#Every time I see a chaise lounge I’m like

[pucksandpower]

Fixer Upper

Max Verstappen x interior designer!Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen is the most frustrating client you’ve ever dealt with … but maybe he can make it up to you

“How about some pops of color in here?” You suggest brightly, gesturing around the stark white walls of Max Verstappen’s new Monaco penthouse.

The Dutch driver sniffs, glancing up briefly from his phone. “No thanks. I like it plain.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he does. You’ve been working with Max for two weeks now trying to decorate his new home, but so far he’s shot down every single idea you’ve proposed.

As an interior designer based in a principality known for catering to the rich and famous, you’re used to difficult clients, but Max may just take the cake. Still, you’re determined to give him the space he desires … if you can only figure out what that is.

“Alright, plain it is,” you say evenly. “But we should at least add some artwork, don’t you think? Something modern and sleek could look fantastic against these walls.”

Max doesn’t even glance up this time. “No art. Don’t like it.”

You inhale slowly. “Okay, no problem. We’ll keep it artless.” Time to switch gears. You gesture to the expansive bank of windows along one wall. “These floor-to-ceiling windows are incredible, some of the best views in Monaco. We could do some fabulous seating here to take advantage of the natural light. Maybe a chaise lounge or two angled toward the harbor ...”

“Don’t need seating.” Max is focused on his phone, thumbs flying. “I’ll just put my sim rig there.”

Your eye twitches involuntarily. His racing simulator setup — in front of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the most coveted views in the principality? Absolutely not.

“Well,” you begin delicately, “Perhaps we could find another place for your sim, one that doesn’t obstruct the views quite so much. I’m sure we could-”

“No, I want it there,” Max interrupts flatly. “I like seeing the water while I drive.” His attention doesn’t waver from the screen in his hands.

You close your eyes briefly and take a calming breath. Alright. No color, no art, and a sim smack in front of priceless views. So much for design aesthetics. Time for a new tactic.

“You must do a lot of cooking,” you say brightly, turning towards the kitchen. “This is an amazing culinary space. We could do some open shelving with sleek finishes to highlight the quartz countertops.”

Silence. Max just gives a non-committal grunt, still absorbed by his phone.

You soldier on. “Or maybe some nice warm wood cabinetry for contrast? I have some fantastic artisan contacts who could do handmade custom designs.”

“Don’t cook much,” he mutters.

Your smile tightens. “Not to worry, we can keep the kitchen minimal too.” Is there anything, anything at all, you can propose that he won’t immediately shoot down? You’re starting to doubt it.

Switching to the living area, you smooth down your dress and try again. “For the living room, I was thinking we could do built-in bookcases along the back wall there, and maybe expose some of the original brick behind for an industrial chic look ...”

Max glances up from his phone to level an unimpressed look at you. “But we’re inside. Brick would make no sense.”

You close your eyes briefly. Of course not. “My mistake, you’re absolutely right,” you say through gritted teeth. Enough pussyfooting around. Time to be direct.

You plant yourself in front of where Max sits on the couch and place your hands on your hips. “Max, I’m going to be honest. I’m having trouble getting a sense of your style and vision for this space. You’ve rejected all my ideas so far.”

He blinks up at you blandly. “I don’t like any of your ideas. This is my place and I want to do what I want.”

You resist the urge to tear your hair out in frustration. “Of course, and I want you to have exactly what you want. But in order to do that, I need you to communicate with me. Tell me what kind of look and feel you envision for your home. Modern, traditional, minimalist? What colors and textures appeal to you?”

Max just shrugs, his attention already drifting back to his phone. “I don’t know. Just make it nice.”

Oh for god’s sake. You inhale slowly through your nose. “Perhaps you could show me some inspiration photos of interiors you like?”

“Nah, don’t feel like it.”

That’s it. You’ve had it with this infuriating man. You know you shouldn’t lose your cool with a client, but you’re at the end of your rope.

“Well, I’m afraid ‘make it nice’ doesn’t give me much to go on,” you snap sarcastically. “I can’t read your mind, Max. So unless you start providing concrete input on what you actually want, I’m resigning from this job.”

You expect anger, or at least surprise at your outburst. But Max just regards you evenly for a moment, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. The truth is ...” He pauses, looking faintly embarrassed. “I just wanted an excuse to spend more time around you.”

You blink, blindsided. “I’m sorry, what?”

A slight flush rises in Max’s cheeks. “I didn’t actually care about the decor that much. I just thought if I kept saying no to all your ideas, you’d have to stay involved with the project longer.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “Guess I took the stubborn client thing too far.”

You’re dumbfounded. And, if you’re being honest, a little charmed. “Let me get this straight — you’ve been wasting my time and driving me crazy for two weeks because you … have a crush on me?”

Max winces. “When you put it like that, I sound like an idiot.”

You have to laugh. “A bit, yeah.” But you can’t help but feel a warm flutter in your stomach too. You’ve always thought Max was cute in a boyish way. Knowing he orchestrated this whole thing just to spend time with you is, admittedly, very flattering. And more than a little endearing.

Max rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be difficult on purpose. I just ...” He trails off with a helpless little shrug.

You take pity on him. Yes, leading you on a wild goose chase of rejected designs was unprofessional. But the hesitant smile he’s giving you now tugs at your heartstrings anyway.

“Well, I appreciate you coming clean,” you say gently. “How about we start fresh? I’d love to actually get your real input now on what you want.”

His smile widens, grey eyes lighting up. “Yeah?”

You can’t help but smile back. “On one condition.”

He nods eagerly. “Name it.”

“You take me to dinner.” You arch an eyebrow. “To make up for the stress you caused me over the past two weeks.”

Max lets out a surprised bark of laughter. “Deal.” He shakes his head ruefully. “I really made a mess of this, didn’t I?”

“Little bit, yeah.” You grin to soften the reproach. “Next time just ask me out for a drink. It’s a much more straightforward approach.”

“Duly noted.” He smiles sheepishly.

You move to sit next to him on the couch. “So tell me honestly, what kind of look are you picturing for this place?”

Max considers the blank canvas of a space. “Honestly, I’m open to anything you suggest. I trust your taste — I’ve seen your work before and it’s amazing.” His eyes meet yours. “But I do definitely want my sim rig with a view. That part wasn’t a lie.”

You laugh. “We can make that work.” Your gaze travels over the strong lines of his face, the mussed brown hair, the wry curve of his smile that makes your heart beat faster.

As you begin sketching possible layout options, you make a mental note to clear your schedule for dinner soon. Very soon.

***

“Well, this is … quite a space,” you say diplomatically as the hostess leads you and Max to your table.

You’re immediately assaulted by a riot of clashing colors and patterns as your gaze darts around the trendy restaurant he’s brought you to for dinner. Your trained designer’s eye picks out aesthetic atrocities everywhere you look.

An art deco mirror topped by an incongruous ultra-modern light fixture. Fussy rococo chairs paired with sleek metal tables. And dear god, is that shag carpeting?

“Yes, Le Chat Noir is very popular right now,” Max agrees, seemingly oblivious to the decor travesties surrounding you.

You hold your tongue as the hostess seats you. The haphazard decor choices are an assault on your senses, but you don’t want to seem rude on your first date with Max.

A server appears to take your drink orders. You welcome the distraction, busying yourself with the wine list. But as soon as he departs, Max leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, I know that look. Out with it — what do you really think?”

You bite your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gestures broadly around. “Of all this.”

You hesitate. “The decor is certainly … interesting.”

Max grins. “I can tell you absolutely hate it.”

You wince. Damn, he’s perceptive. And here you were trying so hard to remain poker-faced.

“Sorry,” you say with an embarrassed laugh. “I was attempting to refrain from judgment, but it appears I failed.”

“No need to apologize.” He settles back in his chair. “Please, critique away. I want to hear your professional opinion.” His eyes dance with humor. “Don’t hold back.”

Well, far be it from you to turn down an invitation like that. As your drinks arrive, you take a fortifying sip of wine before launching in.

“Alright, you asked for it.” You set the glass down firmly. “This space is an absolute disaster from a design perspective. It’s like the interior decorator was blindfolded and threw darts at a wall covered in paint swatches and fabric samples. Nothing goes together at all.”

You point above your table. “That light fixture up there? Ultrasmack modern against 19th century crown molding? Make it make sense.”

Max chuckles. “Quite the mashup.”

You lean forward, on a roll now. “And this carpet!” You gesture in horror to the shag beneath your feet. “This trend needs to retire immediately. It looks like an avocado fucked a bear.”

Max nearly chokes on his drink. “A what now?”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean. Just tragic.”

Sitting back, you take in the rest of the garish space. “The artwork over there is just hideous. And that tufted velvet on the booths makes me want to scream. Who decided olive green was an accent color that pairs well with anything?”

You turn back to Max, on a tirade now. “Honestly, nothing works. The proportions are bad, the color palette is an atrocity, the mixture of styles is absurd. It’s like the designer threw every conceivable element at the wall to see what would stick. I could have done a better job blindfolded after downing a bottle of tequila.” You finally stop for breath, cheeks flushed.

Max has an enormous grin on his face. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling too. “Sorry for the outburst. Like I said, feel free to tell me to zip it.”

“Are you kidding? I could listen to you shred this place all night.” Max shakes his head, looking delighted. “I’ve never seen you so worked up. It’s adorable.”

You blush, smoothing your hair self-consciously. “Oh hush. I just have … strong opinions when it comes to interior design choices.”

“Clearly.” Max’s eyes positively dance with affection. “I love how passionate you are. And your criticisms are spot on. This place really is horrendously designed.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, you actually agree? You’re not just humoring me?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. My knowledge doesn’t come remotely close to yours, but even I can tell everything in here clashes hideously.” He gestures at the table. “I mean, a wooden chair back with a metal seat? Just pick one material!”

You grin, happiness blossoming in your chest. It’s such a treat to have him validate your expert opinions instead of just patronizing them like many dates would. You launch eagerly back into listing all the ways the restaurant decor offends you, with Max chiming in occasional agreement or egging you on for more.

By the time your food arrives, you’ve dissected the lighting, furniture, textiles, and color schemes within an inch of their lives. Max watches you intently the whole time, blatantly enraptured by your critiques. Your wine glass is nearly empty from all the gesticulating.

“Well, I think that covers all the ways this interior design should be illegal,” you conclude, taking a bite of your meal. “Thanks for indulging me. I know I can get carried away analyzing spaces.”

“I could listen to you trash talk bad design forever.” Max can’t seem to rip his eyes away from yours. “I love how opinionated you are. And you look so damn sexy getting all fired up about it.”

A pleasurable shiver runs through you at his heated look. Maybe ripping this restaurant to shreds wasn’t the most conventional date conversation, but it clearly impressed Max. Nothing like a shared hatred of garish decor to bring two people together.

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoys these tirades,” you laugh. You cock your head coyly. “Maybe I could come over sometime outside of work and critique your place again now that it’s shaping up. I’m sure I can find a few more things to complain about.”

Max’s eyes darken. “I’d like that.” He leans forward with a roguish smile. “Maybe we can get out of here and you can tell me all the ways you’d redesign the bedroom in my current apartment. You know, so we can avoid making those mistakes again while you help decorate my bedroom in the penthouse.”

You nearly choke on your wine, heat flooding your face. And lower regions. Goodness, Max’s flirty side really brings out your inner vixen.

You recover and stroke his ankle lightly with your heel under the table. “I’d be happy to provide any hands-on design consultation you require.”

Max sucks in a sharp breath, eyes blazing. The temperature between you two has risen about fifty degrees in the last few seconds. Suddenly you want nothing more than to leave this horribly designed restaurant and get him alone.

Immediately.

***

“A good mattress is crucial for proper sleep and recovery,” Max declares as you walk into the upscale furniture store together. “We need to test them thoroughly.”

You allow him to lead you to the mattress section, hiding a smile. When Max asked you to come mattress shopping with him for his new bedroom, you’d naively thought it would be a quick errand. But knowing Max, you should have guessed he’d take the task of “testing” mattresses very seriously.

An eager salesperson appears. “Welcome! Are we looking for any mattress in particular today?”

“We want to try them all,” Max announces, eyeing the rows of display beds keenly.

The salesperson falters. “Er, all of them?”

“How else will we know which is best?” Max shrugs as if this is obvious.

You squeeze his arm, charmed by his matter-of-fact logic. The salesperson forces a professional smile.

“Of course, take all the time you need.” He gestures expansively at the floor models. “I’ll be right here if you have any questions.”

“Excellent.” Max wastes no time striding over to the nearest bed. He sits, then lies back experimentally. “Hmm, decent firmness.” He pats the empty space beside him. “Come try it out.”

You curl up next to him, hiding your smile at the salesperson’s raised eyebrows. When you said you’d help Max pick out a mattress, this wasn’t what you pictured. But you have to admit, lying here with him is fun.

Max frowns. “Too much motion transfer when you move.” He sits up abruptly. “Next!”

You have to smother a laugh as you follow him to the next display. This no-nonsense methodism is peak Max. Systematic and entertainingly stubborn.

At the second bed, Max immediately starfishes spread-eagle. “Well? Get over here and test it with me. It’s the only way we’ll know.” He pats the mattress insistently.

You note the salesperson observing this display with thinly veiled disapproval. But Max just looks so irresistibly eager, you can’t help but indulge him.

You crawl onto the bed and cuddle up to him happily. “Mmm, this one’s nice. Great hugability.” You pretend to grab Max in a koala hold.

He laughs. “Agreed, good hugging potential.” Wrapping his arms around you, he shifts experimentally. “But the bounce is all wrong.” He releases you and sits up. “Next!”

And so it goes for the next hour as you enthusiastically demo mattress after mattress with Max. You try them on your backs, sides, fronts, analyzing the firmness levels and motion transfer. At one point you even test out the edge support — whatever that is — with Max insisting you sit together on the very side of the mattress frame.

“Considerable sag here,” Max murmurs against your ear, his arm firmly around your waist. You have to hide your shiver at his warm breath so close. “Could be problematic.”

The salesperson looks like he’s one demo away from throwing you both out. But Max either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He cheerfully drags you from bed to bed, ticking off pros and cons on his fingers.

“Decent lumbar support, but it sleeps too hot.”

“Great responsiveness, but poor motion isolation.”

You’re having the time of your life. Testing mattresses was benign enough, but the excuse to crawl into bed with Max over and over has you both giddy. Each demo seems to involve increasingly creative configurations of your interlocked bodies as you evaluate firmness and ergonomics.

“I’m just not sure this is a good fit,” Max eventually concludes, frowning up at you from where you straddle his hips. His hands rest casually on your thighs, as if finding yourself atop a handsome man in a public place is perfectly routine mattress research.

You smother a laugh and climb off. “Valid analysis. Though some of the testing scenarios still need more data, I’d say.” You shoot him a coy look.

Max grins. “Agreed. Further testing required.”

The salesperson pointedly avoids looking at you both. “Perhaps you’d like to narrow down your top choices? I’m sure you have plenty of notes by now.” There’s a tautness to his professionalism that suggests you’ve stretched his patience to its limit.

But Max seems oblivious. “We’re not done yet! There are still at least half a dozen models we haven’t tried.” He takes your hand, pulling you toward a plush, pillow-topped display. “Now this one looks perfect for spooning. You little spoon first this time ...”

Mattress testing with Max, you’ve learned, is a delightful mix of structured analysis and shameless flirtation. You can’t remember ever having so much fun shopping. And based on Max’s boyish smile and lingering touches, the feeling is mutual.

“Too much dip in the middle,” Max tuts later, rolling you both gently across yet another mattress surface. “Though the close contact isn’t terrible.” His low voice in your ear makes you shiver.

You grin up at him coyly. “We should do an in-depth pressure point analysis next.”

Max smirks. “Crucial data to collect.”

Eventually, however, even Max’s enthusiasm starts to wane. “I think we have sufficient consumer testing results now,” he decides, pulling you up to sit beside him on the edge of a low platform bed.

