing,” he asked of you, watching nervously as you struggled to stretch up and reach one of the pans out of the cupboard. 

Once you had it, you slammed it down on the counter before turning around to face him. “I wasn’t the one that decided to be insulting this morning, or the one who decided to walk out before we got a chance to talk things through, that was all on you Lewis.” 

Deep down he knew that much of your argument from the morning was down to him, he took advantage of your hormones and knew he could give himself a good battle with you. Things had been heated for a while, with Lewis still racing whilst you entered the final stages of pregnancy, causing you both a bit of a headache. 

“I’m sorry that I was so rude to you earlier, I know there was no need for it,” Lewis softly spoke, offering you a faint smile. “Everything’s just getting on top of the two of us.” 

It was busy, and it was stressful, but it was still no excuse for you both. You’d squabbled a little with each other, but your argument that morning was unlike anything that you had experienced for quite some time. 

“I’m trying to make things right and somehow it feels that you couldn’t care less about that right now.” 

Your eyes widened as you opened up the fridge, “not all of us can go to work and come back and carry on like nothing has happened. I’ve been nonstop all-day Lewis; I haven’t got time to sit and fix things with you right now.” 

“Don’t you think you should be taking it easy?” 

Your head shook as you took out the ingredients that you needed, focused on getting things done. Lewis’ eyes watched you, searching for every opportunity he could to try and talk to you, but you didn’t give him a chance. Lewis was clueless as to how hurt you were and how unwilling you were to just carry on as if nothing had happened. 

Your hormones only made things worse for you, you snapped quicker, got frustrated more easily, and found yourself much harsher towards Lewis than you usually were. 

“Love, please sit down and I’ll sort dinner out,” Lewis requested, worry beginning to set in as he noticed how tired you were starting to look.  “I don’t care how mad you are, just let me sort this.” 

“I’ve done everything else today, I might as well do this too,” you sighed as you placed your ingredients down.  “You sit and relax; you seem to be good at that these days.” 

You continued to ignore Lewis’ protests as you went over to the cupboards, opening up the top one to grab more ingredients. The first time you went up on your tiptoes you were alright, the second time however, things didn’t quite go to plan. 

As you went to reach up, a sharp pain ripped down the right of your bump causing you to let go of a hiss. Your hand immediately landed where the pain was, doubling over as you leant on the kitchen counter, breathing through whatever it was that had become unsettled.  

“Babe,” Lewis quickly spoke, rushing up from the stool and racing around the counter to get to you. 

A pair of hands at your waist made you jump, glancing back to see Lewis right there with you. He held onto you tightly as you slowly stood yourself up after giving yourself a moment, allowing Lewis to guide you over to take a seat, settling you down with his strong hold. 

“Are you alright? Do I need to call someone?” Lewis nervously asked, moving across and taking his glass of water and placing it down in front of you. Lewis’ anxious eyes studied you closely, wanting to check for himself that you were alright. 

Your head shook as you took a deep breath, “I think I’m good.” 

Lewis brought his seat around so that he was sat right beside you, holding his hand over the top of both of yours. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be working this hard, I need to be at home more and taking better care of you.” 

“You’re allowed to work, I shouldn’t be expecting you to be here holding my hand all the time,” you whispered in response, finally finding yourself letting Lewis back in again. 

Lewis’ head shook as you spoke, even people at work were surprised to see him there as much as he was. With only a couple of weeks to go, they tried to encourage him to be at home more with you, but Lewis very rarely listened. 

You were guilty of being pretty stubborn too, you were determined that you could do everything even though your body was beginning to slow down. You hated that your pregnancy was seeing you begin to lose your independence, all those easy jobs that you did daily were suddenly some of the hardest things in the world to do. 

“I promise that I’m going to be around to support you whenever you need me,” Lewis insisted, “you’re my priority, you and the baby should’ve always been my priority.” 

Your head came down to rest against Lewis’ shoulder, feeling one of his arms wrap around your frame, pulling you tighter into his side as your body relaxed again. 

Lewis’ other hand moved away from your own, resting it over the top of your bump, reminding himself silently of what was the most important thing for him, raising his family and taking care of them as he should. 

“Can we forget about this morning?” Lewis nervously asked. 

“Yeah, I think we should.” 

“I promise I’m going to be here,” Lewis reminded you once again, “I know I’ve been far from perfect recently, but you and the baby are by far the most important things to me, I just need to do a better job of proving that to you.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement as Lewis spoke. “Maybe I should be asking you for help more too, rather than just doing things on my own all the time. It’s so hard not being able to be the person I once was, as exciting as it is to have this baby, I feel like I don’t recognise myself and all the things I used to be able to do anymore.” 

“I know it’s hard, but these things we can do together,” Lewis smiled, “maybe starting with making dinner?” 

Your head nodded as you let go of a giggle, “we’re supposed to be a team, it’s probably about time that we start working like one again, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more. How about I start taking more time off work and you start giving me a list of the things that you need me to do so that I can help you out more.” 

“It might be a pretty long list Lew.” 

He shrugged back at you, “I don’t care. I’ll do all the things that I need to do in order to help you out, it doesn’t matter how tricky they are or how much time they’ll take for me to complete.” 

“In that case, you can definitely start by reaching up into that cupboard and getting out the things that I couldn’t,” you joked. 

“Now that’s a job I definitely can do.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[navybrat817]

Out of My Head

Pairing: Chubby Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky feels a bit insecure during a romantic evening and you do your best to get him out of his head.

Word Count: Over 2.6k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, a/b/o dynamics, insecurities, self-doubt, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's crazy about you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @missvelvetsstuff, @honeyglee (chubby!Bucky), and @bucksbabee (rose petals) all requested for alpha!Bucky to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #27 and #32 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wanted tonight to be romantic. Candles, rose petals, the works. Not for any sort of special occasion, but because his omega deserved only the best. Day in and day out. He hoped it was enough to make you feel loved and adored. It was a wonder that you were with an alpha like him.

If you looked inside his head, you’d tell him there was no reason for him to think he wasn't the perfect man for you. That he was a good partner and alpha. Had been from the start. That you loved him. And you did. You never once gave him a reason to doubt that.

If only he could push away the negative voice in his mind that seemed determined to bring him down tonight.

“Bucky?”

Tilting his head, everything around him became muted as he focused on you. Laying on your side with your naked body exposed to him, he watched the candlelight cast a glow upon your skin. Both of you lost your clothes earlier in the evening, content to lay beside each other for the time being. He wished some days that you didn't have to wear clothes at all. You and your body were made to be worshiped.

Unlike him.

Bucky almost covered himself up with the blanket. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he was soft in places where he was once firm. While he had been on the thicker side for years, he now had some pudge to go along with it. Handsome or not, he just wasn't in the same shape he used to be when he was younger. What if one day you didn’t like that? What if you wanted someone different? Stronger?

Better?

“You're thinking too hard again,” you said, picking up one of the rose petals to brush across his forehead. He smiled when he realized you traced a heart. “I can feel it.”

He inhaled your scent to ground himself. Orange, cinnamon, honey. The aroma of you made his mouth water. It comforted him, too. He hadn't associated any kind of smell with a sense of home until you.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled, nuzzling into your pillow more as you gazed at him. “What about me?”

“Just how amazing you are,” he answered.

When he looked into your eyes the first time, he expected to see his imperfections staring back at him like they had with so many others. But the way you looked at him with kindness, acceptance, and want, everything fell into place. Pieces of himself he didn’t know were missing found their way back to him and made him while again. His heart didn't stand a chance.

It belonged to you.

Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.

How is that possible? How does a goddess want me? What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

“You know you look at me some days like I'm not even real?” You asked, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. He moaned and turned his head to nose along your wrist. He craved your touch and scent like nothing else. “Like you're in some sort of a dream and you're afraid you're going to wake up if you look away.”

“Because you’re everything I could ever want. You occupy every single thought in my head, and every single dream,” he whispered. Even his dreams couldn't come up with someone as amazing as you. “And maybe I am afraid that this isn't real.”

Your brows pinched. “Why is that?”

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, wanting to ease the worry from your face. “I’m not sure. You just seem too good to be true and it feels like I might wake up to find you gone. Or that one day…” He rested back, swallowing hard. “You’ll decide you just don't want me anymore.”

You whined, a distraught sound that broke his heart. He wanted to take back those words, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings no matter how much it hurt to talk about them. “Bucky, I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head vehemently as you sat up. “And I want you. I always do. Why would you ever think I wouldn't want you?”

“Because look at me.” He waved his hand over his torso, averting his gaze as if to hide his vulnerability. “How can someone like you want someone like me?”

He wanted to take the words back the moment they left his mouth when another wounded whine spilled from your lips. You placed your hands on his cheeks and brought his gaze back to you. There was mist over your eyes like you were going to cry and he wanted to chase that look away. “How can I want you? Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How wonderful you are?” You kept a hand on his face as the other slid down to his neck. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

His eyes slowly opened. He hadn't realized he shut them. “Doll, I’m sorry. I-”

“You're perfect. Inside and out. And don't say you aren't because you're perfect to me.” There was a hint of a growl on your tone as your hand moved lower. Well, as much of a growl as an omega could muster. You defended him so fiercely. “No one takes care of me the way you do. No one loves me the way you do. I’m the luckiest person in the world because I get to call you my mate.”

A strangle moan escaped when your hand brushed along his stomach. He never thought it would feel so sensitive, but no one else has really touched it since he got bigger. Except for you. “Omega.”

