#couch represents comfort and home

[inwhichitumbl]

i constantly have to have a pen to fiddle with and keep my hands busy and i'm working on a theory that the equivalent for buck is… a basketball 🏀

what is the meaning of the basketball

basketball theory the new couch theory

[moonastro]

Groom persona chart

Vertex in the houses

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

The vertex represents what your husband may find destined in life or what he may have genuine fate intentions within the relationship.

Vertex in 1st house: this placement may bring a lot of self assurance and self awareness and just overall confidence to your spouse, he can feel very proud and confident around you and to be seen with you also. He may find himself when he is in a relationship with you, like he may literally find himself in you.

Vertex in 2nd house: your spouse can feel fate working its things whenever you are doing regular homely things together, watching tv in the couch, eating a meal at the dinner table etc. this placement signifies how your spouse just values little things with you and the simple ones as well. He may be the type of person who also spends his money on just YOU and no one else. He may feel gratitude towards you and may feel as if he needs to pay you back with gifts to show it. He may view your relationship as one where he provides for you, where he does the labour and hard work and make the money int he relationship.

Vertex in 3rd house: spouse may value your opinion and treat it like a sacred temple. Your words can cut him like one hundred sharp knives at once, that’s how much your opinions and words may mean to him. He may view simple and honest conversations with you to be healing and overall fated for your relationship. It’s something that makes him let things out of his chest. Your spouse may have certain things that he may just share with you no matter what his intentions towards may be at that moment, he will always come back to you to tell you the truth.

Vertex in 4th house: this placement can cause a lot of childlike and emotional and just overall sensitive vibes. Your spouse may feel as if they are free to feel things with you. They may be very comfortable expressing himself to you and may just feel like living with you and your whole family life is destined for him.

Vertex in 5th house: your spouse may envision himself being the best version around you, he may feel very inspired and overall himself around you. He feels as if he is not tied down to do things and may feel as if it is a both party contribution. He may view you to be very freeing and allow him to do his own thing, not bossing him around, not tying him down to a belief or to have children. This placement can feel as if his true personality allows itself to present to you fully.

Vertex in 6th house: with this placement usually the husband will value the little things you do together, will find that your routine has a special meaning more than you both speak it to be. He can also view that whatever he does within the house whether it be money, routine etc is something that fits well for both of you. This can be a placement that is prone to illness so your fs may not think much of whenever someone or something goes unplanned such as an illness or a disturbance in your daily life, they may be a bit unbothered by it.

Vertex in 7th house: your spouse may view your relationship to be something that allows him to connect with other people. Perhaps it’s also choosing something that may not satisfy everyone and so he may view that there will always be people that either like you or don’t- this may be something he realises while being in a relationship with you. He may find fairness to be something that is huge within the relationship between you, honesty and overall justice plays a huge part here.

Vertex in 8th house: for this placement, your fs will likely view the hardships and occasionally sensitive occurrences to be something that was meant to happen for the better. Your fs may be a believer of living life even after it feels like the end, he may feel like his relationship with your immediate family may not be the best but that’s also something that is for the better. There can be a theme of just not getting along with your side of the family no matter how hard they try to get along. This placement may also bring the mentality to your spouse that the transformation and transitional things that happen aren’t a big deal and that makes him to be someone who goes with the flow. Your spouse may find it abundant to go with the difficult things with you as it almost may feel like it makes you both get through it with less stress.

Vertex in 9th house: your spouse may view this relationship to be highly spiritual. Something that he constantly needs to study and learn from. He may feel there is sooooo much to learn from you, he can literally feel as if he is constantly learning something new. He may enjoy viewing things from different perspectives and that may feel heightened for him. It gives different outcomes and gives him self control of a situation and not falling into what others say. Having his own view and beliefs is very important here.

Vertex in 10th house: this placement may have a spouse that is particularly very hardworking. They may feel like an authoritative within the relationship, very mature, wise and dedicated. Whether it’s dedication to your relationship, or dedication to give the best lives for the both of you. He may view this relationship to be fated in a way that is rewarding, something that may happen that gives recognition to the relationship, whether it be your careers, your motivation or your achievements.

Vertex in 11th house: spouse may view this connection to be part of something more connecting to others. Let me explain, this placement can definitely involve other people, perhaps he may feel grateful for HOW he came across to you or he may feel as if others were involved in how he feels towards you. It is something that he may view as destined or planned. He may view your relationship to be pure luck, and fulfilment. He can enjoy spending time with you and doing social things with you whether it be going to a cafe, going on a road trip or simply just going shopping.

Vertex in 12th house: vertex here can bring a lot of illusion, addictions and mental health issues but not in a way that is harmful. There may be some spiritual things you two may do both to make your relationship stronger or it’s something that you do casually. So for example, may go to therapy together or may have a regular spiritual ritual that you do once in a while, this may feel destined to your partner as he may feel as if he isn’t being judged and he is free to express his own self. Your spouse may view this to be something YOU get in side of him, it’s something that deep deep down he feels you get him that no one else does.

🌼THANK YOUUUU SOOO MUCH FOR READING. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!!

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Pain Relief Pt. 3

Jack Abbot x chronically ill f!reader

series masterlist, pt 4

synopsis: jack immediately regrets asking you to paint him when you leave him a blushing, stuttering mess

warnings: fluff! some angst? reader has chronic illness, jack lost his leg in the war, suggestive

words: 1.2k

a/c: i was going to write this tomorrow but got too excited. let me know what you'd like to see next!

“Nice place.”

You blush as you step aside so Jack can enter. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious,” he says, taking off his shoes as you lock the apartment door. “It’s a nice area.”

Nodding, you take his jacket and hang it on the coat rack. When you turn, you take in Jack’s appearance. “No scrubs today, huh?”

He shrugs, looking down at the white t-shirt and loose pair of jeans. “It’s my day off.”

“Oh,” you realize that of course it is - he usually works at this hour. “Well, thanks for choosing me to spend it with.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, studying the way you squirm under his gaze and taking in the pale blue button-down you’re wearing, the way it falls over your shorts, spotlighting your legs. When he tilts his head back up, slowly, you’re smiling so brightly it lights up your eyes.

“What?” he asks, crossing his arms self consciously.

You bite your lips to hinder the smile. “Nothing.”

A door further in the apartment shuts, and a woman about your age with light brunette hair struts out. “So you’re the famous Jack,” she says, stuffing her phone into her purse and plucking her car keys from the key bowl. 

“Keira?” Jack guesses.

She nods and slips on her shoes. “I gotta go out, but we have to invite you over for dinner sometime to chat. I’ve heard lots of good things.”

You blush, and Jack grins. “I sure hope so.”

“I’ll make lasagna,” Keira decides, scooting between the two of you and heading out the door, but not before telling you to “Have fun, Lovebirds” and winking goodbye.

You lock the door behind her, bracing your back against it like you’re fortifying a wall.

“She seems nice,” Jack says, still grinning.

You chuckle, pushing yourself from the door and past him. “She’s a terrible cook. I’ll order a pizza or something.”

Jack chuckles, following as you give a tour of what you call home. The living room is spacious despite the massive couch taking up space across from the tv, and the kitchen, while small, is pristine and homey. “You’ve caught me on a good day,” you tell him. “I did the dishes and everything. Very productive.”

When you lead Jack to your room, he gulps with anticipation as you push the door open.

It’s very you, and Jack means that as the biggest compliment. Your room is welcoming, artsy, and decorated by various posters and figures representing your interests. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say nervously, holding your arms out like you’re Tony Stark. “This is where the lovemaking happens.”

Jack startles, and you bend over with laughter. “I’m just joking,” you assure him, wiping tears from your eyes and moving to riffle through the art materials at your desk. “Where are you most comfortable?”

“What?” he chokes, looking up from the floor.

You nudge your chin in the direction of his leg. “Where do you want to sit? My bed’s got a super fluffy mattress, so maybe the chair out in the living room? It’s a lot sturdier. But my desk chair is higher and stiffer if you want the support.”

Jack blinks. He’s not used to being accommodated like this. “I should be fine in the living room,” he decides, watching in awe as you collect your tools, oblivious to his staring. 

“Alright,” you say, dropping your stuff onto one of the chairs beside the couch before heading back to your room for an easel. Jack takes the seat across from you as you come back.

“Full body or just head?” you ask, and Jack chokes. You’re setting up your canvas, watching him expectantly. 

Oh, to draw. “What’s easier?”

“Do you want to take your leg off?” You’re very to the point with your questions, and Jack feels like you see directly through him.

“Is it okay?” he asks shyly.

You nod like it’s obvious. “I want you to be comfortable.”

He softens at this, and then he’s leaning down to pull up his pants leg and take off the prosthetic. You watch silently as he sets it to the side, massaging the skin it was once attached to. 

Jack looks up at you, scared of what expression you’ll have on your face. Pity? Disgust? But he is met with nothing but love and understanding. “Full body or just head?” you ask again, and Jack understands the deeper meaning. Is he ready to accept that this is who he is and let you paint all of him in his vulnerability? Meeting your soft gaze, Jack makes his decision. “Full body.”

You smile at him, almost proudly, and pluck a paintbrush from your pile. “Sit however you want. But remember you can’t move.” Your eyes flicker mischievously. “Or I’ll have to tie you down.”

Jack blushes, looking down at your hands as you take out several paints, waiting patiently. He moves into a position that feels right and nods that you can start.

You’re quiet as you paint, the brushstrokes against paper lulling him into a daze. Jack watches your face as you concentrate, noting every time you scrunch your nose or squint your eyes. When you meet his gaze to study him back, he blushes. This repeats several times before you’re speaking up.

“If you keep blushing, I’ll have to add more contrast,” you note. Your voice is monotone, but you’re grinning.

Jack can only nod.

You call for a break after forty minutes. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water will do just fine,” he says, adjusting in the seat and pulling out his phone to see a text from Robby.

How’s the date going? Is she painting you like one of her French girls?

Shaking his head in exasperation, Jack puts the phone back down just as you come back in. You hand him a glass of cold water, and he drinks it gratefully before setting it on the coffee table. “Can I see it so far?”

“Not until it’s finished! Don’t rush perfection.”

Jack huffs, but there’s a smile on his face. He settles back into position and lets you do your magic.

Twenty five minutes later, you proudly set your brush aside and step back to check for any errors. “I guess it’ll do,” you decide, standing to approach him. “It doesn’t capture all of that handsome ruggedness you’ve got going on, but it might just be one of my best works.”

Jack takes the canvas from you, and his jaw drops when he slides his reading glasses on so he can see your painting. You’ve detailed him and the chair with such care and precision, blurring the backdrop like Jack’s all that matters. As he stares in silence and awe, Jack realizes that this is how you see him. And he looks good. When Jack lifts the canvas closer to his face, he sees the worshipping way in which he looks back at you.

Jack’s falling for you, fast. And he doesn’t want to ever stop. 

Taglist:

@miraclesabound @qardasngan @mads198-9 emma8895eb @celiacallsitcausal @interestellarprincess @kmc1989 @wisps-writes-fic

[pucksandpower]

Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

[itsmeyaspider]

Visual Love~

Yandere Baki Hanma x reader x Yandere Ohma Tokita

Triggers: yandere behavior, stalking, doxing

>>Art is not mine!! All credits go to the artist!<<

Finally! After a long time of waiting, your two favorite martial arts anime are getting their own videogame, it feels almost like Christmas! Once you'd seen the movie Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura, you couldn't wait anymore to play the game to the movie.

You were so pleased that you took the day off to play the game. Some people would call you crazy for making such a fuss over a mobile game, but you couldn't help it. You're just to happy that your favorite characters were represented in other media than only in manga or anime!

You stare at your phone when it's finally 9:00 am, with a huge smile on your face you go to the play store as you see the game, you immediately download it. Your excitement grows bigger and bigger as you decide to go to the kitchen to grab your favorite drink, to cross the long wait.

After a few minutes the game is downloaded, you press the app button as you get greeted with a red glowing screen. A huge white front appears with the 'Baki Hanma vs Kengan Ashura the mobile game'. A few seconds later your two favorite characters, Baki and Ohma also appear on the screen. You could feel how your heart starts to beat faster, as your excitement also grew. You finally press start and immediately the screen is filled with a battle arena. It was a good decision to stay at home today!

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A few hours go by as you can't stop playing this game! It has similarities to Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, and each of the individual characters has their own signature move with their own special attacks. Well, since you only play as Ohma or Baki, you couldn't really tell what the other special attacks are like, but you honestly didn't care that much about it. You have to much fun winning online fights with those two, that you simply forgot the other ones.

Time flies by as you only now realize how hungry you are. It is already afternoon and because of the game you had forgotten to eat something. With a small sigh you are about to close the app as you notice something strange. A small window pops up.