You laugh. “That poor salesperson was ready to toss us out an hour ago.”

“Hey, we were conducting necessary R&D!” Max’s grey eyes twinkle. “But I am rather tired now ...”

He lies back, resting his head in your lap. You automatically begin stroking his hair and he sighs, eyes slipping closed. You take the opportunity to admire how sweet he looks, lips slightly parted and lashes fanned on his cheeks. Testing mattresses all afternoon seems to have worn him out.

You lean down to murmur in his ear. “Ready to take this mattress research home to really compare notes?”

One grey eye peeks open. “Mmm, home analysis does sound optimal.” His voice is raspy with fatigue in a way that melts you. “Wake me when it’s time to go?”

You brush a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

He nuzzles into your lap with a contented noise. Watching his breath deepen into sleep, you feel your heart overflow. There are a thousand reasons you adore Max, but these unexpectedly tender moments might top them all.

The salesperson reappears, offering you a pained smile. “So were you able to decide on a mattress today?”

You grin, fingers still carding through Max’s hair. “You know, I think we need to sleep on it a little longer.”

***

“Well, what do you think?” Max gestures with pride around his freshly competed penthouse.

You take it all in — the sleek but cozy furniture, the warm lighting, the pops of color — and smile. “It’s perfect. You have an incredible home now.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, gazing around. “I really couldn’t have done it without you. This place was a disaster before you came along.”

You lean into him happily. It’s been months since you first met Max and began working with him on decorating his new space. It was a battle at times, but you’re immensely proud of the final result.

“I’m honored I could help bring your vision to life,” you say sincerely. Though if you’re honest, the best part of this project was getting to know Max himself. The way his smile makes your heart flutter hasn’t diminished one bit.

Max turns you to face him, his expression soft. “I didn’t just get a beautifully designed home out of this. I got you.”

Your breath catches at the open affection in his eyes. Before you can respond, he dips his head and kisses you tenderly. You melt against him, the feel of his lips erasing any coherent thought.

When he finally draws back, his eyes are darker. “You know, there’s still one part of the place we haven’t officially christened yet.” He cocks his head toward the bedroom.

You bite your lip, pulse already quickening. “Is that so? Well, we should definitely perform a final inspection to confirm everything meets our standards.”

Max grins wolfishly, pulling you toward the bedroom. “Thorough testing is required.”

You laugh as he tugs you down onto the plush king mattress you’d finally agreed on after extensive “research.” The two of you bounce slightly from the momentum, causing you both to dissolve into giggles.

“Well, motion transfer still seems acceptable,” you quip. Max chuckles and silences you with another heated kiss.

You hum approvingly as his hands begin to roam your body. “Mmm, responsiveness is excellent too ...”

Clothes are quickly shed as you reacquaint yourselves with each other’s forms. When you’re finally skin-to-skin, Max sighs in satisfaction.

“I’ve been waiting months to get you in this bed.” His voice is low and gravelly in a way that makes you shiver.

“It was the longest mattress testing phase ever,” you breathe as his lips kiss down your neck.

Max laughs against your shoulder. “Worth it though, right?”

In answer, you flip him onto his back, straddling his hips. “Absolutely.”

You take your time exploring each other, hands and mouths worshiping every inch. Until late afternoon sun filters through the curtains, bathing the room in an almost ethereal glow.

When Max finally sinks into you, you moan softly at the exquisite fullness. “Oh yes, this mattress has great ergonomics,” you sigh dreamily.

Max huffs a laugh, his chest vibrating against yours. “I’ll be sure to mention that in my product review.”

You grin and shift your hips experimentally, making him groan. “The responsiveness really is top-notch.”

“We should still test a few more positions though,” Max murmurs. “Just to be thorough.”

You happily comply, indulging in acrobatic mattress testing that leaves you both blissfully satisfied and out of breath. As you lay tangled together afterwards, endorphins still flooding your systems, Max presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Well, I’d say the new bed passes inspection with flying colors,” he declares with sleepy satisfaction.

You laugh and stroke his hair. “Agreed. You chose an excellent mattress.” You snuggle closer. “Though the company in it is what I really enjoy.”

Max tightens his arms around you. “Think you can put up with me and my high-maintenance decor demands a while longer?” His voice holds a vulnerable note beneath the teasing.

Your heart swells and you cup his face. “Max Verstappen, I’ll critique mattresses and furniture with you any day. As long as at the end of it, I get to fall asleep next to you.”

His smile outshines the lowering sun. “Deal.”

***

“You know what I love most about how our place looks now?” Max murmurs, his arms wrapped around you on the couch.

You tear your eyes from the awful reality show you’re watching to glance up at him. “Hmm?”

His gaze sweeps over the living room, a small smile on his lips. “All the little touches that are just so you.”

You follow his look around the penthouse that over the past year has transformed from Max’s bachelor pad to your shared home. It’s still sleek and modern overall, but with warm accents reflecting both your styles.

And yes, you realize, your personal influence shows in the decor now that you live here full time. The mugs hung on hooks in the kitchen, the plush blankets tossed artfully on the chairs, the bowls of sea glass collected from beach walks that adorn the tables.

Your heart swells looking at the traces of yourself woven into Max’s space. “It does feel more like home now, doesn’t it?”

Max nods, dropping a kiss to your hair. “It’s perfect. I love coming back after a race and being surrounded by reminders of you.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, incredibly touched. “Well, I promise to keep leaving my clutter around to make you feel at home.”

He chuckles. “Please do. It’s my favorite kind of clutter.”

Smiling softly, you think back to when you first started dating Max after working on his penthouse makeover. Who could have guessed that would lead to sharing this life together?

Your gaze lands on a shelf displaying photos of the two of you, and your throat grows tight. There’s you and Max laughing on vacation, kissing right after he won his fourth world championship, curled up with hot chocolate on a ski trip. So many beautiful memories.

“It’s hard to remember what this place even looked like before,” you murmur. And not just the decor — it’s hard to recall your life before Max.

He rubs your shoulder idly, eyes faraway. “I know what you mean. It’s like you’ve always been here.” His voice holds a note of wonder.

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Max’s eyes shine. He bends to kiss you, soft and heartfelt. Your lips curve against his.

When you reluctantly draw back, the television screen catches your eye. You cringe at the fake drama unfolding.

“Ugh, this show is terrible,” you groan. “Can we watch something else?”

Max grins and grabs the remote, flipping through channels. He eventually lands on a home renovation program you both enjoy analyzing and critiquing together. Some things never change.

You settle in eagerly as the show starts, scrutinizing the design choices. Max wraps an arm around you, idly playing with your hair as you watch.

Despite the show’s flaws, being curled up with Max like this fills you with utter contentment. You can’t imagine anything better than coming home to his smile and laugh each day.

During commercials, you fetch snacks from the kitchen, navigating the space with ease. Max trails behind to steal bites, ever drawn to food.

You swat his hand away from the chocolate you’re preparing and laugh. “Get your paws off, those are for sharing!”

Max just tugs you close and kisses the protest from your lips. You happily let him devour the sweetness from your mouth instead, the chocolate forgotten.

Finally you collapse back on the couch together, munching and critiquing the show’s poor tile work. Max throws popcorn for you to catch, his aim as impressive as his racing lines.

Your eyes droop as the evening wears on. The cozy penthouse, tasty snacks, and Max’s warmth — it’s the perfect recipe for relaxation.

When your head nods against Max’s shoulder for the third time, he chuckles and clicks the tv off. “Alright sleepyhead, time for bed.”

You make a half-hearted noise of protest but let him pull you up. Max keeps an arm securely around you as he leads the way to the bedroom, knowing you’re prone to stumbling when tired. It makes you feel so cared for.

He even helps you change into your nightgown, his hands impossibly gentle. As you finally crawl under the blankets, you let out a massive yawn.

“Night Maxie,” you mumble, already mostly asleep. He gathers you close and presses a kiss to your hair.

“Sweet dreams, liefje.” His voice is impossibly soft. You float away cradled in his warmth and the knowledge you’re home.

The next morning, you wake slowly to sunlight streaming in the windows and the smell of coffee. Stretching languorously, you take a moment just to soak it in.

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen signaling Max is already up and at ‘em. You smile sleepily. The man has the energy of a hyper puppy.

Before you can muster the will to leave bed, Max appears holding two mugs. “Morning schatje,” he greets with a smile. “Thought you might need some caffeine.”

You beam and make grabby hands until he passes you a mug. The rich aroma instantly perks you up.

Max slides in next to you, sipping his own coffee. His hair is adorably mussed and you gently smooth it down before cupping his face and bringing him in for a long, thorough good morning kiss.

When you finally separate, Max looks pleasingly dazed. “Well, that’s certainly one way to wake up.”

You grin cheekily and go back to your coffee. Max wraps an arm around you and you lean into his solid warmth, trading occasional lazy kisses between sips.

Sun streams over your entwined forms as you bask in contented silence. Eventually you stretch and make your way to the bathroom to start the day, dropping a kiss to Max’s hair as you pass.

You smile seeing your hairbrush by the sink, pink toothbrush next to Max’s blue one. Such small signs of your merged lives, but they mean the world.

Refreshed, you return to Max sprawled on the bed with his phone. He immediately opens his arms in clear demand for more cuddles. Laughing, you collapse into them happily.

Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. “I know I was practically unconscious last night, but just wanted to say again how special it is having pieces of us both around the place now.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “You being here makes it a home, not just an apartment.” His voice catches slightly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your own suddenly misty. No words can encapsulate what it means to build a life and home with this incredible man.

So you tell him silently instead, with a kiss overflowing with love and promise: I’ll stay by your side as long as I’m welcome.

Judging by Max’s arm anchoring you fiercely to him, that will be a good long while. You melt into his embrace, spirits soaring.

No fancy penthouse or perfect decor could compare to what you’ve found with Max — a home rooted in love, laughter, and devotion.

One look at his tender smile and you know he feels it too. This is everything.

So you’ll happily leave your mugs around the sink and blankets on the chairs, weaving threads of yourself into his space. With each passing day, it matters less whose belongings lie where.

Because home isn’t things — it’s the man gazing at you like you’re his whole world. And you know as long as you’re together, any place will feel just right.

[luveline]

Have you done a drabble on Reid and bombshell r wedding day?? I just read the proposal one and :(( it warms my heart

Ty for requesting!!! fem

The morning of your wedding day isn’t the chaos you’d both pictured. Spencer wears the finest suit he’s ever had. You wear a white silk dress with drops of diamonds hanging in your hair like the rain. There are no morning drinks, no catastrophes to correct. 

You sit on a chaise lounge. He sits in a wooden chair, dragged to you, his hands on your knees careful not to wrinkle the skirt of your dress. 

“It's so quiet,” he whispers. 

“I know.” 

Somewhere in the venue, Penelope and Luke are waging war on the florists —you did not order yellow geraniums. Hotch is explaining to Jack that you and Spencer met years ago, and have been smitten with one another pretty much every moment since. Derek’s cradling his toddler before he takes stage as the best man. JJ, Emily, and Tara are debating the kiss; will you make a show of things, pulling him in by the tie for a smacker, or will Spencer tame the excitement?

There’s a whole team of people making sure today goes smoothly. And still, Spencer‘s worried about some thing. 

“You know how beautiful you look?” 

“I should say that to you.” You reach for his tie, rolling it gently between your fingers. “My beautiful husband.” 

“This is… I don’t really know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything, Spence.” Anything he has to say about you, you know it all. The same way you’ve told him every thought you’ve had about him for years. He’s part of your psyche. 

“I’m so nervous about my vows,” he confesses then. 

“Don’t be.” 

“What if yours are better than mine?” 

“They will be.” You raise your hand tentatively to his face, fingertips drawing in the hollow of his cheek. “But you’re the academic, baby…” 

“I can write them again.”

You smile at him keenly. “If you don’t like them, you can try again on our anniversary. Or in a few years when we renew them, yeah? It doesn’t have to be perfect. You’ve promised me all this stuff for years.” 

“My speech isn’t good enough, either.” 

“Your speech will be perfect. It’s Morgan’s you should worry about, he’s gonna rehash all the embarrassing things… Savannah said he’s been practicing when Hank’s sleeping. That he,” —you laugh, in love with not just Spencer but the world— “keeps waking him up laughing at his own jokes.” 

Spencer dips toward you at the sound of your laughing, he can’t help himself. “If it didn’t wrinkle your dress, I’d really try to have you in my lap,” he admits in a whisper, nothing salacious, just the honest truth. “We could sit on the floor, like we did that time in New York.”

“Where would we get dessert now?” 

“That’s what we’ll do tonight, right?” He looks for your thigh in the dress, squeezing nicely. 

“Yeah, Spence. Yeah, I’ll even put the dress back on.” You tilt your chin up and follow your nose down, meeting his gaze with an unnamed emotion. Total devotion, perhaps. Something too soft to describe accurately. “We’ll share the spoon, just like New York.” 

Three kisses and a careful hug, his hair tickling your forehead as he curls over you. “This is the best day of my life.”

“It’s the best day of mine!” You let your hands climb his back, aiming for the mop of his hair to play with. “You’re everything, sweetheart. You’re just perfect. I can’t believe you’re seeing me in my dress though, everybody says that’s bad luck.” 

But you and Spencer don’t worry about what everybody says anymore. Not for a long time. 

“It’s good to see it now. I… I know I’ll cry, but this is taking the edge off.” 

“Don’t cry, honey. You’ll make me cry, and if I cry up there I’m gonna feel so silly all day.” 

“Silly,” he says, beginning to rub your back in swoops. “If you don’t cry, I might feel jilted.”

“So I have to choose between mortal embarrassment or hurting my husband?” 

He hugs you tighter. You aren’t married yet, but by the end of the night you will be. You’ll order desserts to the hotel room and sit in his lap on the floor by the heater, your white dress surely wrinkled, his tie either side of his neck, undone, neck exposed to be caressed with the tip of your nose. 

“I can’t not cry,” he says now. “Don’t expect me not to.”

“I don’t really expect you not to.” And no one will expect it of you when you cry like a child as he slips on your ring, but it makes sense to him. You and Spencer always make sense to each other. 

[luxuryghouls]

praying for you hoes taste in music

[iamgonnagetyouback]

tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of

The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.

"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.

And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.

"...Is that a dead body?"

Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."

Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."

You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"

"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?

You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."

"I tried! He resisted—"

"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."

Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.

“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.

"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”

He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."

[fleur-bbyy]

I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

playlist

⭒pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem! reader.

⭒wc: 4.8k

⭒warnings: SEX (MINORS DNI), continuation of the porn!au, characters are aged up to 21+, reader is not of a certain skin color, use of names like ‘bunny,’ daddy kink, spanking with belt, live camming, mentions of; onlyfans, pegging, plugs, fingering (f! receiving), cunnilingus, slight breath play, small part of m! receiving oral, degrading, if I forgot anything I will update this later on!

⭒author’s note: y’all the amount of times I had to change the fake usernames to not accidentally tag someone is crazy. will scream, cry, and throw up if I still somehow managed to.

part one.

“you still wanna go through with it?”

“fuck yeah. show that fucker what he’s missing with us.”

it’d been a few months since you and katsuki had professionally filmed together for the first time. watching the opportunity for a decent cash flow get even bigger after more and more sick bastards wanted to see the two of you together. becoming a little more than professional acquaintances as you filmed together more and more.

it felt like the two of you could only keep growing until that douchebag that calls himself a director publicly shit on both of your names. calling the two of you ‘unprofessional’ and a slew of other names, even going as far to say he could’ve ‘done it without the both of you’ whilst he basked in the glory of his first successful porno. your ranks and ratings didn’t drop that much, but it was enough to piss the two of you off.

so now here the pair of you are, about to prove to that dickhead director that you didn’t need him, he needed you.

“it’s just been a while since i’ve cammed live. I feel like i’m back at the beginning again.”

“i bet. we’ve all come a long way though.” he stood up from where he was sat at the laptop perched upon your desk, angled towards the chaise lounge in your room. everything was set and ready with a timer counting down from five minutes. for some reason you were nervous about camming again.

maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t done so in so long.

or maybe it was that you didn’t know what the hulking blond standing over you had in store.