“You think you aren’t everything I want?” You tilted your head so he could see the mark he left. His chest swelled with pride. You never covered it up or put a collar over it, wanting everyone to see that you were claimed. He had a mark, too.

He was yours just as much as you were his.

“I know in my heart that you want me, I know that. I can feel that. But my head keeps reminding me tonight that I’m just bigger than I used to be and I have no idea why,” he said, shutting his eyes again. “It’s stupid.”

Why was his body such an issue this evening? This was supposed to be romantic, not a time to pick at his inner wounds. Maybe there was a reason he wasn't aware of. Maybe he needed to cut the wounds open so the warmth of your bond could slowly heal them.

“It isn’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, do you hear me? And you being bigger? Isn't that just more of you that I get to love?” There was no disgust or judgment as you rubbed his stomach again. Your sincerity almost made him choke up when he opened his eyes to gaze at you. “Bucky, believe me when I say that this isn’t a dream. This is real. I'm real and I love you. I’ll love you no matter what. That is never going to change.”

His chest rumbled at your declaration and he couldn't help but reach for you, needing to feel your body close. “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes again when you pressed your lips to his. The bond crackled with your affection and care before his tongue slipped past your lips. The crackling intensified, your desire and need flowing into him like molten lava. It was going to burn him alive. He’d gladly perish that way.

Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.

“Feel this,” you urged when you broke the kiss, putting his hand over your heart.

“Is that for me?” He asked as it raced under his touch.

“It’s only for you, Bucky,” you promised, slowly guiding his hand down your body. “Now feel this.”

You didn't stop until his hand rested between your thighs. “And that’s for me?” He growled as he touched your pussy, your slick coating his fingers.

You gasped and he half expected you to agree that it was, but you pulled away. He tried not to let his insecurities bubble back up and hoped his scent didn't change to something unpleasant. You assured him that he was perfect in your eyes. That you wanted him. And loved him. But it didn't mean you had to-

“It’s for you. Only you,” you said, turning toward the front of the bed to press your chest against it. “See, alpha?”

Bucky sat up as you raised your hips higher and presented yourself to him. He growled softly as he licked away the wetness from his fingers and eyed your twitching, slick-drenched hole. The blood that roared in his ears quickly rushed south and the beast inside snarled at the insecure voice to not say another word. You wanted him. Would always want him. You assured him of that with both your words and your body.

“Take a good look. It’s such a pretty hole for you to ruin. You want to ruin it, don't you? Ruin me?” You asked sweetly, briefly lifting your head to look over your shoulder. The blue around Bucky’s pupils shrank to a small ring, barely visible from how aroused he was at the sight of you. “Please, wreck me. Make me say your name.”

He had a hand wrapped around his cock, the alpha within him clawing to break through the surface. Biology would've screamed at any alpha to take you. Knot you. Breed you. But you didn’t want just any alpha. Wouldn't beg for just any alpha.

He was the alpha you chose.

“And you know that isn’t my instinct talking since I’m not in heat. This is me wanting you, Bucky Barnes,” you said as if you read his mind, snaking a hand between your legs. He almost wished you were on your back so he could play with your beautiful breasts, but he had all night to do so. “I’m so wet for you and so empty. I’m aching. You don’t even have to prep me. Just get in me. Take me.”

You gasped when he was suddenly behind you, his large body draped over yours. “That’s my pussy you're touching, omega,” he growled, pinning you down by the neck. “And I’m the only one getting you off tonight.”

“Yes, alpha,” you purred.

His belly rubbed against you as he raised your hips an inch higher and he tensed up only for a moment before he realized you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. He growled as he sat back and looked down at you, your body quivering from the low and feral sound. Deeply inhaling, he could taste your lust and love on his tongue from how strong it was. As much as he wanted to dive down and devour you, he needed to fill you up and leave his mark inside you once again.

“Not just gonna ruin you with my cock,” he said, brushing the thick head of his cock between your folds. “Gonna ruin you with my mouth after. Make your flood it with that sweet slick and drink it down ‘til you scream how much you love me.”

“Yes. Please, alpha. I want your cock. Your mouth. Anything,” you begged, keeping your head down when he folded over you again. You didn’t fear his size or weight crushing you. It excited you. He could smell it.

“You need me?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Say my name.”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your entrance. He tried to go slow since he hadn’t prepped you, but you could take him. “I need you. Only you, Bucky,” you sighed, trembling as he pushed in an inch more.

He gasped out your name, powerless to resist the pull as he sank as deep inside you as he could. His eyes fluttered when you clenched around him. Nothing felt as good as your slick cunt. Tight, but opened up for him so beautifully. And nothing else mattered or existed outside of you.

“Move, please. Don’t hold back,” you moaned.

Overwhelming pleasure flowed through him as his body blanketed yours. You embraced every part of him and he wanted to smother you with his scent. “Remember, omega, you begged for this.”

Whatever sense of control he had disappeared as he thrust, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his grunts a stark contrast to the romantic setting of the room. You couldn't push your hips back, but your pussy welcomed each movement as you cried out. Even with his vicious thrusts, it was somehow sensual when he nuzzled your neck.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yours,” you moaned.

He hadn't known he said the words aloud, too lost in his primal haze. By the sounds of your moans and feel of your clenching walls, you were close already. It pleased him knowing how much he pleased you. He wanted to draw it out, make it last. He also wanted to bring you over the edge again and again.

“Does that feel good? You love getting fucked by your big, strong mate?” He grunted, heat pulsing through his veins.

“Yes. So strong,” you whimpered, reaching back to grip his hair. “So big.”

He groaned, raw pleasure bubbling through every part of his body. “Yeah, I'm big and you love it. And you love my cock ruining your pretty hole?”

“Yes, Bucky. I, hmm, love your cock.” You mewled when his teeth scraped along your skin. “Love you.”

He nosed along your neck again, slipping a hand beneath your body. “Then show my cock how much you love me,” he ordered, teasing your swollen clit. “Come all over it.”

You screamed his name as promised, slick gushing as you spasmed around him. He didn't stop, his hips snapping faster and harder as you shook through it. To feel you let go and hear those sounds of ecstasy as you rode out the waves was an honor. He needed to join you on the ride.

“Such a good omega. My omega. Gonna fill you up. So. Fucking. Good.” He growled the last word as he spilled inside you, panting with his release. The sensations blended with your earlier words, surrounding him in bliss. You were bliss.

Careful not to crush or jolt you, he rolled to his side and took you with him as he stayed nestled inside you. He murmured praise against your skin as you snuggled back against him. He didn't want to leave your body just yet. Not when you felt so good. Not when the terrible voice remained quiet.

About time you shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the evening with my mate.

“Better?” You breathed, looking over your shoulder with hopeful eyes.

Both of your hearts racing still, your purr mixed with his rumble, he wondered why he was so bothered before since his insecurities weren't a constant thing. Everyone had their off days though, including you. Sometimes for no concrete reason at all. That was life, but he couldn't ask for a better partner and mate to help him through the ups and downs, big or small.

“Much better. Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “But one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around you and didn't flinch as his stomach pressed more against your back. “I love you, too.”

Always, my sweet omega.

And should you ever doubt his want or love for you, he’d be sure to assure you the way you did for him.

Lovelies, I was TERRIFIED to post this, but I'm in love with them. Maybe we'll see them again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?

[jobean12-blog]

Boom Clap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,063

Summary: Before tonight you wouldn't have been able to label your relationship with Bucky but after he gets home earlier than expected from a mission and shows up at the bar everything changes.

Author's Note: Just because, I love him and this look ends me every time and it's lightly based on this song Boom Clap by Charli XCX. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you 🥰

Warnings: it's just Bucky being irresistible and soft too

“Well, something clearly more interesting than this conversation is going on in your mind. Would you like to share it with the rest of us?”

Two pairs of glittering eyes stare at you, twin knowing smiles gracing your friend’s lips and you frantically try to recall what the three of you had been discussing.

“There’s only one thing that can be giving her that look,” Nat laughs. “A man.”

“And not just any,” Wanda adds.

“Bucky,” both women say simultaneously and with devious grins.

You sip your drink to hide your smile.

“You must miss him since he’s been away on the mission all week,” Wanda muses.

You don’t say it but you do miss him. A lot.

“So what exactly is going on with you two?” Nat asks

With a nonchalant shrug you sip your drink again and try to figure out how to label your relationship with Bucky. Your friends wait, expressions expectant but playful.

If you had a definitive answer you would share it but ever since the two of you started hanging out neither of you had given it a label. You were just enjoying each other. In every way. You were happy being with him, that much of which you were sure.

“Umm…” you start.

That’s the only word you get out before you see Wanda and Nat’s drinks pause halfway to their mouths. Their eyes are trained on something just beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the bar.

Several other women at the bar pause their own conversation and you sense the shift in energy.

He’s here.

You place your drink down on the bar and turn. Bucky stands just inside the doorway, his black jacket draped over his broad shoulders and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

Awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. Your pulse quickens and you fight the urge to run into his arms.

He wears all black, from his tight fitted shirt down to his leather boots and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair. When he walks toward you at the bar, he moves with such sensual purpose that you notice another woman swooning.

He looks hungry and determined.

And he’s here for you.

You reach out and grab your drink, downing it in one long sip.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, then your palm, then finally, your fingertips.

This time, you hear the breath woosh from Nat and Wanda but Bucky shows no reaction, appearing oblivious to anything else but you.