Don't go....

Weird you think as you brush it off, maybe it is a bug which still needs to be fixed. You finally close the app as you leave your phone on the couch and head towards the kitchen to cook yourself something to eat.

After dinner you decide to take it easy, so you grab your phone as you head to your way to comfortable bed. You slowly start to lay down as you swipe through your contacts. Only now do you realize that the messages from your best friend's chat haven't shown to you. God this phone would kill you one day. You try to open the chat but before you could read it something weird again happened.

(B/f): Heyoooo! :3What's up?! Do you want to face-?¿?¿?¿

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error

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error

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What the fuck?? You roll with your (e/c) eyes in annoyance as the entire app freezes and crashes down. Surely that has to be a bad joke right?! Why does your phone hate you so much? You're trying to calm yourself down as suddenly another message pops up. At first you couldn't believe what you read there...was this even possible?! It takes you a short while to realize that this isn't a weird thought you had, infact this is real. A message from the BvK game pops up, something you didn't thought was ever possible, but maybe the creator added something like that to create more variety...

C'mon let's play! Don't leave us hanging here....

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you suddenly have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Did someone manage to hack into your damn phone and try to scare you?! Or is your phone so old that it just starts to collapse. You clearly didn't know the answer right now. "Maybe I'm just to paranoid... I guess I need to calm down a bit." You tell yourself as you shrugg the weird feeling off, opening the app again. You spend the rest of the evening paying the game, you didn't have much else to do anyway. But you can't shake the strange feeling of that you're being watched.

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A few days passed and everything became a little more normal again. Maybe it was paranoia after all...You went to your job, did finish the work for today and then went home. You usually eat some food and then continue to play BvK. There is something about the game, what made you addicted. You just couldn't stop playing it. The strange thing is that whenever you wanted to try out other characters that wasn't Baki or Ohma, the whole game would freeze and a huge black screen would appear. Maybe another bug who didn't get fixed yet?

With a small sigh you start to bite your underlip as you stare at the character selection, of course Ohma and Baki will always have special places in your heart, you loved them both but you wanted to try out other characters too! Especially when (b/f) tells you how cool Kaolan or Jack is to play! It can't be that the game keeps crashing when you want to play someone else. Maybe this god damned bug is finally gone...

Your (e/c) eyes glide over the character selection as you take a few minutes to decide. "Then...hmm..I will take you Pickle!" You say to yourself as you sincerely hope that the game has finally been fixed. You click on the 'Fight' button, but before the loading screen could even show up the game starts to freeze and everything goes black. "Not again...oh come one..."

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Why are you doing this?!

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Are we not enough?!

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Don't you see it, we are meant to be together!

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This isn't funny (Y/n)...

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error

error

error

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You will be ours....

What the hell?!! Out of sheer reflex, you throw your phone against the wall as you watch in bewildered, how it hits the ground. What the fuck...? Did someone really try to talk to you? Where does this game know your god damn name?! The shock runs deep as you decide not to touch the phone anymore, there's clearly a virus on it because otherwise you can't explain it logical.

You try your best to calm yourself down, taking a few breaths in and out, but even that doesn't help much. You would love to call (b/f) right now and tell him everything about it, but you don't want to touch this cursed phone anymore. Besides, would (b/f) really believe you? After all, you have no proof about it and in the end (b/f) would think that you're just setting him up again.

With a small sigh, you go into your living room as you sit down on the couch. A new phone would probably be the only best solution, at least you hoped. Even if you didn't have a lot of money to buy such an expensive thing, you got no other choice. Maybe (b/f) could borrow you some money. Slowly you lie down on the couch as you notice how your eyelids get heavier and heavier, you let out a big yawn as you fall asleep.

----

The next few days went smoothly, thanks to the help of (b/f) who saved your ass with his money, you were able to buy a new phone. Everything went back to normal, your life got boring again but at least your phone didn't try to blackmail you. Just as you were about to take a shower, a message from (b/f) pops up, with a huge smile on your face you reach for your phone and swipe to the message.

(B/f): "Did you see the new Patch? Ahh they added the death row convicts and fucking Muteba!! (Y/n) you need to play it, I swear it makes so much fun."

You look hesitantly at the message, a cold shiver runs down your spine. Normally, you would have loved to try out the new characters, but something deep inside you tells you not to.

(Y/n): I don't know...what if the virus comes back and destroys also my new phone. :( I'm broke rn I can't effort another phone...

It took no less than a few seconds for another message to pop up.

(B/f): Oh c'mon it won't happen again. Maybe you were a little bit to careless and went to strange sites~😉

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you read the teasing message, another sigh leaves your mouth as you head to the all to familiar play store and download the game again. Maybe (b/f) is right, you were a little bit careless. Besides, what are the chances thar something like this happens twice? The fact that other characters were finally added too made you so happy that you immediately go into your shower. You want to play the games again and this time without any weird coincidences.

Minutes pass and you find yourself on your couch where you start the game again. Just as you are greeted with the all known home screen, you have the feeling that you are being watched again. But this time it's worse that the last times... it's more intense and you almost feel like a small trapped animal that has been cornered by predators. You start to bite on your underlip as you shake off the unpleasant feeling as much as you can, you head straight to the battle arena where you find all the characters, even the new ones.

A small smile graces your lips as your eyes pass slowly through every character. Of course the option to play Baki or Ohma again would be there, but this time you want to play someone else. You know them both very well, their attacks and special moves, anything from it and so it's only logical to try someone new. Your eyes continue to wander around, as they suddenly stop. For a moment you rethink everything about who to really choose, but in the end you decide to play Doyle.

Exitment runs through your body, when the familiar loading screen appears in front of you, it only takes a few seconds as Hector stands in the fighting arena. Oh my god! A rush of relief runs through as you can finally enjoy this game. You play a few rounds with Hector, losing most of the time. Maybe you're not as good as you thought, just as Hector does his final pose, the screen goes black.

Two all too familiar faces walk towards you as they suddenly stop in the middle of your phone screen. Both fighter turn at the same time around, their almost dead eyes looking into yours, it feels like they are in the same room as you. What the hell?! This shit is fucking creepy... immediately you try to close the app, you keep pressing the cross but nothing happens. The eyes of the two fighters continue to penetrate you and it seems like as if they were very angry.

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Suddenly, a message appears above Ohma's head.

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You are really a brat, you know that?! Always trying to fight against us, as if we are some monsters...

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Another message pops up but this time above Baki's head.

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We have tried it in a good way but you didn't care at all...

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A huge message pops up above both their heads, as a small wicked smile spread their lips.

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Good for you that we found a way to break out of this game. You won't escape us any longer.

That is clearly been enough for you, your heart starts beating faster and faster and you couldn't trust your eyes what you actually read. What the fuck is this about?! This is crazy....You grab the phone as you throw it against the wall, you'd rather not have a phone anymore than play this fucking psycho game ever again!

Your thoughts are filled with the messages of the two characters, what do they mean when they wrote they've found a way to break out?! It doesn't make any sense at all!!! Baki and Ohma doesn't even exist... You are so distracted by your own thoughts that you only now notice a strange blue glow from your cell phone. Just as you're about to take a closer look, you suddenly see a fucking hand popping out.

What the fuck?!

This is clearly way to weird, what the hell is this?! Your thoughts are going crazy, your instinct is screaming at you to run! Run as fast as you can, and so you do. You run to your door as you only want to leave this damned apartment as quickly as possible. Your legs carry you and you immediately rush out of the floor towards the street. You don't know where you should run but it doesn't matter right now, the main thing is to get put of this place. You keep running and running, your (h/c) hair makes it impossible to see anything, the wind is to strong. But you need to run, you need to...

You want to cross the road, as you suddenly feel a very strong hand grab you, and pull you towards it. You feel yourself almost falling, but before you can feel the impact of the ground, you are grabbed again in a strong embrace. You slowly open your (e/c) eyes as you stare directly in another pair of brown eyes. The man before you has hazelnut brown, fluffy hair and a birthmark on his lips. You also couldn't ignore the muscles that adorn his body, even though he's wearing a T-shirt, he couldn't hide them. You body begins to tremble as you slowly realize who is standing in front of you. This can't be real...this isn't possible!!

A dark, raspy voice awakes you from your thoughts as another muscular, yet taller man appears behind Baki. This one has black, wavy hair and black eyes. "You don't really make it easy, do you?" Ohmas gaze rests on you like that of a beast. You try to free yourself from the much to strong grip, something what you never believed to be possible, but it was useless. The Hanma seems to he very amused by the sight. "Don't try it (Y/n). You know you have no chance."

Of course you know that you didn't have the slightest chance against even one if this two monsters, Ohma and Baki are superior to you in every way. But your pride can't let that happen! Surely your 14 year old fanfiction fan would have died that these two are standing infront of you, but this isn't a stupid fanfictiin. This is the cruel reality and the reality is that you get captured by two fictional characters just like that. "Let me go!" You stutter out, doing you best to sound as strong as possible.

Ohma tilts his head to the side with a big, almost sadistic smile on bis face. "And what if not? Will you try to fight us then?" You can't miss the mocking tone, but something inside you knows that he is right. You can't fight them... Suddenly you notice how one of Bakis hand grabs your chin, forces you to look at him. "You're ours now, don't try to make us ever angry again. You know what will happen if you do." Full of fear, you nod to his kind yet threatening words as your last hope is slowly fading away. Maybe you should have listened to your instinct...

[elllisaaa]

BE YOUR LOVE - C. SOOBIN

KINKTOBER DAY 17 - ROUGH + LOUD SEX

SUMMARY : it has not been long since you started dating soobin, and every intimate moment you had until then has been cut short. frustration starts to grow on the two of you and when he finally has the opportunity to have you all to himself, soobin doesn't hold back.

-> pairing : bf!soobin x fem!reader

-> words count : 2.6k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : dirty talk, rough & loud sex (obviously), body worhsip, praising, nipple play, marking, dry humping, size kink, protected sex, use of 'bunny'

+ the way i'm depicting soobin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | txt masterlist | kinktober 2024

What you loved the most about your boyfriend was how sweet and caring he was. Even when he was still only your friend, Soobin always made sure that you were comfortable, that you had everything you needed, that you were alright. And now that he got promoted, he was even more attentive to your every need. It was cute, and you felt so loved you didn’t understand what you did to deserve someone like him. Even if it had not been that long since the both of you upgraded your relationship from friends to lovers, you lived a dream. 

Well, except one thing maybe. You loved your friends, you really did, and you were glad that they were so cool about your relationship with Soobin. But sometimes, they were a little too cool about it. They were used to the dynamic you and your boyfriend had as friends, but they were not quite used to seeing the two of you kiss, or hold hands, or cuddle like the couple you were. And if it was only that, you would’ve honestly not cared. But it went further. 

They simply didn’t acknowledged that sometimes, when you came over to see Soobin, the both of you just wanted to be left alone for more than five minutes, that you just wanted to see each other without being interrupted every once in a while to know if you wanted to do this or that, or that Beomgyu got his ass beaten by Kai at Mario Kart. You loved your friends, but sometimes you just wanted Soobin all to yourself. 

And this situation was starting to get on your nerves, but it seemed like Soobin stayed cool about it all. Of course, you knew it annoyed him too, but he didn’t show it as much as you did. Even when the guys caught you heavily making out on the couch when they were supposed to be out for the whole day, Soobin stayed calm and simply led you to his room so you could watch a movie and take a nap. Even when things were about to get heated and Yeonjun came home, drunk, and that you both had to take care of him, Soobin didn’t lose his cool. So much that you started to think he was relieved that things hadn’t got any further between the two of you yet. 

“- You’re crazy if you think I don’t want you bunny. You don't know how hard it is for me to not lose my mind when you look like this every day.”

His cheeks were burning as he said this, but it was true, and he couldn’t let you believe that he wasn’t attracted to you when all he craved was a taste of your pussy and a glimpse of your bare skin. You blushed too at his admission, but your heart beat faster as Soobin’s eyes raked over your figure, his gaze intense and filled with lust as he looked back into your eyes. 

“- I want you so bad Y/N, and it drives me mad everytime I can’t have you.”

You cupped his face in your hands, pressing your body against his as Soobin wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him under the sheets, his eyes flickering down to your moving lips.

“- Well, you can have me now.”

Soobin didn’t need you to repeat it twice as he dived in to kiss you passionately. Still, his hands on you were soft, his touch light as he climbed on top of you and deepened the kiss. Everything was slow and sensual, making you wet so easily at the thought that it was finally going to happen. You had dreamed about fucking with Soobin for a long time, even when you were still only friends, but you had decided to take things slow with your relationship. Hence why after four months, you hadn’t done much more than kissing and groping over each other's clothes. 

