#But for now I had another drawing in mind

[misaerabl]

cockwarming & manhandling w/ g!p abby + stomach bulge

CONTENT: cock warming (obv), modern au, abby has a cock (obv), manhandling (?), stomach bulge from her dick…, you're both still clothed above waist, she calls you bunny, cock riding while she’s sitting in front of her desk, random post i wrote cuz i’m horny or wtv… PURE SMUT

She’s been sitting at her desk for hours, completely absorbed in her laptop and scattered papers. Honestly, you needed her. You tried to be patient—well, not really. A few minutes ago, you were bombarding her with random questions and even tried to climb into her lap. That got you exiled to the other side of the room. Now, you sit on your shared bed, just watching her.

But damn, you really needed her.

You watched as she stretched her arm behind her neck, trying to relieve the strain from staring at that damn desk all day. You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of sympathy as she groaned in pain, her shoulders stiff from hours of work. She barely noticed the way you looked at her, eyes soft and full of longing, as you wrestled with the urge to go over and take care of her, nay—take her.

You stood up, your heart pounding a little faster as you made your way over to her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck, resting your chin gently on the top of her head.

"Abs..." you said softly, hoping she'd catch the hint, your voice almost a whisper against her hair. You wanted her to feel it, the need that had been building up in you for hours.

But you stopped yourself before the words could spill out—Please, I need you now, Abby. Instead, you simply held her, silently wishing she would understand.

She doesn’t even peel her gaze from the screen as she asks, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong, bunny?"

The nickname makes your chest tighten, but the distance between you both is unbearable. You try to hold on, but it’s like a dam breaking. You lean in, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, Abby... I need you."

Her fingers pause mid-type, her gaze flicking to you for the first time. "Bunny... You know this is important."

You swallow hard, the words heavy on your tongue. "I know, but I need you..." Your voice drops to an almost inaudible whisper, your breath catching. "I need you... in me"

Without another word she pulls you onto her lap, lifting up your skirt to your hips and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. She starts prepping small kisses on your neck, grabbing your arms so they would wrap around her neck.

"Lift up for me for a sec" She commands. Of course you immediately comply. she's finally giving you what you need right? 

You watch as she unzips her pants, slowly pushing them down to her knees. You bite your lip, hard, just shy of causing it to bleed. 

She heard you let out a satisfied hum when she stroked her cock for you. "You want this, bunny?" she asks, your mind in a whirl like the cock hungry, needy girl you are for her. 

"Mhm... Please..." 

She shifts your panties to the side, feeling how wet your pussy is already. Abby just smiles at that knowing the effect she has on you. 

She teases you pushing a finger inside, making you moan, but quickly drawing it out and chuckling. You stare at her, wide eyed. 

"Don't look at me like that bunny" 

"Please Abby..." 

Abby smirks but she doesn't want to tease you anymore. She sees how needy her perfect little bunny is for her. She holds you by the hips and slowly pushes her cock inside you. 

God you were over the fucking moon. 

"You like that, hm?" She asks tilting your head to look at her. 

"Y-yeah..."

"Good. Now... Stay like that for a while, okay?" She says, removing her hands from you and shifting her seat back to move closer to her desk.

You pout, knitting your brows together. "What?" 

"You only said you wanted me inside you" She smirks. "Besides, I'm serious about this being urgent, bunny. I have to finish" 

"So you just want me to stay like this?"

"Isn't this what you were after, bunny?" Her voice carried a teasing lilt, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Yes but—" She tsked, cutting you off. 

"I'll fuck you later, if you behave. for now this is all you get for bothering me while I'm doing something important" 

That didn’t last long, though. 

She knows you can’t fucking sit still. Every time you shift she tries so hard not to give in. “I said sit still”

“Sorry, I’ll try” Lie. Obviously you’re just going to rile her up even more. 

What really did it for her was when you lifted up a bit and sat back down. She needed you to do that again and bounce on her cock. 

“Bunny–” She groaned.

“Sorry” you muttered trying to hide a sly smile.

“You’re making this really hard for me…”

That’s kind of the point. 

You didn’t answer. Instead you stared intensely into her eyes before you rested your head on her shoulder and started to bounce on her cock.

“G-God…” She moaned. “You’re going to drive me insane”

She tosses her head, resting on the backrest of the chair as she listens to the beautiful noises you’re making. She loved seeing you whore yourself out for her, a part of her knew making you sit on her cock and ‘behave’ while she worked was a bad idea. But knowing her? Maybe that was really her plan all along. 

“F-fuck… Abby” You whimpered. Your forehead was still resting on her shoulder, and even though your vision was blurry from the pleasure, her dick hitting all the sweet fucking spots inside you, you could see the bulge on your stomach.

That made you so much fucking more needy. You adored the sight, she’s so deep inside you… You started moving even faster, guttural moans and squelching noises filled the room, music to your ears like a fucking choir. 

She reaches her hand out to press on the bulge making you let out a sound that could only be described as pornographic.

“Fuck… Look at that bunny” Abby grins, her words slurred and out of breath.

You couldn’t even respond anymore when she starts to rock her hips along with you. She grabbed onto your hips with a loud grunt, making you move faster on her.

The way she was now practically doing all the work for both of you made your stomach whirl, you were getting more and more desperate by the second.

Abby could read you like an open book, especially when she was fucking your brains out like this.

Panting heavily, Abby leans back, gripping your hips tighter as she continues her pace. “Fuck, look at you…” Her eyes are glazed over with lust, fixated on where you're connected. “Taking me so deep... Such a good little bunny.”

"Mmmh- More Abby..."

She chuckles darkly, her grip on your hips tightening as she slams you down onto her cock even harder. The sound of wet, slapping flesh fills the room as she begins to fuck you with a brutal intensity. “More? You want more?” 

"More like this, bunny?" She speeds up her pace, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that makes your legs tremble.

 "Or..." in one swift motion, she stands up, pinning you against the desk, causing papers to scatter "Maybe you want it deeper?”

All you could think about was the pleasure she’s making you feel, you whimper and writhe beneath her, back resting on her desk, sweat dripping on the papers on her desk.

She grunts, slamming you down onto the desk as she buries herself inside you even deeper. She wraps her arms around your thighs, pulling you closer as she snarls "Answer, bunny. You want it deeper?" She punctuates each word with a brutal thrust.

"Y-yes..." You managed to gasp out

A wicked grin spreads across Abby's face at your desperate plea. She leans down, her breath hot against your ear as she rasps, "As you wish, my pretty bunny." Grabbing your ankles, she drapes your legs over her shoulders, folding you nearly in half.

She wastes no time plunging impossibly deep, stretching you to your limits. Your back arches off the desk, papers crinkling beneath you as you moan uncontrollably. Abby growls in approval, her hips moving like a piston as she pounds into you mercilessly.

Abby leans back slightly, admiring the lewd sight of her thick cock stretching you obscenely, causing a prominent bulge in your stomach. "Look at that perfect picture of depravity," she purrs, rubbing circles over the pronounced mound.

“I don't give you attention for a few hours and you're this desperate?” 

Abby smirks wickedly, her fingers digging into the swollen flesh of your stomach. "God, I love seeing my cock do this to you," she growls approvingly, rocking her hips to emphasize each word. "Makes me want to pump you full of even more…”

She leans in close, her voice a husky whisper against your ear. "Want to feel my cum flooding this tight little cunt, bunny?" She punctuates her words with a deep, deliberate thrust, grinding against that special spot inside you.

You whimper and arch your back, trying to take more of her massive length as she slowly pulls out, only to slam back in, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "Answer me," she growls, her fingers splaying wider over your distended belly. You could only nod.

Abby throws her head back with a groan as the bulge strains against her cock, threatening to push her over the edge. "Fuck, yes!" She squeezes the swollen mound harder, using it as leverage to hilt herself inside you with manic desperation, chasing her impending orgasm.

Abby's body tightens, her grip on your hips turning painfully exquisite as she slams into you, burying herself to the hilt. A guttural moan rips from her throat as she cum's hard, pumping you full of her hot liquid. "Take it, bunny”

She doesn't stop, even as her own release subsides. She continues to rock into you, her spent cock grinding against your walls, stimulating you with relentless determination. "Come on, bunny," she urges breathlessly, her thumb rubbing teasing circles around your clit.

You can feel the pressure building to an unbearable level. "Look at me," she demands, her eyes locked onto yours as she thrusts deep and slow. 

“G-God- Abby- I'm- fuck!” 

Her lips curve into a smirk as she finally pushes you over the edge, your walls clenching tight around her. You cry out, your release spreading warmth throughout your body as she continues to grind into you. "That's my good bunny,”

As you finally succumb to your orgasm, your entire body convulsing with pleasure, Abby lets out a satisfied grunt. She holds you down, her hips flush against yours as she milks every last drop from your release, coating her still-hard length. "Good girl,”

She nuzzles against your neck before kissing your cheek. “Are you gonna behave now? Going to stop bothering me while I'm working?” 

God No. Never. and you know she knows it too. 

[leonastarry]

{ 6 } Special. ✧. ┊ s.jinwoo x fem!reader

Jinwoo loves you so much.

From childhood sweethearts, now the two of you have become husband and wife. It's been a long process, but it's truly precious.

✧˖*°࿐

Jinwoo met you when we were both 4 years old. At that time, your family had just moved to Seoul and rented an apartment near his. Your mother took you to his house to get to know the neighbors. You were small and shy, hiding behind your mother's legs. He found you very cute. His mother patted his shoulder and told him to go out with you, he nodded and approached you.

"Hello, I'm Sung Jinwoo."

"[N-Name].."

✧˖*°࿐

The first time he realized he loved you was when he was 17 years old. His teenage years were not a beautiful time. He was bullied and teased because he was weak. Until one day, you ran up to him and protected him from those bullies, he felt his heart flutter. The image of you standing in front of him, against the sunlight, made you seem to have a halo. The way you stood firmly and resolutely made him surprised and admired.

"Jinwoo, don't worry, I will protect you!"

✧˖*°࿐

When Jinwoo became a hunter, hardships piled up, you were the one who was always by his side and supported him. Even though he was a weak E-rank hunter, you always showed him that he was also very strong, and you admired him very much. When he became an S-rank, you were the shoulder for him to lean on when he was tired, when he felt his heart needed to be comforted and his mind needed to rest.

You would hug him tightly, stroke his hair, draw circles on his back. You would kiss his forehead, the corners of his eyes, his hair lovingly. And the two of you would just lie on the bed and enjoy each other's warm embrace, everything outside the world just being ignored.

"I love you so much."

✧˖*°࿐

When he used the reincarnation cup, after 27 years of fighting, the first person he looked for after returning was you. He hugged you tightly and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent, the scent he missed so much. He would let you scold him for leaving for 2 years, but he would just look at you and smile.

'It's great that I'm back, it's great that I can see you again, [Name]'

✧˖*°࿐

Jinwoo proposed to you when he was 27. That day, the two of you had a wonderful summer date. In the morning, he woke up together, cooked breakfast for you, and went shopping together. In the afternoon, he and you went to the cinema together, you were engrossed in watching the movie, he looked at you. In the evening, the two of you had a delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant, then he took you to see fireworks.

In the moment when the dots of light flew up and shone brightly in the dark sky, he looked at you and said.

"You know, for me, family love is the most sacred love. And you, who have been with me all these years, I also want to share that same sacred love."

He took a red velvet box from his pocket and knelt down.

"[Name], you are the love, the light of my life. I am forever grateful to have you by my side. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He opened the ring box.

"Will you allow me to be family with you?"

✧˖*°࿐

When he saw you in your pure white wedding dress, he couldn't help but feel emotional. He felt his eyes well up with tears. After all these years, the day had finally come when he could call you his wife, and he would be the only man for you.

He held your hand tightly.

"I stand here today, before you, our family, and our friends, with a heart full of love and faith. I promise to always be your faithful companion, your loving partner through all the joys and challenges. I promise to respect, listen, and support you on every journey we will take together. I promise to love you for the rest of my life."

✧˖*°࿐

And then the two of you had your first son, a clone of Jinwoo. And five years later, you and Jinwoo welcomed another little princess. The whole family lived happily together. A complete family, you, your husband, your two beloved children, and Jinwoo's shadow soldiers, you couldn't ask for anything more.

Jinwoo and you went, time passed, wrinkles appeared on you and Jinwoo. But the love you two had for each other did not fade.

On your 15th wedding anniversary, standing on Kaisel's back, Jinwoo gave you a sparkling necklace. He put it around your neck and leaned down to press his lips against yours for a long time.

"Wife, you go home first, I still have things to do."

"Will you come back for me?"

"Always."

My back hurts 😥😥.

School really ruined me 😭😭

[novaursa]

Legacy (of the east and the west)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Just a reminder how some things are different from the canon. Any diviation from the books/show you notice is on purpose.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: drawing the lines

- Next part: winds of winter

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxifics @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The quiet of the late morning filled the chamber in Dragonstone, the distant crashing of waves against the rocky shores serving as a soothing backdrop. Daenerys Targaryen sat near the tall, arched windows, holding Maelor in her lap. The boy, with his silver-gold curls and curious violet eyes, grasped at her braid, babbling softly in his innocent wonder. Across the room, you knelt beside Damon, who was occupied with a small wooden lion and dragon toy, his young mind lost in the imagined battles between the creatures.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched your eldest. “Rhaegar would have loved to see this,” you said, your tone thoughtful, almost wistful.