“we still have four and a half minutes left,” he rough hand stroked your soft cheek, “wanna let me get a little taste before you start, bunny?” his free hand cupped your cunt covered with white lace.

“nuh-uh. don’t spoil yourself now or you’ll have nothing left in you in a few.” you pushed him off and walked over to where the laptop was set up to check the countdown once more. making sure to shimmy your hips as you walked to show off your cute ass to him.

he already felt quite feral just looking at you. body clad in skimpy, white lingerie with cute little bunny ears on your head and a cotton tail attached the the back of your thong. the thigh-high socks squeezed the fat of your thighs so perfectly his cock was already straining against his jeans.

“have it your way, princess, but remember who’s in charge today. no shitty scripts to follow, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” you didn’t know whether you should feel more aroused or terrified at the thought. you’ve seen his videos from when he was amateur. unscripted, he was ruthless. fucking whoever was with him in the most insane, body-contorting positions, having them drool all over themselves. you weren’t ashamed to admit that you had touched yourself many times before to the sound of the filth that he spoke into the mic.

“it’s almost time, bunny. c’mere and sit with me.” he beckoned you over to the lounge with a wiggle of his index finger. he was shirtless with his chest lightly oiled. you eyed the way his pecs and stomach glistened under the light every time he shifted. he switched out his jeans and boxers to just a pair of grey sweats with nothing underneath. you loved the way his trail of wispy, blond hairs started just below his naval and disappeared below the waistband.

he had you sitting with your back to his chest. he held you tightly, already copping a feel on your chest. kneading and pinching the fat of your breasts. he had your legs placed over his spread ones, making you completely open for the camera. your little thong barely covered a thing and was getting eaten by your lips. he used his other hand to slide down your body and gently rub your clit over the cloth.

you almost forgot what you were about to be doing until you heard the familiar pinging sound from money being sent in. this little cam show was pretty well advertised on both of your socials and even by some of your friends in the industry, so it was really not surprise that people were already sending tips in. you soon heard bakugo pipe up. his voice moderately loud so the microphone could pick it up.

“awh, bunny, hear all those horny bastards that already are spendin’ shit on you? we’ve barely done anything yet” you quickly nodded your head, wiggling your hips to try and get his hand to move faster.

“where are your fuckin’ manners?” he took the hand that was kneading your tits and brought it up to your neck, fastening his thick fingers around and lightly squeezing. you let out a small ‘thank you’ which you thought wouldn’t be enough. thankfully, bakugo had mercy right now.

he kept toying with your cunt, continuously growing wetter and wetter. your arousal now seeping through your thong and spreading onto your plush thighs. also dripping down onto bakugo, leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“already makin’ such a mess. you want it bad, don’t you?” he lightly slapped your already sensitive clit, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and do your core.

“yes. so bad.” you felt like a virgin that couldn’t make a complete sentence and your cheeks started to burn. it was kind of hard to feel embarrassed when you’re in your industry, but the way he toyed with you flipped a switch inside.

“yes what?” he stopped touching you and roughly pinched your nipples, eliciting and piercing whine from you.

“yes daddy.” his cock twitched beneath you at the sound of your voice.

“good fuckin’ girl. why don’t you turn around and show them the pretty little ass of yours?” he unhooked your legs from his and brought them together so you could stand. you slowly got up, making sure to not lose your footing since your legs already felt like jelly. you heard the pinging start up again when you turned around and bent over slightly, wiggling your hips back and forth causing your ass to shake.

“come sit back down on me. daddy’s gonna play with you too, yeah?” you straddled his still-spread legs and his hands instantly found place on the fat of your ass. kneading, pulling, and squeezing every inch. you could feel his hard-on pressing right against your clit and you dared to start grinding down on him. because of that action, you were met with a harsh slap to your ass.

“who the fuck said you could grind on me? needy fuckin’ slut.” he roughly slapped your ass again and tips started to roll in at the sight of the bright red hand prints now adorning your backside.

“oh fuck, think these bastards are gettin’ off to the sight of you gettin’ punished, huh? who wants to see some more?” he was wearing the charming smirk on his face as he soothed the burning, red spots with his hands. rubbing circles on you and tilting his head to kiss and nip at your neck. the pinging sound that rolled in again signified that people did want to see more.

“alright, little bunny, all fours f’me.” you rolled off of him as he stood up, the obvious tent in his pants making your mouth water. he sauntered his way behind the lounge as you got in position. you could see out of the corner of your eye that he had picked up the belt he was wearing half an hour ago, striking the sides of the belt together to make a loud slapping sound as he approached you once more.

you felt his hands run over the spot where your lower back curved as the fabric of the lounge dipped down behind you. he caressed your smooth skin for a few moments more before he spoke up again.

“you’re gonna take ten of these yeah?” he leaned down and gripped the sides of your chin, turning your head to look towards him and the camera. “and you’re gonna count, lose your place and we start over. don’t fuck up and you get a reward. got that?” you furiously nodded your head and he cocked a warning brow at you. he let go of the death grip he had on your chin and lightly patted your cheek two or three times. you heard the leather of his belt slap against itself one more time before it was striking you.

your legs and cunt were both quivering as he delivered each blow to your sensitive skin. every strike was met with more pinging sounds as money was sent you way. your ass was covered in red spots and sore to the touch. he wasn’t entirely a monster, though, rubbing each area he hit with the palm of his hand after you struck you. despite the challenge, you didn’t lose your place and even thanked him afterwards. after the tenth was delivered, he pressed his soft lips to the spots most red and placed feather like kisses on you.

“so good f’me. so fuckin’ good f’me. daddy’ll give you what you want.” and with that he pushed your panties to the side and plunged two of his thick fingers in your wet heat. rapid fire fingering your aching pussy as he used his free hand to continue soothing the hot spots left on your ass from his belt.

the sight of your cute tears leaving mascara tracks down your pretty face in the screen of the laptop was enough to make him want to bust in his pants. the moans and whimpers that left your parted lips sounded so sweet, delicious even. and the feeling of your slick running down his middle and index finger was enough to make him lean down to lick your juices from the source as he replaced his fingers with his long tongue. his fingers found purchase again on your swollen clit, aching to be touched and he tongue-fucked you.

his movements were skillful. rubbing circles on your clit in a way the stimulated your nerves in just the right way. he worked his tongue oh so perfectly inside you, causing you to writhe under he touch. his free hand fisting at the fat of your ass.

he could tell that you were getting close by your moans increasing in volume and the way your pussy fluttered and clenched around his tongue. the pinging sound had slowed, pissing him off a bit.

“you wanna see this slut cum? pay the fuck up. we’re not doin’ this shit for free.” you whined when he pulled away from you, getting whatever the female equivalent of blue balls was. you dropped your top half down to the lounge, just leaving your ass in the air. you wiggled it a bit for the camera and for the blond staring at you through the laptop screen.

“shit, 15,000¥? these motherfuckers really are desperate. 20,000¥ and i’ll make this slutty bunny squirt.” he lightly ghosted his fingers over your pussy before deciding he wanted your panties that were still pushed to the side off. the strength of the explosive blond before you made you gush another bout of wetness as he tore them at the hips and pulled them off. even though you were desperate, you quietly whines at the loss. you really liked this lingerie set.

“oi, heard that shit. quit your bratty bitchin’ or you won’t cum until I do.” at that, he looked to the laptop and saw that someone had sent in the amount he requested and smirked.

“make sure to say ‘thank you.’” he dived back in your pussy, one hand on your clit, two fingers back in your cunt, and using his tongue to drink up any of your dripping slick. it wasn’t long before you felt that familiar pressure in your stomach and your hole started to twitch. shit, you were right there.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck thank you.. fuck.” your speech was slurred and words were jumbled together as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. he growled at the way your cunt gushed for him and all over him, drinking up as much as he could.

“shit, that’s my good fuckin’ girl. stand up f’me and show them your drenched pussy.” you did as he said, already feeling so fucked out to disobey. he held you by your hips as you stood, steadying your balance. using one of his big hands to spread your cheeks apart to show off your fucked hole, groaning at your reflection in the camera.

“d’you bastards miss when she was a cam slut? because i sure fuckin’ do.” he rubbed the side of your hip and ass as he pressed little kisses to your skin. it wasn’t long before the chat was beginning him to take his dick out and for you to take your bra off.

“awww. they want you to get naked too.” you teased, ruffling his blond hair.

“‘m sure they just want my cock out because that means i’m closer to destroying your insides.” he teased right back at you, softly smacking your backside.

you felt gracious about him giving you a little breather. you loved your work, loved making people feel good, but you hated how everything was go, go, go once the camera started rolling. sometimes having to just stay in bed the next day so the poor spot between your legs could take a break. when you felt ready, you tapped his shoulder and gave him a quick nod when he looked up.

you straddled his lap once more and pawed at his cock through the fabric of his sweatpants. you just wanted him to stuff you full and you were willing to act out to get it.

“needy little whore arentcha? not fuckin’ you yet. on your knees.” he patted your face once more and got up with you to get you closer to the camera. only his lower half was in view, but your face and still-covered chest was on full display. you were visibly excited when he tugged his sweatpants down enough to free his rock hard dick. taking it into his hand and pumping it a few times before slapping your cheek with it.

“be a good bunny and open wide f’me.” as soon as you did so, he was shoving his cock in your mouth. fucking your face for true audience you’d garnered. you thought all you’d be getting was a rough face-fucking until he pushed his length all the way in. the tip of your nose was touching his groomed, blond hairs that grew from his pelvis. tears once again started to stream down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe through your nose.

“you want this bitch to breathe? 5,000¥. simple enough? ‘m lowballin’ because the slut seems desperate already.” he punctuated his last few syllables by lightly thrusting back and forth in your mouth. it still wasn’t enough for you to get a deep breath, but enough for you to not pass out.

as he looked at the screen, a specific ping of a donation caught his attention.

105,000¥ - fuck her now.

he pulled out and leaned down to where his face was in view. he gave you a moment to sputter and catch your breath before he was gripping you by the jaw to look at the camera.

“see how much they wanna pay for that sloppy cunt? whad’dya think?”

“mmmm, 20,000¥ more. my pussy’s worth it.”

“you fuckin’ heard her, pay up, bastards. or i’ll just fuck her off camera.” he finished his last word with another slap to your ass. his rough hand still had you by the jaw as he showed off your messy face. makeup smeared and mascara stains running down your hot cheeks. you smiled into the camera when you saw the notification come up that someone had sent the remaining amount of money.

“thank you, baby. bet you wish it was you here and not him. you’d treat me nice, right?” bakugo’s gaze bore into the side of your head as he listened to you flirt with whoever threw money your way. anything word you spoke that sounded remotely suggestive was like a buzzword for more tips to roll in. “mmm you want him to take my bra off? you’d better ask him nicely.”

he fixated his gaze off of you and onto the comments rolling in in the monitor. another 10,000¥ rolling in with the nice request that he strip you some more.

“you bastards are so fuckin’ desperate. bet you’re all touchin’ yourselves right now. waiting for her tits to be out before you bust.” he was standing behind you, unhooking the clasps on your bra and letting it drop to the floor. you were fully exposed for the camera now. the only thing remaining from your costume lingerie were your sheer thigh-highs and the bunny ears atop your head.

he reached around you tweak your hard nipples and play with the fat of your breasts, eliciting little moans from you.

“so fuckin’ pretty. she’s a pretty, pretty girl isn’t she?” his hand traveled down to your pussy and he ran a finger through the slit to assess if he needed to prep you or not. you were practically still dripping from earlier, slick running out of your needy cunt and spreading onto the insides of your thighs.

“time to make their money’s worth, bunny. ride my fuckin’ cock.” he sat back down onto the chaise lounge and beckoned you over with the curl of his index finger. the sight of him comfortably sprawled out with his sweatpants just lazily pulled down enough for his cock to be out made the ache between your legs throb even more.

“d’ya bitches wanna see her ass or tits bounce?” he kept you from sitting, rubbing up and down the side of your hips as his eyes focused in on the chat. responses were mixed with people who wanted to see either. a few comments sprinkled in about yours or his looks.

“looks like they can’t decide, we’ll do both.” he pulled you towards him and you straddled his lap in regular cowgirl. he rubbed the tip of his angry, red cock up and down your soaked slit. the look in his eyes was enough to make you gush another wave of arousal as he slowly eased in you. the stretch of him was welcomed by your warm walls and he bottomed out rather quickly from how horny you were. his tip lightly brushed your cervix, marking you squirm above him. he grabbed your hips and you kept an agonizingly slow pace.

“if you want him to split me open, i’m gonna need a little more from you, babies.” you looked over your shoulder and winked. your reflection in the screen was pretty, beautiful even. one of his hands was lazily placed on your hip and the other placed behind his head. the sight of him slowly disappearing and appearing again was a spectacular sight to see. the way his heavy balls lightly slapped your ass was heavenly and the taut muscles flexed on his spread thighs was probably enough to make someone cream in their pants.

the pinging had begun once again and you increased your pace each time a donation came through. he eventually was gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to thrust into you, hard and fast. your moans were already pornographically loud when you were at a slow pace, but now they filled the room with the sound of skin slapping skin.

“shit bunny, this cunt is so fuckin’ good. i can’t wait for you to make a mess on this dick.” you clenched down on him every time he spoke the filth that had gotten you off so many times before. your legs were beginning to tremble and your pussy was twitching in a way that told him you were close, right there even.

“fuck yes. cum on my cock.. ride that shit. show them how much of a dirty fuckin’ slut you are f’me.” his words coupled with his rough thrusts to punctuate the syllables sent you over the edge. your stomach felt white-hot as you creamed on him. he removed the hand from behind his head to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening arousal flood his dick. the ring of your cum gathered on the base. that and your tits knocking together in his face made him slow himself to keep him from cumming too.

“hope y’got another one in ya. turn the fuck around and sit again.” you quickly got up and whined at the loss. katsuki growled at the sight of your hole already gaping for him.

you let out another whine of pleasure as you sat back on his cock again. your knees and shins were placed on both sides of his thighs and his arms were wrapped around the front of you to play with your tits as he started thrusting again.

he was rougher this time, removing one of his hands from your chest to move back down to your hip to keep you close to him. his feet were firmly planted in the carpet below you to keep up his pace without fault.

“play with your tits, sweets. show them how horny you are for daddy.”

“shit.. i love when daddy fills me up… fuck fuck fuck.” you brought your hands up to your chest to play with yourself and he brought his now-free hand to toy with your swollen clit. you loudly whimpered at the sensitivity when he was touching and fucking you at the same time.

“i feel you clenchin’ my shit. already gonna cum again? you really are a desperate slut for the camera.” he started slamming his hips into yours harder and you began to bounce at a pace that met his thrusts. he felt impossibly deep inside of you as your pussy squelched and gushed around him. he was now focused on your reflection in the screen. his eyes moved back and forth from the monitor to the real you. he loved being able to see your expressions whilst also being able to watch the way your peachy ass rippled and bounce as you met his rough thrusts.

“tell me.. fuck.. tell me how bad you want it.”

“daddy please I want it to badly. I need to cum and I need to be filled with yours.”

“oh, slutty bunny wants me to breed ‘er, that’s it, yeah?” you whimpered and nodded your head as he began to thrust even harder and deeper. hitting that special spot inside you that made your whole body feel like it was on fire. the crescendo of your moans and your pussy once again tightening on him told him you were almost over the edge, he was glad because he didn’t think he’d last much longer with the sight to behold in front of him.

after a few more rough thrusts and his cock dragging against your g-spot, you were once again coating the man in your release. squirting once again as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. your juices slid down his muscular thighs and onto the fabric below the both of you. you heard his growls get louder as he used your body to chase his own high. practically losing himself at the sight the clear liquid spewing from you.