But today there was something in the air, something in the way Soobin whispered an “I love you” against your lips before kissing you again, something in the way he slipped his hands underneath your sweater to caress you more boldly that made you think you would get what you wanted. As Soobin explored the skin of your waist and tummy, your own hands went under his shirt to discover the smoothness of his back, and how easy it was to make shivers come alive on his skin. 

You smirked as Soobin gasped in your mouth when you started to trace his abs with your nails, but he quickly washed it off your face when his hands went up to your breasts, squeezing them in between his long fingers and making you moan too. Soobin took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, dancing skillfully with yours as you played with each other's body. You were not in a rush for anything this time, taking your time to trace every imperfections and curve of his skin while he couldn’t detach his hands from your body either. 

“- Can I take it off bunny ? I wanna see you.

- Only if you take it off too.

- Deal.”

You giggled while Soobin hurriedly got rid of his white shirt before he helped you get out of your sweater (that was in fact one of his). He seemed fascinated as he detailed your now naked chest, his hands timidly coming back to wrap around your boobs and groaning at the view. 

“- You’re so beautiful, so perfect.”

Your cheeks heated up to the compliment, and Soobin quickly swept you off your feet as he leaned down to kiss you again, quickly letting his mouth come down to discover how good the skin of your neck tasted too. His kisses got sloppier, sucking and licking at your skin as he played with your nipple and making you moan his name. You closed your eyes as you let the feeling sink in, loving how good he could make you feel with this only. 

“- Binnie… Let me touch you too, please.”

Soobin hummed against the skin of your neck, but he still sucked one more purple mark onto you before he detached himself and laid down on the bed instead of you. This time, you were the one who climbed up on top of him, only wearing your panties now, and you sat on his lap, his already hard cock pressing against your clothed core and making the both of you sigh. But you ignored it for now, because you wanted to worship your pretty boyfriend. 

“- You look so fucking good, I don’t think you understand how handsome you are.

- Bunny…

- Shh, let me make you feel good too, yeah ?”

Soobin nodded at you as you leaned down to kiss him quickly before you moved on to his neck just like he did a few moments ago. You sucked on his skin too, leaving some purple marks behind you too to match with the one covering your neck. At the same time, you let your hands roam over his toned chest, appreciating every low moan and sigh escaping your boyfriend’s lips. His own hands had come up to take a hold of your waist, he couldn’t keep his hands away from you for too long. 

“- Y/N… 

- Hm ?

- I need you.

- Need you too, need you so bod. You don’t know how many times I wish this could happen.”

You can’t talk for too long without feeling the need to plant another kiss on his lips, your tongue mingling with his in a sensual dance that left the both of you breathless. And when Soobin pressed you down on him and moaned against your mouth, you knew you couldn’t wait anymore. You started to roll your hips on top of him, the friction against your clit making you whine and rendering you blind and deaf to anything around you. That was probably why you didn’t hear Yeonjun and Kai come back home - even though they were supposed to spend the weekend away - and that was probably why you didn’t react right away when the older boy opened the door. 

“- Soobin, is Y/N with y-”

You looked up at Yeonjun in disbelief for a few seconds, and Soobin did the same before his instincts took over : he threw a blanket over your almost naked body to not let his friend see you like this and he threw a pillow at the boy who screamed loudly. 

“- Don’t you know how to knock on a fucking door !? Get out of here !

- Okay, okay, sorry !”

Yeonjun closed the door behind him and Soobin sighed as he ran his hands over his face, really fed up with being interrupted this time. He was that close to finally getting a taste of his pretty girlfriend, sweet pussy, and now he was getting cockblocked again. He looked at you, so cute with your red cheeks, your messy hair and your eyes still glistening with lust, wrapped in his blanket, and all he wanted to do was to devour you. 

“- Are you still in the mood bunny ?

- Well, yes, but the guys are home…”

Soobin grabbed your hand to pull you on top of him again, pulling you down on his lap in the exact same position as a few minutes before. And you couldn’t deny it, the hint of something darker in his gaze as he checked you out, detailed your body, made your stomach twist. 

“- I don’t care if they’re home. I just want to have you. Let me fuck you bunny, let them hear how real our couple is.”

You wanted to laugh at his sudden possessiveness, but Soobin was serious, so you just nodded at him, whispering “okay” against his lips. He didn’t know if it was the fact that you had been interrupted one too many times by your friends, or that Yeonjun had seen you almost naked and that he didn’t liked the way he looked at you, or that he was just thinking with his dick, but Soobin needed to be inside you, he needed to ruin you and to make you scream loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear, for the neighbors to fill up a noise complaint tomorrow. 

“- I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own name bunny.”

His promise didn’t fall on deaf ears, but you still squealed when Soobin easily inverted your positions - laying you down on the bed instead. In the span of a few seconds, your panties were out of the equation, and so were his sweatpants and underwear. Your eyes were glued to his impressive size, and even if you knew, even if Soobin had warned you, you couldn’t help your reaction when you saw him roll the condom on his length. 

“- What ? 

- Nothing. Just didn’t think you were that big.”

The compliment made your shy boyfriend come back to life, and not that sort of sex demon that seemed to have possessed him, but as soon as he placed himself at your entrance and that you pleaded for him to fill you up, it disappeared again. Even just his tip seemed big, and you whined for more so easily it was making it hard for him to hold back. 

“- You already feel so tight… You’re gonna make me lose my mind.

- Please, Soobin… Just fuck me like you mean it, I need you.”

That was all he needed to push his whole cock into you without a warning, making you moan loudly even if you had slapped one of your hands against your mouth to try and suppress your noises. But Soobin struggled to hold back his own sounds, the way you were clenching down around him making him feel in heaven already. 

“- Tell me what you want bunny, tell me how rough I can be because I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making it difficult.”

The slow rocking of his hips seemed controlled, but you could feel by the way he was gripping on your waist tightly that he was holding back as much as he could, that he was really trying to stay the same caring and sweet Soobin for your first time. But the way he was hovering over you, and the way his big cock was burshing against your cervix so easily, and the way his hands looked so big on you - all of that made you want to be ruined by him so bad.

“- D-Don’t hold back, please fuck me hard…

- Shit… You’re gonna be the death of me…”

These were the last words you fully registered coming out of his mouth before you partially blacked out. Soobin’s thrusts shifted from slow and sensual, to deep and powerful. The bed was moving and hitting the wall to the rhythm of his hips, but your moans were just as loud, your brain having disconnected and forgotten about the fact that Yeonjun and Kai were still living there. No, that was thinking material for later, now you could only feel the way Soobin was filling you up, the way Soobin hit your sweet spot with each one of his thrusts. 

And Soobin knew he should have stayed level-headed, knew that he should have waited until you were alone, knew that he probably should’ve been more careful and gentle for your first time together, but it was like he physically couldn’t. Every new whimper and moan from you only spurred him on, and every clench of your wet, velvety walls around him made him more addicted to your pussy. It was like everything that wasn’t you or that wasn’t him had disappeared, vanished into the hot air of his room. 

Soobin pushed one of your legs higher, until it could rest on his shoulder and allowed him to hit deeper inside of you, if that was even possible. The slight change of angle made the both of you moan in harmony, your hands flying to his sweaty shoulder to try and keep a grip on reality as Soobin increased the force of his thrusts. 

Everything around you was blurred, lava coursing through your body and heating you up from the inside every time your boyfriend pounded harder into you. You could feel yourself getting close already, but you couldn't even say a word, too far gone to know how to make a sentence anymore. Soobin detached his eyes from where his big cock was swallowed by your pretty cunt when you tugged on his hair, met with the most beautiful view ever - your face transformed by ecstasy, by the pleasure he was giving to you, and you were glowing from something that made him want to ruin you even more. 

“- Soobin… I’m…”

This was enough for him to understand that you were close, and he kept the same pace, adamant on hitting your sweet spot everytime he snapped his hips forward, adamant on hearing you scream his name again and again, adamant on everyone else hearing how good he fucked you. He let one of his hands get down to your clit, applying little pressure against your bundle of nerves, but just enough for your thighs to start trembling and for your moans to pick up again. Soobin watched you as you came on his cock, the feeling of you clenching down on him again enough to make him cum too. Soobin continued to thrust into you at a slow path, letting you come down off your high and riding out his orgasm. 

“- You think they will be mad ?

- Definitely, but it was worth it.”

The cheeky smirk on his lips made you want to hit him, but the way he was still lazily fucking you had your brain feeling all fuzzy again. You didn’t know what monster came over your boyfriend once it came to sex, but you loved it, and too bad for your friends because you had a lot to catch up with.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

txt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @rockstrrrgf @foxinnie8 @lala-----------lala @lichyuu @urlocal-user @seomisaho

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @anxiousskylar @mikaelless @leeknowinggg

[nylqnder]

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you and luke say your goodbyes to jack and step into the newest chapter of your lives.

warnings: fluff, insinuation of smut towards the end

word count: 1.12k

The living room was a chaotic sea of boxes, turning your new apartment into a maze that the three of you had to carefully navigate. Some boxes were stacked precariously high, swaying slightly with each step you took, as if daring gravity to take hold. Others were haphazardly strewn across the floor, creating narrow pathways that forced you to sidestep and twist around just to get from one end of the room to the other. The faint scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of cardboard, a constant reminder that this place was truly new — truly yours.

“Oh god, this is going to take forever to unpack,” you sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face as you stood amidst the chaos that had consumed your new home. The task before you felt insurmountable, like you’d need a week just to clear a path to the kitchen.

Luke stepped closer, his presence a comforting anchor amid the disarray. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you into his side, his warmth easing the stress that had begun to coil in your chest. “Yeah…” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, before leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Maybe we start that tomorrow.”

Jack, who had been lugging boxes back and forth from the truck all afternoon, dropped the latest one—a heavy box labelled Kitchen—onto the couch with a thud. He let out an exaggerated sigh as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. “You sure you got everything?” he asked, casting a weary glance around the room that seemed to get more cluttered with each passing minute.

“I did a final scan right before we left… I think we’ve got everything,” you answered.

“And Jack, even if we forgot something, it’s not like we’re far,” Luke added.

After living with Jack for Luke’s first season in New Jersey, you’d finally decided it was time to get your own place. Jack had been a great roommate, but you and Luke had long reached the point in your relationship where it was time to be on your own. Although Jack had long joked about wanting you out of “his house”, you knew deep down he was going to miss having you as a roommate.

You slipped out of Luke’s grasp, taking a few steps toward Jack and giving him a playful poke in the side. “You know, Jack, I think you’re gonna miss me when I’m not here to clean up after your messes.”

Jack scoffed, though the smile he tried to suppress betrayed him. “Please, I’ll finally have some peace and quiet without the two of you bickering constantly.”

You and Luke both scoffed, seeing right through him. “Yeah right, you’ll be lost without us here.” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head at his brother. “You know, you can admit you’ll miss her, right? I know I would.”

Jack shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the small crack in his facade was obvious. “I’ll survive. I mean, who needs a sister-in-law who steals the last of the cereal?”

You laughed, the sound filling the room as you pulled Jack into a quick hug. Despite all the teasing, you knew Jack had genuinely enjoyed having you around. He had never complained about the extra person in his space, and you suspected he would miss the lively energy you and Luke brought to the apartment.

“Thanks for putting up with us, Jack,” you said softly, squeezing him a little tighter before letting go. “And don’t worry, we’ll still come around to raid your cereal.”

Jack smirked, shaking his head. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

As you stepped back, Luke was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close once more. The three of you stood there for a moment, surrounded by the boxes that represented a new chapter in your lives. The apartment you and Luke had chosen together was just a few blocks away, but it felt like a world of difference. It was the first place that would truly be yours—no longer just a guest in someone else’s home but a space where you and Luke could continue building your life together.

Jack gave you a mock salute as he headed toward the door. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m out. Don’t call me to help unpack.”

You grinned, watching him go. “We won’t,” you called after him, your voice filled with affection.

As the door clicked shut behind Jack, you and Luke were left in the stillness of your new apartment. The silence was almost overwhelming, but it was a comforting kind of quiet—the kind that spoke of new beginnings. You glanced around the room, taking in the boxes that surrounded you, before letting out a long, tired sigh and leaving Luke’s comforting grasp. “We should probably get a head start on this.”

Luke groaned, but you both knew you were right. Together, you tackled the important things—the bed, a few personal effects, and other essentials you’d need right away. When exhaustion finally got the better of you, you collapsed onto the couch—the only piece of furniture that wasn’t buried under a mountain of boxes.

Luke’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gave you a gentle squeeze. “We did it,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and pride.

“Yeah, we did,” you echoed, leaning your head against his shoulder. The reality of it all was just beginning to sink in. This was your home now. A place that belonged to the two of you, where you could make memories that were just yours.