Daenerys glanced up from Maelor, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our brother,” she said softly, testing the weight of the words. “Viserys spoke of him, but I was too young to remember much. What was he like?”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes distant as you gathered your thoughts. “He was everything a Targaryen prince was supposed to be. Noble, kind, and burdened with the weight of prophecy. He was… driven by the idea that he had a role to play, a destiny to fulfill.”

Daenerys tilted her head, gently brushing her fingers through Maelor’s soft curls. “He believed in the prophecies, then.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you recalled your brother. “Yes. He studied them obsessively. He thought himself the prince that was promised—or that his children might be. It gave him purpose, but it also consumed him. Everything he did, he believed was for the good of the realm, even when it hurt those he loved.”

Daenerys was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful as she watched Maelor squirm in her arms, reaching for the delicate silver chain around her neck. “And yet, his choices led to so much death. So much pain.”

Your expression turned somber, and you let out a quiet sigh. “He was not perfect. None of us are. But he believed in something greater than himself, and in the end, that belief was his undoing.”

Daenerys shifted her gaze to Damon, who was now engrossed in his toys, his laughter ringing softly in the chamber. “It’s strange to think of him as a father. To imagine him holding a child, playing with them as you do with yours.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “He would have been a wonderful father. He adored his son, Aegon, and he would have doted on his daughter as well.” Your voice softened, tinged with sorrow. “But fate had other plans.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of lost family hanging between you both. After a moment, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice lower, almost hesitant. “I, too, know what it is to lose a child.”

You looked at her sharply, your expression softening as you saw the pain flicker in her gaze.

“My son, Rhaego,” Daenerys continued, her voice steady but filled with quiet anguish. “He was to be my strength, my legacy. But the gods—or the fates—saw fit to take him from me before he could even draw breath.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Daenerys. No mother should have to endure such pain.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away, her fingers brushing against Maelor’s tiny hand as he played with the silver chain around her neck. “The loss nearly broke me. And the sorcery used to save Drogo... it left me unable to bear children. I will never have another.”

Your heart ached for her, and you squeezed her arm gently. “Daenerys…”

She turned back to you, her expression resolute despite the sorrow in her eyes. “If you would support me, sister, if you would stand beside me in my claim to the Iron Throne, I would name one of your sons my heir. They are Targaryens by blood, and they deserve to carry our legacy.”

You blinked, taken aback by the declaration. For a moment, you said nothing, your gaze flickering to Damon and Maelor. The thought of either of your boys being thrust into the chaos of rulership, the weight of the Iron Throne bearing down on their young shoulders, sent a shiver through you.

“I wouldn’t want that for them,” you said softly but firmly, meeting Daenerys’s gaze. “The Iron Throne is not a gift—it’s a death sentence. It has taken so much from all of us. I will not let it take my sons.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “But they are Targaryens. They are part of the legacy we were born to uphold.”

You shook your head gently. “They are children, Daenerys. They deserve to grow up without the burden of a throne weighing on their shoulders. I want them to laugh, to play, to live.”

For a moment, Daenerys looked as though she might argue, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I understand your fears. But our family’s legacy must live on, one way or another.”

You offered her a faint smile, your tone softening. “Our legacy will live on, Daenerys. But it doesn’t have to be through the Iron Throne. There are other ways to honor our family, to ensure that the world remembers us.”

Daenerys nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Maelor, who had begun to doze off in her arms, his tiny hands clutching her braid. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said quietly, though her tone was tinged with uncertainty.

The quiet clink of wine goblets echoed in the chamber as Tyrion poured himself another drink, the rich Dornish red catching the glow of the hearth. Across the table, Jaime leaned back in his chair, his golden hand resting idly on the armrest while his remaining hand toyed with the stem of his goblet.

“I must say,” Tyrion began, swirling the wine thoughtfully, “Father appears to have grown soft in his old age. The Tywin Lannister I remember wouldn’t have allowed Daenerys Targaryen or her band of merry foreign invaders to so much as set foot on these shores.”

Jaime arched a brow, his tone dry. “Soft? I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that. Go on, Tyrion. March into his study and tell him. I’ll make sure there’s a maester nearby for when he decides to rearrange your face.”

Tyrion smirked, tipping his goblet toward Jaime in mock toast. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. But you can’t deny it, brother. The old lion is different. Less... ferocious, perhaps?”

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze distant for a moment. “It’s not softness,” he said finally, his tone quieter. “It’s her.”

Tyrion tilted his head, intrigued. “Her? Do elaborate.”

Jaime gestured vaguely with his goblet. “Our stepmother. The dragon who sleeps beside him and gives him heirs. She tempers him in ways I don’t think even he realizes.”

Tyrion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his smirk widened. “Ah, the infamous second Lady Lannister. The last I saw of her was under rather... unique circumstances.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. “Unique how?”

Tyrion shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. “The night you freed me, remember? I couldn’t resist sneaking one last look at dear Father before I made my escape. I found him in her chambers, fast asleep. And there she was, curled beside him like some Valyrian myth. And Damon—tiny little Damon—snug in his cradle near the bed. Quite the domestic scene.”

Jaime let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t wake up and catch you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale,” Tyrion agreed, though his tone was far from serious. “Still, it was fascinating. Father, the great Tywin Lannister, sleeping soundly and sharing chambers with a Targaryen woman and a newborn. Who would have thought?”

Jaime’s expression turned more thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against his goblet. “She changed him. Or maybe she reminded him of something he’d long forgotten. Father’s always been about legacy, power, control. But with her... it’s different.”

“How poetic,” Tyrion quipped, though his tone was less biting than usual. “The dragon queen tames the lion. Tell me, does she breathe fire in her sleep?”

Jaime shot him a warning glance, but there was no real malice behind it. “You should be careful how you speak about her, Tyrion. She’s earned her place here.”

Tyrion studied his brother for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “You respect her.”

“I do,” Jaime admitted, his tone firm. “She’s strong, clever, and loyal. She’s given Father something none of us could—a chance to build something that lasts. And for all her Targaryen fire, she’s... kind, in her way.”

Tyrion took another sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful. “Kindness and Tywin Lannister. There’s a combination I never thought I’d see.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not as strange as you think. She balances him, even if he’d never admit it. And Damon... Maelor... they’ve softened him in ways I didn’t think possible.”

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his mismatched eyes glinting with curiosity. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To see him as a father again. Not just our father, but their father. Do you think he loves them?”

Jaime’s expression turned serious, his tone certain. “I do. As much as Tywin Lannister is capable of love, he loves them. He’s different with them than he was with us. More patient. More... human.”

Tyrion let out a quiet laugh, though it lacked his usual bite. “What a world we live in. Tywin Lannister, the lion tamed by a dragon and her brood. If only Mother could see this.”

Jaime’s gaze darkened slightly at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing, taking another sip of his wine. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, the weight of shared history filling the space.

Finally, Tyrion spoke again, his voice softer. “Do you think she understands?”

Jaime frowned. “Understands what?”

“About what Father’s done. To her family. To ours. Does she carry the weight of it, or has she convinced herself that love can erase the blood he’s spilled?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but his tone was calm. “She understands. She carries it. But she also believes in moving forward. She’s not blind to what Father is, but she chooses to stand beside him, knowing what they’ve built together.”

Tyrion nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “A dragon and a lion. Quite the tale for the bards, isn’t it?”

Jaime smirked faintly, raising his goblet. “It is. But we’re still in the middle of the story.”

Tyrion raised his goblet in return, his smirk returning. “Here’s to hoping it doesn’t end in fire and blood.”

Jaime clinked his goblet against Tyrion’s, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Daenerys Targaryen, unflinching and determined, stepped into the room where Tywin Lannister awaited her. He stood near a table scattered with maps and letters, the weight of his command visible in every deliberate movement. His back was turned to her as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence.

“Lord Tywin,” Daenerys said, her voice steady but sharp.

Tywin straightened, turning slowly to face her. His gaze was cold, calculating, and unyielding—a lion sizing up its prey. “Daenerys Targaryen,” he replied, his tone clipped. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Daenerys stepped closer. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone. Without my sister, without your councilors. Just us.”

Tywin arched a brow but gestured to a nearby chair. “Then speak.”

Daenerys remained standing, her hands clasped in front of her as she regarded him carefully. “You are the man responsible for so much of my family’s pain. For the deaths of my brother’s children, for the destruction of our house. And now you stand here, married to my sister, the mother of your children.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t waver. “You’ve come to blame me for the past, then. I’ve no intention of apologizing for doing what needed to be done.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed. “What needed to be done? You slaughtered innocents. You betrayed your king. You destroyed the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly. “Aerys destroyed himself long before I made my move. He was a madman, a danger to the realm. The Targaryen dynasty wasn’t destroyed by me, Daenerys. It was undone by your father’s madness and your brother’s arrogance.”

Her voice rose slightly, her anger flaring. “And yet you sought to profit from that madness. You married your daughter to Robert Baratheon, the man who led the rebellion.”

Tywin took a step closer, his presence looming. “And I preserved my house in the process. House Lannister stands because I made the hard choices your father was too weak to make.”

Daenerys flinched slightly but stood her ground. “You betrayed us.”

“I did what was necessary to ensure stability,” Tywin countered, his voice calm but firm. “And your sister—your sister is alive because of me.”

Daenerys blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Why bring this up now?”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained authoritative. “After Robert’s Rebellion, the realm demanded blood. Every Targaryen, dead or captured. I ensured your sister was neither. I made a deal with House Stark, placing her in the North under their protection. She was safe because of me.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her emotions a storm of anger and confusion. “And you later married her. Was that part of your grand plan as well? To take a Targaryen bride and tie her to your house?”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I married her because she is strong, intelligent, and loyal. She has given me sons who will inherit a world I have built with my own hands.”

For a moment, Daenerys faltered. There was something in his tone, a quiet reverence that made her pause. “You speak of her... differently. With respect.”

Tywin’s expression turned reflective, his voice dropping slightly. “Your sister is a woman unlike any other. She understands the weight of duty, the cost of sacrifice. She has borne much, yet she endures. Aerys made a mistake refusing to give her hand to me when I proposed it years ago. Perhaps things would have been different if he had.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, her mind reeling at the revelation. “You sought her hand before all of this?”

“I did,” Tywin said plainly. “She was young, but I saw the potential in her. Aerys refused, of course. Said no Lannister was fit to marry a Targaryen. His arrogance knew no bounds.”

Daenerys struggled to process his words. “And now you claim her as your own. You, the man who betrayed my family.”

Tywin’s voice hardened again. “I claim her because she chose me. I didn’t force her hand. She stands with me because she understands the realities of the world in a way you do not.”

Daenerys’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her voice biting. “You think me naive?”

“I think you see the world as you want it to be,” Tywin replied. “Not as it is.”

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, two powerful figures standing on opposite sides of history and ambition. Finally, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice quieter but no less determined. “I came here to find allies, not to reopen old wounds.”

Tywin tilted his head slightly. “And yet here you stand, letting those wounds guide you. If you want to lead, Daenerys, you must let the past be what it is: a lesson, not a shackle.”

She turned to leave, her shoulders rigid as she processed his words. At the door, she paused, glancing back at him. “You speak of lessons, Lord Tywin. Perhaps you should heed them yourself.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Tywin alone once more. He watched her go, his expression unreadable, before returning to his maps. The fire crackled softly in the silence, a quiet reminder of the unrelenting forces shaping their world.

The stone corridors of Dragonstone echoed with the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps. Damon, with his silver-gold curls bouncing as he ran, darted around a corner, clutching a small wooden dragon in one hand and laughing to himself. Behind him, a group of Lannister guards rushed in pursuit, their armor clanking with every step.

“Careful, my lord!” one of the guards called, his voice tinged with both panic and frustration. “You shouldn’t be running off like this!”

Damon giggled, clearly enjoying his escapade. The toddler’s energy was boundless, and he was far too swift for the heavily armored men chasing after him.

As Damon rounded another corner, he suddenly stopped short. Standing in his path was Grey Worm, clad in his polished Unsullied armor, his spear resting lightly in his hand. The warrior raised an eyebrow at the sight of the small boy barreling toward him.

Damon tilted his head, staring up at Grey Worm with wide, curious eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice high and inquisitive.

Grey Worm lowered his spear slightly, his stoic expression softening just a fraction. “I am Grey Worm,” he replied, his voice calm and measured.

Damon blinked, his gaze traveling over the armor and the spear. “You have a big stick,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing at the weapon.

Grey Worm’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “It is not a stick. It is a spear.”

Damon’s eyes lit up with interest. “Spear! Can I have one?”

The guards finally caught up, panting as they came to a halt behind Damon. “My lord, you cannot just run off like that,” one of them scolded gently, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Damon ignored them, his attention fully focused on Grey Worm. “Can I see your spear?” he asked, holding up his wooden dragon in exchange. “I’ll trade you this.”

Grey Worm glanced at the guards, who looked mortified, then back at Damon. “It is not a toy, little one,” he said, his voice still calm.

Damon frowned, clearly unimpressed by the refusal. “But I’m big! I’m three!” He held up three fingers proudly.

The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to handle the situation. One of them stepped forward. “Apologies, Commander Grey Worm. The young lord has a... lively spirit.”

Grey Worm nodded slightly but kept his gaze on Damon. “Lively spirit is good. It is the spirit of a warrior.”

Damon’s frown melted into a wide grin. “I’m a warrior! Like my papa!”

One of the guards suppressed a smile, muttering under his breath, “Just like his father, indeed.”

Grey Worm crouched slightly to meet Damon’s eye level. “A warrior listens to those who protect him,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of authority. “Will you listen?”