“Guess he’s back,” Nat whispers to Wanda. You barely catch the words as Bucky consumes your every thought.

“I missed you doll,” he whispers against your wrist.

“I missed you too,” you reply breathlessly.

He lowers your hand from his mouth and keeps hold of it between your bodies. With a soft tug he brings you closer, leaning into your neck and whispering along the shell of your ear.

“Come home with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you murmur.

“Yes, I do doll. I would never take you for granted.”

Your free hand slides up his chest to his jaw, tracing the outline before you softly press your lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathes you in.

“I’m just going to use the restroom and say goodbye to Nat and Wanda. Meet you back here in five.”

“Hurry,” he murmurs, letting his eyes sparkle with words of unspoken want.

You rush off toward the bathroom, Nat and Wanda right behind you and after relieving yourself and filling your friends in you search for Bucky’s tall figure.

You find him standing at the bar, taking to someone. As you get closer, you see that the woman is standing close enough to brush against him. Unable to see Bucky’s face, you watch as she runs a hand along his arm with a gentle squeeze of his bicep, smiling at him flirtatiously.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you feel your eyes well with unshed tears but you can’t stop your forward movement. Bucky’s face comes into view. His eyes aren’t on the woman but furiously scanning the room. He looks uncomfortable, backing away from her and saying something you can’t hear.

You consider turning and running out but that wouldn’t be fair. You and Bucky have no official label, have never agreed to be exclusive. You can’t even blame the other woman for approaching him. He’s impossible to resist. You should know.

But then his eyes meet yours and you see all the emotions rushing through them, but mostly you see relief.

Taking a deep breath, you continue to walk forward. Bucky holds his arm out, his eyes begging you to walk into his embrace.

You slide into his side in time to hear him say, “here she is. This is my…”

“Girlfriend,” you finish, smiling and extending your hand with your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“Wow, lucky girl,” the woman says as she shakes your hand. “You deserve an award for landing a man like this.”

“I don’t need an award. I’ve got him,” you say as you reach down and take his left hand in yours.

Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Ready to take me home Buck?”

“Always doll.”

Your hand stays tightly tucked in Bucky’s as you walk down the street toward his apartment. You turn toward him, the warm breeze caressing your skin and the city lights dancing in your eyes. His breath catches in his throat as your lips spread into a wide and reassuring smile.

He stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and pulls you flush against his chest, his eyes wandering over your face.

“Are you really mine?” he asks as he dips his head. “You’re really my girl?”

“Yours Bucky. I have been from the beginning.”

His fingers spread across your lower back and he slowly drags his hand along the curve of your spine, every inch he covers pressing you closer against him until he reaches your neck and traces the delicate column before cradling your cheek.

He sweeps his thumb along your skin and holds your lips just centimeters from his, whispering, “mine,” as his eyes close and his mouth captures yours.

@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[pierregazly]

greedy ꨄ charles leclerc

charles leclerc x f!reader

warnings: smut (18+ only), public-sex, charles is horny [1.3k words]

request: 🌶 charles leclerc + prompt 9, please and thank youuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻 [9. “I’m feeling greedy.”]

note: charles gives off greedy vibes, so this checks out!! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

The gala was as elegant as it was elite. The men were in their best suits, the women pampered and wrapped in different variations of stunning fabric and colour. The chatter was infectious, everyone’s smiles and laughter vibrated the room.

Although your eyes surveyed your surroundings, Charles’ never strayed from you. He looked like a man starved, battling obsession in the most obvious of ways. He barely contained himself when you had walked out of your shared bathroom earlier, the dress you wore evoking such a strong reaction from the Monégasque.

He couldn’t take his hands off you, either. While standing, one ring-clad hand was always pressed gently against your lower back, just teetering on the curve of your behind. While sitting, he refused to remove his hand from your knee, even when you tried to push him to use it to eat. 

Charles was content the way it was.

Until he wasn’t.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off the slit in your dress, the skin of your knee so soft against his wandering hand. Your plump lips looked like they were demanding he press his own against them. The small tease of the neckline of your dress practically begging for him to pull it down more to get a better view. 

You could tell he was starting to have trouble containing himself, the occasional squeeze of your knee and the way his ears went red whenever you raised an eyebrow at him a clear indication. You had denied his attempts earlier, not wanting to ruin all the effort you had put into getting in the dress, and pampering yourself for the gala. 

It was only a matter of time until he broke. Which of course, didn’t take long once you had finally noticed the obvious.

Leaning over to press his lips against the shell of your ear, you felt a shiver run through your body.

“Come with me quick, mon amour,” he said.

Barely giving you a second to react, his hand that had been previously pressed against your knee was lightly squeezing your shoulder. Following his lead, you took the outstretched hand he gave you, allowing him to pull you wherever he had decided to take you this time. 

The restroom was not where you were expecting him to lead, warmth crawling up your neck as you tried to subtly peer around you to determine if anyone had followed the actions of Ferrari’s star driver. From what you could see, no one had.

In a quick motion of events, you were pulled into the restroom with the door being locked behind you. Charles was quick to peer around the bathroom, confirming that there were no other occupants in the small room. 

Before you had time to react, Charles was pushing you up against the wall, his lips etching themselves against yours as a hand maneuvered its way down to your hip. Moaning into his lips at his actions, he lightly ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, begging for entrance as he began to gently grind his body into yours. The want and desire so obvious by the clothed hardness now pressing into your core.

Pulling back, his eyes were hooded and full of lust, a smirk prominent on his lips.

“Charlie… we really shouldn’t. Not here,” you said.

Pouting at you, Charles started to press gentle kisses along your neck towards the line of your dress, licking along the neckline as he got closer and closer to your bust.

“But mon amour, I’m feeling greedy. Please allow me a little taste, let me make you feel good. All I’ve wanted to do is get on my knees between these pretty legs of yours. You deserve it, looking so beautiful.”

He was slowly bunching up your dress with every word, featherlight touches up your thighs as he lowered his body to his knees. It was hard to deny him when he was looking up at you so prettily, basically begging for the chance to bring you pleasure.

“Just a little taste then, baby. Can’t have you being too greedy,” carding your hands through his hair, the quick tug you gave the strands was the only prompting he needed.

Charles was quick to push your dress up to your hips, grabbing your hand to hold the dress in place as he mouthed at your thighs. Pressing kisses, licking along the skin and blemishes, you couldn’t help the shiver that wracked through your body. 

One finger began to run across your covered mound, only slightly pressing into where your body was eager to feel the press of his tongue, or his finger. You arched into his actions every time he ran a finger across your panty-covered clit, mewling and pouting down at him when he moved away.

He didn’t take long before he was hooking his fingers into the fabric, pulling them aside and running a finger through the wetness that had begun to accumulate there.

“So wet for me, mon amour. Such a naughty girl, pussy so soaked in a bathroom for me, grinding into my finger. How badly do you want this, baby?”

Groaning at his words, you glared down at him. Tugging at his hair once again, he simply smirked at you. 

“I’m greedy, baby. I want to know what you want,” he said as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the hood of your clit, prompting a sigh to leave your lips.

“Charlie, please. I need your tongue and your fingers, please.”

It must’ve been satisfactory enough for him, as the next moment he was spreading your lips and pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low moan left your lips, your hand slapping against your mouth to hide the sounds.

Charles knew exactly what you liked, not taking long to press two fingers against your entrance, gathering up the wetness there before pressing inside of you to work them in tandem with his tongue. The tongue, which was currently running up and down your clit like it was starved of you.

Swirling and curling his tongue against your bundle of nerves in unison with his fingers pushing in-and-out of you, you threw your head back against the wall, the hand that had been holding the dress moving to his hair to try and pull him in closer.

The way he was groaning against you as he sucked at your clit, prompted you to look down. His unoccupied hand was palming against his own cloth-covered cock, attempting to give himself some reprieve from the tight trousers that were stifling any pleasure.

Charles pulled his head back to look up at you, his fingers still pumping inside of you, pressing against the spot he knew made you whine when you were in bed. 

“Do you want me to make you cum, mon amour? Or is the little taste I got, good enough? Hm?” 

Shaking your head down at him, he mockingly pouted up at you as he pulled his fingers from your entrance. 

“You need to use your words, baby. Be a good girl, for me.”

Tugging on his hair yet again, you glared down at him. The loss of his fingers and tongue prompting an emptiness inside of you that you needed satisfied, immediately.

“Charlie, if you don’t make me cum on your tongue, I’m going to make myself cum in front of you. And then when we get home, I’m going to wrap my lips around your pretty cock, but I’m going to tease you and not let you cum. How does that sound, hm?”

Your words were breathy as they came out, the part of his lips at your words the only indication of the effect they had on him. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips as he stood up.

“So bratty. I’m going to fuck you right here, now. Make you cum all over my cock instead. Turn around.”

So greedy, indeed.

i haven't written smut in SO long, so i hope this is okay!!! thank y'all so much for participating in the celebration, and feel free to keep submitting 🫶🏻

[nervoussagittarius]

which triplet is most likely to ft. matts girlfriend y/n!

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt invites his girlfriend to a car video with nostalgic vibes

warnings: none :)

you were sitting in the passenger seat of the minivan, you're normal spot when you were driving with the triplets. this time though, a camera sat in front of you on the dash of their car.

being home with the boys in boston was still something you were getting used to. your boyfriend matt had spent a big part of the day taking you around all the iconic spots in the city. the boys had asked you earlier in the if you wanted to participate in a video. you, of course, said yes.

your relationship was no secret to the world. you guys have been together for a couple years, and you had been featured in many og videos.