Luke shifted slightly, turning his head to press a kiss to the top of your head. “I think we should celebrate,” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

You laughed softly, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”

A slow grin spread across Luke’s face, and you didn’t need him to spell it out to know exactly what he had in mind. Luke shifted closer to you, his lips brushing against yours. “We should christen the place,” he murmured.

The wave of exhaustion lifted, a new sensation of excitement filling your bones. You didn’t need any more convincing. The boxes could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you had more important things to attend to. With a laugh, you tugged him off the couch and led him toward the bedroom.

[eiralunaire]

Damian Wayne/Reader

Warning: soft, fluff, pregnant Reader.

Damian Wayne, with his usual seriousness, had taken on a new air since he found out he was going to become a father. He was always attentive, even more so after that casual conversation in which Reader mentioned how fragile a pregnancy was in the early stages. That simple information had deeply disturbed him, and although he did not admit it, the fear of losing her, or the baby, ate away at him inside.

Now, no matter what she was doing, Damian was always by her side, almost like a protective shadow. If she got up from the couch to go to the kitchen, he was behind her, making sure she did not bend too much, that she did not lift heavy things, and even that she did not stand for too long.

“You don’t need to do that, Damian. I’m fine,” she said, smiling tenderly as she tried to wash a plate.

But he, unfazed, took the plate from her hands with a gentle but firm gesture, placing it back in the sink.

“You don’t need to make unnecessary efforts. I can do it.”

Reader sighed, understanding that although he might seem excessive, his gestures were full of love and concern. The simple fact that she bent down to pick something up from the floor put him on the verge of panic.

“You read it in that book, right? The fetus is still very fragile in the first trimester,” she had told him one night while reading one of the many books about pregnancy that he had accumulated in the house. It was a casual comment, not intended to alarm him, but for Damian, the words remained like a permanent echo in his mind.

That night, he couldn’t sleep well. The image of something happening to Reader or the baby haunted him every time he closed his eyes. And from then on, his attention became more acute. If they went out for a walk, his hand always rested on the small of her back, guiding her carefully. At home, he offered to sit her down whenever she seemed tired, even if it was just a little.

“Damian, honey, I’m really okay. I’m not made of glass,” she would tell him, smiling sweetly.

But he would just nod, his jaw clenched slightly as his green eyes looked at her with concern. He was a warrior, trained to fight crime, but this new challenge, the fragility of life inside his wife, made him feel out of control.

There were nights when, even though Reader slept peacefully, he would lie awake, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. His hand, always delicate, caressed her still barely bulging belly, as if he could protect the baby just by touching her.

One afternoon, Reader tried to bend down to pick up a book she had dropped, and before she could even reach out her hand, Damian was already kneeling in front of her, taking the book and quickly standing up.

“You don’t have to bend down. I’ll take care of it,” he said in a serious tone, but with a slight concern in his eyes.

She laughed softly, caressing his cheek. “I can’t live my life without bending over from time to time. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but if there is any risk, even a small one, I prefer to prevent it.”

The intensity of his gaze told Reader that it wasn’t simply a logical precaution; for him, every little movement represented a possible threat. But at the same time, that intensity was charged with love and devotion.

When it was time to sleep, Damian made sure that Reader was completely comfortable. He strategically placed pillows to support her back and belly, adjusted the sheets, and even monitored the temperature of the room to make sure it was perfect.

And although it might seem exaggerated, Reader knew that all of this was a sign of the immense love that Damian felt, a love that had transformed him from a vigilante obsessed with justice into a husband and future father full of tenderness and, above all, fear of losing what he valued most in the world.

“I’m going to be okay, Damian. We’re doing fine,” she assured him every night, intertwining her fingers with his as she gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I know,” he replied, though his gaze still showed the shadow of that constant worry.

Because for Damian Wayne, every day was a battle against the fear of losing the woman he loved and the future they had begun to build together. And as long as that fear accompanied him, he would never stop being by her side, protecting her with every fiber of his being.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 22]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You felt nervous when you got ready to go to Hongjoong's place to work. The last time you saw each other and spoke, it was at your shop where Hongjoong confessed his feelings for you and you realised that you may have feelings for him too. You drank your iced tea with a soft sigh.

*DING DONG*

"Coming!" You put your mug down and went to answer the door. You felt your breath caught in your throat when you came face to face with Hongjoong.

"Hongjoong." For some reason, you didn't consider the possibility that he would come pick you up.

"Hey." He smiled at you.

"I'm almost ready... Come in." You returned a soft smile and stepped aside for Hongjoong to come in. Hongjoong bowed his head and removed his shoes, following you in.

"Sorry, I won't take too long. I just have some dishes I meant to clean." You hurried to the kitchen.

"Take your time, it's okay." He replied. Unlike last time, he didn't go to the couch, he stayed in the kitchen area with you.

"Can I help you? I can wash while you dry and put the plates back" He offered, already removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves before you could reply.

"With my dishes? No, no, Hongjoong. It's fine, really." You coughed, you really didn't expect him to offer his help. It almost felt wrong for him to be helping with dishes, he probably had people help with that but you felt bad for judging him like that.

"I can wash dishes, (y/n)." He chuckled.

"I'm already done. It's not much considering I'm one person." You laughed, putting them on the drying rack. They didn't have to be returned now, they could dry until you return home.

"Would you like some cold brew tea? The weather's quite warm today and it can cool you down." You asked.

"Sure. Thank you." He said. You moved to the fridge, filling one of your to-go mugs with the cold tea from the pitcher.

"Here you go." You held it out to him. He received the mug graciously and took a sip, nodding his head at the taste. You let out a sigh of relief and returned the pitcher.

"I was worried it might be too strong, I think I went overboard with the dried leaves." You giggled.

"Not at all. I have always been more of a coffee person but after drinking all the teas you made, you've changed me." He said.

"Don't flatter me." You playfully scoffed, finally able to let out the mental breath that you have been holding. Nothing has to change, you still can be comfortable around Hongjoong.

"Shall we go?" He asked.

"Yeah. Let's go." You nodded and grabbed your bag. Like the gentleman he is, Hongjoong held the box with all your gardening tools inside while you held the jacket he removed earlier. He unlocked the car and you tried to help him with putting the box in the boot. Then he opened the door for you to get in.

"Do you mind holding that for me?" He gestured to the blazer neatly tucked in your arms. You shook your head and he closed the door to go to the driver's side.

"Should we go for lunch before returning to the house?" Hongjoong asked, starting the loud engine.

"I don't know if we should be playing hooky." You shook your head.

"It's fine, I'm the boss and technically, your boss. So I don't have to work and I can say that you don't have to start work yet." He laughed and you giggled.

"Seonghwa might beg to differ." You pointed out. Hongjoong snorted but still drove to a place where you could both grab a meal.

"Here we are. Wooyoung says the sandwiches here are good." He said, pulling up into a parking space.

"Alright, only because you already drove here despite my protests." You chuckled and got out. You waited for Hongjoong to put the hood of the car up, trying to ignore the passing stares.

"Thanks, let's go." He jogged over to you and held the door open for you.

"Woah, I guess this is a popular place." You said, noticing how packed it was inside with people waiting around either for an empty table or their orders. There was no way you and Hongjoong would find an empty table so fast.

"We're definitely not getting a seat. It's fine, we'll just eat in the car." He stood beside you with a shrug, scrutinising the menu board with his hands into his pockets.

"Are you sure about that?" Your eyes widened as you turned to him. Eating in such an expensive car? What if you drop crumbs?

"Yeah, of course. It's fine, Mingi sends my car to get cleaned all the time." He grinned.

"Be careful." Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him to prevent someone carrying a tray of drinks from bumping into you.

"It's crammed in here." He said. You blinked, feeling flustered at how you were suddenly so close to him.

"R-Right." You cleared your throat, taking a step back slightly. You never noticed how nice Hongjoong smelt. Wait, what?

"Have you decided what you would like to have?" He leaned over to ask you. You looked up at the menu, focused on that instead of whatever happened just now and what your intrusive thoughts were.

"Umm, maybe I'll try to breakfast sandwich with a strawberry lemondade. It looks good." You said. Hongjoong nodded and continued to look at the menu, a little indecisive of what to order. When it was your turn to order, you both stepped up to the counter. Hongjoong gave your order first.

"I'll have the chicken cutlet sandwich. No lettuce, no tomato, no onions. Oh! And a berry smoothie. We'll get fries on the side to share." He ordered, fishing for his wallet.

"I can pay, Hongjoong." You said softly.

"It's fine." He smiled back and tapped his card on the reader before you could pay, receiving the order ticket from the cashier.

"I momentarily forgot you don't like vegetables." You giggled, remembering how he asked for all the vegetables to be removed from his sandwich.

"Why waste calories on things that don't taste good?" He questioned back with a smug look.

"Vegetables are delicious, Hongjoong. And they're good for you. You're worst than a child." You rolled your eyes.

"You're getting very naggy with me, like Hwa. I don't like that. Stop hanging around him so much." He narrowed his eyes at you, making you laugh.

It took you to realise that Hongjoong was using his body to shield you from the crowd in the shop. You stood between the wall and him, with him angling his body slightly, his back facing the rest of the shop to prevent anyone from possibly bumping into you.

"Order #128!" The cashier called out your number.

"Why don't you go outside? I'll get the food." He gave a kind smiled, moving past you to go to the pick up window. You left the shop and stood outside to wait for Hongjoong.

"Thank you for braving the crowd." You giggled when you saw Hongjoong emerge.

"No problem. I guess we shouldn't have come right before lunch rush." He chuckled, letting you take the drinks so he could unlock the car.

"It's fine, wasn't too bad." You said and opened the car to sit inside. You assumed you were going to sit here in the car and eat but Hongjoong started up the engine.

"Aren't we eating here?" You asked.

"We're eating in the car but not here. There's no nice scenary." Hongjoong snorted and began to drive.

"Ah, we don't need a nice scenary, Hongjoong. It's fine to eat in the carpark." You giggled. Hongjoong continued driving, parking in a spot by a park. Once he found a parking space that didn't have that many people walking through, he put the hood of the car down so the both of you could eat.

"Here." Hongjoong took the drinks from you, removing them from the cardboard holder to put them in the cupholder of the front console instead. Then he dug your sandwich out.

"This is yours. And I got sides to share." He laid the paperbag down as protection and balanced the tray of tater tots on top.

"Thank you for the food." You smiled and unwrapped your sandwich to take a bite.

"Sorry." You apologised and held your sandwich in one hand so you could take your ringing phone out. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw that it was Seonghwa calling.

"Hello, Seonghwa." You greeted. Hearing his best friend's name, Hongjoong looked at your curiously.

"Hi. Considering you're never late and that Hongjoong isn't picking up his phone, I'm guessing he detoured to some place?"

"You've guessed correctly. Sorry for being late-"

"Hwa, I told her it's fine to be late. I was the one that dragged her out for lunch before going to the house." Hongjoong took your phone from you to speak to Seonghwa.

"Yeah, we figured. I just wanted to make sure that she's with you, just in case anything happened while she was on the way here. Like I told her, I know (y/n) is never late so it must be your doing. Don't take too long, we have a 3pm meeting later."

"Ah, there you go, nagging me again. I won't be late for the meeting, I promise. If there are any papers, just put them on my desk." Hongjoong groaned.

"Hyung! I wanna speak to-"

Hearing the others in the background, Hongjoong hung up. He smiled innocently before handing you back your phone.

"Are we in trouble?" You asked. Even if you sounded like you were joking, Hongjoong could sense the underlying worry in your voice. He shook his head.

"Even if we were, it's most likely me that's in trouble. Not you." He smiled and took another bite of his sandwich.

"Your food is very... beige." You pointed out.

"Alright, I get it. I don't eat vegetables. Enough with the teasing!" He growled, holding his sandwich away from you so you couldn't make fun of him anymore.

As you finished the rest of the food, you both spoke comfortably with one another. It was easy to find common topics to talk about.

"We should go to the house. We're already late and I don't want to be any later." You said, your uncomfortableness evident in your voice now. Hongjoong nodded, not wanting to stress you out any further. He drove to the house. Just as he pulled up to the driveway, Seonghwa and Yeosang arrived on their bikes.

"Where were you two?" Hongjoong asked as they climbed off. Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, was Hongjoong really in the position to ask them that?

"Mingi fitted new suspensions so we went for a test run. Where were you, hyung?" Yeosang asked back.

"We went for a quick lunch." You replied, a little too quickly.

"Next time, we can take you for a ride if you'd like, (y/n)." Seonghwa offered with a wink. You giggled and nodded along, unable to see Hongjoong behind you, whose eyelid was twitching slightly.

"Go park your bikes, don't block the driveway." Hongjoong said to the two, leading you into the house.

"See you later." You bowed your head to the two.