Damon hesitated, his small brows furrowing as he considered the words. Then he nodded solemnly. “I’ll listen. But only if you let me touch the spear.”

The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene, but Grey Worm extended the spear cautiously, holding it firm as Damon reached out with both hands to touch the shaft. The boy’s face lit up with excitement as his small fingers ran along the smooth wood.

“It’s so big!” Damon exclaimed, looking up at Grey Worm in awe.

Grey Worm straightened, his usual stoicism returning. “And heavy. You will need to grow strong to carry one.”

“I will! I eat all my porridge!” Damon declared confidently.

One of the guards stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grey Worm. “Commander, we appreciate your patience. We’ll take the young lord back to his mother now.”

Grey Worm nodded curtly. “Keep him safe.”

Damon pouted as the guards gently ushered him away. “Bye, Grey Worm!” he called, waving his wooden dragon in farewell. “Next time, I’ll show you my dragon!”

Grey Worm inclined his head slightly, watching as the boy was led away. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back toward his duties, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As the guards led Damon back toward the family chambers, one muttered to his comrade, “That boy’s going to be trouble when he’s older.”

The other chuckled softly. “He already is.”

The cool sea breeze swept over the battlements of Dragonstone, carrying with it the tang of salt and the distant cries of gulls. The night sky was clear, the stars glittering above as you and Tywin walked side by side, your steps measured against the stone as you spoke of weighty matters.

“We should consider leaving Dragonstone,” you suggested, your tone thoughtful but firm. “Let Daenerys remain here. She could be a useful ally against the threat in the North.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver as he replied, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You would have us abandon this place to her? A woman who brings foreign invaders to our shores and claims a throne she has no right to? I think not.”

You sighed, glancing out over the black waves crashing below. “She’s my sister, Tywin. Whatever she has done, whatever her intentions, there is value in her presence here. The North faces a threat unlike any we’ve ever known. The dead march. Daenerys could help us, with her dragons, her army.”

Tywin stopped, turning to face you fully. His green eyes were cold and calculating as they bore into yours. “And what happens when the threat from the North is dealt with? Do you believe she will simply stay on Dragonstone, content to rule over nothing? She will turn her attention south, to King’s Landing, to the Iron Throne.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “And do you think keeping her here, under your watch, will stop her from harboring those ambitions? She is determined, Tywin, but she’s not reckless. If we work with her instead of against her, we might stand a better chance of controlling the outcome.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. The silence between you stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the faint murmur of guards patrolling nearby.

“She is a foreign invader,” Tywin said finally, his voice low but unyielding. “And a Targaryen, no less. The realm will never accept her as its queen. And even if it did, I will not allow her to undermine everything I have built.”

You stepped closer, your tone softening but remaining firm. “What you’ve built, Tywin, is fragile. The realm is fractured, and winter is here. The North is barely held together, the Riverlands are still in chaos, and now the dead march beyond the Wall. Daenerys may not be someone you or I would choose, but she has resources we cannot ignore.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze sweeping over the darkened expanse of the sea. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost contemplative. “She would betray us the moment it suited her. You know this as well as I do.”

You hesitated, your expression softening. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. She has suffered as we have. She’s lost her family, her home. I believe she wants more than just power, Tywin. She wants to belong, to rebuild what was taken from her.”

Tywin scoffed faintly, though it lacked his usual venom. “And what of your sons? Damon and Maelor. Would you risk their future by allowing her to remain?”

Your gaze hardened slightly at the mention of your children, but you kept your voice steady. “I would risk nothing. If she becomes a threat, we deal with her. But if she proves an ally, think of what we could achieve. The North needs our help, Tywin. If we turn our backs on them, we doom not just ourselves, but the realm.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You are asking me to gamble with everything I have built. Everything I have secured for our family.”

“I am asking you to see reason,” you countered gently. “To think beyond banners and bloodlines. The world is changing, Tywin. If we don’t change with it, we will be swept away.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Finally, he turned back to you, his green eyes piercing but less cold. “I will consider it.”

You smiled faintly, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t reply, but his hand covered yours briefly, a rare moment of quiet affection in the midst of so much uncertainty. Together, you turned back toward the keep, the weight of the realm’s future pressing heavily on both your shoulders.

[txttletale]

Now I'm curious about the 2cp thing on overwatch. Please talk about it I love reading your takes on those

2cp was an awful gamemode for a bunch of reasons that primarily boil down to stuff about how spawn points work. so in 2cp you've got two points, point a and point b. defenders spawn right by point b, attackers spawn closer to a. if attackers take a, then attacker spawns move forward and they can try to take point b

the practical effect of this is that holding point a is extremely difficult -- you spawn a good map distance away if you die on defense, so if the attackers can get a pick they can almost always take it (overwatch is an incredibly team-dependent game, numbers advantages in teamfights are enormous and trump nearly everything else unless there's major ult or skill disparities).

now the thing is that the winners of a fight probably did more damage and healed more during that fight, so it's very common for the attacking team to then simply be have an ult advantage and be able to run over to point b and roll over the newly respawning defending team. this is a brutal snowball effect that is really oppressive and miserable to play against as defenders.

& now the absolute worst thing that can happen here--especially common at lower levels of play--is for one defender to be 'staggered' (ie, die a while after the others) during or immediately after point a being captured. this means that on top of a probable ult advantage, the attackers have a numbers advantage. very frustratingly this is very likely to happen when one of your teammates decides they are going to heroically go and 1v6 the enemy team while the point is 99% captured--unless you're communicating and coordinating there is no way to stop someone from dooming your team with a play like that. even in higher level play where nobody would do something so silly there's ways for attackers to deliberately stagger enemies (a very famous one is popping dvas mech and slowly meleeing baby dva to death)

HOWEVER, if this snowball doesn't happen, the fact that point b spawns are right next to the point leads to another very obnoxious play pattern--stalling. it is nearly impossible unless you get off ap erfect 6-man ult combo to wipe the whole defending team in such a way that you can take point before one of them respawns and jumps on it. there's no point capture progress at all as long as one defender is still on the point, so (and this was true at higher levels, where people were better at stalling, and at lower levels, where people were worse at killing stallers) the defending team will all swap onto heroes with strong defensive or mobility-heavy kits and just run around the point like headless chickens trying to stall capture until more teammates respawned--and because the attacker spawns are so far from the point by comparison, getting even one kill during the staling process can swing a decisively won fight back around into a loss. i've seen games where the attackers win a fight on point b with 2+ minutes to spare and then the defending team stalls until overtime. just truly mind-numbing tedious toxic play patterns encouraged by the map design

and to top it all off, point capture progress only 'counts' for tiebreaking if you get more than 33%--which means that if you, as the first attackers during the first or any tiebreaker rounds, don't manage to get to 33% capture progress on point A, you can be left in a situation where it's impossible to win and you're playing for a draw--truly the most demoralizing experience imaginable, some of the least fun i've ever had playing video games. im so glad they blew it up

[becomingmina]

YOU, YOU SILLY. 2ND PART w/ BANG CHAN & HWANG HYUNJIN

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: bang chan x female reader x hwang hyunjin genre + warnings: established relationship w chan, smut mdni!, threesome, y/n is brave now, chan and y/n calls e/o slutty, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving), cum eating wc: 4.05k i dont know why its so long. lol mina's note: long awaited part 2 to my first smut story ever. now, this is my first 3-some lmao. maybe got a bit carried away. let me know how i go! SORRY I TOOK FOREVER

series chapter ➵ part one

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“What do you think about it? Them listening to us have sex?” Chan asks, handing you a plate to dry.

This was the fourth time he had asked you ever since the awkward encounter you had with the boys the other day.

You awkwardly giggled it off after piecing the details together; Hyunjin was flustered and hard after “accidentally” hearing you and Chan in the bedroom.

You wanted to forget about it, but every time you run into Hyunjin in the dorm you would tense up, unable to hold a conversation or even eye contact with him. It’s just Hyunjin and he just heard you in the bedroom, that was it. Han and Changbin overheard too but why was Hyunjin the person that was making you so flustered?

“Channie..” you sighed. You’re not annoyed at him asking but you just don’t have an answer for it. He looks over at you, biting his bottom lip at your cute expression before turning the tap off.

“You know how we were talking about kinks?” he brushes behind you, drying his wet hands on your (his) shirt in the process.

You playfully side-eye him as he makes himself comfortable leaning back on the counter. “Don’t tell me you like it when they hear us?”

Chan just chuckles because frankly, it was the truth.

“I mean, isn’t it hot though? Them listening to my sweet girlfriend,” you feel your cheeks heat up.

Not even a week ago he admitted to having an obsession with your voice, now he is saying he isn’t against the idea of his friends hearing you two fuck. May as well go all the way, right?

“May as well let them watch us or join us too, right?” You cheekily mumbled, placing the dish on the counter. Chan’s eyes widened in response to your comment. Was his sweet innocent girlfriend finally suggesting something steamy?

“Can we?” Chan tugs you to stand in between his feet, his hands landing on your hips.

“Wait, are you being serious?”

“Aren’t you?” he mocked your stunned tone.

You don’t hate the idea.

“Listen, baby, I’ll be honest I’m not against the idea of them joining us.. but only if you want to,” he proposed, his hands drawing circles.

When you don’t answer he repeats “I don’t mind it,” by you again, and a sense of desire fills the air. You find it extremely sexy when he communicates what he wants.

“Is it something you really want?”

“Yes. But only if you want it too.”

“You know how obsessed I am with you right?” you tilt your head to the side, your big doe eyes looking up at him; a playful gesture that indicates you want this too.

He sucks in his lips, holding back a smile. “But I don’t want you to do it because of me, baby. I want you to do it because you want to, hm?”

You gripped the hem of his shirt, burying your face in his chest as you think of the idea of Chan sharing you with Hyun—

“—Who you thinking about?” Chan lifts your chin meeting your blushed cheeks; this is his cue to tease you.

“Changbin?” You stay quiet. “Jisung?” You don’t answer again.

A smirk pulls across his face as realizes who’s got you all red. Some may think it’s a punch to the face, one’s girlfriend thinking about another man right in front of them, but Chan loves it. He loves seeing you shy, seeing you all red; embarrassed. If anything, he’s the one who’s obsessed with you, willing to do anything for his sweet girlfriend.

“Hyunjin.” He says and your grip tightens.

Bingo.

“You still got that little crush on him, don’t you?” Chan torments.

“No.. I don’t.. I— I never had a crush on him..”

“Liar. My pouty slutty baby..” he places a kiss on your cheek.. “..thinking about Hyunjin while I’m right here..” he kisses your other cheek. “Such a slutty..”

“You started it—” Before you could finish, you find yourself engaged in a playful yet heated exchange of pecks with your sweet other half. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you let him have his way with you for a moment before you pull away, giggling when he chases you. “—And yes… I’ll be up for the idea of letting Hyunjin join us.. if you want,” you proposed, with a smirk.

Chan scoffs. “Wow, using my own words. I think I like my baby brave too.” He gives you another chaste kiss. “I’ll ask Hyunjin then. If he doesn’t want it, then we’ll pretend we never asked. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it okay?” You’re in awe at his ability to understand you so effortlessly, reading you like a book he spends countless hours re-reading. How did you get so lucky?

“Okay,” a shy smile spreads across your face.

“You wanna hop in the shower with me?” he closes the gap between you, brushing something hard against your lower stomach. You gasped, “Who’s the slutty one now?”

A week has gone by now since Chan ruined you in the shower after the conversation. 3Racha had left for the studio leaving you cooped up in Chan’s room as you finish off your work report. It was late afternoon now and you finally headed into the kitchen, wanting to cook a quick snack for the boys.

“You hungry?” Hyunjin sneaks up behind you, scaring you as you stand in the kitchen to watch the pot of water.

“Oh no..” you turned around, a fire starting on your face at how close he was to you. “I— I was just making Chan them something—” Hyunjin closes the already short gap causing you to stop talking. He looks down at you before reaching behind you turning off the stove as the water boils over, leaving a hissing noise making you flinch.

“Careful,” he says, sliding the pot across the cooktop so it doesn’t burn you. “You okay noona?” Your heart skips at his tender tone, blushing at the way he looks at you; his frame is so lean but so tall, so so different from your Chan’s. You let your mind wander back to the conversation you had with your boyfriend the other day.

“Thanks… I, yeah I’m—”

“—You just seem tense recently.” Hyunjin smirks, almost like he’s teasing you.

“I’m okay..” you timidly say unable to look away from his face.

“Good.” He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, something about it is so suggestive making your mind wonder what else he can do with it.

“Hey baby,” Chan’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and your neck snaps to his entrance into the kitchen.

“Oh- h- hi,” you say breathlessly as if you had done something wrong.

“You.. you guys are home already?”

“Only me,” Chan quickly winks at Hyunjin before joining your personal bubble, his hand snaking around your waist. “The others went out with Seungmin them.”

Hyunjin steps back, leaning back against the kitchen counter and watching Chan devour you into a deep kiss. “You hungry?” Chan pulls away, looking at the packs of noodles on the counter.

“No, I- I was going to make it for you guys.” “I’m not too hungry for food at the moment baby, thank you though…” he rubs your back. “Maybe Hyunjin can order in for us a bit later on…” he continues peering straight ahead at Hyunjin. You watch them convey with their eyes, sudden tension in the air. “Will that be okay with you?”

“Hm?” You finally answer.

“You okay with Hyunjin ordering food for us.. after he joins us?” Smirks appear on their faces.

“N—Now?”

“If you want,” Chan’s kiss is placed on your temple.

“I.. I want but..” you grip the back of his shirt, “I’m just..”