“fuck bunny, y’gonna let me cum in you? fuck i’m gonna fill you up.”

a little ‘please’ was all you could get from your lips as your spent brain wasn’t thinking too clearly. he gripped your sore hips one last good time before he was spilling the contents from his balls into your overused hole.

“‘m cummin’.. fuck baby, god you feel so fuckin’ good when i’m flooding this pussy.” your body shivered as his words and the shallow thrusts he continued to pump into you. you felt impossibly empty when he slowed and lifted you off of him. that feeling soon being subdued by his thick, calloused finger tips collecting the cum that had leaked out and pushing it back into your cunt.

“know you’re fucked out, but bend over ‘n show them how pretty that pussy looks filled with my cum.” although tired, you gladly obeyed his request. standing up on wobbly legs to turn around and bend over like you’d done earlier, holding onto the edge of the lounge for stabilization.

“mmm, bet you guys wish this was yours stuffed in there, yeah?” you giggled and waved your ass back and forth as the pinging increased for a final time. katsuki grabbing your face and showing the audience how debauched and fucked out he had made you. you finished off the stream with a flirty ‘goodbye babies’ and a seductive wink before covering the camera with your hand and ending the stream.

you both watched the screen go black and light up again as the total revenue flashed across the screen. both of your eyes widened as you saw the number. you both expected into six fugures, you didn’t expect to be that well into six figures. it was more money made in a single stream than the two of you would made from a few pornos. the two of you decided the split the money equally as it made the most sense and was only fair.

the screen blackened again, this time the transcript of the comments lit up the screen. you decided to sit and read whilst the blond got up to redress.

“hey kats, they want me to peg you!” you say in front of the laptop, still naked as the day you were born minus the thigh-highs, and read through the comments. a lot of them complimenting the pair of you or offering you guys money for sex. sometimes you came across comments that made you audibly laugh, this being one of those moments.

“fat chance. most that’s been in my ass is a plug.”

“I could change that.” you wiggled a brow at him and he dramatically rolled his eyes. he stood in the corner of your room and you watched him tug a white compression shirt on.

“adventurous thing, arentcha?”

“adventurous is my middle name.”

“yeah, okay dumbass.” it was your turn to rolls your eyes as you went to your twitter to tweet about the success of the stream, definitely showing up the director that dared trash yours and bakugo’s names. after tweeting, you decided to scroll your feed a bit to see if anyone had said anything yet. if the money you guys make didn’t show the success of the stream, the slew of people tweeting about it sure did.

@better-luxe-next-time: made more in one stream with @.officialdynamight than that slimeball has made in his whole career <3

@.officialdynamight: wanna see my POV with @better-luxe-next-time? unlock the videos on my onlyfans @.dynamight.

@.alien.queen.pinky: wettest i’ve ever been from watching a stream. 3some? @better-luxe-next-time @.officialdynamight

@bigredriot: I couldn’t tell who I wanted more 😫

@chargeboltt: she could step on me and i’d say thank you!

@chakoraka i’d kill an elderly woman to be sandwiched between them.

@sticky-sero: not even gay but i’d suck his ween ngl

you smiled at the tweets your fellow stars had posted. it some sick, weird way it warmed your heart that they all had your backs and watched the stream to help you prove a point. you even noticed some of them donating their own money. the smile that grew on your face slowly drooped again once you saw another tweet posted 7 minutes ago from dynamight himself.

@.officialdynamight: 50 retweets and we’ll stream weekly. @better-luxe-next-time

“seriously, katsuki? 50 retweets?”

“i’ll take any excuse to get inside you. got the sweetest cunt i’ve ever fucked.” you took the bunny ears off and slid your stockings off your legs as he handed you his t-shirt. it fell right at your mid-thigh and swallowed your torso whole. “and trust me, i’ve fucked a lot.”

“me too, we’re in the same business, y’know,” you let out a light giggle at his exaggerated eye roll, “but yeah, best dick i’ve ever had.”

“so we can agree, one retweet?”

“sure, kats, one retweet.” his vermillion eyes darkened and his lips contorted into a cheshire cat-like smile as he opened his twitter app and turned the screen to face you. the tweet already have over 100 retweets and it’d only been up for 10 minutes.

“looks like you might wanna start getting comfy with me, bunny.”

part one.

[dekariosclan]

Hey! Love your writing so much, I was hoping to grab your opinion on something.

What kind of music do you think Gale would listen to- and if he'd be the type to play any instruments?

Hi!! Thank you, I’m so glad you enjoy my Gale ramblings!

This was a deceptively tough question to answer, because my immediate thought was: “Oh! It’s already established in canon that Gale plays the piano,” due to his romance scene illusion where he shows Tav his Waterdeep home.

….but then I realized that’s not entirely correct. Because what he actually says is:

“The grand piano plays the Lliirian Suites all by itself…”

Of course Gale would enchant his own piano!

However, I do think he would still know how to perform ‘the old-fashioned way,’ with his hands and his own skill, no magic needed. Just like in the bed version of the act2 romance scene 💜.

I feel like musical talent would come fairly easily for Gale; he speaks about ‘composing’ the Weave since he was a young child, while describing magic as ‘poetry, music, physical beauty’ all rolled into one. And given the intricate hand motions / finger motions needed to cast spells, I do believe he’d be quite adept at playing an instrument or two. In particular: the piano, harp, or lyre.

(though God help him if he ever were to play the lyre in front of Minthara. No matter how good his performance, he will be roasted more thoroughly than a chicken on a spit)

Back to the illusion scene, I will say that it does answer the question of what music he would listen to, as he refers to the ‘Lliirian Suites’—however, what category of music that is, unfortunately, remains a mystery! I tried to research what the ‘Lliirian Suites’ are, and I found guesses ranging from being related to the deity Lliira, who is an embodiment of happiness and freedom, to being an easter egg that is just a reference to ‘Larian.’

Regardless, I’m confident that Gale would love classical music and beautifully composed romance/love songs. And I can see him serenading Tav on more than one occasion, perhaps on rainy days in Waterdeep when they find themselves stuck at home. Tav cozied up on the chaise lounge, while Gale settles in with his instrument of choice, making sure to be at an angle where his eyes can frequently meet Tav’s throughout his performance.

And if at some point Gale decides he would prefer to join Tav on the chaise? (Which happens…every single time...) Well! He’ll just enchant the instrument to keep playing while he joins them.

His hands are craving a different challenge, you see. Much as he enjoys tickling the keys/plucking the strings, he’d much rather run his fingers over his beloved.

…and he intends to perform for them very, very well.

[bbyseok]

this time, i’m thinking about lifeguard!bakugou. i’m pretty sure i’ve also seen a post or two about him, but lemme get my brainrot out cuz he’s driving me insane..

lifeguard bakugou doesn’t give onlookers a show they don’t deserve, but people will take what they can get with his classic black tank tops and those bright red swim trunks that hang loosely on his hips.

and really, he’s only wearing the red trunks to follow the uniform rules and look the part of being an actual lifeguard. he’s taken up the job over the summer for whatever reason.. and everyone eats it up in the end.

whether it’s at the beach or a pool, he’s on one of those tall, white lifeguard chairs designated for people like him on duty obviously. he’s got his legs spread out, his right knee swinging inward every down and then with his form reclined back as he surveys the water and the area.

there are some days he’s got a towel draped over his neck and shoulders for him to wipe his sweat away, or a pair of tinted sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose to hide his carmine eyes from the world.

it’s sight to see most definitely. and you can confirm—as you’re one of the many people who come to the water solely to look at him. okay, well- that’s partially true. you come with your friends often to actually enjoy a bit of swimming—so what if you know exactly when bakugou’s shift starts and ends?

anyways, it’s not like you’d actually initiate anything from your attraction. you’ve seen the way he’s already turned down multiple flirting attempts from the more bolder people willing to shoot their shot—it wasn’t pretty.

“i’m the fuckin’ lifeguard who’s supposed to watch your asses and you’re givin’ me a reason to drown you,” he had snapped at some particular person who thought that they had a chance. “scram.”

the lifeguard team only tolerates his blunt behavior because he’s actually pretty damn good at the job when he needs to be, and let’s be honest—he attracts a lot of people.

it’s another day of lounging by the water with your friends, relaxing on one of those typical white beach chaise chairs. you spend your time alternating between chatting and reading a spare book you had brought—paired with sneaking glimpses at bakugou, of course.

but something’s different about today. ‘cause you swear he keeps looking at you too.

you don’t wanna get your hopes up too high; perhaps your daydreaming’s getting a little too out of hand or something, but it’s a little too difficult to ignore his burning stare.

perhaps there’s something on your face? is something wrong with your swimsuit? it’s nothing too raunchy or revealing—it’s something you normally wear for these kinds of outings. or maybe he had heard you say something?

before you know it, his shift is ending soon. it’s actually so bad how you’ve got it memorized. he gets replaced with this redhead that’s definitely way more friendlier than him—kirishima, you think is his name, and you and your friends usually linger around the beginning of his shift before leaving.

“psst,” one of your friends nudges your shoulder, sitting up from the chair. “bakugou’s totally looking at you. like—he’s staring in your direction.”

you blink and sit up as well. okay so, you’re not imagining things. “what-? really?” you don’t dare cast your gaze to the lifeguard, refusing to make eye contact. “but- but why would he?”

“i dunno. maybe he-”

you finally glance over and catch sight of the the blonde heading down from his towering seat, and he tucks his rescue tube under his arm. your eyes follow him and his movements as he walks and—oh shit. he’s walking towards you.

your eyes can’t help but widen as he finally reaches your chair and tilts his head down at you, blazing eyes scrutinizing and narrowed. you’re pretty sure you almost drop your jaw on the floor. he’s even more stunning up close.

“oi,” he says gruffly, glaring down at you in some sort of expectance. “quit your gawking at me. you do that way too fuckin’ much.”

oh god, did he really come over to you just to say that? “oh- oh,” you stammer out, “i’m so sorry- i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable, i just-” you want to drown out of embarrassment, so it’s a good thing that the water’s right there so you’ll just-

“oh, shut your yappin’,” bakugou dismisses you quickly with a roll of his eyes, and you blink up at him, still a bit embarrassed that he had called you out. there’s a pause that lasts for two seconds before he says, “i’m not gonna be workin’ this shift anymore.”

and now you’re blinking up at him in utter confusion because what? why’s he telling you this? did you make him so uncomfortable to the point that he’s letting you know that he’s altering his work hours? “i don’t understand, i-”

“if you still wanna gawk at me, i’m switching shifts with the dude with the red shitty hair who usually works around this time.” the blonde clears his throat and turns his head away, letting you process his words.

wait. wait. he’s letting you know he’s changing his lifeguard shift with kirishima beforehand because he wants you to. he wants you to be there. he wants to see you there. “o-oh.”

bakugou meets your gaze again. a raspy chuckle falls from his lips then, and you let the image of his small smirk settle into your head as he offers it. “you better be there, pretty.”

(you learn later on that the days he was wearing those tinted sunglasses, he was gawking at you too.)

[autisticadult]

The deal

Chapter three: danger around every corner

Warnings: a small spicy moment ;) as well as some violence and a car accident, as always minors DNI

AN: I really like this chapter, I know it’s shorter than most but the ANGST that is to come after this is AHHHHHHH- yall I’m geekin

Taglist: @tinysunshine @shadyloveobject

Chapter Three: The Game Begins

The morning after Elijah’s unexpected visit, you awoke with a strange sense of clarity and unease. His words, his touch, and that kiss haunted you, playing on a loop in your mind. He had promised protection but also laid bare the danger of being tied to him. And yet, the fire he’d ignited in you refused to be extinguished.

As you dressed for the day, the mansion felt quieter than usual, the kind of silence that didn’t promise peace but instead hinted at a brewing storm. You wandered downstairs, unsure of what the day would bring.

In the parlor, Rebekah sat lounging on a chaise, flipping through an old leather-bound book. She glanced up as you entered, her lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“Well, well,” she drawled, closing the book with a soft thud. “You look… distracted.”

You froze under her sharp gaze, wondering if she somehow knew what had transpired between you and Elijah.

“Not distracted,” you replied quickly. “Just… tired.”

Rebekah’s smirk deepened, and she stood, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey. “Tired, hm? Or perhaps… preoccupied with my brother’s newfound interest in you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I’m here because of a deal. That’s it.”

“Oh, darling,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’re here because Elijah wanted you here. You think this is about protecting your brother? Please. My dear brother doesn’t lift a finger unless it benefits him in some way.”

Her words hit too close to the truth, but you refused to let her see your doubt. “I know what I’m doing,” you said firmly.

Rebekah let out a laugh, throwing her head back as though you’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “Do you? Oh, Y/N, you’re in so far over your head you can’t even see the surface anymore.”

Before you could respond, Kol entered the room, his ever-present smirk making you tense. He glanced between you and Rebekah, clearly picking up on the tension.

“What’s this?” he asked, sauntering over. “Another one of Rebekah’s delightful attempts at psychological warfare?”

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Just trying to help our little guest understand her place here.”

Kol grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, but that’s Elijah’s specialty, isn’t it? Our noble brother does love his little chess games.”

“Enough,” came a calm but commanding voice from the doorway.

Elijah entered the room, his presence instantly silencing the sibling bickering. He looked at Rebekah and Kol with a quiet authority that needed no words, then turned his gaze to you.

“Y/N,” he said smoothly, “a moment, if you please.”

You followed him without hesitation, aware of Rebekah and Kol’s eyes boring into your back. Elijah led you to the sunlit conservatory, a room filled with lush greenery and the scent of fresh flowers. It was a stark contrast to the tension swirling inside you.

He gestured for you to sit on a small bench near the window, and when he spoke, his tone was as measured and deliberate as ever.

“I trust you’ve had time to reflect on last night,” he began.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “I have.”

“And?”

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I don’t fully understand your plans, Elijah. But I’m willing to do what it takes to survive.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Survival is an admirable instinct. But if you wish to thrive in my world, you must learn to do more than endure. You must adapt, anticipate, and, when necessary, strike.”

You swallowed hard. “What do you want from me, Elijah? Really?”

His gaze bore into you, unflinching. “I want loyalty. Unquestioning, unwavering loyalty. In return, I will ensure your safety and your brother’s freedom.”

It was the same promise he’d made before, but now it felt heavier, like a chain wrapping tighter around you.

“Then tell me how,” you said. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Elijah stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. “Tonight, we attend another gathering. This one is far more… intimate.”

Your stomach twisted. “What kind of gathering?”

“Let’s call it a negotiation,” he said. “There are certain individuals who require convincing that our interests align.”

“And my role?”

He tilted his head, studying you. “To observe. To learn. And, if necessary, to intervene.”

“Intervene how?”

“You’ll know when the time comes,” he said cryptically. “For now, prepare yourself. This will be unlike anything you’ve experienced.”

Before you could ask more questions, he turned and left, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the growing weight of your choices.

That evening, you found yourself once again dressed in something Elijah had chosen for you—a sleek black dress that clung to your frame, elegant yet understated. You stood in front of a mirror, your reflection almost unrecognizable.

The ride to the meeting was quiet, Elijah’s calm presence both reassuring and unnerving. When you arrived, you were led into a dimly lit room filled with people who exuded power and danger. The atmosphere was charged, every glance and movement carrying unspoken threats.

Elijah guided you to a seat beside him, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back—a subtle gesture of control and reassurance.

The discussion began, a tense exchange of words laced with veiled threats and promises. You listened carefully, trying to piece together the underlying power dynamics.

Then, as the conversation grew more heated, one of the men turned his attention to you.

“And who is this?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Elijah’s new toy?”

Before you could respond, Elijah’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Perhaps she is,” he said coldly. Elijah’s hands twitched where they laid rested at his side, clenching into fists as she did. “And you would do well to show her the same respect you show me.” He threatened in a low growl, staring daggers into the man. “I don’t share my toys, you’ll do well to remember that.”

The man’s smirk faltered, and the room fell silent.

Elijah leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. “Now, shall we continue?”