"gotta turn the world into a dance floor" chris sang, as matt got into the car. he pointed at you to finish the lyric

with a roll of your eyes, "determinate d-determinate" you sang back.

matt and nick looked at the both of you. one in anticipation of you guys to keep singing, and the other in anticipation of starting the video.

nick cut all of you off quickly to intro the video. "hey guys! welcome back to the fridays video"

"today we have a very special guest, drumroll please, my girlfriend y/n" matt said as he looked at you with a stupid smile on his face.

"hi guys! im back" you replied looking at the camera.

chris started from the backseat, "if you're new here, y/n has been in a bunch of our old videos, and were bringing her back to see her take on 'who's most likely to'"

"we've done this before but we figured y/n could give you guys an outside perspective” matt said as he looked at the camera.

“i’m giving y’all the dirt. we’re getting deep… i- okay” the boys laughed at you while nick pulled up the first question.

“okay, which triplet is most likely to get mad at another for chewing to loud?” nick asked as you immediately looked between the camera and matt.

“we already know the answer because the viewers have seen this happen multiple times”

“yeah, i have to say it’s matt. i’m so sorry for coming at you first honey” you said in between giggles as matt rolled his eyes.

“i disagree. i don’t think i’m most likely to do that”

“matt! we’ve witnessed it bro. you can’t say it’s not you when it is. either way it’s a who’s most likely to question not who’s actually doing it! but you’re actually doing it. good god” nick exclaimed.

the car was packed with laughter as nick went in his tangent. you all calmed down as nick asked the next question.

“who’s most likely to not be able to sleep alone”

“all of you.”

“what!?” “no way!” “that’s not even true”

“no it’s so true” you responded to there complaints. “let me explain. nick is probably the least likely. he’s okay sleeping alone i just feel like people come to him the most to sleep with him so he’s used to sleeping with other people.”

“that’s very true. people are always in my bed” nick said giving the camera a little wink.

“matt and chris need to have someone with them at all times. chris can’t sleep in the same place for more then a night. he’s always sleeping everywhere but his own bed. and matt texts me at least once a week that i need to come over and sleep in his bed with him because he can’t fall asleep.”

“let me just clarify,” matt started, “i can sleep alone. i would rather have my girlfriend with me though. and that’s okay. that’s fine”

“yeah and i just don’t like being alone.” chris defended.

a few more questions were answered before you guys decided to call it quits for the night.

matt grabbed the camera off the dash pointing it at you. you smiled and put up a peace sign.

“look at how cute she is” matt said as he put his hand on your cheek.

“alright matt, end the video”

matt screamed in the camera quickly ending the video.

comments:

i can’t get over how beautiful matt and y/n are together

i need someone to look at me the way matt looks at y/n

i love nostalgic boston videos

petition to bring y/n back on the channel more.

an: this kinda sucks because half of it was deleted when i tried to save it to my drafts and i don’t really like it but y’all wanted a matt fic. first part of the matt series will hopefully be up soon🤍

[markrosewater]

The Nadu Situation

This has become a big topic in the community this week, so I wanted to add my thoughts to the discussion. My focus isn’t on the banning, but on the behind-the-scenes processes that led to it. I’m Head Designer, so I want to focus on the design elements of the situation.

When we make Magic there are a few things we do to try and make it the best it can be. First, we design in what we call an iterative loop. That is, we make something, we playtest it, we get feedback, we make changes on that feedback, and begin the next iteration of the loop. We try to get as many iterative loops in as we can before the set is locked (aka “no more changes”).

No matter where we set that line, there’s a last day to make changes. Moving that line earlier doesn’t change anything other than giving us less iterative loops to improve things. Also, we make lots and lots of last minute changes. The vast majority of them make the game better. I understand there’s more focus on the times we make a mistake, but it represents a truly small percentage of the changes.

Also, whenever we design a card, we ask ourselves, who is this card for? If we’re trying to make game play the best it can be, it helps to understand who will use the card, where they will use it, and what they will do with it. Obviously, in a game as modular as Magic, the players can often zig when we expect them to zag, but in general, this process leads to the best design.

We have two play design teams, one focused on competitive play and one focused on casual play. The competitive play design teams determines which cards they think have a shot at competitive play (remember we’re making predictions as where we think the environment might go,we don’t definitively know; we need to make an environment complex enough as to entertain tens of millions of players). The casual play design team then looks as the cards that don’t play a competitive role to see what casual role they can play.

With that said, let me respond to a few popular lines this week:

“Stop designing for Commander” - The nature of competitive formats is that only so many cards can be relevant. As you start making more competitive relevant cards, they displace the weakest of the existing relevant cards. That’s how a trading card game works. That means that not every card in a set (or even just the rares and mythic rares as the commons and uncommons have a big role making the limited environment work) has a competitive role. As such, we examine how they will play in more casual settings. There’s no reason not to do that. And when you think of casual settings, you are remiss if you don’t consider Commander. It’s the 800-pound gorilla of tabletop play (aka the most played, heavily dominant format). Us considering the casual ramifications of a card that we didn’t feel was competitively viable is not what broke the card. Us missing the interaction with a component of the game we consider broken and have stopped doing (0 cost activations), but still lives on in older formats is the cause.

“Stop making late changes” - Whenever you see an airplane on the news, something bad has happened. It crashed, or caught on fire, or had an emergency landing, or a door fell off. Why do we still make planes? Because planes are pretty useful and what’s being highlighted is the worst element. That focus can lead people to false assumptions. Magic would not be better if we stopped making last changes. A lot *more* broken things would get through (things we caught and changed), and many more cards just wouldn’t be playable. Our process of fixing things up to the last minute does lots and lots of good. Maybe it doesn’t get the focus of the screw ups, but it leads to better design.

“Everything needs to get playtested” - My, and my team’s, job is to take a blank piece of paper and make something that doesn’t exist exist. That’s not an easy thing to do. I believe play design’s job is even harder. They’re trying to make a balanced environment with thousands of moving pieces a year in the future. And if we’re able to solve it on our end, that means the playerbase will crack it in minute one of playing with it. One minute, by the way, is the time it takes the Magic playerbase to play with a set as much as we can. There are tens of millions of you and a handful of us. There simply isn’t time in the day to test everything, so the play design team tests what they think has the highest chance of mattering. They take calculated gambles (based on years of experience) and test the things most likely to cause problems. Will things slip through? There’s no way they can’t. The system is too complex to not miss things.That doesn’t mean we don’t continually improve our processes to lower the chances of mistakes, but nothing we’re going to do can completely eliminate them.

Designing Magic is difficult. Next year is my thirtieth year working on the game, and I think we have the most talented team we’ve ever had. Plus, just as we iterate on the designs in a set, we iterate on design processes of making Magic. How we make Magic today is light years different, and I believe better, than how we made Magic when I started. (”If I have seen further, it’s because I stand on the shoulder of giants.”)

One final thing. I’ve always pushed for transparency in Magic design. No one on the planet has written/spoken about it more than me. I truly believe Magic is better as a game because its players have the insight to understand what we, the people making it, are doing. We do ask for one thing in exchange. Please treat the designers who take the time to share with you the behind-the-scenes workings of Magic design with kindness. We are all human beings with feelings. There’s nothing wrong with feedback, but it can be delivered with common courtesy.

[darkbluekies]

Make things right? Or make them worse?

Yandere!doctor husband (platonic to his children) x twin daughters ocs x female!reader

Summary: Dr Kry’s children finds out their fathers dark secret, and he's determined to silence them.

Warnings: toxic household, yandere, favoritism, guilt, poison, mentions of murder (things along this way)

A/N: I have created my own poison for this story, so I choose the effects. Lol.

Word count: 6.2k

“Bye, dad”, Lydia says and closes the car door.

Her twin follows out of the car, almost hides behind her like a shadow. Lydia frowns confusedly. She’s been more silent than usual this morning. They turn to walk into school.

“Girls”, Dr Kry says through the open car window, catching their attention. “I want you here at three sharp, okay? I’m not in the mood for waiting.”

“Yes, sir”, Lydia answers. 

“Good. Have a good day, girls, I’ll see you later.”

With that said, he drives off. Lydia turns to Nadia who finally raises her gaze from her feet. 

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks and fixes her backpack. “You’ve been acting off all morning.”

“I have to talk to you about something”, Nadia says hesitantly and looks at her with uneasy eyes. 

Lydia blinked and frowned. “What?”

“I was meaning to talk to you earlier, but I didn’t want to do it when dad was around.” Nadia glanced at the other students swarming around the school grounds. “It’s about mom … and her sickness.”

For as long as they can remember, their mother has been bound to her bed by a rare disease. Thankfully, their father is a remarkable doctor and has been caring for her ever since the twins' birth. He works at a hospital in the city and travels forty minutes back and forth every day, dropping the twins off at school on the way there, and picking them up on the wayback. When they were young, they were put in a private school carefully chosen by their father — who has been very active in the administration.

Their father is a complex person. Although they’ve been by him their entire life, they still feel like they don’t know him. He rarely talks about himself, and seem to have a human side for their mother only. Very rarely, there’s a soft side for the girls … often they’re met by a doctor, rather than a parent. Despite that, Lydia has always been a daddy’s girl, while Nadia has clung to their mom for love and comfort. 

“What about it?” Lydia asks carefully. 