“Relax baby.. We can stop once you get shy,” he reassured you.

“Hyunjin’s a little shy too.”

Yeah, sure he is. It wasn’t like he was towering over you a minute ago, teasing you with his tongue.

You don’t know how you ended like this but here you are under Chan in only your bra and panties while he bruises kisses on your neck. Hyunjin lays on his side on the same bed, watching you twist underneath your boyfriend chasing for his lips.

“Chan— wanna kiss..” you asked.

“But I wanna taste you though baby.” He cheekily whines back.

“Kiss..” you push him so you can sit up.

“Looks like you gotta ask someone else to keep your mouth occupied, hm?” He shoots Hyunjin a look and you turn to the pretty boy in the same bed. You felt sudden heat radiating off your cheeks, for a moment you forgot Hyunjin was watching.

You spot a soft smirk appearing on Hyunjin’s face, he was teasing you. “Hyunjin?” You bravely call “Can you kiss me? Chan’s being mean,” Chan laughs, shuffling back on the bed to take his shirt off.

Hyunjin moves closer to you and your gaze shifts from him to Chan, awaiting his confirmation. You can’t lie, although you were up for this, a tiny bit of you feels guilty your partner is sharing you with his best friend because you know if it was the other way around, you would be jealous.

“Go on baby,” your boyfriend tenderly answers.

You take in a sharp breath, then turn back to Hyunjin, who drops his focus on your face down to your half-naked body, gulping. He hates to admit but his hyung’s girlfriend is so pretty like this: all flushed on the bed. He wished he could have had this chance earlier, to cum at the sight of you instead of jerking himself off to your muffled moans coming from the other side of his bedroom wall.

“You’re gorgeous,” it slipped out from his mouth and if you weren’t red then you are definitely red now.

He leans in and finally press his lips onto yours. A moan escaping your lips at the contact and you instantly wrapped your arms around him pulling him closer. His lips are so similar yet so different from Chan’s, with a plumper bottom lip it was so perfect to bite on, and you did just that when he kissed harder.

“There we go,” Chan snickers watching you and Hyunjin move in perfect harmony. Chan roams his large hands on your thighs parting it so he can perfectly slot in between them. His hands then crept toward your panties, sending chills down your body. He licks his lips at the sight of your pussy perfectly sticking onto the cotton fabric.

“You’re so wet,” Chan runs his finger down covered slit, and you buckle your hips forward, dragging Hyunjin down onto you before he could even take a peek at what Chan was drooling over.

“Ahh, Chan.. please..” you managed to slip past Hyunjin’s lips nervously to plead and Chan gives you what you want - tugging your panties down and latching his mouth onto your clit.

“Oh—god,” you cry at the sensation.

You could barely keep it together, your first orgasm approaching fast at the way the two men work together to pleasure you – how skilled Chan is with using his filthy tongue to flick your little red bud and how could you not talk about Hyunjin’s sweet but desperate kisses? You haven’t felt this type of pleasure before, and you think you’re going to start getting greedy after having a taste of it. How amazing was your boyfriend to introduce you to such a heated proposal.

Your legs find themselves over Chan’s shoulders, hands flying to his hair, holding him in place as you grind up against him. You feel a tight knot in your stomach and with that you let out an intense whine as you cum, wiggling underneath both boys. You feel Chan’s breathe tickle your pussy as he chuckles against it, finding it amusing.

Hyunjin’s shuts his eyes, he feels like he’s going to combust after witnessing you get lost in pleasure and now feeling how your lower body is still moving against your boyfriend’s face to chase your high, how desperately greedy you are – it’s so cute to him. He doesn’t stop kissing you though and he instinctively rubs himself on top over his sweatpants.

“Mhmm—fuuu..” you say out of breath. Your lower half comes to a halt as you felt Chan starts to lick away the mess. Your hands travel down Hyunjin’s body, tugging the hem of his shirt then slipping under it.

You aren’t going to lie, you’re already addicted, this is all so exciting to you, and you start to become fearless. You get closer to the hem of his sweats and instantaneously cup his boner. Hyunjin moans and grinds against your hands, he can’t help himself either, but he has to not show his greedy side, after all you belong to Chan.

“Need to feel inside, baby,” Chan says from the end of the bed after examining your hole. He slips a finger inside, collecting your messy juice before pulling out and continuing to pump you. “God so wet, it feels so good—” he adds a second finger.

You start to pick up your pace rubbing Hyunjin over his clothes, but you pull away from him when you feel Chan suddenly stop fingering you. “Chan? What’s wrong?”

“Shhhh..” He whispers. “Just want Hyunjin to have a turn. I’m not going anywhere,” he caressed your thighs before spreading them apart further. It was all becoming a reality now. “Will that be alright, darling?”

“Yes” you softly answer.

“Okay Jinnie, don’t leave my girl waiting, she’s needy today.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Hyunjin gulped seeing you all spread out in front of him. It felt like he grew a second boner staring at your glistening cunt. “You’re so wet,” Hyunjin voiced. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as you comprehend what’s actually happening. “So perfect.”

“Put this on though,” Chan hands him a tiny, foiled packet.

Hyunjin strips his shirt first and you do the same, getting rid of the material covering your boobs. You lay back down on the bed and Chan instantly cups your globes, playing with them as you wait for Hyunjin to tug away his pants. You took in a sharp breath now that you see his junk. You find it hard to be reasonable, almost drooling at how long and slender he is. And his likes to be shaved too. If you could describe a pretty cook, it would be Hyunjin’s cock.

He aligns himself after slipping on the thin rubber, the head of his cock just sitting at your entrance and your eyes are already rolling back. “Please please..”

He slowly enters you, eyes shutting at how tight you’re squeezing him. Chan lays besides you now, one hand on top on your head removing the sweat drenched hair pieces away so he can see his pretty girl’s face, while the fingers of the other hand rolling on your harden nipple. “Mmm, Chris?” He immediately wraps his lips against yours, not even letting you ask for his kisses. He knows you too well.

Hyunjin starts to pick up the pace, the wet slapping sounds filled the room mixed with yours and his moans. He feels so much gentler than Chan, he moves with such ease just sliding perfectly along your folds, giving you the perfect amount of pressure.

You pull away from Chan, although it could make you cum faster, you wanted to take care of him too. “You okay baby?”

“Want to.. ahh.. suck.. suck..” you grunt at each of Hyunjin’s thrust. “Want to suck you please baby…” you finally got out.

Chan’s eyebrows relaxes now that he’s knows there’s no discomfort. He smiles, admiring how good his girlfriend is for wanting to take care of him even though she loves kissing during sex. He shuffles towards you, palming himself and shutting his eyes at the how tight his cock was restraining against his boxers. “I don’t think I’m going to last long, baby. I’m so hard watching Hyunjin fuck you.” Dirty boy ~ you think to yourself.

Chan releases his pink, full cock. He pumps himself a couple of times letting the pre cum drip before tapping the tip against your lips.

You kissed his tip. Always will.

“You okay?” You give him a nod. “Good girl.” He slowly guides himself in your mouth. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut fast, you could feel him twitch instantly.

“Fuck— I’m so close baby.” Chan sucks in his breath as your mouth and tongue does wonder to him. “Good.. good girl.” Chan guides your head as you bob and soon enough, he groans, shooting ropes inside your mouth. “God, I love you so much.. so much,” You lick his shaft, swallowing the salty yet tasty excess he given you.

He sits back watching Hyunjin has his way with you. He finds this situation so hot; and he doesn’t know what’s gotten over him, but he’s not embarrassed of how much he is enjoying this.

“I’m close Hyunjin,” you squeal, reaching out to hold on his arms which is now planted on either sides of you.

Your boyfriend’s fingers attach to your throbbing swollen clit, rubbing it in circles, helping you reach your second orgasm quicker.

“Kiss her when she cums,” Chan orders.

Hyunjin attaches his lips to yours and thrusts into you a couple more times and you both release together with muffled moans.

He falls onto you, catching his breath inside the crook of your neck. “You are so tight,” he mutters. “How do you and Chan go at it every day yet, you feel like a virgin.” Your hands come up to hug him, running down his back as you chuckle at his words. Little things like this bring back your shyness, you try your best to blush, but you do.

“That’s my baby,” Chan smiles at you before mouthing I love you.

You exhale heavily as you think, although you had already cum twice, you still wanted more. You wanted it raw; you wanted to be filled up. “Chan?” You voiced, and Hyunjin gathers his strength to removes himself from you.

“Yes baby?”

“I want more, please.. inside..” you pleaded.

Your boyfriend lets out a soft laugh “So needy baby,” but he complies every time. "But you have to include Hyunjin," you turn to see Hyunjin still hard.

You reach out for his length carefully wrapping your hand over it, he takes in a sharp breath. Oh he is loving every second of this.

Chan crawls over you, one hand holding the base of his cock whilst the other cradles your face. He kisses you the same time he enters you, the way he’s always done besides that one time last week when he was trying tease you. You squeal at pressure and start to pump Hyunjin's cock but Chan is such a sinner in bed that you could barely focus on Hyunjin.

You try your best not to shut your eyes, looking over and you see Hyunjin hands coming to covers yours, helping you jerk him off, oh what a sight. His long fingers wrapped around his own cock, it’s so pretty.

“Gonna cum..” Chan mumbled between your lips, and slams into you harder and your body pulses as you feel yourself reach your third orgasm. Chan comes undone seconds after you, spilling his white liquid into your hole.

“Fffuu- let me eat you out,” Chan himself wasn’t done too, so he manhandles you, spreading your thighs apart, definitely leaving his prints, to watch the mixture of his and your fluid drip on the sheets. He licks a fat stripe, and you start to twist at the sensation.

“Ssssshhiii..” you cried. “Can I, can I sit on you?” You pushed yourself up and Chan flips himself back before positioning you on top of him. This positions gives you more control on your hip’s movement but it’s also the perfect position to give Hyunjin head too.

“I want to taste you Jinnie, can I?” you breathlessly asked. Hyunjin’s mind was going crazy, how brave and sexy was his best friend’s girlfriend to ask. “Y/N, I’m not going to last,” he pleads, but he moves himself to in front of you. He jerks himself off a couple times, then presents his length to you. You lick his slit, tasting the remains of his salty release from before.

Hyunjin throws his head back, his body is spasming and he’s close, he’s so close.

You hold the rest of his length, as you suck his head. Your movements are sloppy and out of pace as Chan laps your fold, his big nose coming in contact with your clit every now and making the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter.

“Ughh, I, I, I’m gonna cum Chan, please don’t stop,” you say before licking up Hyunjin’s shaft, and taking all of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck— Y/N, I’m going to cum, I’m cumming..” Hyunjin moans with his head thrown back as he releases in your mouth as you gagged around him. You swallow all of it before letting him go with a pop. Hyunjin instantly holds your arms, pulling you up to meet his face. He kisses you roughly through your last orgasm Chan coaxes out of you.

You were spent, but you loved every second of it.

“I’m just get a towel; can you hold her?”

A few seconds gone by and he returns with a warm towel meeting Hyunjin spooning you, the younger man’s arm under your head as he brushes away your hair. After wiping between your legs clean, Chan joins you and Hyunjin in bed.

“My baby did so good, hm?” He hugs you from in front, and you squeezed his arm tighter, looking up to give him a soft smile. “Not so shy anymore? After charming two orgasms out of each of us?” he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Did you enjoyed it baby?” you ask.

“Yes baby. I loved everything about it and I’m sure Hyunjin did too.” You lean in to give him one more kiss, gentle and sweet.

You turn over to the man behind you and press a gentle peck to the corner of his lips. “Thank you Hyunjin,” you whispered before drifting off to dreamland.

“No, thank you,” Hyunjin replies back quietly.

“What do you think?” The older man askes from the other side of you.

“She’s good in bed Hyung,” he admits. “And her kisses are addictive…”

“— Lucky for you she loves to be kissed,” Chan smirks.

“I don’t think I can be sane, she’s sounds so pretty in bed. Its crazy,” Hyunjin confesses.

“Lucky for you too, she doesn’t minds you hearing her.”

You stir out of sleep, finding yourself nestled in Hyunjin’s hold. Your heart drops noticing it’s not your baby you’re up against. You feel a big hand comes to squeeze your butt, “I’m right here doll,” your boyfriends reassure.

You carefully wiggle out of Hyunjin’s arms, turning around to see Chan back against the headboard, his hand still on you, the other scrolling down on his phone. You smile at the sight; he looks so cute with his curly hair down.

“You wanna tell Hyunjin what you want to eat for dinner?”

“I wish you were here Chris.. I need you.. so bad..” you whine over the line.

He chuckles at your honestly, smiling to himself at how brave you have been lately. “We literally fucked before I went, and it’s only been a few hours baby. And I just got here,” he teased, tongue pushing the inside of his mouth. He can imagine you all alone on his bed, a pillow in-betweens your thighs as you trying to stop the ache.

“Yeah,” you vulnerable answer. “But I need it again.. I want it..” you moan into the phone.

Chan smirks to himself and you can hear him conceal a giggle. “Well only 3Racha is performing… Someone is still back there… who can help you..” he offered.

You feel your whole body go numb; how can he say such a thing. “Chan… how can you say—”

“-I don’t mind baby.. I’ve seen how he treated you and let’s just say I’m not opposed to it… At all.”

Your thighs press together, you licked your lips… Your boyfriend left you speechless.

“What’s wrong doll? You’re thinking if it too hey?”

[mari-lair]

hello ! i love your fics and analysis! I was wondering which tbhk ships you think will become endgame?

Anon I have the most white bread of answers but since you asked-

1 - Hananene.