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur, but the weight of Elijah’s words stayed with you. He had defended you, claimed you as his, in front of people who could destroy you with a single command.

———————————————————————

As you left the meeting, Elijah’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle but deliberate gesture.

“You did well pet. You deserve a treat.” he said softly.

The warmth in his voice unsettled you as much as it comforted you. Because as much as you wanted to trust him, you knew better. Elijah Mikaelson didn’t do anything without a reason. And whatever his plans were for you, they were far from over.

The ride back to the Mikaelson estate felt different this time. The night was thick with tension—not just from the gathering they had left behind, but from what had passed between you and Elijah. You couldn’t forget the way his lips had felt against yours, the way his hand had tangled in your hair as if grounding you to the moment. And now, sitting beside him in the car, the air felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The sleek car glided through the quiet streets of New Orleans, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you. The city outside was alive in its usual way—dim streetlights flickering, shadows darting between alleys, and the occasional echo of a distant saxophone. But inside the car, the silence was deafening. You could feel Elijah’s presence beside you, his calm demeanor somehow more unsettling after what had transpired.

Soon, your heart began to race as he pulled over to the side of the road, flicking the cabin light on and staring you head on. His usual cold glare held something different, something softer, hungrier

You dared a glance at him, your pulse quickening when you found his dark eyes already on you.

“Elijah,” you began, unsure of what you were about to say.

He arched a brow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes?”

Your words caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze pinning you to the seat. “Earlier,” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended, “what happened—”

“What happened,” he interrupted smoothly, his voice low and deliberate, “was the truth finding its way to the surface.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “And what truth is that?”

“That you belong here,” he said, his tone sending a shiver down your spine. “With me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and intimate. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Elijah leaned closer. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was light, but it sent sparks coursing through your skin.

“You may deny it to yourself,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. “But you can’t hide it from me.”

His fingers lingered against your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. The space between you seemed to shrink with every heartbeat, the tension palpable. You knew you should pull away, say something, do anything to break the spell he was weaving around you. But you couldn’t.

“Elijah…” His name slipped from your lips like a plea, though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

His eyes flickered to your lips, and in the dim light of the car, you swore you saw something raw and unguarded flash across his face. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice a soft command.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, the pull between you too strong to resist. The kiss was slow at first, his lips moving against yours with a precision that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while his other hand rested on your thigh, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your dress.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands finding the lapels of his jacket as if to anchor yourself. Elijah responded by pulling you closer, his touch possessive yet measured, like he was staking a claim.

The car swerved slightly as the driver hit a pothole, breaking the moment just enough for you to remember where you were.

“Elijah,” you whispered breathlessly, your fingers still clutching his jacket.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his lips brushing against your jaw now, his voice low and filled with a dark kind of amusement.

“We’re…” You trailed off, unable to form a coherent thought as his hand slid up to your waist.

“Quite safe,” he assured you, his tone calm despite the fire blazing between you.

But then, as if on cue, the car jolted violently.

You barely had time to process what was happening before the screech of tires and the deafening sound of metal crunching filled the air. The car spun, your body jerking against the seatbelt as adrenaline surged through you. Elijah’s arm shot out instinctively, bracing you against the sudden chaos.

The impact was brutal, the car slamming to a halt against something solid. Your vision blurred for a moment, the world tilting on its axis as the sound of the crash echoed in your ears. You felt something warm and wet starting to trickle onto your forehead. The car had hit from the passenger side, and y/n was dazed, the impact messing with her the most.

“Elijah?” you croaked, your voice trembling as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. His hand was already on your arm, his touch grounding. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, what just happened?” you managed, though your heart was racing so fast you could barely breathe.

Before he could respond, the sound of car doors slamming outside made your blood run cold. Shadows moved beyond the cracked windows, and the unmistakable sound of footsteps approached.

“Elijah,” you whispered, fear creeping into your voice.

“I’m coming don’t move.” he ordered, his voice sharp and commanding as he quickly unbuckled himself, reaching for the car door handle.

But before he could open his door, your door was wrenched off its hinges. A group of men stood outside, their faces obscured by masks, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight.

“Elijah Mikaelson,” one of them drawled, his voice thick with disdain. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Elijah didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor unshaken. “If you’re wise, you’ll turn around and leave now.”

The man laughed, the sound cold and cruel. “Oh, I don’t think so. We’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.”

Before you could react, one of the men reached into the car, grabbing you by the arm.

“Let go of her!” Elijah’s voice was a deadly growl, but the man holding you only tightened his grip, dragging you out of the car.

“Elijah!” you screamed, struggling against the man’s hold.

“Elijah Mikaelson might be untouchable,” the leader sneered, “but you? You’re fair game.”

“Elijah!” you cried again, your voice desperate as the men began to drag you away.

The last thing you saw before they pulled you into the shadows was Elijah’s face, a mask of cold fury that promised retribution.

And then, everything went dark.

[shizuturnspages]

random thought pertaining to my favorite princess kaveh... since he seems like the type as a yandere that would be overbearing and protective, what if his darling just had a job that meant they faced danger on a regular basis? like being an adventurer. and since adventurer darling would most likely be stronger than kaveh, thinking abt how he'd ract is interesting since... he can't just knock out or restrain someone that could break him like a stick y'know??? just. yandere kaveh with a darling that is 100% stronger than his ass

This is so accurate omg. His Bluetooth claymore ass is nothing against his darling's strength. Let’s break this one down and see how our favourite fragile princess handles being utterly outclassed by the person he’s obsessively trying to protect

Overbearing Worrywart

Kaveh’s protective instincts are already sky-high, so when his darling willingly dives into dangerous situations for a living? He’s a wreck. He hates it. He paces around the house, anxiously muttering to himself about all the ways you could get hurt while he’s powerless to stop it. “Why can’t you pick something safer? A desk job, maybe? Painting? Something where you won’t be attacked by Hilichurls every other day!”

He’s the type to try and guilt-trip you out of your career, pulling every trick in his emotional arsenal. “Do you know how much I worry when you’re out there? You could get hurt—or worse! And I wouldn’t even know until it’s too late…” Cue the big, watery eyes and the dramatic sighs as he collapses on a chaise lounge like the world’s most stressed-out noble.

Helpless but Persistent

Kaveh is acutely aware that he’s no match for you physically. He’s not delusional—he knows you could fold him like a wet piece of parchment if he ever tried to stop you from leaving. That doesn’t mean he won’t try, though. He’ll stand in front of the door with all the determination of someone who’s clearly out of his depth. “I won’t let you go out there alone!” he’ll declare, arms spread wide, as if his sheer presence will be enough to stop you.

The problem? You can just… pick him up and move him aside like he’s a particularly fussy kitten. And every time you do, it’s equal parts mortifying and heart-wrenching for him. He’ll grumble about how “no one takes him seriously” while secretly swooning because wow, you’re so strong.

Clingy Support Mode

Since he knows he can’t physically protect you, Kaveh doubles down on being your emotional and logistical support. He’s the type to meticulously plan your gear and supplies, going over every detail with you like an overbearing mother. “You’re not going out there without proper armor, are you? And have you packed enough food? What if you get lost? What if it rains?”

He’ll hover like a worried little sparrow, even when you reassure him that you’ve been doing this for years. And when you come back home, covered in dirt and blood (none of it yours), Kaveh will throw himself at you like you’ve returned from the dead. “You’re safe! Thank the Archons—you’re safe!” He’s sobbing into your chest while you awkwardly pat his back, trying not to laugh.

Passive-Aggressive Guilt Trips

Kaveh knows better than to outright tell you to quit (he’s learned), but that doesn’t stop him from laying on the guilt with a trowel. If you come home with even a scratch, he’s suddenly the most melodramatic man alive. “Oh, no, it’s fine, really. You’re the professional here. Who am I to say anything about the risks you take? Just don’t mind me—I’ll be sitting here, worrying myself into an early grave.”

You know he’s being overdramatic, but damn if he doesn’t make you feel a little bad. And when you try to brush him off, he’ll mutter things like, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” or, “I’m just saying, it’s not my funeral,” while side-eyeing you so hard it burns.

Desperate Attempts to "Help"

Kaveh occasionally gets it into his head that he should accompany you on your adventures. “I’m not letting you go out there alone! What if something happens to you? Who’s going to pull you out of a collapsed ruin, huh?”

Of course, he’s utterly useless in a fight and can barely keep up with your pace, which you remind him constantly. He spends most of the trip tripping over vines and complaining about how “this is not what I studied for.” But when danger does strike? He’ll throw himself in front of you with zero hesitation, even if it’s the dumbest move possible. “Don’t you dare touch them!” And then he’s promptly knocked out because, let’s face it, Kaveh is more bark than bite.

Secretly Loves Your Strength

As much as he worries, Kaveh can’t help but admire how strong and capable you are. He hates how dangerous your job is, but he’s also endlessly impressed by how effortlessly you handle yourself. And he won’t admit it out loud, but there’s something about your power that makes him feel safe in a way he’s never known.

In his more vulnerable moments, he’ll cling to you, burying his face in your shoulder as he mumbles, “You’re incredible, you know that? I just… I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you.” And you’re left feeling a little guilty but also deeply touched, knowing that his overbearing nature comes from a place of genuine love and fear.

[bbygirlpascal]

Distraction (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

18+ ONLY: Please don't interact with my posts if you are under 18.

This one is kind of short, but I hope you like!

Summary: you and Pedro are at a party and you run into one of your exes.

“I’m gonna head to the men’s room real quick, I’ll be back in a second,” Pedro said as he kissed the top of your head and made his way into the back of the house. It was summer and you were at a party at somebodies house. A friend of a friend of one of Pedro’s friends or something. The place was practically as big as the state so it was easy enough to sit and relax and not have to worry about putting on your best smile and saying hi to everyone.

You laid back in the lounge chair, letting the sun sink into your skin and warm you up.

“Hey, (Y/N),” you turned around, “Long time no see.”

Your breath hitched. You looked up as your ex, from almost 6 months ago now, was standing in front of you with an unsettling smile spread across his face.

“I’m sorry I need to go,” is all you could muster up the courage to say. You made you way out of your chair but were stopped short by a hand gripping your arm.

“I see you have a new boyfriend now huh?” he said, you gulped trying to wriggle your way out of his grip. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Yeah, I do. Why do you care?” you said to him.

He scoffed, “I just think it’s funny how you told me you weren’t going to date anyone for awhile and now here you are with that old man.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, you tried to wriggle from his grip but he just held on tighter. “It’s been 6 months Tommy. Get the fuck over it and let me go.”

“Nah, I think it’d be funny to have Pedro see how riled up you still get around me. Remember how crazy we were when we were together?” he tantalized you. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind getting to know what you were like back then.”

You felt your cheeks getting red and anger rose through your entire body, it caught you off guard that he was even here. You felt a hand snake around your waist as Pedro cleared his throat.

“Want to let me know what’s going on?” Pedro said with his jaw clenched, eyes burning on Tommy. Tommy looked at him, you could tell he grew a bit more nervous now. But, he was always stubborn, always wanted a rise out of people, so he still didn’t let go of you. “I think you can get your hand off of her now, hm?” Pedro said to him with a slight nod of his head. He finally let go of you as you stormed into the sitting area in the house.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me princessa. What happened?” Pedro asked crouching down so he was face to face with you.

“It’s so fucking stupid, he just always has to ruin everything,” you fumbled with the strap of your bathing suit bottoms. “I was afraid that he would do something to me. He kept making gross comments.”

“Yeah, I heard them. It took all my strength to not bash his fucking head in,” Pedro sighed and clenched his hands into fists. “I’m sorry mi amor. I have an idea on something that’ll take your mind off of this,” he said as he grabbed you by the hand and led you into the bathroom.

He closed the door and laid you down on the small chaise lounge in the middle of the room (yeah, it’s that kind of bathroom). His hands explored your body, caressing each and every part. You laid back admiring him, how attentive he was to you. His eyes looked at you as he lifted your leg up, resting your foot on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your foot and worked his way down your leg, kneading and squeezing your thighs with his hands until he was met with your core. He planted small kisses along your inner thigh before planting one on your pussy. He tugged on the strings of your bikini bottoms and let them loose, ripping them out from underneath you.

Pedro took in his view before he flattened his tongue against your pussy, making you sharply inhale and grip onto his hair. He started working his tongue along your slit, inserting it into your entrance, his nose tickling your clit. You tugged on the strings of your top to rid yourself of the fabric, you tossed it onto the floor alongside your bottoms. Pedro slid his hand up to caress your breast, pinching and squeezing on your already hard nipple. His tongue was swirling on your clit, sucking on it and making you cry out for him.

“I wanna ride you,” you said to him and a devilish smile spread across his face. He laid down on his back as you straddled either side of him. Once his pants were off, his cock was resting on his stomach, hard as ever. You started to grind your pussy along his cock, not entering it into you yet, just rubbing it along your folds. Your wetness against his cock was euphoric, Pedro let out a groan as he brought his hands up and squeezed your tits. You grabbed his cock and lined it up to your entrance and slowly sat on it. The length of his cock already feeling so deep inside of you, it was almost painful. You started to move your hips, rolling them around. He grabbed your waist and watched you intently as you went to work on his cock. Grinding your hips on him, and leaning back on your hands to get more leverage.

He wet his fingers and started circling his thumb on your clit. You let out a loud moan, the feeling of his fingers on your clit and his cock so deep inside of you made you see stars. You started to bounce on his cock, feeling it slam against your walls. You swore you heard a knock on the door, but Pedro didn’t turn to look so you ignored it.

“Ride my dick baby. Yeah just like that,” Pedro said, shifting his attention to your tits. You tilted your head back, the pleasure taking over you. Your moans were loud and obscene but you didn’t care. Pedro sat up and started sucking on your nipples, wrapping his hand around your waist and digging his nails into your back. You felt that familiar feeling in your pussy, as your moans grew even louder. “You gonna cum on my cock princess?” he growled in your ear. He grabbed a hold of your waist and thrusted himself into you even deeper, you gripped onto his shoulders as your climax washed over you. He continued thrusting into you until your orgasm was complete. You climbed off of him and got onto your knees. He finished off in your mouth, his head rolling back as his cum coated your tongue and messily dripped down onto your tits. He put his thumb into your mouth as you swallowed, looking at you like you were his entire fucking world, cause you were.

You both cleaned up and tried to make yourselves look presentable, and not like you had just had sex minutes ago. You both walked out of the bathroom and saw Tommy standing outside, waiting to use the restroom. You could tell by the scowl on his face that he heard everything.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Drunk

Fandom: Castlevania

Characters: Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes/Alucard

Relationships: Adrian x reader

Note: I suck at titles

You walked through the dark hallway in hopes of finding your room. Even after months spent in Castlevania, you still couldn’t navigate through endless corridors even to your own space. You were confident you had walked through this particular hall three times now. Just when you were about to turn left, you heard a faint noise. You keened your ears to decipher the sound and concluded it must be someone's voice. There was only one person other than you who lived in the castle. You pushed the ornate doors to one of the drawing rooms ajar and found Adrian reclining in one of the lounge chairs.

He looked like he was posing for a painting, but then again, he always did. You knew Adrian was something more than a human but these small things which it showed, such as being in a state of constant elegance and poise, no matter the situation, still amazed you. He was lying on the comforter with his torso slightly turned to the back of the chair. One of his legs was stretched over the edge while the other one was bent at the knee. His right arm was hanging off the armrest while the other was holding an empty wineglass precariously perched between elegant fingers. How he didn’t splatter the red liquid on the pristine white shirt, which was unbuttoned to reveal almost the entirety of his chest, was a mystery to you. His head was buried in several pillows and golden tresses fell loosely down the chaise and around his face. He had a faraway look in his eyes and was mumbling something incoherently. When you stepped closer and had a chance to decipher his mumblings, you realized he wasn’t talking to himself, he was singing. Poorly.

“…and the fish’s at the sea…they sway by me…” or whatever gibberish you were able to discern. Probably some tavern song he learned from Trevor. That moment he noticed you standing there, golden eyes squinting at you.