“I heard something …”, Nadia starts and licks her lips nervously. “I heard these noises, from mom and dad’s room-”

“Don’t tell me you heard them have sex”, Lydia grimaces. 

“No …” Nadia shakes her head, eyes shaking. “They were talking. Mom was crying and daad was standing by the bed, holding her cheeks in his hands like this …” She cups her sisters cheeks in demonstration, “...while saying: ‘you’re never going back there, I’ll never share you like that again’.” She shivers. “I-I don’t know what that was, but it made me feel really weird.”

Lydia frowns, trying to picture the scene in front of her. 

“Are you sure that it wasn’t just dad’s weird love language?” she asks carefully. 

“I don’t know”, Nadia sighs defeatedly. “Mom seemed … scared. She looked up at him with eyes full of terror. She could have had a nightmare or something, but dad’s voice- … it was awful. I don’t know how to describe it, but it sounded extremely dark.”

“We could try to ask her.”

“What if dad hears?”

“I could distract him while you ask, if that helps you ease your worry.”

Nadia smiles gratefully. “Thank you, Lyd.”

Lydia gives her an unsure smile and grabs her hand and they walk into school. 

Like Dr Kry had asked them to, they stand by the gates at three sharp. His white car rolls over and the two of them jumps in, Lydia in the front seat and Nadia in the backseat.

“How has your day been?” he asks and drives off. 

He always asks about their classes, teachers and friends. If there’s a small detail he doesn’t like, he makes sure to contact the school and let them know his thoughts. More than one friendship has ended thanks to his overprotectiveness and the twins has learned to dilute the truth enough for him to be able to swallow it. So once again, they answer in the way he wants to hear it. 

The car drives from the city, gets off the highway and enters a countryside road. The dirt road is divided in the middle with grass, creating enough space for the wheels of his white car to roll forward. Here, nothing can be heard except the sounds of distant birds. Their white, edwardian villa is surrounded by a deep, dark forest, close to a gigantic sparkly lake with the closest neighbor being a kilometer away. Despite the isolating upbringing the twins have had, getting away from the noisy, stressful city to the empty forest always cleanse their brains. 

The white, Scandinavian, edwardian aged, wooden villa appears behind the trees like a castle. The house has two floors with a green atticroof, and a bushy, blooming garden in the same color, two glass verandahs on either side of the house and a white fence around the garden.

The twins get out of the car. Nadia gives her a look and Lydia nods. 

“Dad”, she says. “I’ve been feeling a bit weird these last days … I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Really?” Dr Kry asks and frowns. He closes the trunk of the car. “Who have you been around? Are any of the other students sick?”

“A few.”

“Nadia, are you feeling bad too?”

“No”, Nadia replies.

“Could you please give me a check up?” Lydia asks. 

“Alright, come with me”, Dr Kry says and nods at her to follow him. 

While they walk inside, their father and Lydia walks to the living room and Nadia sneaks off upstairs. She moves carefully to their parents’ room and knock gently on the door before entering. Their mother, you, is lying in bed with a book in her hand. You look as weak as ever. Nadia shivers. 

“Hi, sweetheart”, you smile and puts down your book on your chest. “Did you have a good day in school?”

“Yes …”, Nadia mumbles and sits down on the side of the bed, unsure on how to start this absurd conversation. 

“What’s wrong, Nadia?”

“What happened yesterday? WIth you and dad?”

You flinch. Your smile disappears for a moment for it to appear quickly again, but this time in a fake manner. 

“Why did he say that?” Nadia asks carefully. “Why did he say that he wasn’t going to share you again?”

“O-Oh, that …”, you mumble with an embarrassed smile. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it. It was just some adult stuff that me and your dad were talking about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, honey. Why? Did it make you worry?”

Nadia nods slightly. Y/N gives her a smile and takes her hand. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, there’s nothing to be afraid of”, you reassure Nadia. “Whatever happens between me and your dad is nothing you have to be afraid of. We will always put you and your sister first, okay? There’s nothing you have to be worried about. I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, mom …”

You hug her, and Nadia hugs back, but she can’t help but feel that her heart sinks. Something isn’t right. 

The very next day when they’re left off at school, Nadia grabs Lydia’s arm. 

“Let’s go to the hospital”, she says the second their father’s car disappears behind the corner. She holds up a metallic key. “I have the key to mom’s old room.”

“What?” Lydia asks in confusion. “Why?”

“I have a feeling that mom isn’t really sick and I have to take a look around in her old hospital room. Something isn’t right!” She clears her throat and lowers her voice. “Mom and dad met at the hospital and that he was her doctor, that much we know, right?”

Lydia nods, trying to follow along. 

“Isn’t it weird that a doctor as professional as our dad decided to start a relationship with a patient like that?” Nadia asks, sounding unsure. “And wouldn’t he have done everything he could to make mom feel better? Shouldn’t she be better now? I just … I want to know if he has done something.”

“Do you really think he has?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But something isn’t right, and I feel that. Mom seemed to be put on the spot when I asked her about the interaction I had overheard. She seemed scared.” Nadia grabbed her hand in hers. “Please, Lyd, can we go there and just take a look?”

Lydia hesitates and glances at the private school behind them, contemplating the consequences. 

“Please”, Nadia repeats. “If mom is getting hurt, I want to help her.”

“Okay”, Lydia nods. 

With that said, they hurry past the school gates before a teacher has the time to catch them. They take the first bus to the state hospital their father works at and hope that he’s with a patient while they sneak around. 

They hurry inside the hospital and keep their heads down to make sure that none of the working receptionists would recognise them and report to their father right away. They stay silent until they get into the elevator. 

Once out, they sneak over to the door. Lydia stands guard as Nadia presses the key into its lock. The click from the key opening echoes in the empty corridor. Nadia’s hand hovers above the door handle. Her heart twirls around uncomfortably. In a moment, she will be in the room where their parents met, where something happened that made their dad take the decision of stepping over the professional line. If that was good or bad is yet to be known, but she can’t help but feel worried. 

The room is empty, in more than one way. The spirits of old memories haunt the room and they leave a sour taste in the twins’ mouths. Lydia looks towards the bed. Their mother has been lying here for months with a sickness that has kept her bed bound for years. But what happened while she was here?

“What are we looking for?” Lydia wonders. 

“Anything”, Nadia shrugs and looks around. “Whatever that can help us is fine. Journals, reports, notes — anything.”

They start to rummage through drawers, in binders and notepads. Lydia finds herself holding a yellow paper binder with their mother’s name written on it, in their father’s handwriting. 

“Nad, look at this”, Lydia says and holds up the binder. 

They put the binder on the desk and start to pull out papers. Every paper is written from the top to the bottom in ink.

“He has documented her every day …”, Lydia says, perplexed. She shakes her head in denial. “Every single day, every single hour. Obsessively. Look, every little detail is written down. ‘12:35, eaten an apple’, ‘16:52, took a shower’, ‘22:30, called for me on the telephone’. What is this?”

Nadia picks up another paper, a smaller, clearly supposed to be hidden between the other sides. She puts her hand over her mouth as her eyes widens. 

“Oh no”, she gasps and drops the paper. “No, no, no, no …”

Lydia frowns, bends down and picks up the paper. Her heart sinks as she reads the note. It’s a single word, but they’re familiar with it. They’ve found bottles of it in the cellar and the attic multiple times, and when they asked Dr Kry about it, he answered that it was a substance to kill vermin.

“He’s poisoning mom”, Nadia whispers in horror and looks at her twin with wide, terrified eyes. 

Lydia feels the air disappear from her lungs. Suddenly, she feels nauseous. She sits down on the rolling stool and tries to control her breathing. Nadia sinks down on the bed with her head in her hands. 

“What the fuck do we do?” Lydia breathes out with her eyes staring dimly in front of her. She has never felt this empty before, this helpless. “What the fuck do we do now, Nadia?”

“W-We have to call the cops”, Nadia gulps. 

“The cops? Nad, he’s our dad!”

“But if he hurts mom …” Her voice dies out. “We can’t let him take more years from her.”

Lydia nods and wipes the few tears that have begun to run down her cheeks. With shaking hands, she unzips her backpack and shoves the binder down. They will need evidence if they have to prove to the cops. 

The door behind them opens. Both girls fly up from their positions and scurry over to each other. Dr Kry walks in and stops abruptly in the door. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks quickly. 

He’s trying to force a smile, but the red eyes of his daughters and the trembling bodies of theirs are all he needs to see, to know that they know. 

“How fucking could you?!” Nadia screams. 

Dr Kry hurries to close the door as she continues to shout through sobs. 

“What’s your deal with mom?!” she screams. “How can you keep her like this?! Where’s your fucking conscience?!”

She thinks that she’s going to explode in pure fear, anger and sorrow. Dr Kry clenches his jaw and sighs heavily. 

“Your mother is a very, very special person”, he says slowly, as if he is talking to a ticking bomb. “It is all a misunderstanding, girls, I will tell you everything at home. Come, we’re going home now.”

“We’re not going anywhere with you”, Nadia spits and stands in front of her frozen sister. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Dr Kry rolls his eyes when they don’t answer. “You’re my daughters, and you are not yet of age, you have to come with me.”

Nadia wants to refuse again, but she doesn’t want to leave her mother alone with him, not when he knows that they know. 

“Now”, Dr Kry decides. 

Nadia picks up Lydia’s bag and gives it to her sister. It looks like Lydia is going to throw up any second now. Nadia takes her hand and they follow their father out of the room, and out through a back door. For the first time, Lydia sits down in the backseat together with her twin. They hold each others hands tightly and keep silent the entire car ride home. 