"Don't take up their offer to ride with them. They're racers, it's not safe." Hongjoong cautioned. Your heart warmed, realising this was Hongjoong sharing more about their lives with you.

They all raced, cars and motorcycles. If you were going to really be around more, it was something that you would have to get used to.

"You should go to work before you're any later tooo. You can put the tools down here. I'll bring them to the garden myself." You said softly. Hongjoong shook his head and followed you to the garden. He placed the box on the ground.

"Thank you, Hongjoong. Not just for this but for the lunch... And picking me up." You added, bowing gratefully.

"It's no problem, (y/n). I like hanging out with you." He smiled softly, placing a hand on the top of your head. You smiled back at him, feeling your heart race.

"I'll see you later?" He tilted his head. You nodded and gave him a small wave as he went into the building.

"Okay, calm down." You told yourself and let out a long exhale.

"Good afternoon, (y/n). Is it okay if I work in the gazebo?" San walked over to you and asked with a smile, his laptop and some files tucked under his arm.

"Of course. It's your house, San... I'm merely a visiting worker. You shouldn't ask me." You giggled.

"You know you're not just a worker here. Not to us." He smiled kindly and bowed his head before going to the gazebo to work.

You went back to work, pruning the surrounding hedges. They were growing well, looking healthy and providing a little 'fence' around that main garden bed.

"Yes! Hello there." You cheered when you noticed how some of the herbs in the box were growing well that you could harvest some. The rosemary stalks, lemon balm and sweet basil plants were ready to be picked. You stood up and went back into the house to get a bowl from the kitchen.

"Hey, (y/n). What's going on with that?" Wooyoung asked, seeing you emerge from the kitchen with a metal bowl.

"Some herbs can be picked so I'm gonna harvest them. Maybe the cooks can use some for cooking." You informed with an excited giggle. Wooyoung's eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Can I see?"

"Of course." You smiled and he followed you out. You bent down by the herb bed and began to harvest some.

"So what are all these?" He asked, deciding to bend down to be on the same height as you to get a closer look at what you were doing.

"Rosemary grows quickly and it's a sturdy plant so there's quite a bit of harvest. This is lemon balm, it comes from the same family as mint so it looks similar, great for making tea." You explained.

"Okay, I know this one. Basil, I learnt how to make pasta from the chefs the other day." Wooyoung smiled.

"Do you have an interest in cooking?" You asked.

"It's popular with girls... A skill I can show off..." Wooyoung said with a sheepish smile, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he admitted to you. For someone always confident, it was the first time you saw him so flustered.

"I understand." You hummed and finished collecting the herbs, putting them into the bowl. Wooyoung walked to see what San was up to while you headed back into the house.

"Here you go." You handed the chef the bowl full of fresh herbs.

"Wow, they smell amazing. Thank you, I'll definitely put them to good use." He smiled.

"I'm glad." You giggled and went back to work. With the garden slowly getting healthier, there was less maintenance for you to do now. It was a good sign.

"Oh! (y/n)." Hongjoong stopped on the staircase, looking up from his phone. When he saw you, the frown on his face dissipated.

"Hi." You waved, noticing he was in new clothes, a full suit that looked a lot more formal.

"I'm... heading out. How's the garden?" He asked, pointing to the front door where he was going to leave, coming down the last few steps so he could talk to you a little closer.

"It's going great, actually. I harvested some herbs with Wooyoung earlier to give to the chef. With the garden in good condition, maybe I'll only need to come once a week to water and maintain it." You stated with a proud nod. But Hongjoong didn't really like the idea of you coming less.

"Come over less...?" Hongjoong repeated the only part of your statement that he focused on.

"I mean, it frees up a day to do other things. Not work. Besides, it feels unfair for you guys to pay me when I don't have work to do." You shrugged with a giggle.

"You know it doesn't matter. I'll pay to have you around more." Hongjoong smiled, speaking honestly, making you flustered.

"Sorry, I have to go. I'll see you?" He checked his watch.

"Yeah, don't be sorry. Have a nice meeting." You smiled. He grinned back and walked to the front door while you went the opposite direction, going back to the garden.

"Where did you go?" Wooyoung asked, leaning against the pole of the gazebo where San was working.

"I-I was giving the chefs the herbs that we collected." You stuttered, leaving out the part where you spoke to Hongjoong.

"Then why are you stuttering? Did something else happen, hmm?" He sang as he teased you with a smug smile, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from yours.

"Don't bother her." San reached out to shove him. Wooyoung let out a cackling laugh. You didn't know if Hongjoong told the others about you and him yet. They were his brothers first so you were not in the position to tell them anything.

"I'm going back to the garden." You stomped away, wanting to get away from this conversation.

RINGGGGG

"Hello? Oh, Jihoon ah." You pressed the phone between your ear and your shoulder to talk to him as you worked. Hearing 'Jihoon', San and Wooyoung looked at each other.

"Woo, don't interfere. They're not officially together yet." San reminded, seeing the look on his best friend's face.

"I know that but I have to help the captain if there's competition, right?" Wooyoung scoffed.

"He can handle himself." San sighed.

"I'm not letting her attention be taken away by another man. I have to help my captain." Wooyoung declared, marching towards where you were talking on the phone.

"Well, leave me out of it." San mumbled with a shake of his head, looking back at his papers.

"Hey, (y/n)! Stop working! Let's go get some ice cream! It's so hot out." Wooyoung yelled, making sure Jihoon would have heard him.

"Yeah, I'm at work... It's fine, I'll call you when I'm done with work. Alright, Jihoon. Have a great day." You said and hung up. You shot Wooyoung an odd look, wondering why there was a need to shout when you were right there and obviously on the phone. But then again, Wooyoung was always chaotic and loud.

"I can't just stop and have ice cream. I'm working, Wooyoung." You raised an eyebrow.

"But you were on the phone~ And it's so hot out, you deserve a treat to cool off and as a 'good job' for all your hard work!" He gave you a thumbs up, putting his arm around you.

"Do I want to know why Wooyoung was shouting?" Seonghwa asked from the second floor, leaning down.

"Want ice cream?" Wooyoung asked back.

"Sure." Seonghwa shrugged and came downstairs. Soon, Mingi and Jongho also emerged, somehow having heard about there being ice cream to eat.

"Should we call San?" You asked, eating a spoonful of your ice cream, remembering the male working outside by the garden.

"I'll text him." Mingi said after he finished putting the toppings over his ice cream.

"Why are you all here suddenly eating ice cream?" Yeosang came into the kitchen, seeing everyone scattered around. San snorted as he scooped his ice cream but didn't say a word.

"Because it's hot out. When do we need a reason to enjoy some ice cream?" Wooyoung asked. But deep down, he knew he was going to hold this against the captain because he so owes Wooyoung a favour right now.

~

Series masterlist

[fleshunger]

helping vi with her t-shots :3

vi x reader, established relationship, fluff, crack (?), masculine titles for vi (boyfriend), idk man i wrote this in 10 minutes, was thinking abt using he/him for vi in this one but decided against it idk how the crowd feels abt that, this is just cute n short silly okay?!!! layout inspired by kitguts and cowgirlvi

a.n: no way I posted after 400 years ok anyway this fic is not supposed to represent an accurate process of a testosterone shot please do not try to recreate at home i have never given myself or someone else a testosterone shot and im not entirely sure how the process works so if this isn’t realistically depicted please excuse me for I am inexperienced

You’re curled up on the side of the couch, mindlessly watching a random episode of Gossip Girl while occasionally scrolling through your phone.

It’s already dark out, and Vi still isn’t home. You know she likes to take her time at the gym, but you’re starting to wonder where she is and what she’s doing since she hasn’t come home yet.

As if on cue, the lock to your shared apartment clicks open, and in strides Vi, slightly out of breath, with her gym bag in one hand and what seems to be a pharmacy bag in the other. Her tan skin and bulging muscles glisten with a thin layer of sweat, making her all the more attractive.

“Hey, I’m back!” she huffs as she tosses her keys to the side, dropping her duffel bag to the floor and running a hand through her damp hair. She’s been growing it out, and you think she’s the handsomest she’s ever been. She lets out a loud sigh before heading to the fridge to chug an ice-cold bottle of water like a man parched.

“Hey yourself, what took you so long?” you ask, your attention entirely focused on her—especially on her moving back muscles. God, she’s so broad…

Vi snaps you out of your trance with her reply. “I got held up,” she says, taking another gulp of water before holding up the pharmacy bag. “Had to pick up my T from the pharmacy.”

“Oh, cool,” you say with a small hum and a slight nod, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend as she walks over to the couch and plops down next to you, stretching out her strong limbs.

“Gonna force me to give you your shot again?” you grin lightheartedly. Vi knows you actually don’t mind at all—on the contrary, you love helping her.

Vi raises a brow and nudges your side with an amused smirk. “You bet your ass I am,” she retorts playfully, making you roll your eyes.

You get up to gather everything you need for Vi’s shot: an alcohol pad, a clean needle, and, of course, her newly picked-up vial of testosterone.

“C’mere,” you command.

“Whatever ya say, Doc,” Vi quips as she lays herself over your lap like a little kitten, clearly getting comfortable.

“Butt again this ti—?”

“Yep,” Vi cuts you off before you can even finish the sentence.

You exhale softly as you grab the small vial. “Why don’t you let me put it in your leg or something normal? It’s like you want me to inject your butt,” you mutter while carefully filling the syringe with the hormone.

“Nah, butt’s funnier,” she says with a cocky grin, clearly enjoying the fact that she’s making you inject her ass.

You flick the syringe to get rid of any air bubbles. “Alright, alright, pants down, weirdo.”

“Someone’s eager to see my ass,” Vi teases as she shimmies down her sweatpants. You have to hold yourself back from giving her a slap or a pinch for that comment. She stops when she’s revealed enough skin to give you room to work with.

You gently grab the soft skin and carefully insert the syringe into her cheek, injecting her with the T.

Vi balls her hand into a fist, one eye squeezing shut. Despite doing this plenty of times, it still comes with a little pinch.

“Ow…” she huffs, her face scrunching up for a second.

You make sure to fully inject the dose before pulling the needle out, giving her ass an appreciative pat. “Alright, there’s your T-shot, big boy,” you say with a smile.

Vi rolls her eyes and pulls her pants back up. “Oh, shut up,” she groans sarcastically, readjusting herself into a more comfortable position.

You continue rubbing the curve of her ass—she sure is blessed in that department, after all.

“Have you noticed any symptoms?” you hum, genuinely interested in your boyfriend’s hormone journey.

“Hmm… well, my acne’s a bit worse, my mood’s kinda short at times, and I’m hairier,” she says with a yawn, looking up at you lovingly. “But my voice is deeper, I’m bulking easier, and there’s definitely an increase in strength, so there’s that.”

She grins, clearly enjoying those two aspects in particular.

“Oooh~! Lemme pop your pimples,” you leer, already wiggling your fingers.

Vi scoffs, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “No way in hell!”

try my recipe boy

[hrtwayne]

Golden || Barcelona Femení

Pairing: Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Where the reader gets her first call-up to the English national team.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: None!

Previous Chapter | Barcelona Femení Masterlist

It was just past eleven-thirty in the morning when a light rain began to fall gently through the streets of Barcelona, turning the roads into reflections of gold and gray. It was the eve of an important match, and the air was thick with a growing anxiety that you knew would stay with you for the rest of your life.

Walking through the bustling streets of Barcelona, wrapped in a blueish jacket provided by the team, you glanced at the crowded shops and the people walking by. It wasn’t the first time you had returned home alone from school, though this time it had been your choice (even though Alexia and Olga had insisted on picking you up to have lunch together).

You still vaguely remembered the team’s coach saying that you weren’t old enough to be left alone in an apartment. You didn’t need to take on the responsibilities of an adult; you were still a teenager who needed care and a responsible figure.

At that moment, walking alone through the city streets, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath and try to forget a little of the chaos that surrounded your life. Despite everything, you were still a teenager who enjoyed spending hours lying in bed procrastinating or sitting in front of the computer for hours, forgetting to eat.

As you opened the door to the apartment you now shared with Alexia and Olga, a nearly imperceptible sound caught your attention. Alexia was sitting in the living room with an anxious look on her face. You took a deep breath before finally closing the door, placing your shoes against the wall, and setting your bag in its designated corner.

“Ale?” you called, with a slightly concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Didn’t you check your phone?” Alexia asked, making you even more confused than before. “You’d better take a look.”

You hesitated, as if fearing you had done something wrong and might have to return to London, forgetting your dream of becoming a soccer star. You pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, knowing you could expect anything. With a hesitant touch, you opened your messaging app and widened your eyes upon seeing a message from your mom’s number. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you stared at Alexia, silently asking if this was some kind of cruel joke.