“Oh…hello-” A small hiccup found its way past his lips.

You were trying your best not to laugh but your mouth still twisted into a smile as you watched him cover his mouth in embarrassment.

“Pardon me. I think I’ve had too much to drink.” He sat up, or rather, tried to sit up as he swung his legs over the sofa. You attempted to help him, pressing your arm at his back. “Are you alright?” You tentatively asked him. You didn’t know what his life was like before you came in. He wasn’t willing to share many details about his past, but from the small pieces of information, you concluded he was living a very sad, lonely life. That sometimes resulted in evenings spent drinking away his sorrows.

He shooed your hands away. “Nothing is wrong. I’m a vampire, so I am particularly able to hic keep my countenance in place.”

At that time you were fully grinning at his efforts to remain decent in his drunken stupor. Of course. You thought to yourself while you watched him fix his collar as if to add modesty to the already gaping hole in his shirt. There, you could see the pink sliver of scar that ran across his entire torso, marring the otherwise flawless pale skin. What sort of fierce battle the powerful dhampir face to mark him in such way. Every time you caught sight of that scar, your heart clenched painfully at the thought of Adrian in pain. He snapped you out of your thoughts with his drunken ramblings.

hic “You astound me, did you know that?” He said out of the blue and you were staring at him in surprise. He continued, “You are hic …most incredible person I’ve ever met in my life.” He looked you in the face a desperate look in his eyes as if he needed you to understand his statement more than he needed his next breath. “I mean that I mean it,” he softly whispered. “You are unlike anyone that I’ve ever met in my life, he put his hand on your cheek, studying your features.

“I…expose myself… to you.” You looked at his opened shirt in panic. The last thing you need is to have the dhampir deep in his cups to start undressing in front of you.

Adrian noticed your frightened expression and realized he was misunderstood. With laughter, he added, “no, not like that. I mean emotionally,” he grabbed one of your hands and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. It seems alcohol also made him sentimental. “I bare my soul and you don’t run away. I‘m a vampire lord’s son, THE vampire lord’s son…and you’re not afraid of me…and we can go on walks…and talk…and…and…I’ve just never met anyone like you…” his words dissipated into silence.

hic

Oh, Adrian.

All this time you had no idea he harbored such thoughts in his mind. You had a feeling he was being courteous to you by letting you stay in his castle, but not overly caring for your presence. If you knew what these brief encounters you two shared meant to him…

“I’m rambling a little bit,” Adrian bowed his head in shame and dropped his hand from your cheek to cover his face with it.

“I’m ashamed that you’re seeing me…like this,” he gestured to his disheveled appearance.

You patted his arm with placating smile, “It’s alright Adrian, sometimes we all have our bad days.” Then, you draped one of his arms over your shoulders and took hold of his waist.

Some light stumbling, a few knocked candelabras, and plenty of hauling on your part later, you made it to his bed-chamber. Where was the floating when you need one? You let out a huff as you threw Adrian’s limp body on the bed and almost fell on top of him in the process. The close physical proximity the two of you shared when walking into his room was already enough to paint your cheeks a rosy hue. You threw a blanket over him and prepared to leave when you felt a hand grabbing your wrist. The dhampir was looking soberer now. Still holding your arm, he brought you closer to bed.

He propped himself on his elbows and looked into your eyes with more clarity than before, “I likely won’t remember any of this in the morning…but…,” he paused for a moment as if gathering the courage to finish the sentence.

“I…can I…kiss you? Just one time…”

You were taken aback by his words once more. He practically confessed to you earlier, and the thought of touching those soft, plush lips sounded tempting. You didn’t realize that you’d been inching closer to his face until you felt his wine-laced breath on your lips and by then, you were too lost in his eyes to pull away.

He tasted like the sweetest of vines. Soft and supple, his mouth danced hesitantly over yours. You were sure that no vinery in the world has vine more rare and luxurious than the one you’re tasting on his tongue. You pulled away and whispered to him “goodnight Adrian.”

He mumbled goodnight to you as well and fell asleep mid-sentence.

You chuckled to yourself, caressing his cheek. *Creatures of the night, what symphony they make…*you pondered as you listened to his soft snores.

[swampstew]

Captain_CumShot - Chapter 2

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat on the chaise lounge, plug your electronic device in so you can enjoy this multi-chapter, full blown smut story. The Captain is the snack and sadly, I have nothing to offer to soothe the yearning. As always, links to Wattpad and AO3 at the bottom. Enjoy, from your favorite loyal, cabin hoe♥

Summary: You treated yourself to a tier upgrade���

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for adult audiences only.

Admin: Thanks for upgrading your subscription to Tier III! The Captain will want to thank you personally ~ drop your next available hour slot and we’ll set it up.

You: 10 PM

Admin: Talk to you soon ~

10:00 PM

Captain: Hey doll. I’ve seen your likes and comments around here for a while and I’m chuffed that you finally upgraded. What changed?

You: Truthfully, I challenged myself to save up so I can really treat myself when I felt I needed it. Especially after the last year and four months at work.

Captain:…

Captain: You waited ONE YEAR and FOUR MONTHS before you felt like you needed a break?

Captain: I’m flattered you’ve chosen me as your reward but gat damn girl. You need to treat yourself more often.

Captain: What the hell do you do for a job??

You: I’m an accountant at a small but valued firm, so we’re kind of just always busy! Especially at tax time which is ALMOST over. So I spoiled myself a few days early.

Captain: Congratulations ~ Do you work in a stuffy office with a buncha dorks?

You: Well I wouldn’t say dorks and it’s not a closet! I work in an office building with maybe less than 50 other people. I have a corner office so yay for small wins!

Captain: Aye that’s the least they can do fer’ya!

Captain: Do they make you dress business professional like you’re gonna meet the president every day or is it a normal place that lets you dress like a human being?

You: Haha, nothing so refined. Business casual for the most part, Fridays we can wear jeans, and sometimes during the seasons they’ll do a morale boosting themed clothes week thing.

Captain: 🤔

Captain: Does anyone enjoy that?

You: Some do, some don’t. The bosses buy a big lunch spread though so it’s not all bad.

Captain: Tell me, are the morale boosting bits mandatory?

You: You’re not required to dress up. They don’t technically say you have to be at the luncheon but they do have someone sweep the desks to make sure no one is still working. I think they legitimately think they’re providing a “break” for us but like, a paid lunch hour would be a thousand times better.

Captain: Bet.

Captain: You ever skipped it all together? Just said fuck it and hid on the roof to scroll on your phone and eat lunch?

You: Sometimes my car! We have a secure parking garage and its air conditioned so it’s quiet and not boiling hot.

Captain: Hooray for small victories.

Captain: Have you ever gotten uncomfortably turned on enough that you’ve escaped to your car to get relief?

You: 😳

You: Maybe once or twice. I’m always afraid of getting caught.

Captain: I’d make sure we wouldn’t.

Captain: See I personally fucking hate it when instead of just paying people more, employers make their people do a whole dog and pony show. Leave people alone!

Captain: This is literally a crime.

Captain: If you’d let me, I’d come and save you from those stupid lunches.

You: 🤔

You: I wouldn’t hate that!

You: Not sure you could pull it off though, you would garner a lot of attention just from standing, you’re just that attractive 👉👈🥺

Captain: Relax, I’m nothing if not professional. Want to hear my grand scheme that I cooked up, just now?

You: Oh go right ahead!

Captain: I’d start by doing research into your company and get the lunch reservation details of these luncheons. I would then pose as an employee dropping off the food order/doing set up and while everyone is gathering, I would linger a little, totally incognito, and slip out to find your office if you haven’t already entered the room.

Captain: Should I continue? I’m really proud of this scheme actually.                           

You: Please, I wonder how you plan to get away scot-free and not get me fired!

Captain: You’d not only get fired – you’d get off, repeatedly and it would be a seasonal thing cause I’d never get caught. I think it would be a professional bonus because then you’ll be so satisfied at work, you might even get a promotion or pay raise or some shit😏

You: This I gotta hear

Captain: Where was I?

Captain: Just kidding

Captain: I would then smuggle you to the parking garage under the guise that you’re my ‘job equipment’ or whatever, and then, I’d take you to your car. Ideally, I can convince you to get in the van I rented as part of my infiltration disguise so I can actually sit and stand without breaking my neck. The windows are blacked out, I keep anchors and blocks on the wheels to keep it stable, and then I rock your fucking world.

Captain: Still with me?

You: I am

Captain: You’re probably thinking, ‘but if you’re as beastly as I think you are, won’t I be screaming my brains out?’

You: I was!

Captain: As a professional content creator – amongst other trades – I know a thing or two about sound proofing. There’s always a gag if you’re into that.

You: I could be persuaded…

Captain: I have a lot of things I’d like to persuade you to do in there.

Captain: Do you normally participate in the themed clothes or do you keep it professional?

You: I don’t usually, not really my thing.

Captain: I see.

Captain: Back to my scheme ~

Captain: After I’ve successfully fooled everyone and have you in my clutches, I’d take you to my van where you can have a lunch break actually worth attending.

Captain: I would first take off my disguise and reveal that it was me all along! After you get over your initial surprise, I’d ask you what you’re hungry for.

You: Oh I get options?

Captain: Hell yeah doll. Your choices can range anywhere from a quick snack to a mega meal.

You: Do the options change too?

Captain: I don’t believe in constraints. Unless they’re kink-related.

Captain: I think since you’re the kind of doll that doesn’t splurge too much on ‘erself, I’d start you off with a ‘left no crumbs.’

Captain: What that entails is me, sitting you all pretty like on a seat cushion, starting ngwith something soft and sweet. Kisses up the arm, on the neck, slow, building up anticipation. I’d tease you over your clothes, petting your kitten until I feel your wetness through the fabric.

Captain: Pepper your body with kisses and bites to keep you on edge. When I have you down to just your undergarments, I’d sit you in my lap. Spread your thighs open. Start rubbing your pussy until you’re leaking all over my hand. I’ll let you have a quick orgasm, a small and sweet one. But don’t think we’re done.

Captain: I might take my pants off to feel you a bit better. Push you down on my hard-on as I wrap an arm around your waist to keep you still. I’ll use my free hand to play with your pussy again. Rubbing you, flicking you, lightly smacking you, rubbing your clit, finger fucking you. Rub my big dick against your trembling body to make you even more sensitive.

Captain: Since you only have an hour, I’ll make sure you look presentable before you go back to the office. Where you can spend the rest of the day sitting in the mess I’m going to leave. How does that make you feel?

You: I’m…speechless, in a good way…Shit that’s really hot. It makes me feel devious, a bit dirty, like I really want to do it.

Captain: Damn and I haven’t even finished telling you what’s included in your lunch?

You: 🤐

You: Please forgive me

Captain: I could never stay mad at you doll.

Captain: As I was saying ~

Captain: I can’t let you leave your break without feeling fully satisfied.

Captain: Before you go, I’d spend some time with you against the van wall. If you’re into it, I can use rope to help keep you standing. I encourage it, you’re gonna need it.

You: I’m into it, I’m into it 🤤

Captain: Heh. Freak.

Captain: I’d keep you still and propped up, putting your blouse on, keeping my lipstick stains and bites hidden underneath. I’d pull your panties and bottoms over your ankles, slide your soaked underwear up your thighs…

Captain: And give you dessert.

You: What am I having??!

Captain: Me.

Captain: I’d pull your panties up your thighs but not put them on entirely. Leaving them maybe a few inches from your twitching pussy. Then I’d finally let you see my cock.

Captain: Do you want to touch it?

You: Yesss🥺please let me touch.

Captain: Don’t worry you’ll be feeling it.

Captain: I’ll prod my cock against your clit, slide it up and down your puffy lips, maybe push in a little bit.

Captain: After I get it nice and wet with you, I’d stand in front of you and fuck your body. I won’t go in in, I’ll slide in between your desperate lips, make you clench over my cock with your needy pussy, I’ll hit your delicious ass cheeks, pull back out and rub against your clit until you’re crying.

You: Oh my fucking god.

Captain: I’m not done.

Captain: While I do this, I’ll rub my thumb down on your clit, and I won’t stop until you’ve cum over my cock, frustrated yet relieved.

Captain: But don’t be disappointed just yet because the next part is my favorite part.

Captain: As you’re coming down from your orgasm, I’ll finish myself off. Jerking myself in front of you and finishing right on your cunt.

You: 🥵

Captain: Yeah.

Captain: I’d milk my length to cover you, watching it drip from your vulva and trembling lips down to your underwear and thighs. Whatever falls further down I’d wipe with my thumb and make you lick it off.

Captain: Then I’ll pull your panties up nice and high, make sure they sit on your hips just right, don’t want any of me to spill out. For good measure, I might even rub your underwear against you some just to smear it in you some more.

Captain: I love cum play.

Captain: I’ll pull up your bottoms, wipe your tears, and send you away with a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass.

Captain: How does that sound doll?

You: I would fucking die!!! I want this so bad fuck why would you DO THAT TO ME?!?🥵🤤 FUCK! You’re so hot, all I want is to touch you and be touched by you😩

Captain: Are you touching yourself?

You: If I said yes?🥺

Captain: I’d say me too. Check out the photo gallery later, you’ll see the load I blew for ya😘

Captain: Glad to add you to my harem of Cabin Hoes. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I think I’m gonna grow fond of you.

Captain: G’night doll. Thanks for subscribing😘

<end chat>

Leave a vote/kudos/like to tip OR hit bookmark/add to reading list/reblog to subscribe.

[visionofvoid]

Messy Bed Sheets - PG10 Part Three

Summary: “what really happened in australia?.”

Warnings: sad and moody pierre, sad oc, bestie yuki, reunion!!!

Pairings: pierre gasly x oc

Word count: 1600

PART ONE PART TWO

“I made a mistake.”

Pierre’s voice sounded so frightened over the phone, though Serena assumed that he was still shaken from the crash. He didn’t speak any further, just letting the four words linger in the air. To Serena, it almost sounded as if the crash made him want to continue the arrangement the two had, in total disregard for her feelings for him. As much as she wanted to, she knew she had to be strong and refuse his advances, no matter how much she craved to be wanted and validated. This arrangement should have never left Australian soil. 

“I saw you crash, Pierre.” Serena finally found her words, recalling the crash she watched with her family on the television before he called her. “It was terrifying, are you alright?” She wanted to alleviate from his first initial words, take the attention away from Pierre calling the arrangement off in the first place the night prior. 

“All I could think about was you-”

“Pierre, I’m glad you’re okay. But I really must be going.” Serena really needed to look out for herself, she needed to set boundaries. Again, nothing said for a few seconds so she hung up. She felt heavy with guilt, she felt saddened, she felt like she wanted to get into bed and cry and never see the light of day again. 

Pierre stared at the screen of his phone as the call screen turned into blackness. He never should have let her leave his room that night, he should have really spoken to her about his feelings, made everything clear. But it was obvious to him now that she wanted no part in that, and he wasn’t too sure how to proceed. 

Days turned into weeks, which wasn’t the most unusual thing for the two. Pierre and Serena would usually go a couple of weeks without seeing each other physically, but they used to text every couple of days, check in on one another and see how they were going with either studying and assessments or with training and racing. But there was no contact between the two. Pierre knew how Serena would get with assignments and wanted nothing more than to send words of encouragement, offer to still read some of her papers if she needed a pair of fresh eyes to go over it and Serena wanted nothing more than to just see how Pierre was going, how he felt after the crash. 

The weeks then turned into months and before she knew it Serena was sitting in a gown, a gorgeous dress underneath with a pair of heels she knew she would regret wearing in a few hours and a hideous cap on her head. She was graduating today and was absolutely over the moon. The past few months were incredibly hard. She tried to get over Pierre but it just never seemed to happen, he consumed her every thought. She didn’t know how she managed to but she got there in the end, fuelled all of her emotions into her findings, research and essays. 