“Girls, I never wanted you to see that”, Dr Kry sighs and tries to meet their eyes in the rear view mirror. “I- … It’s hard to explain. Your mother is a very special person who I’m very lucky to have met.”

Lydia squeezes her eyes shut, but she can’t keep him out of her head. 

When they come home, Nadia drags her sister into the house. 

“Girls, don’t go upstairs”, Dr Kry says in that same dark voice Nadia had heard him talk in a few days ago. “I want you to stay down here.”

They halt, suddenly too scared to move. 

“I want you to help me with dinner”, Dr Kry says. “Come on.”

The twins glance at each other. Lydia starts to drag her sister to the kitchen. They help in complete silence. Lydia’s hands are trembling while she cuts cucumber and it slips, cutting a slit in her finger. She yelps and drops the knife. 

“Oh, honey”, Dr Kry breathes out and grabs her hand. “You have to be careful.”

She doesn’t look at him as he washes her hand under the kitchen sink and puts on a bandaid. Her entire body is in fight or flight mode. 

When Dr Kry takes care of the final touches, the twins scurry up to their mother. Your face drops when you see them. 

“Why is he doing this to you?” Nadia asks thickly as she tries not to cry. “We found out.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, girls”, you say sorrowfully. “I wish that you never had to know.”

“Why do you let it happen?” Lydia asks quietly. 

“I have no choice … I can’t do anything.” You lower your gaze and voice to an ashamed whisper. “I don’t have the energy to run away, and if I managed to, you’d be in danger and I’d be dead. Your father has the only antidote to his self made poison. It’s safer for everyone if I stay here.”

“But mom …”, Nadia whimpers, “... he’s hurting you.”

“I … I know, dear.” 

The door opens behind them. 

“Girls, dinner”, Dr Kry says shortly and nods towards the corridor. “Go downstairs.”

The twins turn to you, wanting you to make their decision. You give them a reassuring smile and they leave. You look at the man who has become your husband, much to your dismay. 

“Why did you let them find out?” you whisper with tears in your eyes. “You promised that they would never know!”

“I didn't think that they would.” He wipes the tears that roll down your cheeks. “I’ll fix this mess. Don’t worry, darling.”

With that said, he tucks you in and leaves to go downstairs. The twins have sat down by the dining table with their blank, staring eyes turned down into the table. Dr Kry sits down and start to eat, without seeming to care at all about the incidents that happened earlier. Nadia stares down into her plate with disgust roaring in her stomach. If she eats, she’s going to throw it all up in a matter of thirty minutes. She closes her eyes and sighs sadly. Lydia tries to eat a bite, forcing it down her throat. 

“Nadia, eat a little”, Dr Kry says. 

“I’m not hungry”, she mumbles. 

“You need to eat a bit. I won’t allow you to leave the table before you have eaten. Look at Lydia, she’s eating.”

Lydia feels her cheeks heat up as the attention turns to her. She’s suddenly embarrassed over obeying. Feeling exposed and naked under Nadia’s look of disbelief, as if she’s just broken a silent pact. But instead of saying anything, Nadia picks up her fork and takes a bite of the white rice. The twins can agree that this might have been the worst dinner they have ever experienced. 

Nadia puts her hand over her heart and clears her throat. There's a heavy feeling over her chest, something almost suffocating. She looks to the side, seeing how Lydia is frowning as well, trying to clear her throat. Nadia think that she looks like she’s going to faint. She wants to ask her how she’s feeling, but doesn’t dare talk in front of their father, afraid to start a conversation. 

After dinner, the twins decide to go upstairs, but their legs suddenly feel weak enough to break apart. 

“What’s going on?” Lydia whispers and grips the staircase railing. 

“I think that he put something in the food”, Nadia whispers back. 

“I feel really sick …”

She falls down on her knees in the middle of the staircase, still holding onto the railing. Nadia hurries to pull her up again and drags her over to her bedroom, lazily tucking her in. 

“Don’t leave me”, Lydia whimpers and grabs her hand before she can leave the room. “Stay … please. Don’t go. I'm scared.”

Nadia agrees, not wanting to leave. She climbs down under the covers of Lydia’s bed. They lay in silence and look up at the tilted, wooden ceiling. For every minute passes by, they’re growing more and more sick. Every muscle in their bodies seem to ache, twist and turn. 

“He’s doing it to us too”, Nadia whispers. 

They hear the lock on the door click and give each other terrified looks. Nadia stumbles out of the bed and feel the handle. She gulps in horror and turns back to the bed. 

“It’s locked!” she says and breathes out in shock. “He actually locked it …”

“Come back …”, Lydia begs and reaches for her. 

Nadia returns to the bed, crawls down under the covers and hugs her. She wraps her arms around her sister and rests Lydia’s head on her shoulder. 

“I’m scared”, Lydia whispers. 

“It’s going to be okay”, Nadia replies, although she doesn’t believe it herself. “We’re going to be okay.”

Dr Kry removes his tie, about to go to sleep. 

“I can’t believe you …”, you whisper from the bed, with her eyes down at her trembling hands. 

“Darling …”, Dr Kry sighs and turns around. 

You raise your tone, but keep it hushed enough not to exceed the bedroom walls. “You promised that they would never get hurt! You promised that they would never get exposed to this fucking substance!”

“They haven’t … yet.”

“Yet?! Don’t fucking tell me-”

“They figured it out, okay? They heard our conversation and decided to check out the hospital for themselves. I underestimated their intelligence … and their love for you.” He sighs annoyedly. “I’m not going to let their lack of understanding break apart our family — that I have fought so hard for. I put something in their food to keep them still for a while. It’s nothing dangerous, little one. I promise you that.”

“If I knew that you were going to break your promise-”

“I had to.”

He is about to caress your cheek, but hears sounds coming from next door. One of the girls is banging on the locked bedroom door, and calling for him. Dr Kry excuses himself and gets out of the room. He walks over to Lydia’s room, where the noise is coming from. Quickly, he unlocks, finding Nadia leaning on the wall right next to the door. Her eyes are full with tears. 

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks. 

“Lydia isn’t waking up!” Nadia cries.

Dr Kry feels his body turn cold. He runs over to the bed where his other daughter is lying on her side, and he soon finds out that Nadia is right — she isn’t waking up. He shakes her, gives her gentle taps on her cheeks and lifts her up. Nothing wakes her. He has to take her to the hospital. 

“Wait, where are you going?!” Nadia screams after him as Dr Kry carries her sister down the stairs. “She doesn’t want to be alone!”

“You have to stay here with mom”, Dr Kry says over his shoulder. “I’m taking care of Lydia.”

He hurries out of the house and quickly places her down in the back seat. Dr Kry’s usual forty minute drive to the hospital took only twenty five minutes this time. He picked her up in her arms and ran inside through the backdoor, and didn’t stop until their reach the room you have spent many, many months in. Dr Kry places his daughter down on the very same bed you have laid in. He placed an oxygen over Lydia’s mouth and nose, turning on the machine. He hasn’t felt this scared in a long time. 

Finally, after an hour, Lydia opens her eyes with a small moan. Dr Kry hurries over to the bed and removes the mask. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks her and brushes the hair out of her face. 

“I feel really sick”, she whimpers. 

“Do you need to throw up?” 

Lydia nods. Dr Kry picks her up again and moves her into the bathroom where she hovers over the toilet for ten minutes. Dr Kry holds her hair back and grimaces sadly. He does feel bad for putting her through this, but he has to. 

“There you go”, he says and puts her down on the bed again. 

“Why am I here?” Lydia asks weakly.

“You weren’t responding when anyone tried to wake you up. I got worried, so I decided to take you here.”

“Am I going to die?”

Dr Kry scoffs out a smile in a weird sensation of deja-vu. He has heard that question a lot, in the exact same tone and manner, but from the generation before her.  

“You’re not”, he reassures her and strokes her hair. “You know that I would never let anything happen to you.”

“Why am I feeling like this?”

“I put something in your food to make you and Nadia calm down, but you seem to have reacted badly to the substance … weirdly enough. Since you’re identical twins, i thought you’d react the same, but it seems like you are a bit more sensitive than your sister.”

“Nadia ate less than me.”

“Yeah, you might have gotten more substance in your body, which is why you feel worse. It’s going to be okay, I will not let anything happen to you.”

“But you hurt me.”

His smile drops and his hand stops stroking her hair. He knows that Lydia shares half of her mothers genetics, but he didn’t know that she would sound exactly like you. She has never heard you use these phrases, and yet Lydia has chosen the exact same wording that you have tortured Dr Kry with years ago. 

“I didn’t mean for you to end up here”, Dr Kry sighs and continues to stroke her hair. “That was my fault, I admit that. However, I had to keep you and Nadia a bit sedated because of how scared you were.”

“Why did you use so much?” she whimpers. 

“I was a bit shaky myself, I wasn’t meant to hurt you, Lydia.”

Lydia sighs shakily and sinks down in the mattress. She wants nothing more than to go back home, to Nadia, but at the same time she knows that if she goes back home, she will be locked in her room again. Continuing with life now that they know their father’s secret will be difficult. 

“How long do I have to stay here?” she asks quietly. 

“Until you’re feeling better”, Dr Kry replies and stands up. “For now, I think that you need to sleep. It’s late.”