“This is a joke, right?” you asked, watching Alexia shake her head. “No way, Ale. There are way more experienced and better players than me…”

Alexia patted the couch twice, signaling for you to sit down. You sighed, knowing there was no way to refuse her request.

“Chica, you’re literally one of the most talented players on the team. Give yourself some credit. If you were chosen, it’s because she saw potential in you,” Alexia began, holding your hand. “Even though I’d love for you to play with me on the national team, I think your new captain would hate that.”

You let out a small laugh, resting your head on the player’s shoulder. Despite the rough start with the team, things had begun to settle, and each day, Alexia seemed more determined to make you feel comfortable both on the team and at home.

“You’ve never told me about your experience in the youth national team. How was it?"

You hesitated for a second, surprised by the question. You didn’t usually talk about it, mainly because that phase of your career was surrounded by bad memories. But something about the way Alexia seemed interested made you feel comfortable enough to share.

“It was… complicated,” you admitted, looking at the floor as you walked. “I was called up to the youth teams when I was fourteen. At first, it was amazing, you know? Training with some of the best players my age, representing my country… But at the same time, I always felt like I didn’t quite fit in.”

Alexia frowned, intrigued.

“Why did you feel that way?”

You took a deep breath, as if reliving those moments.

“I was different. I didn’t always understand the jokes, the codes, the group dynamics. And, of course, my playing style was a bit different from what they expected. I’ve always been more technical, more focused on precise passes and game vision, but there they wanted more physical strength and speed. I felt… out of place.”Alexia nodded, understanding perfectly. She knew how hard it was to adapt to a new environment, especially when you were young and still figuring out your own playing style.

“And then,” you continued, “when it came time to be considered for the senior team, I knew I wouldn’t be called up. I didn’t fit the profile they were looking for. It was tough, but I accepted it. That’s when the opportunity to come to Barcelona came up, and I decided to try something new.”

Alexia paused for a moment, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Chica, you’re an amazing player. The fact that you didn’t fit into the English national team doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means your style fits better with what we do here. And look where you are now: a starter for one of the biggest clubs in the world.”

You looked at Alexia, your eyes shining with a mix of emotions.

“Do you really think I’ll do well on the national team?”Alexia smiled, a smile that radiated confidence and reassurance.

“Of course you will. You have a unique talent, chica. And, more importantly, you have the right mindset. Don’t worry about the past. What matters is what you do now, here, on this field. And I’m sure you’re going to show everyone what you’re capable of.”

You felt a warmth in your chest, a sense of relief and motivation you hadn’t felt in a long time. Alexia’s words were like a balm to your insecurities. You knew you still had a long way to go, but now you also knew you weren’t alone.

“Thank you, Ale,” you said, your accent blending with the Spanish in a way that made Alexia laugh. “I’ll do my best today. For you, for the team… and for me.”

Alexia squeezed your shoulder once more before you both started walking again.

“That’s all we need. Now, let’s go. The field is waiting, and so is the world.”

You smiled, feeling a new wave of confidence. You knew that, no matter what happened, you had a team that supported you and a captain who believed in you. And, for the first time in a long time, you were starting to believe in yourself too.

[yanderenightmare]

head cannons for what being Gojo and Get's shared little captive housewife darling would be liked? ples

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, captive reader

gn reader

They’re both awfully cuddly. Always wrapping their lanky arms around your waist and slugging their bodies against you, tugging on you and swaying you against them in a way it’s hard to keep balance, making it impossible to do anything but stand there and try and hold your weight as well as theirs.

Satoru is the worst of the pair, though – constantly ignoring whatever you’re doing in favor of picking you up and cuddling you on the couch when he feels like it – which is almost always when he’s home. Not that you do much else but humor them. But still, it’s annoying being in the middle of a chapter only for the pages to flap close when Gojo picks the book out of your hands, throwing it aside unceremoniously – his blue eyes pleading at you like a puppy, feeling ignored and pouty – asking you to play with his hair instead. He’s already laying himself against your chest with a smile and giddy laugh before you can as much as try and refuse.

Suguru is more respectful of your hobbies in that aspect. He’s usually the one that procures books and such for you. Always happy to discuss your thoughts. But sometimes, you suspect he gives you tricky reads just for the chance to explain them to you. He’s a little patronizing that way. Smiling while prying for your thoughts, offering a soft chuckle when you fess up and tell him it was a little beyond your abilities. 

Satoru feels left out when the two of you talk about books. He doesn’t read. But just to feel included, he’ll dump a stack of his old comics in your lap. He’s such a spoiler, though, and will tell you the entire plot and ending before you’ve even peeled a page open. He’s more of a movies and shows person. Forever in his childish ways, he’ll dib a character to represent him whenever the three of you are watching something – getting real pouty if the character ends up dying, almost to the point he’s completely disinterested in the rest of the story.

Both are shit cooks with appetites beyond your understanding. You never make enough, and it always ends up with the both of them whining for seconds. They have a bit of a maid kink the two of them. Waiving a pretty little white ruffled apron at you whenever they’re hungry – insisting on helping you tie it around your waist and neck in pretty bows. It always makes you feel a bit ridiculous.

It doesn’t make it any better that when you cook, there’s always one of them supervising. Not helping out, mind you – just watching and waiting, licking their lips when it starts smelling good – asking for taste tests like children. Often with big hands draped over your stomach and a chin either resting in the nook of your neck or atop your head. 

Satoru’s chattier than Suguru, but Suguru is better at asking you about your things. He’s a little more considerate of your feelings, making sure you’re as comfortable as you can be locked inside all day. That being said, he’s the tougher one when it comes to saying no to things as well. For example, you’re better off testing your luck with Satoru if you want to go outside.

You feel, for Satoru, it’s not too much about protecting you. You don’t think the guy knows what fear feels like. It’s more about coveting you. He’s possessive, prone to jealousy, and easily enraged – you remember from when the three of you were a somewhat normal throuple with somewhat normal boundaries. For him, this arrangement is just a whole lot simpler, keeping you away from anything that might inspire him to feel anything he doesn’t like.

Whereas with Suguru, you’re sure he’s actually scared something might happen to you, and that’s why he insists on keeping you inside. You’re only just a small thing, after all, with no cursed energy to talk about. You might become a target for their enemies if they’re not careful enough. Out there, you’re the greatest weapon against them, their greatest weakness. And he fears for the world when he thinks about what he and Satoru would do if they lost you.

Neither of them seems to care that it’s unreasonable.

[loveemagicpeace]

Observations about moon signs☁️🧚🏽🍓

Aires moon- can be very self-centered, they have no need to be depend on someone. They enjoy their company and also doing activities. Playing sports means a lot to them and they like to have a routine that they can enjoy. You don't like to stay in one place for long. They are positive and emotionally strong. They handle life's things well. In a relationship, they need a partner who will encourage and support them in the things they will do and allow them to have freedom. My opinion is that this moon is most susceptible to emotional freedom and freedom in a relationship.

Taurus moon- like cute things and like to spend time with people who are close to them. They need touch and it is also very important to them. They will quickly show this to the other person as well. They simply cannot be without physical touch. They love hugs, kisses on the cheeks and warm feeling. I would describe them as teddy bears. They also give very warm and nice hugs. Food is important to them (they like to eat good and quality food). They like to spend time in the cinema, at cozy couch, also they really like music. They like luxurious things and jewelry (also worn many times). They like to spoil their partner. They are very loyal and emotionally strong. They persist and won't just go away (their emotions are very strong and stable).

Gemini moon-like people who have a good mindset. Talking to a person is very important to them (there are also people who like communication and will communicate with you late at night). They think a lot about their feelings and analyze the other person's thoughts. They quickly find out how the other person works and in what way. They are people who can also give you very good advice and will know how to enter into a neutral role emotionally. However, they can often be moody and irritable at home and with relatives. You may not need to study something in depth to feel that you know enough about it.

Cancer moon-like people who are emotional. Emotional interaction means a lot to them and they put a lot on the other person's feelings. They have to feel emotionally safe, that they can trust someone. They are very intuitive and will immediately detect a person's vibrations (whether they are good or bad), they also detect spaces and energy in general. They sense that things will happen before they do. They are not so emotionally open and only open up to those they really trust and know that they can expose themselves emotionally (even though they don't like to do it). They are emotionally very strong and can handle a lot of emotions. They like hugs, kisses. They really like to spend the night with someone and this for them also represents some kind of bonding with another person. For them, sleeping with someone in the same bed is a very intimate thing. They like to have their own comfortable space in which to spend their time. It is very important for them to be able to be who they are in a relationship and to express their feelings freely. But they can also be stubborn and impulsive.

Leo moon- can be very dramatic and self-centered. They love spending time with their partner and spending time with them. They also need a lot of emotional attention, they want their partner to notice them and give them their time. They like to do crazy things with a person and thus bond with them in a way. Above all, they like children's things or things they did as children and share it with others.It means a lot to them if you do something with them that includes their hobbies.Emotions are often overwhelmed by the ego (which means that they can feel a lot but don't let themselves express it). Although when they really want something, they will leave their ego behind. I have a feeling that many times they can be lonely inside and they don't show it out loud. They can quickly begin doubt in themselves and whether they are good enough for someone.

Virgo moon-however, this moon can be very critical of itself and others. People with this moon often do not know how to express their emotions, at least not in the way that someone might want. They know how to take care of others and offer them support when they need it, but when they can get close to someone, they can have a problem, and they know how to show it. They are also paranoid and have great concern for the health of others and themselves. Cleanliness means a lot to them and they want to have a tidy and pleasant home. Men with this moon tend to do a lot of cleaning and also do women's chores. They can choose partners based on their routine.

Libra moon-are very social and need socialization. But they are also tied to the fact that they like relationships and can feel lonely when they are not in a relationship. Which means that they can choose a partner who may not suit them so much, but they will be with him because they don't want to be lonely. They like to have friends and hang out with them. Their emotions are rational and neutral. Otherwise, they can be very emotionally attached to their partner and the relationship can mean a lot to them (but they can sometimes have a problem staying in it if all the conditions are not met).

Scorpio moon- can be very secretive, emotionally closed or too intense. Deep feelings and someone with whom they can share all their secrets mean a lot to them. They are emotionally very devoted and sacrifice a lot for their partner, home, and family. They may have a special attachment to children and want to give them as much as possible. They are also an analytical person meaning they will always analyze the emotions of others. They like a home that is away from everyone and is more alone or on the private area. However, they can often feel that their emotions are too much or that people do not understand them and do not feel this depth as they do. They connect best with water moons because only they will understand their emotionally complex nature.

Sagittarius moon-are optimistic, funny and like to tell jokes. There are people who will always want to put you in a good mood and do their best to make you feel good. They connect emotionally with someone through experience, travel, adventure and wisdom. They like to have a philosophy of life and search for meaning. Their emotions show through optimism. Although they act independently, they are actually looking for someone who will make them feel at home. Someone who will fulfill them emotionally. They feel alienated in their own home and many times they move out of their country. They are looking for someone who will bring meaning to their lives (a sense of what to live for and show them the way). They are emotionally impulsive and can also be jealous. Sagittarius often have the feeling that they are alone or that they can be alone and go through something alone, but in reality they just need someone who will give them the feeling that there is a whole world for them. Someone who will make them feel that they are not alone. They hide a lot of their emotions with humor and people don't even notice. This moon does not have such a big ego.

Capricorn moon-are emotionally stable and focused on peace and a stable relationship. Many times their emotions can be well focused. Especially when it comes to learning, work, they have a great focus on it. Usually when they end a relationship or any situation makes them sad, they put their emotions to work and want to distance themselves as much as possible from what they really feel. Their emotions can often be cold, but they are very non-judgmental people, they will always accept the emotions of another person, but they rarely react to it. They always have to process their emotions within themselves before they can share them with others. They trust very few people and tend to be closed off when it comes to expressing emotions unless they feel they can express things.

Aquarius moon- are attached to their friends and friendships mean a lot to them emotionally. They don't like groups so much, they prefer to focus on one person because they quickly feel alienated or like they don't belong in that group. Especially in a family, they can feel aloof, unwanted and invisible. They are much more emotional than people would think. They like to have fun and make fools of themselves. They like people who make them feel like it's okay to be weird and different. They can quickly become emotionally isolated and often feel that way among people. For them, home represents something unique and their own. They are independent and are looking for a person who is similar to them. They may also tend to operate as an outsider or lone wolf, preferring to maintain a detached view that is only possible from the outskirts. They feel very different from the environment in which they grow up. The outsider experience is felt at a very early age.