Pierre was a wreck for the most part and no one understood why. After his crash, he spent most of his days in the gym, training as hard as he could to ensure a crash couldn’t happen again, going over tens of different tactics at each race, racing as hard as he could. He wasn’t at the best of his game but he was itching to get there. His friendship with Yuki had become strained as he spent every waking hour living and breathing his sport, but it eventually became too much. 

“What really happened in Australia?” Yuki had finally found Pierre alone and unpacking his belongings in the hotel room. They had just arrived in Northamptonshire for the British Grand Prix, a few days before the weekend was scheduled to begin. Pierre looked up, seeing Yuki standing in the doorway waiting for an invitation to come in to which he simply gestured to a chaise lounge. It was time to come clean, it was time to rekindle his friendship with Yuki. 

“I met a girl.” Pierre mumbled, refusing to look at Yuki and instead focused on refolding a shirt of his on the bed. “It was just meant to be a one night stand sort of thing but I still had her number and social media, so we kept in touch.” Yuki said nothing to encourage Pierre to keep talking, which seemed to work. “I’d fly her out, we had an arrangement, we had rules. And I broke one of the rules.”

“What was it? Don’t fall in love?” Yuki jokes, trying to lighten up the conversation slightly but instead whispered a quick apology when he noticed Pierre’s stoic facial expression. 

“I called it off, the night before the race in Spain.”

“The night before the big crash.” Yuki thought out loud, Pierre only nodding in response. 

“I’m sorry, I should have said something but I was afraid, I was nervous and- I don’t know. I’m sorry, Yuki.” Yuki shook his head, a slight smile on his face. At least they were on good terms right now. “I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do anything.” This seemed to bring a curious eyebrow raise on the Japanese racer’s face. 

“Anything?” Yuki questioned, Pierre only nodding in response. “Great, because you’ll have to get dressed in something nice. I have flowers in my room ready for you to take and there’s a car picking you up in an hour.” 

“What? What are you going on about?”

“It’s Serena’s graduation day.” Yuki mentioned it as if it was common knowledge. He chuckled at Pierre’s facial expression so gave a brief explanation. “You always come out with random fun facts to do with history, archeology, you used to smile at your phone when you thought no one was listening, you don’t follow many people on instagram. Serena, an archaeologist to be, lives and studies in Oxford, was in Australia at the same time as you, so it wasn't hard to figure it out.” Pierre was surprised by Yuki’s sleuthing but was rather impressed. “Plus, I got into contact with her brothers. They were quite easy to convince, I could have been anyone! Get dressed, you smell.”

Serena couldn’t see where her family sat but was sure they were all there to support her. She was so nervous, having to walk in heels in front of hundreds of people. She hoped she wouldn’t fall over. Slowly, they were making their way through the names of all the graduates and they were nearing the last names beginning with R. The students were slowly moving up, one by one walking on stage to shake the hands of the headmaster and other notable people and get their piece of paper that was worth more than the car they owned. 

She was next, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels before the student before her had their pictures taken and was off the stage. 

“Serena Riperton. Archaeology and Anthropology.” Serena took a deep breath in, waiting a moment and exhaled before she began walking up the steps to the stage. She wore a bright smile on her face, nodding and shaking the hands of the people on stage before getting to her headmaster. She shook his hand, beaming up at him and then posed for a picture, smiling at the camera with the paper in her hand. The paper she spent three years studying, working, travelling and slaving over. All the sleepless nights she had, all the tears she cried, it all led up to this very moment. She walked off the stage, an applause was all she could hear as she made her way back to her seat. 

Serena sat through the last bunch of people before they all applauded with each other to celebrate their achievements, caps flying in the air and then everyone broke off to find their friends and family. It was mayhem, people posing for pictures, being spun in the air by their partners, cheering with their children. Serena smiled at some of her friends she had in class as she made her way outside, in search of her parents and brothers, and whoever else wished to come. 

“Isn’t he famous? What’s he doing here?”

“He’s French, isn’t he?”

“I didn’t think he had siblings.” 

Serena raised an eyebrow at the conversations she was hearing, pushing through the crowds before being engulfed in hugs. She giggled as she spun around, her brothers squashing her. She couldn’t care about them messing up her hair, about her dress and gown getting wrinkles or how rowdy they were being, she was just grateful they were there, that they were present. 

“I was really hoping you would trip.” Michael, the youngest sibling spoke, looking down at his sister’s heels. 

“Would have been funny for my legacy, I think.” Serena joked back, her mother taking candid shots of her four children. “Hey, where’s dad?” Serena questioned, noticing her father wasn’t with the small group. She felt disappointed for a moment before another bearhug from behind. 

“Was just collecting your graduation present from me, chicken!” Serena rolled her eyes at her father’s use of a pet name. Michael coughed from beside her, giving a playful glare to her father. “Alright, alright. It was Michael and Adrian’s idea but I had to go get him.” Serena was confused now. She never anticipated that she would be getting a gift, nor that two out of three brothers would even have decent ideas for a gift. 

“Him?”

[witchersmistress]

From the Ground Up

Hello my darlings! i have a monster update for ya'll, its mostly going to be Harpers pov as august didnt have much to say.

Triggerwarning: Sex, slight stalking, breaking and entering

Word count: 5.1 K

The last week in August feels like a countdown, the days ticking down to when it’s over between Mr. D and me. We both know everything shifted when I left, and maybe it did again when I came back. I’m more awake now, too awake to be his doll. I try to still my hammering heart when I think about going back to school, but I hold onto the determination, one of the only feelings I can manage.

The day before I plan to return to school, Mr. D is quiet all through dinner and our visit to the garden. He cuts a huge sunflower blossom and lays it on my chest where I’m reclined on the chaise lounge. Then he sits down beside my legs, his back to me. Crickets chirp in the golden field below. The air is heavy and dense, that late August heat that lays thick on the day like a weighted blanket, threatening to smother you even after the sun has sluggishly drifted below the horizon. I pick up the flower, stroking the soft petals between my finger and thumb. “Thank you,” I say. “Is this a sun to brighten my first day of school tomorrow?” “You know why they’re called that?” “Because they look like suns?” “Because they follow the sun,” he says, pointing up at the half dozen tall stalks towering over us. They’re all facing west, where the sun just disappeared. “Every day?” “Every day.” “What if it’s cloudy?” “Even when it’s cloudy, when they can’t see what matters, they never waver in their path.” Is he talking about the Walkers, about revenge? 

He turns to me, pulling his knee up beside me, and watches my face like he expects a response. “Maybe they should,” I say, because I know what revenge does to a family, what it costs those who seek it and those in their path. “Things change.” “At night, at their darkest point, when the sun is furthest from them, they turn back to the east,” he says. “They wait for the sun to come back. They know it will.” I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I search his eyes. He’s not talking about revenge. He’s talking about living again. “Are you my sunflower?” I ask, my words barely more than a whisper. “Or am I yours?” He takes my free hand in his, lacing his elegant fingers through mine. “You’re a sunflower, but you’re not mine,” he says. “I’m not anyone’s sun anymore.” “You could be,” I say, my throat tight. He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “No, Harper. You don’t belong here. You never did. We both know that.” My eyes blur over, and I have to blink a few times. I don’t want to let go of his hand, to leave this cocoon with only brass knuckles for protection. I crave the oblivion, the weightlessness of life in his pristine world. “I can’t thank you enough for… Everything.” “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just promise me one thing.” I tense, ready for the demands. I know what he wants, but I don’t want to be part of that world anymore. I have no fight left, not even for the boys who destroyed me. “I can’t.” He squeezes my hand. “Find your sun, Harper. 

That’s all I want for you.” A tear spills down my cheek, and I reach for his face, my fingers faltering before I make contact. “Can I?” He stiffens, but he doesn’t move. I carefully untie the silk ribbons that hold the silver mask in place and lift it off. My breath catches, but I force myself not to drop my gaze, not to look away. His skin is tight, red, and angry, over half his forehead and down one side of his face, the side with the unseeing eye. His eyebrow and lashes are gone, his eye slightly skewed and smaller than the other. My fingers shake as I reach up and touch the edge of the mark. “Some people like playing with fire,” I whisper, remembering Colt’s words. He doesn’t look at me, but I know it’s over. He wouldn’t have shown me if he thought I’d come back. I should say something, tell him it’s not so bad, but I don’t want to lie to him. “Maybe we all do,” he says quietly. “I’m no use to you anymore,” I whisper. “August doesn’t care about me. I’m dead to him.” “Do you think you could stay one more night?” he asks, the ache of his vulnerability making my chest contract painfully. “Just let me hold you one more time.” I nod, my eyes burning. He slides onto the chaise with me, fitting his body along mine. He doesn’t put the mask back on, and he faces me, but he closes his eyes, as if he can’t bear to see my face now that I’ve seen him. I turn toward him in the chair. I run my fingertips over his unmarked cheek and then his scarred one. 

Finally I lean in and brush my lips over each eyelid. The contrast brings tears back to my lashes. “Thank you for saving my life,” I whisper. The corner of his mouth tugs up the slightest bit. “Ditto.” I let out a quiet laugh through the tears. “I didn’t do anything.” “You never know.” Sometimes you do, though. 

 For months, Mr. D woke me up to fuck every morning. Since returning to him, he hasn’t touched me. Not that way. On the first day I planned to return to Georgia  State, I woke to the sun streaming in the wall of windows. We came down after dark last night, and he lay me in bed between his high thread count sheets. He didn’t take pictures. We didn’t talk. He just turned off the light without replacing his mask. This morning, he’s still asleep, his terrible, scarred face even more heartbreaking in the light of day. I get up and shower, since I didn’t get a chance last night. When I come out of the bathroom, he’s sitting up in bed, his mask over his face again. “One more time, for old time’s sake?” he asks, patting the bed beside him and giving me a tentative smile. It’s different, though. We’re real people now, not marionettes.

 He hasn’t fucked me in weeks, since I told him I wouldn’t be his whore. “Can I get my sponsorship back?” I ask. It’s too late for me anyway. I’m already a whore. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says with a little smile, like he’s thinking about the same thing, like he wants to assure me it’s not a trade for sex. I’ve been considering this since I started making up the work, debating whether I’m strong enough. I’ve finally decided. I’m not strong enough. I’m broken enough. If I could bear the brutality of the Walker twins and their friends for one night when I was whole, I can bear to see them every day now that nothing matters. I might have freaked out when I saw August, but that’s because I loved him once.

 He won’t be at Georgia State, though. If I do this, I will never have to see any of them again in my life when it’s over. If this is what I have to do to leave this place and never look back, start over somewhere far away, where no one knows my name or my body, I will. I once felt a kinship with Mabel Darling, but now I truly understand. Now I know what would make a person change their name and disappear like a ghost, cutting ties with even their family. Some rottenness is too severe to fix, and the only way to live is to cut it all away, like a gangrenous limb. And I’m just numb enough to cut away mine. I climb onto the bed and sit back on my feet. “Take off the mask,” I tell Mr. D. He hesitates, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Then he reaches back and unties it, dropping it onto the nightstand before reaching for me. He pulls me into his lap, then grabs the lube in his top drawer. I caught his wrist. “Do it right,” I say, sliding off him and pulling him back down on the bed. He draws the covers over us and scoots close, until our bare bodies are pressed together. I try not to think about all the things we said to each other in those messages, so many months of messages. It doesn’t seem real that he can be the same person. He’s not what I pictured at all. But maybe no one is. He presses his lips to mine for the first and last time, cupping my cheek in his hand, saying goodbye. The ache in each slow kiss twists tight inside my chest until I’m sure my ribs will crack. He slides his other hand between my thighs and touches me, and when I’m ready, he rolls onto me and pushes inside. “Good girl,” he says, his lips skimming mine. “So fucking good.” I close my eyes. “Mr. D,” I whisper, as if to make it more real. He lets out a little laugh of breath. “You don’t have to call me that when I’m inside you,” he says. “It makes me imagine you’re picturing my dad.” I nod, and he moves slowly on top of me, sliding in and out, watching me like he’s waiting for something. I felt nothing for him all these months, but now I can’t help it. Since seeing August shook me awake, made me feel something again, I’ve been coming back to life despite myself. I wanted to stay numb forever, but every day my mangled soul twitches a bit more than the day before. I look up at Mr. D, and I try to remember what I should feel when a man is inside me, but I can’t. I don’t love him. I know that. All I feel is sadness. 

Tears slid down my cheeks, wetting my hair. “Is it my face?” he murmurs. “I can put the mask back on.” I shake my head, trying to stop the tears, to stop my lip from trembling and my throat from squeezing so painfully tight it brings more tears. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks. I shake my head again. I wrap my arms around his neck, and I hold him close and give him what he wants, not sex but closeness, however empty it is. I wish I could fix all the brokenness in him, that he could fix me, and that we could be that for each other. But we’re just not. When he’s done, he showers, and I go to the kitchen and make eggs and toast. Everything in his kitchen is clean and shiny and expensive. No chipped plates or mismatched knives. I think about how angry my mother will be when I tell her I’ve walked away from this. She’ll tell me it’s every girl’s fantasy—every girl like me. That I’ll never do better. And maybe she’s right. Mr. D comes out wearing his mask, charcoal grey dress pants, and a blue button-up shirt that matches his mismatched eyes. We eat in silence, but it’s different, the air heavy instead of relaxed. “I want to go back to Georgia State,” I say.

 He makes a noncommittal sound and forks through his eggs. “Thanks for cooking.” “How old are you?” I ask, pulling back to study him—his sharp chin freshly shaven, his lips that never touched me until today. It’s hard to tell with the mask, but I know he’s younger than I pictured. He’s the furthest thing from a gross old guy jerking off in his trailer and offering me the moon. Or even a gross old rich guy jerking off at his computer while I told him about sucking dick. “27” Damn. He’s only been out of college for a few years. He seems so much older, at least in his mid-thirties. “I’ve caught up on everything I missed last year,” I say, trying to keep the nerves from taking me over at the thought of setting foot in the same school as the football team. “Maybe you can go in and talk to them about my sponsorship?” “That again.” He shakes his head and takes the plates to the sink. “I think I’ve earned it.” “You know I never leave this place,” he says without looking at me, turning on the water to rinse the plates. “You left to get me every time I came over this summer,” I point out, crossing my arms, some little seed of stubbornness sprouting inside me, sinking its roots into the ground. “And when I lived here, I heard you leave at least a dozen times in the evenings.” “I won't get out of my truck.” “I’d rather have that than all the clothes and shoes and jewelry.” He doesn’t say  anything. I want to be angry, but I can’t summon that much emotion. So I turn and go to his room. While he washes up, I get the designer bag he bought to keep my new phone and keys in, and I put on the red-soled shoes he slid on my feet one day. He’s spent so much, I feel guilty asking for more. But that’s the only gift I’ve ever wanted. I didn’t ask for fancy things. I return to the island that separates the kitchen and main room of the loft. “I’m leaving the things you brought me here. I’ll bring back the shoes and clothes I’m wearing.” “I don’t need them,” he says, coming around the end of the island. “I have a phone. I’m not into women’s clothes, and even if I were, I couldn’t wear your size.” “I don’t feel right taking them. You’ve done so much.” “Then let me do this,” he says, his familiar, entitled hands falling to my hips. “Let me at least pretend I did something good for you these last five months.” “Okay,” I say, swallowing hard. I search his eyes, my gaze moving from his blind, unseeing eye to the one that’s so sharp and alive, but just as guarded as the mask makes him.

 Is it unfair to ask for my sponsorship back? He’s done more than buy me things. Things I can never repay him for. But all he’ll remember is that I accused him of treating me like a whore after accepting every gift he gave. I can’t ask for more. He runs his finger down the chain of the necklace, looping it through the bottom, where the ballerina charm hangs. “Don’t take this off, okay? I like knowing that wherever you are, you’re wearing it. That I’m with you.” “I should get to school.” He hands me his truck keys and steps back, his lips tightening. “I’ll be down in a minute.” I watch him disappear into the bedroom, and heaviness settles in my belly. He wouldn’t even fight the Walkers after what they did to him and his family, even when I gave him all the ammunition he needed to take them down. There’s no chance he’s going to fight for me. I’m going to have to remember how to fight for myself. So, I take the keys, ready to face the admin at Georgia State on my own. Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door. Colt Darling is standing on the other side.