Nene starts the manga by wanting a date. It doesn't matter with who, any hot guy will do. She has many infatuations but isn't in love with anyone, she just want to be loved.

Nene has a lot of small character developments in different areas throughout the manga, but her strongest and most consistent change is her increasing love for Hanako and her acceptance of it.

She is still a girl with a ton of emotions, and she finds hot people attractive BUT now she want Hanako and only Hanako. She rejects everyone she used to have a crush on, there is no doki doki's when she gets the attention of pretty people cause they aren't the boys she wants attention from anymore.

Even Teru doesn't compare to Hanako. She went on a 'date' with him and felt more excited about bragging than the actual 'date'

AND SHE DID NOT BRAG when hanako got back, she just wanted to enjoy that he's back.

I don't even know why I am going so in dept on the couple stablished since chapter 1 but since i'm already rambling: Despite everything crazy going on in the festival NENE'S BIGGEST FOCUS WAS TO CONFESS TO HANAKO. That's something she thinks more about than her own death, like girl- Hanako is her whole world. She will not get a romance with another person.

There is the question of "Will Nene survive?"

If she doesn't, she'll disappear and have no boyfriend but I bet she'll be thinking about Hanako in her death. If she finds a way to become a supernatural in a very wild narrative choice she will be able to stay with hanako in their cursed eternity forever.

In the case she lives and Hanako gets exorcised she won't move on. Aidairo loves tragedies and obsessive love, so I can't see her approaching crushes with the same whimsy after her love dies. And Aidairo would likely preffer to make her suffer in her grief and longing than give her a rebound with some random guy, cause it sure won't be Kou.

2 - Mitsukou

My personal preferences aside, it is clear they are written to have romantic implications. Kou will either die with Mitsuba (As shown in the new timeline), and stay with him in death.

Or live to have an intense homoerotic 'friendship' with him.

He legit can't get mitsuba off his head, he thinks about him more than anything during the manga and he has A LOT of problems to think about.

I can't personally picture an explicit confession but we had a lot of equivalents already. It would be weird for Aidairo to send them to the aquarium, make Kou obsessed with mitsuba (and vise verse), show that they are 'very very close' in this new timeline, keep drawing them star-struck by each other and so on without romance in the head.

Kou is also never able to put his feelings into words, like, bro that's suspicious as hell.

They always get matching art with all the couples in Aidairo's twitter arts too.

That's not queerbaiting, they may not be explicit but by the lord they are not subtle at all, there is never a single "oh Mitsuba is like a brother to me" moment, they don't undo any of the gay implications we see, they double down on it.

Kou may be bi but it sure isn't the Nene route that Aidairo is playing.

3 - Aoikane

Akane has loved Aoi since he was a little kid. Waaaaaaay before he got a clock keeper contract.

He saw that Aoi cared so much about his opinion that she'd break out of her cold persona and burst into tears at the idea of being hated, and he locked in for life.

They are the codependent childhood friends troupe, the "I know you better than anyone" troupe, the "you are a part of my life I can't live without" troupe and they both love each other from the very start of the manga, not showing romantic interest in anyone else.

Nothing has made Akane change his mind about being with Aoi. Not being stabbed, not being rejected many times, not facing how bad aoi is at deling with her issues head on. He'll do anything for her time and time again.

in Akane's own words:

They had many build ups and a whole arc dedicated to their developments with each other (which is a lot considering they aren't main characters and Aoi usually get no focus in this manga.)

Narratively, it wouldn't make any sense to dedicate so many chapters pointing out how much they mean to each other and slowly working through their issues only to slap another ship at the end.

And is not like Aidairo said "They had their arc let's never talk about them again!", the author went out of her way to say "Even in a world where Aoi is in an arranged marriage, she still loves Akane"

They aren't subtle.

From the matching names, to the way they both crumble when they are separated from one another and keep thinking about marriage, they are very devoted. They have already explicitly confessed to the audience that they are in love with each other.

They'll either stay together forever or they'll die together.

[seresinhangmanjake]

An Heir

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You and Feyd intend to be together forever--marry, have children, lead Giedi Prime side by side--but your plans are disrupted when the Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit reveals Lady Fenring is pregnant and, to Feyd's utter shock, the baby is his.

Notes/Warnings: This will be a two or three part fic (happy ending). Based on a request from @tgmreader. Implied sexual manipulation (assault), mention of pregnancy, feelings of betrayal.

Words: 2350

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Reader POV

A woman always knows when another woman is scheming. And you can practically smell it on her. She’s been working to draw him in for days, sneaking looks at him out of the corner of her eye; looks she makes sure he notices. She peers at him from under her blonde lashes like she holds a secret she’s willing to share with only him, and being a woman yourself, you know what kind of secret she is hinting at. 

You just can’t decipher what she wants with him. Yes, he’s linked to power and that power will one day be his, but for now and for a long time to come, he is the na-Baron only. Compared to her, he’s still a boy in some respects, which makes you fear Feyd falling prey to the manipulation tactics you know she’s gained from her Bene Gesserit studies.

She’s mature, bewitchingly beautiful, she knows the ways of sex, of life, and she watches him in a manner that you’ve seen tug at some sort of string inside of him. With each day that has gone by, he’s seemingly grown more accepting of her sneaky advances. The seductive tone of her voice when she whispers words in his vicinity as she passes him, the subtle quirk of her red-painted lips, the sparkle she cleverly plants in her eye—he questions it less and less. 

It’s not until you follow her the night of his birthday that you understand just how far she intends to go. You follow her following him, hiding from the bursts of light that fireworks outside are shooting through the windows. She’s a venomous beast in the shadows, the bright flashes illuminating the beauty she dons, a perfectly crafted mask. 

As she trails after him, you observe her steps—her quiet, seductive advancements—that do not go undetected by Feyd. But she does not fear him, and she does not startle at the blade he holds to her throat once he’s tired of her games.

“You’re following me,” he says, and for a moment, you feel a sense of relief. He’s not entranced. He’s not so blinded by her wiles to be tricked. But then he releases her and says, “I dreamed about you last night,” and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. 

“A pleasant dream, I hope,” she replies. 

Her voice is altered. Too smooth. An odd pitch. He follows this time, his head twitching as he tries to block out the words you know are slithering into his mind. 

They continue through the hallways like master and pet until they’ve entered an unrecognizable wing of the Harkonnen fortress. Only once she disappears behind a door do you step out of the shadows. You’ll grab him, you think—take his arm and pull him away from the range of her influence so he will snap back to his senses—but he’s following her through that doorway before you can reach him. 

She’s successfully lured him in, and you don’t know what to do. She can control you if she wants, have you slit your throat right in front of him if you make yourself known. And being under her spell, will he even notice that he’s losing you until it’s too late? Or will he stand there with a blank expression as your body drains of life?

You tiptoe to the entrance he had not fully closed behind him and peek through the sliver of space between the door and its frame.

With a gasp, your hand flies to your mouth. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes. Your eyelids beg to squeeze shut at the sight of him on his knees before her. And it’s then that you realize she has yet to use the full power of the Voice on him. Had she, you surely would’ve heard it. It’s a distinct sound, immediately identifiable.

Some part of him must want this—to be at her mercy. 

Your chest caves as your knees begin to wobble. Your heart shatters.

He leans closer and you can’t watch anymore. You can’t watch their lips meet in a kiss he swore he would only ever give to you. So you take a step back, then another, and another, until you’re running. 

—

Feyd POV

Feyd stands before them: three figures that, when concentrated in a dense grouping, mold into a formidable foe. The Baron, whose features are hard. The Reverend Mother, whose aged mouth is set in a frown detectable through her veiled headdress. And the Fenring Bene Gesserit, whose lips curve in a soft smile and eyes glance down at her feet every time he looks at her as if she’s some bashful girl untouched by man, which, given the circumstances, is far from true. 

“It’s not mine!” Feyd snaps. 

The Reverend Mother lets out an irritated huff—her third of the morning. “My Lord–”

“It’s not!”

Feyd turns his head to where you’ve been standing off to the side. He wants to see your face; he needs to reassure you that the information relayed in the last few minutes is nothing but sick lies, but you’re not there. He didn’t notice you leave. Did you sneak out? Did you run? Did your heels click on the floor with your retreating steps and his ears were too fuzzed from vile words to hear it? You’ve been avoiding him for days, but he didn’t expect such asinine chatter would get you to completely abandon him now. You’re smarter than to believe what they say, and you know him better than that.

“The child inside Lady Fenring belongs to you, my Lord na-Baron,” the Reverend Mother repeats, drawing Feyd’s burning gaze back to the trio. “That is a fact.”

His fists ball at his sides. “It’s impossible. I didn’t touch your witch.” And he never would have. He’s had other plans. Plans with you. He intends to marry you, to put his heir inside of you, and he wouldn’t have jeopardized that future for anyone, let alone a Bene Gesserit. 

“Do you not recall the night of your birthday, my Lord?” Lady Fenring asks, her voice soft. “I was with you for hours.”

No. She’s wrong. He was with you, beside you, your warm, bare skin against his as the celebrations for his coming of age took place outside the walls. He was in the only place he ever chooses to be once darkness has descended upon the city. Not once has he strayed from the consistency of bringing you to his room under the noses of your parents and his uncle. And on that night barely three days ago, he’d fallen asleep with you in his arms after you were both spent. He remembers the lull of your soft breaths brushing his chest. 

“Stop with your lies, you–” 

Flashes invade his mind, almost painful as he tries and fails to shut them out. His eyelids pinch. His jaw ticks. The guest quarters are a blip of an image in his head. A body on top of his. Unfamiliar touch. Foreign moans. A scent that isn’t yours. 

As the fogginess fades, Feyd shakes his head. No. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Not to you. 

“I would’ve thought the time we spent together would be worth remembering,” Lady Margot says.

“You got in my head,” he grits out through clenched teeth. 

“It matters not!” the Reverend Mother snaps. “The child is yours and it must be legitimized. Once Lady Fenring gives birth, you will wed.”

—

Reader POV - Three Months Later

You’re disappointed. 

You’d spent days preparing yourself for what was to come—hours upon hours of strengthening your resolve by talking yourself through every possible scenario—and yet, as you step off of your family’s ship onto Giedi Prime soil, you must begrudgingly accept that it was all for naught. 

Touching the ground is like touching him. What belongs to him is a part of him, and you sense his presence in every grain of white sand under your shoes. 

Your heart jackrabbits in your chest, pressing against the cage of your ribs. If it could free itself, you wonder in which direction it would leap: back to the ship, ready to return to the protection of your home planet? Or toward the fortress, toward him. You wonder if his hands would be willing to catch it, brush it free of dust and grime and keep it close to his. But there’s no way to know until you’re in front of him. You lost the right to expect him to cradle your most precious organ when you left him without explanation, before he could level you with excuses for what he had done. 

Noticing your absence from their sides, your parents pause and turn back to face you. 

“Have you frozen, dear?” your mother asks with a chuckle. “You don’t appear to be breathing.” 

She glances at your father, whose brows raise and lips curve into a lopsided smile. Your mother loves that smile. It’s one of the qualities she finds so endearing about your father. The first time he smiled that smile, she claimed it soothed her nerves over the arrangement your grandparents made for her future as his wife. And you know that feeling, that sense of calm; the safety of a lover’s company. 

Your body aches as the memories of Feyd settle onto your shoulders. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, held you, moaned your name—all unique to him. They are what persuaded you to open your body, allowing him to wrap a hand around your love and hoard it for himself. And it pains you to know that if he has chosen to let it go, if he no longer cares for it, your love will never be the same. It will not make its way back to you. It will not heal. Like your rejected heart, your love will lie at his feet, shriveled and abused and begging for his attention. 

“Come now, we don’t want to keep the Houses waiting,” your father says. 

Your eyes are sandpaper. You blink. Damn the Houses. The frequency of meetings, which once seemed reasonable considering they afforded you and Feyd more time together, now feels like a nuisance; torture. There is no logical reason why every House member must be in attendance. Your being here changes nothing of the outcomes of negotiations and thinly veiled threats. 

Your mother grabs your hand. “Come,” she demands, towing you toward the aura of darkness.

You flinch as you enter through the doors. You’ve been predicting that upon returning to this place, you would have to fight the urge to cower into a corner, but as your eyes scan the fortress’s interior, all you can think is: home. Black walls and cold floors and hovering orbs of harsh light—a comfort that unexpectedly welcomes you as a former lover rather than rejects you as a traitor. 

Guards lead you further into the fortress toward a familiar room. You’re the first family to arrive—so much for making people wait—and you run your palm across the metal table in the center of the room. How many times have you sat at this table, imagining the rest of your life? Teasing one another? How many times has he taken you on it? As Lords and Ladies join your family, you find it best not to think about it.

You settle into a seat beside your father and, like everyone else, patiently wait for a machine to bring the Baron into the room. As he arrives, so do his nephews. 

You stop breathing.

Feyd’s eyes scan the space until they find you, and though you plead with yourself to look away, you can’t. He’s a force outside of nature. A magnetic presence much too alluring for your willpower to resist. And the longer he looks at you, the quicker the protective shell you’ve worked to build up chips away. 

He chooses to sit across from you rather than by his uncle. Not a seat he was meant to take, but no one argues. 

The Baron talks. Feyd stares. Your body heats. 

Eventually, you find a shred of strength and use it to rip your eyes away from his, but it doesn’t stop the ghostly caress of his gaze. What is he thinking? He doesn’t appear to hate you, but appearances can be deceiving. He’s capable of tamping down his emotions in front of others. There’s no telling what he would do should he get you alone, but you’re determined not to let that happen. You have no reason to be alone with him. He’s not yours. You’re not his. And people who do not belong to one another do not need to spend time secluded from others. 