Pisces moon-these are the people who will always bring you some snacks or be emotionally there for you. Always there to comfort you and help you. They are emotionally sensitive and pick up a lot of energy from others, so they are also quickly exhausted. They have a lot of empathy for others and want to understand and feel the people around them. They are also emotionally shy and change how they feel quickly.They express their feelings most easily through art. They are emotional and quickly take a lot to heart emotionally. They show their love in a very selfless way, but they can also be manipulative if they see that the person does not return the same feelings. They are also incredibly caring, and their loved ones know they can always rely on them for a sympathetic ear, a warm hug, and an encouraging pep talk when they're going through a tough time. They are naturally escapist and they might distract themselves by diving into movies, books, music, fanfiction, etc.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🌊🌶️☁️

[minswriting]

Our Little Secret - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You had always been attracted to your new step father since the day your mom brought him home. He was an attractive older man. He treated your mother well, despite not being home enough. But that didn’t matter too much since your mother was rarely home either. You knew that you shouldn’t feel some sort of way about your step-father. But what happens when he comes home from a rough case and seems to want you too?

Warnings: Step-daughter/step-father dynamic, NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc.

Word Count: 3200

Note: This may suck a bit but i hope you all enjoy!

Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the greatest, truthfully. Your mother left your father when you were ten years old, leaving him alone to work full time and take care of his daughter. But when he passed away when you were fifteen, about eight years ago, due to cancer, your mother had taken you in because you had nowhere else to go. While she wasn’t abusive, the two of you fought quite often as you held a lot of resentment against her for leaving you and your father. And now, you were twenty-three, still living with your mother as you went through college because it was the easiest thing to do.

When you first laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner, it was a year after his wife had passed away. He had met your mother and the two had gotten engaged rather quickly, exclaiming that the two of them didn’t want to wait when they didn’t have to. They were both adults interested in one another. And Aaron was just glad that Jack had taken a liking to you almost immediately.

You had always been attracted to Aaron. He was an attractive man. He was a great father to Jack, looked amazing in a suit, he was kind and respectful. Not to mention the authoritative voice he took when he answered his work calls never failed to cause you to clench your thighs. It’s wrong of you to be attracted to your step-father. It’s taboo. And yet you couldn’t help it. You had spent many nights fingering yourself to the thought of your step-father fucking you so ridiculously good.

It was a Friday night. Jack was at a sleepover with one of his friends, your mom was on a work trip as she works as a traveling sales representative, and Aaron was on a case in New York, leaving you home alone for the night. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs to do your college coursework on your laptop.

As you worked on an essay for your psychology class, you heard keys turning in the front door, signaling that someone was home. You looked up from your computer as you were sitting on the couch to see Aaron walking in looking exhausted and stressed. “Hey,” you greeted softly.

Aaron looked over at the couch, giving you a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted back, placing his bag down before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you. “How’s everything going?” he asked, getting himself comfortable. His legs were spread, his knee touching yours unintentionally. But you made no effort to move away.

“Everything is good,” You replied, closing your laptop and placing it onto the coffee table. “Jack is at Pete’s house for the night. His mom will be taking him home in the morning. Mom’s still on her work trip for another week. And I was just working on an essay.” You took a deep breath, looking at Aaron. “How was the case?”

Aaron sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was certainly…something,” he said exhaustedly. “It was truthfully a rough one. It involves kids and those are always so hard.” You nodded in understanding, not really sure of what else to say. “How come you’re not out on a Friday night?” Aaron asked, looking at you with a curious look.

“Didn’t really feel like it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “My boyfriend asked me to go out but…I just didn’t feel like seeing him tonight.”

“Did something happen?” Aaron asked.

“Just a dumb argument a few days ago,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nothing important.”

Aaron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you even love him?” he asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion about the question. “What?” you asked, looking at your step father.

Aaron looked at you expectedly. “Do you even love him?” he asked again. “You are in this relationship and yet your body language shows that you’re not that interested in him.”

“Is that really any of your business?” you asked defensively.

“It is when your attention seems to be on me,” Aaron replied smoothly. He adjusted himself so that he was closer to you ever so slightly. His arm was draped on the top of the couch.

Your cheeks became hot as you looked at your step-father, unsure of what to say or what to do. “I-I have no idea what you mean,” you exclaimed, very clearly a lie though you didn’t want to admit that.

“Oh but I think I do,” Aaron said, quirking his lip. “I see the way you look at me, y/n. With those beautiful eyes, you look at me with longing, desire, and admiration. As though I am the thing you need and want most.” Aaron’s tone was soft but knowing. He was a profiler. He could likely tell you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.

“What about it?” You whispered, your attention focused on him completely. Your heart raced with anxiety. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Aaron’s words were true. You had desired him since the day you laid eyes on him. But it wasn’t right. It was taboo. Which is why you never thought that Aaron would ever feel the same or even acknowledge your thoughts.

Aaron’s arm moved to your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. His other hand went to your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “I look at you the same way,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning your cheek.

Hearing these words made your heart flutter and heat pool near your thighs. Your mother and step-fathers relationship had been a bit strained from the beginning. They sort of rushed into it, only caring about the fact that they didn’t need to worry about one another too much since neither one of them were home that much. The rare times they were both home, they acted like a perfect couple for a few days until reality settles in and they’re stuck with one another. But you never thought that Aaron would ever feel a type of way about you.

Without any other words spoken, Aaron softly placed his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to process what was truly happening. Your step-dad was kissing you. Something you’ve longed for quite a while was finally happening. And after a few moments of shock, you kissed Aaron back. For what started off as soft and innocent quickly turned hot and heated as Aaron’s hand began to roam your body. You found yourself moving onto his lap, sitting on top of him as you cupped his face. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other entangled in your hair.

You felt heat going straight to your core, dampening your panties. You couldn’t help but crave friction. While kissing Aaron, you tentatively moved your hips against his, grinding your cunt onto his clothed bulge. The both of you let out soft moans of pleasure, Aaron’s fingers digging into your hip. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, placing his other hand on your other hip. “Can you feel just how much I want you?” he asked in that same soft tone as before as he grinded you on his cock again.

You let out a soft moan, nodding your head. “Yes,” you replied. “Take me to bed?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course, princess,” Aaron replied. He moved you off of him to stand up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. You held on by wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you to his bedroom, the one he shared with your mother, placing you on the edge of his side of the bed. He leaned down, still standing as you were sitting, and placed his lips on yours once more.

One of his hands roamed your body, landing on your right boob as he massaged the skin through your shirt. You gasped into the kiss, the sensation sending sparkes to your cunt. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving to grab the hem of your shirt before pulling it off of you, revealing your flesh to him. You hadn’t worn a bra after getting out of the shower as you didn’t expect anyone to be home tonight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron said, moving a piece of your hair out of your face before leaning back down to kiss you. His hand massaged your skin, rolling your nipple around with his thumb. You let out a moan into Aaron’s mouth, unable to help yourself from making the noise.

After a few minutes of massaging both of your breasts, Aaron’s fingers trailed lower, reaching the waistline of your shorts. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a serious face. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to do so,” He exclaimed.

“Please don’t stop,” you responded, looking up at Aaron with a lustful gaze. “I-I need you so bad,” you admitted, blushing in slight embarrassment.

“Good girl,” Aaron replied, moving his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties. His praise caused you to let out a whimper. “You like being called that, don’t you?”

You nodded your head in response.

Aaron simply hummed in acknowledgement, running a finger down your slit to feel your wetness. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe. “All for me, princess?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered back, the name just falling out of your mouth without any thought.

You hadn't even realized you said it until Aaron let out a groan. “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Those two words sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock as he processed what you had said. “I’ll give you anything you want, darling. You’re being such a good girl for me.” And with that, he began to rub your clit.

You let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you did so. Aaron moved himself so that he was sat behind you, his hand still on your clit while your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around you, leaning in to kiss your neck. His finger went from your clit to your hole, spreading your wetness around before easing a finger inside of you. You whined at the feeling, letting out a soft “daddy,” in pleasure.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said into your skin. He began moving his finger slowly inside of you, teasing your pussy. Your soft moans were like music to Aaron’s ears as he played with your cunt. He eventually added a second finger, stretching you out slightly as he quickened his pace. He hooked his fingers, hitting your g-spot and causing you to jolt and arch your back.

“O-oh fuck,” you moaned, placing a hand on Aaron’s thigh. “Oh my god.”

If you had asked yourself earlier in the day if your step-father would be finger fucking you right now, you likely would’ve laughed. But here you are, getting finger fucked by the man you’ve only thought about, never thinking it would actually happen. The room was filled with the sounds of your wet cunt as Aaron sped up his fingers. You were writhing in his arms, your head rested on his shoulder.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath on your skin. “I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he began to speak. “Every time I come home from a case and you’re just sitting there in your pajamas, focused on your coursework, looking so beautiful.” Aaron’s other hand moved to your left boob, massaging the skin. “When you’d stretch and let out a small moan, it never failed to make me want to bend you over and take you right then and there.”

You whined in response, his words, the added pleasure, the repeated movements of his fingers inside of you, it was all so much. You felt that familiar heat building in your abdomen as your orgasm slowly approached. “Don’t even get me started on that vacation we took a few months ago,” Aaron continued. “That skimpy bathing suit that barely hid anything when we went to the beach,” His voice was very attractive and soft as he spoke. “Couldn’t help but touch myself that night in the shower to the thought of you while your mother was just in the other room.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” Aaron replied, moving his digits inside of you faster. “You’re doing so good.”

Your walls clenched around Aaron’s fingers as your orgasm came over you. Your thighs clamped together as you arched your back against Aaron, whining and moaning as you came. Aaron fingered you through your orgasm, coaxing you through it. And when you finally came down from your high, Aaron gave you soft kisses along your skin, calming you down.

“Daddy,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Need your cock,” you turned your head to look at Aaron, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“And you’ll get it, baby,” Aaron hummed, turning his face to kiss you on the lips. He let go of you, standing up from his spot behind you. “Take your shorts off for me.” He said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. You obliged, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you fully nude. You bit your lip, looking up at Aaron with doe eyes.

Aaron tossed his shirt to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. He tossed his belt to the side, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs. You let out a small whimper as Aaron’s cock sprang out. He was about seven inches but he was quite girthy, definitely bigger than your previous partners. “You’re so big,” you whispered, looking at his cock.

Your words caused Aaron to chuckle. “Am I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. “Glad you think so, princess.” He walked back over to the bed as he kicked his pants away. “Lay on your side for me.”

You nodded your head, laying down on your side, your head on the pillows. Aaron moved your leg, holding it up slightly as he kneeled on the mattress, straddling your other leg. He rested your leg on his thigh, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He brought the tip to your clit before moving it down, spreading your wetness onto his cock. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets. His cock moved to your hole, slowly probing at your entrance. You moaned at the intrusion, feeling the stretch in your cunt. Aaron hissed in pleasure as your walls enclosed around his member.

Tears formed in your eyes at the sting. Aaron leaned down to kiss your temple, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. “Y-you can move,” you said.

Aaron began to slowly thrust, moving his hips out before moving back inside of you. The both of you let out moans as he settled into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight, princess,” Aaron groaned.

“So big, daddy,” you whined, burying your head into the pillow. Aaron’s cock filled you up so good, hitting in spots you had never felt before. “Never been so full.”

Aaron moaned softly, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he thrusted his hips. His cock grazed your g-spot, going deeper inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned against Aaron’s lips. “F-faster, please.”

And he obliged. He moved his hips at a faster pace, putting a hand in your hair and tugging at the strands. You started to moan louder, your eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s cock plunged in and out of you. “You’re so perfect,” Aaron exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Being such a good girl for me.” Aaron started thrusting into you harshly, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “Mine,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.

“All yours, daddy,” you whined. “Always yours.” The moans leaving your mouth were whorish as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. You turned your head to bury it in the pillows.

That was until Aaron gripped your hair, yanking your head back a bit. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough and filled with desire. You obeyed, turning your head to look up at Aaron with your beautiful eyes. His brown orbs were on you as he fucked you, his pace almost brutual.

The sensation of his cock pounding into you made tears of pleasure well up in your eyes, making you let out a sob. “Daddy,” you sobbed in pleasure. “it’s too much, too much.” you babbled.

Aaron cooed, running a soothing hand through your hair. “You can take it,” he replied, not relenting up. “Be a good girl and take it.” Aaron groaned.

The repeated assault onto your g-spot made your abdomen tighten as you felt your orgasm approaching. “So close,” you whimpered.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

And with just a few thrusts, you were clenching around Aaron’s cock, cumming for the second time that night. Aaron hissed in pleasure, letting out a moan as he followed suit, cumming inside of your cunt. You babbled as you came, letting out a mantra of “oh my gods” and “daddy” as Aaron moaned out sweet nothings.

When you both finished, the both of you were breathing heavily, Aaron still inside of you. He kissed your cheek. “You did so good,” he murmured.