“Colt?” I say, as if making sure this is real, that he’s the same person he was before. “Harper?” He looks me up and down the same way. I guess I’m not the same girl he knew, either. My body has changed in ways he can see, but he doesn’t know the rest of me has changed, too. At least, I don’t think he does. “What are you doing here?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” Colt asks, his voice sharp. “Why are you dressed like that?” I recover from my surprise quickly. Mr. D is a Darling, and Colt is a Darling, so it’s hardly a shock. Colt, however, seems a bit more shaken. His eyes narrow, and I take in his face. 

I haven’t seen him since last year, when the Walkers beat him almost to death. He looks nearly the same, but everything is just a bit off, which is all the more disconcerting. It’s like looking at a life-sized doll version of Colt. His nose is just a little straighter, his jaw a little squarer, his teeth a little whiter. I’m not sure how to answer him, and before I can even try, he grabs me and drags me back into the apartment. “Preston!” he bellows, his voice booming through the sleek loft. Preston Darling. “Preston,” I whisper to myself, saying his name for the first time, trying it on. It fits. I’m less surprised than I was to find Colt here. I’ve had no indication that they’re still close, the way they were when they ran this town. For all I know, Colt’s the one on the receiving end of the videos, though. In truth, I don’t know much about Mr. D beyond what I can see. I’ve never really tried to figure out who my rescuer is. It didn’t matter. Maybe I always knew, I just didn’t think about it. Or maybe I only knew this morning, when he told me he was nineteen, but I hadn’t had a chance to think about it. I try to fit the name and what I know about it into my conception of Mr. D. I guess I don’t have to call him that anymore, just as he stopped being the Phantom when he became Mr. D. He was I needed him to be each step of the way, until I needed something else. He’s no longer a man behind a mask or a shadow behind a keyboard. Now he’s more real than ever, a man with a scarred face and a name and wounds that aren’t for me to know. The Phantom—Mr. D—Preston—steps out of the bedroom. “This is your girlfriend?” Colt demands, fury snapping his words through the space between them. “This is who you’re moving on with? Are you fucking suicidal?” Preston shrugs and strolls over to lean on the island, seemingly unaffected by Colt’s fury. “Could you really blame me, cuz?” I glance from one of them to the other, sensing the rage shimmering in the air between them like a mirage. 

For the first time in months, my curiosity is piqued. I stopped trying to figure people out, stopped even caring. Nothing mattered. I don’t know if this matters. But I’m interested, if only in a detached way, in where it leads. Colt stands there breathing hard, glaring at his cousin. “I don’t blame you, I blame them,” he says. “I blame them for everything, and you should too. When are you going to stop—this? Whatever this is. Self-destruction, suicidal tendencies, punishing yourself?” When I said he saved me, he said ditto. But I didn’t save him. I endangered him. Preston smirks, stretching out his arm and beginning to slowly roll up one sleeve. I’m captivated by his every movement, his every word. This man came inside me every Tuesday and Thursday night, every Wednesday and Friday morning, for months, and I never gave a single fuck. Now, it’s as if my brain is going into overdrive to compensate. He’s not the same man who sat on the barstools beside me and served me steak and asparagus, the one who dressed and undressed me like a ritual, the one who never took off his mask and was therefore a blank cutout of a person to me. He’s the Phantom, a man with a mask and a safe place for my body to rest while my soul is gone. He’s Mr. D, a man with a keyboard and a sick mind, digging for secrets and hoarding them like a dragon. He’s Preston Darling, a man whose house I destroyed, whose bed I destroyed when August made me cum so hard I drenched the mattress, whose leather jacket I stole.

 He’s alive and utterly fascinating. He has a family. A name. A face. He smirks and rages. Maybe, he even laughs. I want to devour his soul, dissect his brain, and study it under a microscope. “Trust me when I say that fucking Harper is the furthest thing from a punishment,” he says when he’s finished rolling his sleeve with painstaking care. “You know August claimed her,” Colt says, his voice low and fierce. Preston’s tone hardens. “He threw her away.” For a minute, there’s no sound, nothing but the inaudible crackle of tension in the air. “It doesn’t matter,” Colt says. “When they claim someone, it’s forever. There’s no way out.” “He said I was dead to him,” I say. I want to believe August’s done, that he’ll never speak to me again, that he’ll look right through me like I’m a ghost. But after he saw me outside my house, I’m not sure I believe that, no matter how hard I try. He followed me here, which means he wants something. If the torture isn’t over, what then? I’m not a Darling, a girl who can afford to check herself into a swanky resort-style mental facility to hide or blow out of town and legally change her name. 

There’s nowhere to hide for a girl like me. “You think I don’t know how they operate?” Preston asks, ignoring me. Colt glares. “He’ll take more than your eye if he finds out you messed with her.” His eye that never sees. It clicks into place then. It’s not blind. It’s prosthetic. “I didn’t mess with her,” Preston says, jerking his other sleeve straight. “I fucked her. Four times a week for months, and every day before that. I came inside her every delicious little hole, and I fucking loved it. What have you done this summer?” “You know what I did,” Colt growls, his hands balling into fists. Preston starts rolling that sleeve, his movements jerky and sharp now. “You gave them exactly what they wanted. You bent over. You play nice, but for what? They’ll kill us all, anyway.” “Not if you play along.” Preston scoffs. “How many nights did you spend in the hospital, getting how many surgeries, because of those assholes? How much time did you lose? Maybe it would’ve been worth it if you’d been lying there knowing what their girl’s cunt feels like  from the inside, with nothing between you but cum. That they could never undo what you got to do to her.” “You’re going to get yourself killed,” Colt says quietly. “I can’t watch you do this shit anymore.” “And what would you have me do?” Preston asks. “Get on my knees and suck their dicks like you? I’d rather fucking die.” “Those aren’t the only options.” “Aren’t they?” Preston finishes his sleeve and measures that they both stop at the thickest part of his forearm, golden tan with golden hairs glistening on them.

 “You could leave,” Colt says. “No fucking way,” Preston says, yanking the mask off his face and throwing it down on the counter. “This is our town, not theirs. Enough people in this family have run like dogs.” Colt sighs. “How long are you going to hold onto that delusion? Devlin didn’t run, and he’s not coming back to save us all. If he was coming back, he would have done it by now. He’s fucking dead. Accept it.” “Bullshit,” Preston snaps. “No one takes millions of dollars from their trust fund right before they commit suicide.” I perk up automatically because this is something I didn’t know. “He didn’t commit suicide,” Colt says, rubbing his forehead with his thumb, like this conversation gives him a headache. From the weariness in his voice, I get the feeling they’ve had this fight before, so many times they both know all their lines. “It was an accident. A tragic, shitty accident with bad timing. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, no matter how many guys you pay off to keep quiet. 

You’re not letting them live a happy life. You’re wasting our money.” “I didn’t pay them off,” Preston says evenly. “I’m not the only one who thinks they’re alive.” “You control the money,” Colt says. “And enough with the conspiracy theories already. Yeah, out of the hundreds of people in our family, three of you think he’s alive. That doesn’t make it true. That makes y’all delusional.” “He said goodbye to us,” Preston says, looking incredulously at his cousin. “Dolly saw him, goddamn it. How can you honestly believe he’s dead?” “Because it doesn’t fucking matter,” Colt says, throwing up his hands. “Whether he’s dead or not, it doesn’t change anything. He’s not here. We’re here.” “And I’m not leaving,” Preston says. “They may have beaten us, but we’re not dead yet. We can still fight, if you’d stop being such a pussy.” “And you’re planning to fight them… How? By putting trackers on their cars and following them around? Fucking their girlfriends in secret? Or do you have some new plan you think is brilliant, but in the end, will amount to nothing more than a spiteful little prank?” Preston works his jaw back and forth. “I would have fucked their sister, but Devlin took off with her. So that leaves their girlfriends. Isn’t that what they did to us? It’s called revenge, cousin. Look it up sometime.” “Which of the things you’ve done is going to bring our family back?” They glare at each other for a second before Colt answers his own question. “None of them, that’s what. They’re not playing the same game we did, and they never were. It’s over, Preston. Accept that before it costs you your life.” Preston straightens, staring down his cousin until I stand from where I sank onto the arm of the grey sectional. “As enlightening as this has been,” I say. “I have to get to school.” They both ignore me. “If petty-ass revenges are all I get, I’ll fucking take ‘em,” Preston says. “I’ll take everything I can from them at every opportunity, whether they know it or not. I’ll know. And I’ll never stop.”

 I picture him sitting up here on his fancy computer, reading my salacious tales, collecting them into a file he will never use. He has so much on the Walkers, but he can’t do anything with it. He can’t go to the cops because they’re in the Walkers’ pockets. He won’t show his face in town, so he can’t get anyone else to follow or join him. He was never going to help me. He just has to feel like he hasn’t given up. I can respect that. The man’s got his pride, if nothing else. “I really do need to go,” I say again. “Take my truck,” Preston says, barely glancing at me. “Bring it back this time. And don’t leave it running in the garage.” I take the keys and head for the door. Somehow, it still surprises me when he does shit like this, like it’s nothing to let me borrow his fancy truck or pay my rent for six months. The last thing I hear before closing the door is Colt answering something Preston said with, “Fuck you. You don’t get to bring my sister into this. Your sister is still here.” So, I guess it wasn’t all for nothing. I saved Magnolia last spring, even if I couldn’t save myself.

 August’s POV

 I watch her from her windows, the shadow of this broken girl. The girl i loved, the girl I’ll always want, the same girl i let my brothers tear to shreds in that swamp and i just left her there, broken and crying, screaming and begging me to stop them, in truth i wanted to but the monster in me disagreed. He saw her as a plaything to dispose of once he was done.

So why was it that I found myself outside her windows every night watching her shadow and silhouette dance in the light of her home till she had long since fallen asleep after her nightly ritual. Why did I let myself in her home to watch her sleep, her breathing soft and shallow. 

The rational part of me tells me that this is wrong and that I should let her go, but the monster in me is unwilling to do so. He changed his mind after he saw her alive.. She wasnt that fiery version of herself that she used to be but she will be one day, i'll make sure of it.

Stamping the butt of my cigarette into the cold wet earth beneath my polished shoe, I watched her sit on the couch with a book in her hand, and that chubby tiger cat she curled  in her lap. I watched her, reading and scratching the cat's head, resting her head on her hand, she flipped the pages of her book, slowly dozing but waking herself each time. Till the final time when her head dropped, and the book fell from her lap. The cat sprinted away with the thud of the book on the floor. 

With a soft chuckle, I made my way to her front door and opened it slowly. Walking into the living room, to see her sleeping. The cat hissed at me from her spot on the stairs, I growled back and she ran up the stairs. I prowled into the living room watching her chest rise and fall at a steady pace. I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and placed a soft kiss on her temple. She shudders softly, before murmuring in her sleep. “August” I paused and held my breath waiting to see if she would wake and she didn't. Grabbing her ankles I untucked them from underneath her and stretched her out on the couch. Pulling her down gently and placing a pillow behind her head. I picked her book up off the ground and placed it on the coffee table and. I sat across from her and watched her sleep. 

She was so peaceful. Guilt gnawed at my heart, with the thought the only time she has peace now is when she is sleeping. I stood from my spot and ran a knuckle down the side of her face before walking around the house and turning off all the lights except one in the kitchen. I sank back into darkness, hunkering down in my chair. Just waiting and watching for the other monsters that may come next.

[labselkie]

i am BONKERS. WACKY EVEN. this is shorter than my usual works but i did it in the span of maybe less than an hour

like i said in an earlier post. i’m hyped for agatha but liv love never dies, unfortunately. SO HERES ANOTHER ADDITION TO MY FANTASY AU YAYY!

Olivia’s journal was more like a grimoire than anything: thick pages bound with dark leather and worn as if it were dropped into the sea. The seal princess stood over it, hands gently held at its sides. The lab was eerily quiet, morning light bathing the stone floor in all hues of sky blues and sea foam greens.

Slate blue eyes flick over the date, before passing strange scribbles of equations to finally start the novel of an entry. Almost two years ago, when they first properly met.

“The princess came in today,” It started, words written in sharp, heavy strokes indicative of stress. “The king’s court held a meeting regarding her future with the kingdom’s diplomacy, specifically under the case of a suitor. The entire council were dead set on her betrothal. I wasn’t at the court, the poor thing barged into the laboratory, about to crumble into tears.”

Lucielle’s face tenses into a small frown, no matter how much she apologized she felt petrified for acting so childish. She’s about to continue her lamenting, before continuing to read.

“But she was too scared to slam the door, twenty three and more timid than a common beast. ‘They’re trying to sell me!’ She whined, collapsing right into my favorite chaise lounge before rattling on and on about the insufferable men she met. That was the longest I had went standing at the back of that seat and not collapsing into it myself! I never really got to look at her before then, maybe some passing glances. I never truly noticed how fuzzy she looked.”

Lucielle absentmindedly rubbed a hand on the back of her neck, claws dipping through her curls as she felt the soft fur down her spine. The alchemist wasn’t exactly wrong.

“I almost zoned out once she got to listing everything wrong with the princes, until she actually referred to me.”

The princess paused. “‘I’m sorry, I just came in to request a potion’ She was nearly passed out in her dramatic anguish. She said she needed help to ‘calm down.’ I just hate that I couldn’t say no.”

The writing trailed off before a decorated line slices through the page, harboring the start of a strange recipe. A mixture of steeped iris ground with coral, a strange concoction with a result of an almost glittery tea. Of course, Olivia liked to keep her secrets, but stashing spell recipes in a journal was much more underwhelming than a cursed encyclopedia or a sealed away tome. Nonetheless, she kept reading- She wanted to know what Olivia thought.

“She said it was ‘pretty’, she didn’t even pry to see the ingredients, she just sat up in my seat and fixed up her dress. So, I sat at the edge and, to her dismay, tried to talk her through the spell. But she insisted she’d be fine. It worked fast, with her inhuman status she was much more susceptible to the effect of any magic. {To test further.} I had to catch the teacup before her heavy hands dropped it.”

Lucielle clung to every word, seeing this from new eyes, from those white rimmed glasses, was the most interesting thing she’s experienced in weeks. The potion assisted with rest, that’s the description she remembered. It was a common concoction, sold to the most restless humans and the most cunning of stage hypnotists, any form of the liquid would be equally potent.

“I still remember how her eyes fluttered, how the fur at her collar stood on end, even if I was much more worried about saving the cup and saucer at the time. She almost fell limp, I believe I felt my heart stop in that moment, as if I had killed her. But, alas, she just melted into my lounge with a dog-like whine. I couldn’t move, I was so shocked, I think I was scared. Scared that I hurt her, scared of seeing her majesty in an almost drunken stupor from just a few sips. And it was quiet, it was so quiet without her worried ramblings I thought I’d go mad. I just sat, and stared- Not out of some carnal desire like I feared, but rather an odd sense of curiosity. I have no doubt I will never forget this encounter, especially not when I tried to stand. She reached out for me, like a drowning man at sea, her hand weak but still holding all the grace of an angel’s. I was too caught up in my anxious stupor I could barely catch her words. ‘You’re nice.’ That was it. That was all she wanted to tell me before she fell asleep in my lab…”

The last bit of writing on the page is smaller, like it was added as an afterthought, like something Olivia would rather die than forget.

“I draped her sealskin over her as she rested. What is this woman doing to me.”

Lucielle felt her lips part, her mind reeling. She still felt like a burden for that day, but this was a lot, she could never say she read it. She feels hot, embarrassed, terrible that a simple spell had reduced her to a drowsy mess. But her thoughts are cut off by the sound of footsteps outside of the lab, and she decides to make a swift exit for the balcony stairs.

All that she left was the small, flat test of a sand dollar, nestled between the pages.