You remind yourself of that many times over the duration of the meeting, repeating the words in your head until they’re at their barest bones. You’re not his, he’s not yours, never be alone together. Not his, not yours, never alone. Never alone. Never. 

But the harder you push, the more you want it; the more you want to drag him away, put your mouth on his, bite him, feast on his skin, swallow the groans you know you can pull from this throat. 

Fuck. 

You need to get away from him. 

You fidget with your fingers under the table, praying for the seconds to tick faster. Each one passes as if trying to outlast the one before it, and it’s sending you into a spiral of anxiety. Blurry vision, rushing blood, dry throat that’s beginning to overpower your ability to sit silently and still as you are meant to. 

But then, by some miracle, you’re granted mercy. The Baron dismisses the meeting, and you’ve never been more relieved in your life. A chance to escape. To breathe. You rise so quickly that your chair nearly flips over. 

And then you realize your mistake. 

Feyd’s eyes drop to your stomach. 

You swallow hard. 

A flutter fills your belly from the baby’s kick. 

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please let me know! It makes my day <3 Also, let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next part.

[yinyuedijun]

since it is on the brain tonight. have one of my favourite (very very long) scenes of desire path backstory (happened in both versions of the fic, og and current)

(tw implied child abuse and incest)

background: you've just been adopted into the itoshi household and have had a really hard time opening up. sae hears you crying in your bedroom every night. here, he finally decides to try and help you. you're about 6 here, sae is 8.

___

Still, you had your bad nights. Progress has never been linear with you, not now and not back then. Sae recalls one midnight where you had a crying fit that disintegrated into a violent string of coughs, each one so powerful that it made him wince.

He wondered how the whole house wasn't awake, listening to your pain. Rin always slept like a rock—Sae could see him snoring away in the other bed, so it made sense that he wasn't bothered—but surely their parents were hearing this? But then he decided not to linger on it for too long.

It didn't matter since he was going to help you anyway.

He ended up knocking on your door with a glass of water. Almost immediately, all the shifting in your room stopped, almost like you were trying to silence yourself. But Sae could hear the coughs being torn violently from your throat, even though they now sounded strained and muffled.

"Hey," he called out softly. "It's me. Are you awake?"

Silence. Sae knew to give it a moment before he tried again.

"Can I come in?"

If it had been anyone other than you, you told Sae years later, your fingers running lazily through his hair, lifting the bangs out of his face, I wouldn't have said anything. I'd have pretended to be sleeping. But I let you in because it was you. You squeezed his hand, then, and your eyes were close—so close, heavy on his own and weighed down by the vulpine flick of your eyeliner, by the mascara sooty and thick on neatly curled lashes, by your childhood shadows. Your strawberry gloss shone next to his lips, and your heated and tender words kissed them: Do you understand what I'm saying, Nii-chan? If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have been—

"...okay."

When Sae crept into your room, found an empty bed. You were hiding underneath it, curled up in the tiny space between the floor and the mattress, hugging the quilt he'd handed to you weeks ago. He crouched down, showed you the glass of water. Sae wasn't sure if the offering would be enough to draw you out from under the bed, but another coughing fit—this one strong enough to make you teary-eyed—had you crawling out. You mumbled a little thank you as you took the glass from him and drank.

"You haven't cried like that in a while," Sae commented, and you gave him a stricken look. After a long moment of unadultered panic in your eyes, he heard you string more than two words for the first time:

"...s-sorry. I'm really sorry." You were looking down at the floor, and it was like all the progress Sae had made over the past several weeks had gone up in smoke—you looked petrified, small, a cornered animal with nowhere to run. "I didn't know you could hear me."

"Don't apologize. I don't mind it."

"...you're not mad?"

Sae thought it was a funny question. "No. Who'd get mad at something like that?"

You didn't reply, just looking away, and Sae felt a little frustrated, then. He'd been working so hard to make you feel comfortable and thought he'd finally made some progress—but now he was seeing you regress in real time. Back into the fragile little thing that his parents had decided to adopt out of the blue, looking like you couldn't trust anything around you. Like you couldn't trust him. Sae couldn't help but think—

"You don't like it here, do you."

Even at that age, you had a distinctly doe-eyed look when you were confused, and he remembers staring at it.

"No," you said. "I do."

"Then how come you don't wanna talk to any of us?"

Maybe his voice was a little too harsh. Or a little too blunt. You flinched, your body retreating into the turquoise shell of your quilt.

"Sorry."

"That's—" Sae paused, chewing his lip. Tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, because he knew his usual tone would scare you. "...you don't need to be sorry. I'm not mad. I just wanna know what's been making you so upset. Like—how come you always cry at night?"

You got that nervous, uncertain look in your eye again, and Sae got the distinct feeling that you were wondering if this whole conversation was some kind of trick. He added, "I just wanna know how to cheer you up. I don't like seeing you so sad all the time."

You blinked, gave him a surprised look, but it was fleeting, quickly making way for another gloomy expression. "You don't need to worry about me… I don't think I'm going to stay here for very long."

Sae's brow furrowed. His mom had made it sound like you were going to be his little sister just like how Rin was his brother—that is, permanently. "Why not?"

The face you made was so miserable that it startled Sae. He hadn't had a lot of experience with sadness as a kid—most of what he'd witnessed revolved around soccer, when the opposing team lost, and Sae never felt very sorry for them. Sometimes Rin would throw tantrums or cry over silly things, but those were easy to handle. Sae supposed that the worst sadness he'd ever seen was in his mother, who tried her best to hide it—

—but not even her saddest expressions could compare to how shattered you looked in that moment.

"...your dad doesn't actually want me here, Sae-san."

Sae's brow creased. You have a new sister, he recalled. You need to take care of her, OK? It's your job as the eldest.

"That can't be right," Sae replied. "Dad said he wanted you to be part of this family. He even said I should look after you."

Instead of responding, you looked long and hard at Sae, and for the first time, he experienced the strange feeling of being dissected by you. He felt translucent and naked under your eyes—keen for such an innocent age, seeing everything in the dark.

"We have the same father, but different moms. You know that, right?" you asked quietly.

He hadn't.

"Your dad didn't like my mom very much, and that's why he didn't want me. He's only being forced to take me now 'cause my mom decided she didn't want me either." Your eyes started to shimmer, and you hid them in your blanket. "My stepdad and my brother also left 'cause they didn't want me. And I don't think your mom likes me very much, either. So"—you breathed in deep and whispered, and Sae felt like he was watching a vase tip over the edge, a sandcastle crumbling into dirt, his mother crying as she fumbled for her cigarettes when she thought no one was watching—"it's not gonna be very long 'til your parents throw me away too."

Sae went silent. If his heart ached for you when he first laid eyes on you, then it was being crushed right now. He didn't think very hard about it when he placed a hand over one of yours.

"They wouldn't do something like that," he said.

Your fingers twitched under his, like you wanted to pull away.

"They want to. I can tell."

You're just imagining things, Sae nearly replied, but then he remembered that he'd never once heard his parents come here at night to check on your crying, and then he went quiet.

"...it doesn't matter," he eventually decided. "I won't let them."

A little sniff. "No?"

"No. I'll make sure you stay with us."

You blinked the saltwater away from your lashes, then gave him a curious look. "Why?"

"Because I'm your brother, and it's my job to take care of you."

"Really?" you asked, voice watery.

His eyes softened, his usual impassivity crumbling for you.

"Really. I would never let anyone throw you away," he said, and the words felt so ugly in his mouth that he couldn't fathom how anyone had done that to you. How anyone could have done anything to you. You were so sweet, and so kind, and so vulnerable, and it left him feeling sick when he imagined you being hurt in any way. "I'll keep you safe. Promise."

Sae nearly jumped when he felt something move in his hand. He looked down, saw your little fingers prodding at his own, and he offered you his open palm. You took it readily, Sae found himself transfixed by the latticework of your entwined fingers.

"Thank you, Sae-san."

"It's nothing," he wrote off. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, gentle in a way that his voice wasn't. "But I'm your brother now, remember? You should address me properly."

You smiled a little, studying your interlocked fingers, and Sae felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, an uptick in his pulse.

"Okay, Nii-chan."

Nii-chan. Sae's always loved hearing that title in your mouth. Not out of a demand for respect the way Rin obsesses over it, but because you've always seemed so happy to say it, the syllables sweetened by your adoring tongue. Okay, Nii-chan, you've always said. I'll listen to you, Nii-chan. I trust you, Nii-chan. I love you, Nii-chan. I love you, I love you, I love you.

So please don't leave us again.

Please don't throw me away.

[jomiddlemarch]

Silly things do cease to be silly

George Knightley was well aware the household staff at Hartfield had been much in favor of his engagement to Emma, even more so when they learnt the marriage would not lead to Emma’s departure from the estate but rather his stabilizing arrival, but he admitted to some surprise when he arrived in the afternoon for a visit and was positively hurried to the drawing room by the butler, a circumspect man of indeterminate age moving with the alacrity of a boy whose transgression was about to be found out by a stern nurse. 

“Godspeed, sir,” the man muttered before closing the door silently.

“My dear Emma—” he began, approaching her calmly, something of a feat given the way she was striding about the room, her curls bouncing with an unearthly energy, her hazel eyes wild. He’d never known India muslin could flap so dramatically.

“I’m being driven to distraction, Mr. Knightley, and I don’t see how I can bear it though I don’t see how it won’t be borne! I vow I’m likely to tear my hair out and scream myself hoarse and I know you shall tell me I’m not behaving with any degree of decorum, but the time for decorum is long, long gone!” she exclaimed, trembling beneath his hands when he took hold of hers in their usual greeting, shuddering when he pulled her into a gentle embrace. It was an indication of the vast affection he held for her that the sensation of her heaving bosom pressed to his chest, the hint of her slender waist he felt as he stroked her back only evoked tenderness in him, nothing libidinous. He told himself that, to keep anything remotely carnal at bay, and he also calculated the acreage he meant to plant with rye instead of barley and the projected profit if the market held.

“Don’t tear out your hair, darling Emma,” he said. “I’ve a particular fondness for those curls.”

“They’re fake. It takes Susan two hours with the irons or I’ve got to sleep in rags,” she murmured against his frock-coat. “My hair’s straight as a stick, another disappointment—”

“Nothing about you is a disappointment to me. Though I’m concerned to find you in such a state,” he said. “Is it happening too quickly? We might extend the engagement if that would set your mind at ease. I’ve waited long enough, I shouldn’t mind waiting longer if it would make you happy, dearest.”

“I should mind, most dreadfully,” she said. She looked up at him and for the thousandth time, he thought how her face looked like a flower. “And you shouldn’t wait any longer than the next fortnight. How I shall bear it, I cannot say—”

“What’s troubling you then?”

“The wedding-breakfast. And Papa,” she replied. “I have reviewed the menu with him a dozen times and he frets over something new each time. When I include all the dishes he suggests, the table groans and then he worries we’d all get sick from a surfeit of rich foods. When I make the menu very simple, very plain, barely more than an invalid’s board, he worries we’ll starve. And he won’t countenance anything made with lemon!”

George nodded. It was not a tremendous shock that Emma’s father, who was beset by anxieties most frequently related to meals and their relative risk to the health of all he held dear, would be distressed about the upcoming wedding-breakfast though George attributed Emma’s response to a bride’s nerves. What was called for then, was to remind her that she was to be a bride, his bride and then, his beloved wife.

“Why are you dismayed about the lemon?” he asked.

“Because it’s your favorite and now I’ve ruined it, for I meant to surprise you with lemon syllabub, and now you won’t have anything sweet you like,” Emma said.

It was obvious what he must do next, so he leaned down and kissed her frowning lips very softly, tasting her with more boldness than he had previously allowed himself, so that when they parted, the furrow in her brow was gone and the expression in her eyes was one of dazed wonder.

“I have everything sweet that I like already. And after the wedding-breakfast, I shan’t have to mind my manners when it comes to my appetite,” he said.

After she’d poured out the tea the housekeeper herself had brought in after ascertaining that Miss Woodhouse would like to offer Mr. Knightley some refreshment but before she’d taken a sip from her own cup, George spoke.

“I also quite enjoy honey.”

“Isn’t that rather sticky?” Emma said, her eyes nearly amber, but so marvelously innocent. “I always get some on my fingers and then I’ve got to lick it off.”

“Indeed,” George said. “I’ve often found myself in the same situation. We shall need to help each other, won’t we?”

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month, Day 10, prompt: wedding-breakfast

[aspenmissing]

ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴀʀʏ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 1509 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ’ꜱ Qᴜɪʀᴋʏ, ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴀʀʏ ᴛᴡɪᴛᴄʜᴇꜱ—ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇɴ, ʙᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴜᴍʙ, ᴏʀ ʜᴜᴍᴍɪɴɢ—ʙᴀꜰꜰʟᴇ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ. ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴏʙꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴏᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ, ʏ/ɴ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴛɪᴄᴋꜱ? ɪ ʜ���ᴠᴇ ᴢᴇʀᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

Jayce and Viktor were working late in the lab, the glow of the dim light casting long shadows over the scattered blueprints and mechanical components. The air was thick with the hum of their work, their minds focused on their shared task.

Y/N sat between them, scribbling calculations on a pad of paper, her brow furrowed in concentration. Though she was deep in her work, there was something unusual about her. Every so often, her body would twitch, a small, subtle movement that went unnoticed by many. But not by Jayce or Viktor.