That’s the last thing she wants to do. She has always been Dr Kry’s (not so subtle) favorite, and she has always had a preference for her father … but for the very first time, she’s afraid of him. She can’t trust him anymore, especially about her health. Being unconscious is the last thing she wants to do. 

“I don’t want to”, Lydia says pleadingly. “I’m not tired … please don’t make me sleep, dad.”

Please don’t make me sleep. Your voice echoes in his head, in the exact same tone. Dr Kry knows that he did a million things wrong when he kept you here, and now he has a second chance to fix things. 

“Okay”, he breathes out and sits down on his stool. “You don’t have to sleep, darling.”

Lydia gulps and looks around in the room, trying to imagine how you had felt while being here. She feels a heavy sensation over her chest, like a heavy stone. She couldn’t see the poisoned air purifier that was mentioned in the journal. 

“Did mom lay here?” Lydia whispers. 

“Yes”, he answers quietly. 

“How long?”

Dr Kry looks down at his nails, eyes faltering. “A, uh … very long time. Many, many months.”

She starts to look around again. “Where is the air purifier?”

“It’s not here … it broke, a long time ago. I had to throw it away.”

“Do you still use that kind of thing on mom?”

“No, I don’t. Not often.”

But he has his new way to make sure you stay.

Nadia runs her hand through her hair. Her poor sister. What should she do? Dr Kry left the rooms unlocked, which means that she can move around. She drags herself into your bedroom. You look at her with wide, nervous eyes. 

“Is she okay?” you ask and take Nadia in your arms. 

“I-I don’t know”, Nadia responds shakily while shaking her head desperately. “She wasn’t waking up and …”

“She’s going to be okay. I know your father can all of those medical stuff … maybe a little too well.” You sigh and caress the seventeen-year old girl’s face. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nadia shakes her head. “No fucking way things are going to be okay! He’s a madman, mom.”

“I … I know.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“Where are we supposed to go, Nad? We have no car, nearest neighbor is a kilometer away and we have poison in our blood. Sweetheart, we can’t walk far.”

“Mom, we have to leave. We can’t stay here with this psychopath!”

“Nadia …”

Nadia sighs frustratedly and hides her face in her hands. Something has to work. The farthest she has seen you walk is out to the garden when they’ve had picnic evenings. You take her hand, removing it.

“Sweetheart … you know dad loves you, right?” you ask carefully. You don’t want her to hate her him, after all he is her father … but you have to let her know the truth, no more living in the shadow.

“Fucking doubt it”, Nadia mutters. 

“He does. In his … own little way. But I need you to understand that he has sides that he hasn’t shown you … a-and I don’t want you to see those sides.”

Nadia’s face goes blank. You’re trying your best not to get swindled back into old memories, but thinking about that murderous side of Dr Kry brings you back to a time you much rather would want to forget. 

“Mom?” Nadia asks blankly and almost shouts in panic. “Mom! What sides?”

“He … He is a very patient man, but he can't take as much as possible, so please, whatever you do … cooperate.”

“What does that mean? Mom?”

Nadia goes cold. That’s it, she thinks, they have to leave. 

“Mom, get up”, she says and grabs the blanket before ripping it off. “Now. Before he returns.”

“Nad-”

“We have to try, at least. Please.”

You hesitate before getting out of bed. Nadia grabs your hand and try to pull you out of the bedroom, but everything around you seem to spin. Your entire body is heavy and aching in all the wrong places. 

“Nadia, wait”, you groan. “If I’m going to move, I have to move slowly.”

“Alright”, Nadia agrees. “I’ll go get some stuff and then meet you by the stairs.”

Nadia runs to her room to collect her wallet and hoodies for herself and her sister, then runs to get your jacket. She meets you by the stairs, helps you put your jacker on and then start to lead you down. You’re terrified of falling. 

“Nadia, I don’t think that this is a good idea”, you mumble and think back of your numerous escape attempts, all ending with someone losing their life. 

“We have to, mom”, Nadia pleads. “I can’t leave you here.”

“What about Lydia?”

“I’ll figure something out afterwards.”

Nadia unlocks the front door and leads you out on the glass verandah. You’re filled with fear. What if you can’t walk? What if you hurt yourself? What if Dr Kry finds out? Your body won’t be able to take his anger. Besides, you have barely left the house in eighteen years — apart from a few car rides here and there — what if the world has changed to something you don’t like?

“Mom”, Nadia says slowly. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m terrified”, you admit. 

“We will be okay.”

They start to walk along the dark countryside road. There are no streetlight this far out in the forest, but the moon lights up enough for them to see where the road is heading. 

“It’s been years since I was outside last”, you say. “I think the last time I was out walking was in the garden, last summer when we had that picnic.”

“Have you ever tried to run away from dad before?” Nadia asks. 

“I have”, you answer quietly. “A few times.”

“Did you ever succeed?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘succeeding’, because I’m still here, aren’t I? But I got away a few times … the only problem was that he found me again.” You sigh, realizing that perhaps you shouldn’t have this conversation with your underage daughter. “Forget that. Where are we going?”

“We need to go to our neighbors. They have to help us.”

Nadia has only spoken to the neighbors a few times, because of how rarely they run into each other. 

They only manage to walk a hundred meters before bright, beaming headlights light up in front of them. Nadia wants to flee into the forest — in case it happens to be her father behind the wheel — but can’t seem to pull you with her. The car stops and to Nadia’s horror, her father gets out. 

“What the Hell are you doing?!” he shouts, sounding both angry and terrified. “Y/N!”

You freeze in your spot and seem to crawl together like a hurt dog, sounding like one too. Dr Kry runs over to you. Nadia watches in horror and starts to panic, wondering what she should do. Stay here with you and get caught in Dr Kry’s claws … or make a run for it to try to get help. 

“I’m sorry”, you shriek in fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Dr Kry hugs your shaking body in his arms and strokes your back, hushing softly.

“I know you didn’t come up with this stupid idea”, he reassures you. “Don’t cry, my dear, I'm here now. I know this wasn't your fault. I'm not mad at you. I’ll get you back home and I'll take care of you. It’s going to be okay.”

He helps you into the front seat. You don’t fight back in the slightest. Nadia looks back at the dark forest and gulps. Her eyes glues onto something in the backseat and realizes that he has come back with her sister! 

“Nadia, get in, we've had enough of these childish outbursts”, her father tells her. “Get in. Now.”

“Is she okay?” Nadia almost stutters and points at her sleeping sister. 

“She’s okay. If you don’t get in now, Nadia, I’m taking them both with me and you’ll never see them again.”

His favoritism has never been clearer, Nadia thinks. She can’t leave her sister … so she gets into the backseat. Nadia wakes her sister up and caresses her cheek. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers quickly. “Did he hurt you?”

“I feel okay”, Lydia whispers back. “Just … tired. I had tro throw up a lot and I think that he gave me some sleeping pills or something. I insisted on going home … so he let me.”

Nadia breathes out. She glances over at the front seat. Their father holds the steering wheel with one hand and yours with the other. 

“Please don’t cry”, he wishes. 

Nadia watches on in disgust. 

When they get back to the white villah, Nadia pulls her sister up to her own room and lays her down on the bed while Dr Kry takes you into the master bedroom. 

“Here you go”, Nadia says and tucks her in. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Some water”, Lydia says quietly. 

Nadia disappears downstairs to get a glass of water. She meets her father in the stairs. 

“Nadia, I’m not sure your sister will be able to leave her bed for a while”, he says warningly. “I wouldn’t try to leave, if i were you. If you do, I will take both of them with me, and you’ll never see them again.”

“Do you like to hurt your family?” she spits back. “What kind of sadist are you?”

“One to make sure my family stays with me. If you don’t want to end up in the same physical state as your sister and mother, you’re going to continue living as if everything is normal, got that? Go to school, come home, study, continue everything. No talking to anyone about this. Is that clear?”

“So everything as normal … but without Lydia?”

“Exactly.”

“Why aren’t you healing her?”

“Because I’m not going to let you, or anyone, take my family from me. Be glad that I’m still letting you live normally.”

Nadia glares at him and continues up the stairs. She holds the glass to Lydia’s mouth, watching her sip. 

“What now?” she whispers. 

“I’m allowed to continue living like normally … and you don’t”, Nadia says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“But … but I don’t want to live like mom!”

“I know. I’m sorry, Lyd.”

The girl in the bed sighs sadly. Naida takes her hand and gulps. 

The coming weeks seem normal. Nadia goes to school, studies, returns to the villah, but nothing is the same. Without Lydia, there’s no use in being on top. She has no one to impress anymore. Her father is dead to her, and sucking up to him makes her sick. She barely talks to her friends anymore. They’re always asking her about Lydia, and why she’s not in school anymore. Nadia can’t come up with countless excuses … it’s easier to distance herself. 

Life doesn’t seem that bright and colorful anymore. Nadia can’t bring herself to be excited about things that used to interest her badly. Now, every day is a chore, something she wants to get done, until something happens … but she doesn’t know what it is. A death in the family? Someone saving them? Someone killing someone? 

Nadia walks out of school, seeing her fathers white car parked outside the gates, and him inside … waiting for her. 

[notherpuppet]

I know they’re probably not going to go into this (which i understand, there’s only so much time in an episode and they’re telling a different story) but I think about Al’s background a LOT. Get ready if ur in the mood for a read.

To be a mixed Black person in America is a…bizarre experience. You come to realize that due to the coincidence of your genetic makeup, white folks may divulge information that they keep so closely guarded from the ears of “more obvious-looking” black folks. Im gonna bring it back to Alastor, but lemme give some personal context. I’m mixed with Filipino, so I’m pretty obviously not white, yet my ambiguous ethnic makeup in a predominantly white suburbia seemed to make white peers and people feel much more at ease in relaying their criticisms or prejudices of black people to me. I would hear someone feel comfy enough to spew vitriolic racist shit with me, then toe the line like a circus acrobat when around someone a few shades darker in skin tone and a few coils curlier in hair texture. It was constantly infuriating and holding my tongue was a practice to both investigate someone’s true nature and preserve my own safety. I did abandon that method of navigating life in America, and experienced the switch-up white folks made when I started ‘broadcasting’ my blackness. (E.G. beyonce pre vs. post Lemonade). The criticisms and prejudice confessions just came less often, til I saw them being caged up completely after white peers experienced backlash from me. After they realized “OH this bitch is a n*****!?”

Now this is from someone who is brown, but i also wanna talk about my white-passing cousin with a similar racial makeup as Al, who is from the south and oh BOY. (Let’s call him J for this post’s purposes). J’s navigation though simple daily life is such a constant contradictory experience, of which he is still working through in therapy. I think of one moment when he was manager at retail gig and his boss told him that whenever a Black customer enters, it’s policy to give them “exceptionally attentive customer service”. Essentially, “follow that n***** around”. This is just one modern incident of when J would hear the quiet part out loud, despite his Blackness, because his appearance was white enough to make white folks drop their guard. Eventually, my cousin and I took to the same direction where we used our advantage of disarming white folks against them when the time came. We would keep note and record of racism and unlock a sort of “this you?” when the opportunity to expose that person’s true nature came. It’s pretty vengeful thinking ngl, but it is really REALLY hard to resist exposing an asshole rather than attempting to teach an asshole to change their ways. Especially given that such an attempt is an ARDUOUS uphill battle. The experience of KNOWING the truth about what someone thinks of your people, and being opened to opportunities and information that you would not have access to if the chance of your genetics was only slightly different is bIZARRE, horrific, and fuel for constant inner turmoil. (It sucks y’all)

Now back to Alastor; to have been a mixed person in the Deep South in 1930s America—it’s not too difficult for me to imagine how traumatic and convoluted that experience must have been. Especially when legally and socially, things were so much more Black and White. And when you’re on the line in between that, when society does not prepare a place for your existence, it can be SO isolating. You may consider the absurdity of such an arbitrary method of determining class, status, and/or caste much earlier in life than peers, which only further isolates you. You hold a resentment of society now that you know exactly how the other side is operating to ensure your oppression.

And then I think of Al’s weird ass moral code. How he arrived in Hell and (according to Mimzy) began killing overlords with reckless abandon. This is someone who likely had to develop the cunning to navigate 1930s Deep South America as a mixed, murdering, psychopath without getting caught by authorities who are already gunning for you. And now he is in Hell where the rules of society have gone up in smoke and he can fully embrace his rage, resentment, and vengeance. A desire to burn down the powerful people of the world can be accommodated and ANY previous inhibitions can finally be released. The morality of rising above someone by cutting them down (instead of developing emotional/spiritual healing) has become the easier and satisfying option. Finally the opportunity to show the power-secure villains of the world how easily you can tear them down when nothing is holding you back any longer.

TLDR; The trauma of racism in America is pretty sufficient cannon fodder for a severe psychotic break, the development of socially debilitating behaviors and isolation, and a quest for profound vengeance. So maybe that can explain some of the enigma that is Alastor.

And this is just ONE facet of Al. I didn’t even get to bring up the isolation that comes with being an aroace nonbeliever in the 1930s Deep South. Like FUCK. I’m a mixed, aroace nonbeliever from a modern day conservative town and yall….what a weird experience for sure lol but anyway lemme get back to my life. Whole point of this was—-WHAT AN INTERESTING FUCKEN CHARACTER TO THINK ABOUT

[bahablastplz]

Told you (Prove it Pt.2) Seungmin x Reader

Part 2 to Prove it: (Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can.) Content: Smut, fluff Warnings: P in V sex, oral (m! receiving), soft dom Seungmin, porn with feelings WC: 1200

“I bet that I can make you squirt all over my cock,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

You already know what you’re doing when you meet his eyes and say, “Prove it.” 

With two fingers curling in a ‘come hither’ motion, you’re standing and taking your pants back off. You meet him on the couch in two long strides, swinging one leg over each of his own to straddle him. 

You can feel his hard length pressing into your already soaked cunt and you grind against him, seeking friction. He lets out a breathy sigh, his hands coming to your hips to still your motions. 

“You and I already know that I don’t have to prove myself, right?” he grins. 

“Shut up, Seungmin. Just please, shut up already,” you beg. “You’re so full of yourself. You know I can’t stand it, you just have to be right all the time, don’t you?” 

“I don’t have to be right, I just am,” he replies. He grabs you tighter and brings you even closer, bare pussy now fully grinding against his cock. He buries his head into the crevice of your neck and you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

When you stand, shaky legs, it’s so you can pull his pants down. You’re too eager and desperate and you can’t find it within you to be embarrassed, not even from the wet spot you left behind on his sweats. His hard length springs up and he’s big, infuriatingly so, because of course Kim Seungmin has to be both cocky and good at everything, and of course he has to have the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen. You almost scoff. 

He almost stutters when you get on your knees in front of him but he recomposes himself just as quickly. Your hand wraps around his length and strokes him experimentally. You’re as silent as you can be just to hear the sharp inhale he gives, because try as he might act indifferent, you’re determined to pull those sounds out of him if it’s the last thing you do. 

“Y/N…” he starts. When he looks down at you his eyes are bright, excited. You lean forward with a smirk and take his tip in your mouth, swirling around it with your tongue. He’s salty and tastes like precum, and you gather as much saliva as you can in your mouth and let it drip onto his cock, getting him nice and wet. Your hand glides up and down his length and the sound of it is pornographic, wet and loud and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. He’s starting to look debauched which is exactly what you wanted, and when he starts to buck his hips up into your hand you still. “No, please–” he says. 

“Please, what?” you say with a smirk, repeating his words from earlier. 

He blinks at you before standing, grabbing you by the arms and all but throwing you onto the couch in a display of dominence. You’re at an utter loss for words as he climbs on top of you, spreading your legs wide open for him just like before. 

He grabs his cock and pushes it between your folds, covering it with your wetness. He taps his tip against your clit a few times, teasing. 

“Seungmin, I swear to god… I love you but if you keep on teasing me like this I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” you say. He freezes, wide eyes and lips slightly parted. You furrow your brows, wondering what could have possibly, finally caused him to drop his facade. 

“You love me?” he asks, breathless. 

“Of course I do, idiot. You infuriate me, but–” 

His lips crash against yours. It’s hard and it’s messy and it catches you off guard but his tongue dances against yours as if it was the only chance to kiss you he would ever have. 

He pushes his length into you then, grabbing the backs of your knees and lifting them up as his pelvis is flush against yours. His lips never leave yours, not even when your hands come up to the back of his head to push him even closer to you. 

“Fuck, Seungmin,” you say as you finally pull away. His pupils are blown wide and he’s finally panting. You feel him twitch inside you. “So, are you going to show me how good you fuck me? Are you going to make me squirt all over your cock?” you taunt him, intentionally trying to rile him up. 

He shuts you up real fast, exiting you fully just to snap his hips back into you, hard. He cracks a half-grin at the moan you let out. 

“Go ahead, say it again,” he teases. 

“Are you going to make me–” Snap. His hips smack into yours again, a loud wet sound permeating through the air. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s totally fucking with you, you can tell by the amusement spread across his features. 

“Are you–” Snap. You moan loudly in response much to your chagrin.

When you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meet. His smile falters and his eyes flit down to your lips and suddenly you’re kissing again, his hips sporadically thrusting into you with a desperateness that you didn’t think you would ever see on him. 

“Tell me you love me,” he pleads. Your heart flutters hard in your chest. 

“I love you, Seung,” you tell him. It’s hands on skin, grabbing onto anything they can in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself, skin against skin, fingers in your hair, lips against your neck… 

Everything around you is undeniably Seungmin. It’s all you know, and you can’t even bring yourself to think of your past-self, just moments ago trying to get him to lose the smugness. It’s almost as if you don’t care anymore, not when all you care about is him and how he feels, here and now. 

You feel your stomach tighten and you can tell you’re getting close. You try to warn him but you can tell he already knows as his hand snakes down between you two to rub at your already sensitive clit. 

“Cum for me,” he begs. “I love you too, just cum for me, please.” 

That’s all it takes. Your toes curl and your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched moan and you clench around him hard, undoubtedly giving him exactly what he wanted as you squirt all over him, soaking his chest with your essence. He talks you through it, slamming his hips into yours until you’ve come down from your release before he pulls out and spills all over your stomach and chest, painting you in a reminder that you are his. 

He collapses on top of you and you both still, panting heavily. You don’t even realize that your hands are running up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. You both lay still for several moments, neither person talking. There’s not much that needs to be said, you think. 

Until you hear him suck in a breath, suppressing a laugh. 

“What?” you question. 

“Told you so,” he says. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── Thank you guys for all of the love on part 1!! Hope this is everything you wanted! Tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 here: @skzswife @ka0ila @applekiwi3202 @nightmarenyxx @blondie-hyun @softkisshyunjin @compersian @bansheehunteremissary