It started with a soft, almost musical noise—a sound that was halfway between a hum and a laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to break the silence in the room.

Y/N didn’t notice, too focused on the task at hand. But Jayce and Viktor both stopped, their pens pausing mid-motion as they exchanged a glance.

"What was that?" Viktor asked, his voice low, brows furrowing as he studied Y/N.

Jayce shrugged, equally puzzled. "Could’ve been... nothing."

But Viktor wasn’t convinced. He turned back to Y/N, watching her closely as she continued to work, completely unaware of the attention she was garnering.

A few minutes later, it happened again. A soft laugh-like noise, followed by her hand twitching, her thumb straightening abruptly, like a spring had been released inside her hand.

Jayce blinked. "Did her thumb just...?"

Viktor nodded, looking more intrigued than anything. "Interesting. I’ve never seen anything like it."

Y/N was still unaware of their silent observation, her focus entirely on her work. But the two men were now acutely aware of the strange twitches she exhibited.

Time passed, and as it did, the twitches became more frequent, and more varied. Y/N’s thumb would click up and then snap back down, an almost imperceptible movement that both Jayce and Viktor would watch carefully, but neither knew how to bring up.

At one point, her nose twitched, the soft flare of her nostrils followed by a sudden, twitchy movement that reminded Viktor of a rabbit. He stifled a laugh as he glanced at Jayce, who was equally baffled.

“What exactly is happening here?” Jayce asked, his voice now a bit more concerned, though still in a low, private tone.

“I’m not sure,” Viktor admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It’s almost as if she’s... trying to suppress them.”

Y/N continued to work, oblivious to the fact that she was becoming a subject of study for the two brilliant minds beside her. Another twitch occurred. This time, her eye squeezed shut for a moment, as though she’d been caught by a sudden reflex.

It was then that Jayce finally spoke up. “Y/N, is everything okay?”

Y/N looked up, blinking as if she had forgotten they were there. “Huh?”

Both men looked at her with concern, but she seemed completely unaware of the attention her body was drawing.

“Are you... alright?” Viktor asked carefully. "You've been making these odd noises and movements. Is something wrong?"

Y/N tilted her head, blinking again as her eye gave another twitch. She chuckled softly, brushing it off. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a few random twitches I get sometimes. They just happen whenever.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal.

Jayce and Viktor exchanged another glance. They could both sense that Y/N was brushing off something that was clearly affecting her. Jayce’s protective instincts kicked in, while Viktor’s curiosity was piqued even more.

“How long has this been happening?” Viktor asked gently, his tone soft but probing.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the sudden attention. She adjusted in her seat, rubbing her nose slightly, her thumb clicking up again. “Oh... since I was quite young, actually. It’s just something I’ve gotten used to. Doesn’t bother me too much.”

Jayce’s eyes softened. “You sure? That sounds like it could be... I don’t know... a symptom of something.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly. “I promise, it’s fine. It’s just... me. You know, little quirks that come with who I am.” She raised an eyebrow, teasing them. “If you two are going to get distracted by it -

Viktor raised a brow, not letting her finish, "We weren’t distracted."

“Well, you sure looked distracted,” she said with a playful smile.

Despite her reassurances, Jayce and Viktor couldn’t help but remain concerned. There was something about the way she tried to pass it off so nonchalantly that told them it wasn’t as simple as she made it sound.

Over the following days, Y/N’s twitches continued, growing in frequency but never seeming to interfere with her ability to work. Her thumb would snap up, her nose would twitch, or her eye would blink shut. Sometimes she would hum quietly, as if in tune with the rhythm of her thoughts. Jayce and Viktor would occasionally catch each other glancing at her, their concern growing.

As much as Y/N tried to hide it, they both knew there was more to her odd behaviours than she was letting on. But despite their growing curiosity, neither of them pressed her on it. Instead, they began to watch her with a silent understanding, knowing that one day, she might open up about it on her own terms.

Until then, they would just have to make peace with the fact that Y/N had her quirks—and that those quirks, no matter how odd, were a part of what made her... well, her. And that, in itself, was something they both cherished.

As the days went by, Y/N’s twitching quirks continued to fascinate Jayce and Viktor, but one new behaviour stood out even more than the others.

It started one afternoon when Y/N grabbed a book on her desk. She picked it up, but as she held it up, she was quick to drop it back down onto the desk. And then pick it back up, only to drop it back down. She'd then tap it against the surface of the desk against the surface of the desk, creating a soft thunk sound. Then, she did it again, and again, in quick succession—three taps, each one slightly louder than the last.

Jayce blinked in confusion, his eyes narrowing in surprise as he watched her. “Did she just—?”

Viktor was already watching her with a growing curiosity. "It’s a pattern," he muttered under his breath. “I’ve seen this before.”

Y/N, still unaware of the attention she was drawing, set the book down and picked up a pen from the desk. She did the same thing, tapping it against the surface several times before finally proceeding to write, as if the action had to be done before she could continue.

Jayce, unable to hold back his confusion, raised his hand. “Y/N?”

She looked up, startled. “Hmm?”

“You... tap things,” Jayce said, his voice thick with curiosity. “When you pick something up, you, uh, hit it on the desk... multiple times.”

Y/N blinked, then glanced at the pen she was still holding. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, her cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment. “Ah, yeah. That’s just something I do. It’s... uh, I don’t know why. I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you.”

Viktor tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “It’s fine. Just curious. You say it helps you focus?”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really. It's just something I’ve done for as long as I can remember. I don’t really know why, but it feels strange if I don’t do it.”

Jayce gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not annoying, we’re just not used to it. If it helps you, then it’s fine.”

Viktor nodded, his voice softer now. “Indeed. We all have our quirks. It doesn’t bother us, Y/N.”

Y/N gave them a grateful smile, relieved. “Thanks. I guess I’m just a bit self-conscious about it.”

“It’s nothing to be self-conscious about,” Jayce added with a reassuring grin. “We all have our... little things. Yours just happens to be more noticeable."

Y/N chuckled, feeling more at ease. "Yeah, guess so."

Jayce and Viktor shared a silent understanding that Y/N’s quirks were becoming more than just amusing—they were an endearing part of her. The more they watched, the more they realized that these little tics weren’t just something to observe. They were pieces of the puzzle that made Y/N who she was.

And as they worked together, Jayce and Viktor soon realized something—they had grown more used to Y/N’s twitches. The soft clicks of her thumb, her blinking fits, her nose flaring, and her taps on the desk became part of the rhythm of the lab. It was as if her quirks were an unspoken harmony in the midst of their work, something uniquely her that both men began to embrace in their own way.

Over time, they no longer questioned her behaviours but instead grew more intrigued by the way she made them feel comfortable in her presence. Even with her strange tics and twitchy movements, Y/N had become an integral part of their lives—quirks and all.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 9: The Van Drawing . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

This is yet another piece of evidence that can probably be argued against with the phrase: 'Not everything is intention!!!' UHHHH maybe not everything but this definitely fucking is. Positioning shots in film is literally a language, it's there to tell viewers things that can't be said with words like books can. If byler is not endgame I will personally write to the directors like WHAT IS THIS???

As you can see here, this is an obvious attempt at showcasing what the characters are thinking without them being able to say it. It's right in front of our eyes and is very literal.

El is placed in front of the girl drawing, and Mike and Will are placed exactly where the thought bubble is. So she's thinking about them. DUH. ITS SO THERE ITS RIGHTTHEREGUYS....

They extend this even further, emphasising that it's El who is in the place of the girl, by having this shot with the thought bubble literally coming out of her head:

A face-on shot like this isn't very common, especially when a character is talking to another person. Also, the thought bubble looks like the one that Millie drew herself while the one with the very long extended shot (the first pic) looks different. They cut back to this shot three more times (a total of FOUR):

So when El originally draws on the van, she's doing it describe Max (who is represented by the girl in the middle) and the fact she will go inside her mind as well as Vecna (both represented by similar looking stick figures on the right). When she draws on it first, it looks like this:

The camera here is zooming in. If the camera kept zooming in, the thought bubble of the two men would not be right of Mike and Will so they literally had to redraw it so that it would be, clearly meaning that it's very intentional.

Already, this shot had indicated that byler would be together, but paired with the fact that they put this much effort into emphasising it to the audience. They just wanted this little hint that badly.

What does this drawing suggest? It could suggest that El knows something about them, maybe, she might have noticed them changing after her time in the lab, who knows. All I know is that there is no reason to place them in this shot in this way without it hinting at the outcome of the show.

Now it really makes sense why she didn't talk to Mike after the love monologue. Either because she knows he's lying (she's slammed the same door after being lied to before) or because she's realised she never needed him to say I love you.

[shineon3]

HELLO GUESS WHO HAS FINISHED WORK

(it's me)

Danyul and whoever you'd like to put him with, and sleepy/drugged/drunk confessions for the ask game 🥳

From here. Hiii lovely!! Thank you for the fun prompt ^^ (For context, this is set in the 'Me and Mine' verse, in the early years of Max and Daniel's relationship)

“Oh, baby, this is hilarious!”

Daniel laughs, a loud, honking noise, hand slapping against his thigh. Max pouts next to him, cheeks deliciously flushed, and he has half a mind to spread him over the couch and worship his body all night, but the game they’re playing right now is almost just as fun as reducing his angel to messy babbles and moans.

Speaking of which, his Maxy gives him a playful punch to the shoulder, and he can’t help but tease him some more. 

“Cmon, sweetheart, you can’t tell me that’s not funny! I can’t believe you got that shitfaced.”

“Shut up, Daniel!”

His darling is definitely drunk right now, slurring his words, and it highlights his adorable little lisp, the way his tongue curls around Daniel’s name. They’ve been sharing a bottle of some liquor Daniel had been gifted, passing it back and forth between them while playing some drinking game Max had discovered on the internet. 

“Okay, okay, I’ve got another question, Maxy. Is there anything embarrassing that turns you on?”

“Wha-” Max chokes a bit on his spit, cheeks even more red. “That’s not fair, you asked two questions in a row!” 

“Ah, ah, ah, angel,” Daniel tuts, playful, flicking the blonde’s nose. “Should I remind you that you asked two questions in the last round? I’m only playing by your rules, ya know?”

“Ugh, fine!”

The blonde takes a moment to think about his answer, and Daniel watches him intently, a smile stretching his lips.

It’s always relaxing, watching his Maxy, no matter what the younger is up to. It helps Daniel settle, knowing his boy is close by and safe. It also helps the ugly, feral thing inside him settle, helps the voices usually accompanying his thoughts go quiet, hushed, no longer frantically hunting for their next victim. It’s the Max effect, as he likes to call it in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

When his angel takes a bit too long to answer, Daniel decides to poke his forehead, and he’s a bit surprised to see Max looking away. 

“Maxy?”

“You won’t… you won’t judge, right…?”

The question takes him by surprise, the younger's voice small and hesitant, but he’s quick to pull Max in his arms, reassuring him. 

“Of course, Maxy. We don’t judge, here, darling, not now, not ever, okay? This is a safe space, and you don’t even have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

Max just nods, humming quietly against him, and Daniel doesn’t push, one hand around his boy and the other gently carding through the blonde’s hair. 

“Your… your knives…,” Max whispers quietly, so quiet that he has to strain his ears to hear it. “It’s… they’re kind of… when you use them…”

“Yeah, baby? You like ‘em?” 

The younger just nods, face hidden against Daniel’s side. Daniel presses a kiss to the top of his head, the familiar itch to pull his blade and draw blood thrumming through his veins, this time followed by the just as familiar burning heat of arousal. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s hot,” Daniel grins, predatory, relishing in the little shiver going through his angel’s body as their eyes meet. He gets up, scooping the blonde in his arms before making his way to the bedroom. “We’re gonna need to talk some more about it later, set everything up, but I’m definitely on board, baby.”

Whatever reply Max might have had is lost in his moans, but that’s okay. They’ll have time to talk and arrange a proper scene later, after he makes a mess of his pretty angel.

[kathlare]

between two worlds

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando is caught in a tense confrontation with Magui during a lunch in Monaco, where emotions run high as they discuss her messages to Amelie.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

April 15th, 2023 - Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by f1gossipgirl, ln4nation, and others

landosupdates: 👀 Lando was spotted having a romantic lunch with Portuguese model Magui Corceiro yesterday in Monaco.

View all 2,394 comments

f1girlies4life: NOT ANOTHER MODEL 💀 boy’s collecting them like Pokémon cards. → landoismybaby: @f1girlies4life fr, gotta catch ‘em all vibes. 😭

lanlover88: Magui? Really? This man is allergic to staying single for five minutes. 🤡 → landoobsessed: @lanlover88 give him a week, he’ll move on to someone else lmao. → ameliesworld: @landoobsessed nah, he’s just filling the Amelie-shaped hole in his heart.

queenofglinda: Can we go back to when he was lowkey obsessed with Amelie? Those were the days. 🫠 → l4nfan: @queenofglinda fr, their friendship was peak vibes. He’s downgraded HARD since.

pastelgrid: Y’all mad at Magui when Lando’s the common denominator in all this mess. 🤷‍♀️

f1chaos: Imagine breaking up the iconic Norris-Dayman duo over shippers just for this… tragic. → ameliefandom: @f1chaos we lost such an elite friendship for NOTHING.

glitterglinda_: BRING BACK AMELIE. Their friendship was the blueprint 😭 → f1besties: @glitterglinda_ “friends” but he was literally staring at her like she hung the moon 🥹

racegirlyy: Lando, blink twice if you’re being held hostage by bad decisions 💀

amelieshalo: Remember when Lando used to repost Amelie’s posts and comment “proud of you”? Yeah, me too. → fastlanecrew: @amelieshalo now he’s just “proud” of whatever he’s doing with Magui smh 💔

f1hotmess: He’s not a playboy, he’s just… friendly. Very friendly. 🤡

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

The sun was high in the sky as Lando walked along the cobblestone streets of Monaco, hands stuffed in his pockets, his thoughts an uneasy blur. Magui had insisted they meet for lunch, and while part of him wanted to cancel, he didn’t. He was still reeling from the drunken phone call he’d received from Amelie a couple nights ago, her voice raw and angry as she accused him of letting Magui harass her.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe her. Amelie wasn’t one to lie—especially not about something like this. But hearing the anger and pain in her voice had knocked him off balance. Amelie, of all people, didn’t deserve to be dragged into petty drama.

And if what she said was true, then Magui had a lot to answer for.

He arrived at the small, chic restaurant nestled in the corner of one of Monaco’s quieter streets. Magui was already seated at a table near the window, wearing oversized sunglasses and a too-tight dress that seemed deliberately chosen to draw attention. She waved at him, a bright, fake smile plastered across her face.

—Lando!— she called, her voice dripping with honey as he approached the table.

He forced a polite smile, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down.

—Hey,— he said, his tone neutral.

Magui reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his forearm.

—I ordered us some wine. I figured you’d want something light since you have training later,— she said, tilting her head like she was doing him a favor.

Lando pulled his arm away, pretending to adjust his watch.

—Thanks,— he said flatly, glancing at the menu.

Magui didn’t seem to notice—or care—that he was already on edge. She leaned forward, her manicured nails tapping against the table as she launched into a story about some photoshoot she’d done in Milan the week before. Lando nodded along absentmindedly, but his mind was elsewhere.

Finally, as the waiter arrived to take their order, Lando put down the menu and leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening.

—Magui, we need to talk,— he said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard.

—Talk about what?— she asked, her voice laced with faux innocence.

Lando’s eyes narrowed.

—About your messages to Amelie,— he said, his tone colder now, a knot of frustration beginning to form in his chest.

Magui froze for a moment, her hand still resting on the table as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain the casual, composed demeanor she had perfected.

—What are you talking about?— she asked, her voice suddenly defensive, the sweetness draining away.

Lando let out a sharp exhale, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table in agitation. He had no patience for games today, not after everything.

—Don’t play dumb, Magui. I know about the messages you’ve been sending Amelie,— he said, locking eyes with her, his gaze unwavering. —You know, the ones where you’re calling her pathetic and all that shit? I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to knock it off.—

Magui’s expression faltered for a second, then quickly returned to her usual smirk, though there was an edge to it now.

—Oh, so now you’re sticking up for her?— she asked, her voice sharp. —I thought you were with me, Lando. Why the fuck are you defending her? She’s the one who’s always been a mess. She can’t take a hint and keeps clinging to you like a lost puppy. And now, you’re mad at me for calling her out?—

Lando’s jaw clenched, his hands now gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

—I’m not defending her, I’m just telling you to stop. You don’t get to treat her like that, especially not when you don’t know the full story. Amelie’s got enough shit to deal with without you making it worse,— he snapped.

Magui scoffed, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, clearly unimpressed.

—Jesus, Lando, she’s not some saint, okay? She’s always been this way with you. And now that she’s doing her little tour, she thinks she can just come back into your life whenever she wants. I’m not just going to sit here and let her do that. She’s toxic, and you don’t even see it. She just wants to keep you on the back burner while she fucks around with everyone else.—

Lando’s eyes darkened, his anger now flaring as the weight of her words settled in.

—You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, do you?— he muttered through gritted teeth. —Amelie’s not like that. She never has been. If you’re so fucking sure she’s the problem, maybe you should take a long, hard look at what you’re doing.—

Magui’s lips curled into a sneer.

—Oh, so now I’m the one who’s the problem?— she snapped. —How convenient. You’ve been playing with me all this time, and now you’re acting like I’m some villain. Get over yourself, Lando. I know exactly what’s going on.—

Lando slammed his palm against the table, the sound sharp enough to make the nearby diners glance over, but he didn’t care.

—Don’t fucking twist this around on me. I don’t need you to tell me what’s going on, Magui. I’ve got enough on my plate without dealing with this bullshit. What I need is for you to stop making my life harder than it already is.—

Magui raised an eyebrow, but this time, she didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she leaned forward, her voice cold and calculated.

—So, what? You’re just going to let her win? After everything that’s happened, you’re still going to side with her?— she asked, her words biting. —Don’t pretend you’re not fucking conflicted, Lando. You think she doesn’t know what she’s doing? She’s playing you, and you’re too blind to see it.—

Lando’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to hear this, not from her. He didn’t want to be caught in the middle of all this shit. His feelings for Amelie, everything that had gone wrong between them, were tangled up in a mess of unresolved emotions he wasn’t ready to face.

—Don’t. Just don’t. I’m not doing this with you, Magui,— he said, his voice low but firm.

For a brief moment, there was silence between them. The tension hung thick in the air, but Lando couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His mind kept drifting back to that night, to Amelie’s drunken, furious voice ringing in his ears. He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t forget it.

—Fine,— Magui said, her eyes narrowing. —But don’t expect me to just sit around and let her walk all over me. I’m not going to be made to look like a fool.—

Lando’s patience snapped.

—You’re not listening. No one’s trying to make you look like anything, Magui. But if you keep going after Amelie, I’m done. I won’t sit here and let you bully her for no fucking reason. You can’t just act like she’s the villain here when you’re the one sending her messages like that.—

Magui’s face flushed with anger, her hand trembling as she gripped the edge of the table.

—You think I’m the fucking villain? Fine, whatever,— she spat. —But don’t think for a second that I’m going to back off. Not when it comes to her.—

Lando exhaled sharply, standing up from his seat. He was done with the conversation, done with the endless back and forth.

—I’m not doing this today. We’ll talk later, if you even want to talk at all,— he said, his voice finally softening, though his irritation was still palpable.

Magui looked up at him, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

—Whatever, Lando. You’re being fucking ridiculous, but fine. Go ahead. You’ll regret this.—

Lando didn’t respond. He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the restaurant, his head spinning. The fight with Magui didn’t resolve anything—it only made things worse. He hadn’t been able to get through to her, and now he had to wrestle with the feeling that he was caught between two worlds he didn’t want to be in.

But it wasn’t just Magui. It was Amelie too. And no matter how hard he tried to push her out of his mind, there was a part of him that couldn’t let her go.

As he stepped into the bright Monaco streets, the weight of the mess he’d found himself in seemed heavier than ever. He wasn’t sure how it had all gotten so complicated, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t going to be easy. Not by a long shot.

[likeorpheus]

The prospect of Francis not being proactive was also difficult for them in a time like this. And so when Cee states the strange thing, the purposeful thing, about not "making something" right now strikes a chord with them. When things were horrible for them, they tried to be active even if it was privately. But things were horrible for everyone. And they had a prominent feeling that with Claire's grief right now (and her impulsive actions), that Cee not being a steady shoulder would make things collapse further. It made sense.

That's all they ever thought about with Abra. Could they really care about themselves right now? When she barely slept? When she got ill? When she was forced to contend with her outside forces?

Francis freezes momentarily, the joint halfway to their lips, at the mention of Gio. Their shoulders stiffen before they recover, drawing a slow drag as if the smoke could buy them time. It doesn’t. They peer at Alo who probably knew the gist already.

Setting the joint gently in the ashtray, they lean forward, forearms braced against the edge of the table. Their face betrays the stress of the situation, though their fingers tap a quiet rhythm on the woodgrain.

“Yeah,” they answer, voice low but steady. “I’ve been… checking in.” Their gaze flickers away, landing on the mismatched furniture around the room, before snapping back to Cee. “That place in the Garden District is quiet most of the time, but Simone mentioned that the old woman she’s been house-sitting for is due back from her pilgrimage soon.”

The words sit heavy between them. Francis shifts in their chair, their discomfort showing in the way their jaw tightens.

“That means she’ll have to find somewhere else.” Their voice dips, an edge of frustration bleeding through despite their best efforts to keep it neutral. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her, stopping by whenever I can. But…” They trail off, their lips pressing into a thin line.

The image of Gio alone in that creaking old house rises unbidden in their mind, her quiet despair etched into every corner. The nights she’d wake up drenched in sweat, breath hitching, haunted by whatever horrors played out behind her closed eyes—it wasn’t something Francis could forget. Not that they’d ever admit how much it gnawed at them.

“She’s not sleeping,” they say finally, their tone softening. “And when she does, it’s bad dreams. Every time.” They shake their head, looking down at their hands. “I don’t know what she’ll do when she has to leave. Hell, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The admission hangs in the air, raw and unguarded in a way Francis rarely allowed themselves to be. They reach for the joint again, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, watching the smoke curl upward. Alo had coughed hysterically. They take that as a good sign but before passing the joint back to him, Francis offers it to Cee.

“Maybe…” They hesitate, the weight of their next words pressing down on them like a stone. “Maybe she doesn’t have to leave. I’ve been thinking about—about offering her a place. With me.” Their voice is quieter now, almost drowned out by the faint clatter of Cee’s movements at the stove. “She shouldn’t have to do all this alone. None of us should.”

They glance at Alo, who’s still rubbing at his face, and then back to Cee. “I don’t know if she’d go for it. But I think I have to ask.”

The sound of the shower shutting off punctuates the moment, and Francis’s head turns sharply toward the hallway, tension rippling through their posture. They force themselves to relax, taking another drag as if it might help before giving up the joint completely.

They had all come to grow used to living in a certain way.    Back  at  the  cabin  in  Northern  California,    it was Gio and Vicente who dominated the kitchen during daytime hours     —  they cooked the three essential meals and then some, always laughing over ground chile and doughy masa.    They cooked enough for a small army, Gio and Vicente.   Every morning, and every afternoon   —    and  Cee  seldom  ate  with  the  others,   but Vicente always saved her a plate. Even if it made Gio sigh or shake her head in dismissal. 

They were all getting used to living in vastly different ways. 

    So much change   —   it was enough to make your hands shake,   to set your back teeth on edge.   It wouldn't have been so unlike her to fumble the ball completely.     She kept wondering to herself:  Was Claire surprised when she saw that I actually found a place? Did she half-expect me to piss the money she gave me away? Did I expect me to do that?       So much change was alarming for a thing like her. Unreliable, unstable and constantly dropping the ball — but here she was, fixing French toast for unprompted guests.    Francis and her never got along well.   It was her own fault   —   standoffish as she was,   and she never did well playing nice with others.   She was a twat,  in the not-so-distant past.

And she doesn't expect them to like her.  But she won't turn them away for it.   What would the reason be behind that?   Vicente was dead.  And her thoughts are hinged on Claire — standing beneath the spray of shower water, or maybe sitting with her knees drawn to her chest at the foot of the tub. Her mind is crowded, anxious with thoughts of running water — long black hair, her lover's distant gaze. Preoccupied. That would have been an understatement. Maybe because she's thinking about Claire all the while. And her hands are still shaking. And her stomach is growing teeth. And she just keeps making French toast even though Vicente used to cook breakfast. 

Cee fishes a couple dishes from the drying rack for Francis,  and Alo.   It's a set  —  grey geese delicately drawn along the edges, thorny vine and iris.  She listens to Francis with those same vines knotted around her chest. 

     ❛   —  I normally wouldn't, either. But —... worries me, thinkin' about not making something right now...   ❛    Cee mumbles, melting stick of butter in hand   —   deft fingers working a butter knife, cutting a square. It sizzles on the pan. She wasn't entirely sure if her words would make sense to Francis. Broad hand grips at the pan's handle, shaking teflon-coated cookware until the melting butter spreads.   She works hastily.   Twin slices of bread are dipped in egg wash until dripping, splat — on the pan. 

Alo's haughty gaze is disturbed by the Highmore's inquisition.    He's as quiet as a goddamn pantomine, not looking anywhere but out the window.    His boyish face betrays some immediate confusion.    But he does take the joint, dumbly.     It's drawn to his lips and the short drag makes him cough hard in his chest. 

He shakily hands the joint back to Francis, ears burning. 

Cee cocks her head at the sound, looking over her shoulder to get a good look at something strange: Alo smoking weed. He doesn't seem the type.  What would Kerry say to that, she wonders. She squints, apprehensive for a moment    —    though she's quick to shrug it off.   He was evidently going through some kind of crisis.  Two plates are procured, set in front of Alo and Francis    — French toast glistening with syrup, melting whipped cream.

   ❛   A job, though? Maybe. I dunno. It's difficult when you don't feel drawn to any one thing, y'know?   ❛   She rubs her hands together anxiously, pale eyes darting toward the joint in Francis's possession. She thinks to ask. But then she thinks she hears the shower turn off and swivels her head at once, listening close. 

Alo's rubbing at his flushing face.    She hears the sound of the shower, and sighs. 

    ❛   ... Not to mention I haven't really been looking these past few days.   ❛  And she wasn't rightly sure when she would start up again. Her eyes flash toward Francis, anxious. 

    ❛ — Have you ... have you heard from Gio, by chance? ❛

[ricksoo]

So today is Pigment's 2nd birthday...

As much as I, or we wanna celebrate it,

... Uh...

I don't think this is the best time to celebrate it... 😶

Tbf I kinda wanna follow it based on the storyline so technically this is kinda at an incorrect time ;v;'

Pigment by @xxtc-96xx TC you're awesome for introducing Pigment

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

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