As you came down from your high, Aaron pulled out, laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, putting his other arm underneath your head and pulling you close to him. You turned towards him, laying your head on his chest. The both of you were silent, not saying a word as you processed what had happened. Your step father just fucked you into oblivion.

So what happens now?

“What does this mean for us?” You murmured softly, glancing up at Aaron’s face.

Aaron gave you a small smile, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Well, we can continue as we were and pretend as though this didn’t happen,” he murmured back. “Or we can keep this a secret and explore what this is.”

“Our little secret?” You asked.

“Our little secret, princess.”

And so, that’s what it was. Your own little secret with your step-father. And thus your intimate relationship began.

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part four)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve realises where home is, both in 2017 and in the 1950s. The reader bolts, faced with the memory of the woman Steve cherishes. Bucky starts to find himself drawn to you.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, angst

word count : 2.6k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

2017, a year after the Avengers' Civil War

It had been nearly four months of the arrangement that you and Steve shared. Hiding away in some remote cabin in Alaska.

Time was running out. You both knew you had to get a move on soon, as you can't stay in one place for too long.

If only you actually stayed put, and didn't cause Steve to worry almost every other week.

He quickly realized that you came and went when you pleased. A habit you must have picked up from your profession, one that Steve was sure would drive him to madness.

He was glaring at the newspaper he picked up from the nearest town when he made a supply run.

Your name was printed in bold lettering, along with your moniker, Huntress. Wanted for conspiring against the State, it read. You had been spotted in some other city, a blurred-out CCTV snapshot of your face included on the page.

If seen, please alert your local authorities. Suspected to be in hiding with Steve Rogers, famously known as Captain America. Reward to be disclosed.

Captain America. Steve never thought there would come a time when that name would leave a bad taste in his mouth, until now. He wondered what excuse you would have this time. Which person was it that you just needed to help? What was this important thing that justified suddenly leaving without telling Steve?

Steve hated your absence, but he knew he was being a hypocrite. He admired how eager you were to help your friends. If he was in your place, he would probably do the same.

He had begun thinking of the next plan. He knew he would always be welcome in Wakanda, but he didn't want to abuse their generosity. It would subject them to intense scrunity in the international political arena and they were already doing more than enough with just taking Bucky in.

No matter the next step, wherever the location, Steve found himself thinking of you. He would always think in terms of we, not I.

Where would we go next? Where would we be safe?

You were free to go wherever you wanted, of course. The others have been roaming different corners of the world, and maybe it was even safer that way, to spread out in those circumstances.

You could choose to go alone to a different hideout, and of course he would have to accept that.

But Steve didn't want you to leave him.

Why? What was he to you? What were you to him? Steve thought of how he never had the best timing. He knew there was something there, and you had to know it too.

He felt it whenever you would smile at him as he handed you your cup of coffee. He felt it in how comfortable it was when you would both read in silence at the opposite ends of the couch in the living room. He felt it in how much you cared, in how you understood his strong tether to Bucky.

And that small cabin was the biggest testament to it all. It was absurd, how much it felt like a home to Steve.

A home, while he was being hunted down and scorned by the country whose values he so proudly stood for and represented. A place of refuge, while everything else was in shambles.

He knew it was all because of you.

If only you would be quick in coming back home.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You didn't mean to leave abruptly again, without giving any notice.

Really, you swore you didn't.

You were also lying to yourself. Because you knew it was all because of what Steve mentioned a few nights prior.

Or rather, who.

It was all going well, you thought. You were getting to know your dangerously attractive housemate quite well. So much so, that you had decided he would be the first one you'd call if you ever got into trouble or needed a shoulder to cry on.

Natasha would understand, of course. She had been in contact, updating on her whereabouts, and also checking in on her apparent ship.

"Ship? Here in the woods?" You had been visibly confused, stupidly glancing out the window as if that very ship would materialise.

"No, you idiot. Ship... relationship. A couple. All the kids are using it these days."

Oh. You debated acting oblivious but you knew that would never fly with someone like Natasha. Nothing really got past her, and you had to admit, your excitement flared up a little bit every time she hinted at something between you and Steve.

Nat was one of the shrewdest people you ever met, and she didn't have the habit of stirring things for no reason.

So you believed her, and you hoped.

In that cabin, in that isolated little bubble, Steve was really all you had and vice versa. Selfishly, you wished you never had to leave. You found yourself imagining that you were an actual couple, maybe even married. That you had chosen to live together in that place, and that circumstances did not just force you together.

That image quickly came crashing down, the curtains closing in the middle of a play. Because that was all it was - make believe.

You and Steve were sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace one late night, your mind going haywire because his knee was pressed against yours. Your heartbeat skipping because he would pat your leg once in a while.

Maybe it was a Steve thing. Maybe it was just a gesture people make when they tell stories to their friends. But friends wouldn't lean in so close, would they?

He eagerly shared about his life in the 30s, when he was an asthmatic hundred-pound determined youngster. When he'd only ever been Steve. He kept a box of personal things that reminded him of his era, and the two of you perused through them. You smiled at the brochure from a museum exhibit that featured him and Bucky. Tried flicking on rusty old lighters. Jokingly saluted him while putting on the pins that were circulated when he was first introduced to the public as Captain America.

Your delusional self thought you noticed his focus drifting to your lips almost every time you replied to him, and that he got that look in his eyes.

But you reached in the box and picked up what looked like a compass. You pried it open, and one glance at his face told you everything.

In it was an image of Peggy Carter, you recognised. You knew all about her and her work for SHIELD. You knew her and Steve had been acquainted back in their day, but you didn't know how much.

He leaned back almost immediately, his touch no longer on you, looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Peggy Carter, right?" you offered eventually, balancing the compass in your palm. From what you can recall, she had passed recently. But clearly her ghost was still haunting Steve.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, strangely unable to look you in the eye. "I met her just before I was put to the serum, actually."

Well, that's definitely something. She knew him when he was just Steve, and she saw him. That must have left a mark.

"So... can you tell me about her?" you asked to fill the silence. To quell the barage of intrusive thoughts you had.

Steve noticed the difference in your posture, straightened back and stiff smile. You had been freely laughing moments ago, and he had been too. He wouldn't be able to remember what he said after that, distracted by the sudden coldness in your expression. He must have said something about Peggy being good at her job. About how big of an impact she made on SHIELD.

You didn't want to ask about the obvious thing, and you didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes.

You were also responding on auto-pilot. Like you were simply making small talk. The mood had changed, and you hated yourself for not looking into Steve's file with more detail. There must have been clues there about his past relationship with Peggy.

But if you had known... then what?

You would have fallen for him anyway. But at least, you would be aware that you were falling for someone who wasn't yours to keep.

Because if there ever was something, Peggy's unfading light is one you don't want to compete with.

You let the conversation go on for a few minutes more, to not arouse his suspicion, before making some excuse about being tired and needing sleep.

Hold on, you heard him plead. Maybe you can show him one of the movies you kept telling him about? The one with the Anakin character you liked?

You did your best not to cave in.

Even if all you wanted was to crumble, and kiss him hard enough that any remnants of Peggy Carter still lingering would dissipate.

When you heard that your friend Mason needed some help getting Secretary Ross off his tail, you jumped on the opportunity to leave. Even though Natasha already said she would be on it.

Of course, she saw right through you.

The task was quick and easy and soon enough, the three of you were sitting on lawn chairs in front of her cozy trailer in Norway, when Mason cheekily commented on the little arrangement you had with the Captain America.

"How do you do it?" he joked. "Being under the same roof as him, and not getting some of that? I mean, I know you're all international criminals right now, but even criminals need some loving once in a while."

"Leave her alone," Natasha quipped, pointing at him.

"We're friends," you said defensively, to which Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

"Sure, hon," she said, before taking a swig of her beer. "Shouldn't you be making your way back to him? Steve must be worried."

You shrugged, but you knew she was right. It didn't feel right being away from him like that. Running away like you were a teenager acting out.

It took you only two days to come back, with the help of one of Mason's many smuggled helicopters.

You felt his presence immediately once you stepped foot in the cabin.

Days old newspapers sprawled on the kitchen counter. Fresh coffee on the pot. The surprising but pleasant smell of baked goods coming from inside the oven.

He materialised from your periphery, wiping his hands clean on a towel. Clean-shaven once more, your eyes getting drawn to his pink lips now in clear view.

"Did you - "

"Oh, yeah," he said, gesturing towards the oven. "I tried making you something. Nat called me and said you were on your way back."

That traitor.

But then Steve added, "Welcome back," with that sheepish smile on his face, and you forgot what you were supposed to be pretending to be annoyed at Nat for.

It was comfortable, familiar, like home, when you both silently enjoyed the blueberry muffins he prepared.

You expected him to lecture you, to remind you of the dangers of running off by yourself again. But he took a gentler approach.

It felt good when he made sure you were okay, asking the same question but in three iterations. Are you okay? Did everything go well? Does anything hurt at all?

Did he know why you left so abruptly? Did he suspect anything?

Later that evening, he brought up the fact that perhaps you both should be moving on to another safe place.

You felt his eyes glued onto you, gauging your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you said, "Okay."

Steve had been practicing what to say, how to ask you, while you were away. He would suggest that you were safer together. That the two of you could go see Bucky for a time. That it was probably smarter for you to stick with someone like him - if you ever got caught, he could use himself as leverage, negotiate in order to lighten your sentence.

But all that was no longer needed, because you asked, "Where will we go?", without wavering.

We.

It turned out Steve wasn't going to lose his home, after all.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The 1950s, six months after Steve's arrival

Steve is certain that there must be something wrong with him.

Maybe he's just been in the fray for far too long, going from one fight to the next, that now he is supposed to settle and be at peace - he can't.

It disappoints him. He's frustrated with himself. He's become angry.

It's not fair. How does he still feel like a man out of time for someone who has returned back to where he supposedly came from. Back to where he belongs.

Peggy has noticed his frustration, so she suggested they head down to a local fancy restaurant once a week.

A recurring date of sorts, giving them the chance to spend one-on-one time together. They had both been busy - Peggy with SHIELD, Steve with his newfound job managing a local community centre.

His job was simple enough, definitely less demanding than what he's used to, and he's satisfied that he still gets to be of service. He's also refurbishing their home. Doing everything to keep busy.

Everything to keep you out of his mind.

But Hunter would stroll in when he would fit the new wooden panels for the back porch.

Hunter, his dog. Named so because Steve had the thought that Huntress would appreciate the tribute.

You would, but you aren't there.

He's supposed to be at peace now. He's supposed to finally feel at home.

But he wasn't called the man out of time for no reason, and he's come to accept that maybe they had been onto something.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, six months after Steve's departure

Bucky's date is going well. At least he thinks so. Not that he would have much knowledge on how these things go nowadays.

His first date as himself, James Barnes, since the 1940s. Leah's a lovely girl, but it was mostly due to yours and Yori's instigating that he caved in and asked her out.

Well, he didn't really ask. You did. But Leah was kind enough to accept.

The conversation is fine, flowing smoothly, a couple beers shared between the two.

Leah asks how old he is, and he replies dryly, "106."

Bucky isn't sure she got it, but it's better this way. She doesn't need to know who he is, or what he's done. She wouldn't understand.

As they play a round of Battleship, Bucky wonders if you would be good at this game, if you would playfully stare into his eyes much like Leah is doing.

He thinks of how much he likes your eyes, and the way you look at him.

But he is 106 after all, so he's not some fool. He suspects that he might be a stand-in for his revered lost bestfriend. Do you see him, and only him, or is he partially hidden behind Steve's shadow?

Do you keep him around, because he reminds you of him?

Bucky decides he's not ready to know the answer to those questions. Not just yet.

Leah makes another move. He lets her win.

He calls you right after the date. You did say that he should tell you all about it.

"So how was it?" you eagerly ask right away, not even bothering with a hello.

Bucky finds himself smiling at your voice, pausing on the sidewalk on the way back to his apartment, "Have you played Battleship before?"

Read chapter five here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer

Happy TTPD release day! I just knew The Bolter would be one of my favourites!!!

The final scene is in reference to the first episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Lil bit of a spoiler!!!! -- We'll see them all back together in the middle of that series.

There will only two-three more chapters of jumping back and forth in time. I'm also worried I'll confuse myself with the timeline. If the months/years aren't aligned with MCU canon, please ignore it.

Also - if not in the next one, then there will definitely be smut in chapter six. But with who???? Steve or Bucky? I'll let you guys speculate... 👀

[eringobragh420]

➺ pairing — damian priest ♥︎ black!f!reader ➺ summary — sequel to breeding. during the pregnancy, the soon-to-be-parents navigate their way through superstitions, a gender reveal, and tiktok videos. ➺ links — one. two. ➺ words — 960 ➺ warnings — none ➺ taglist — if you’d like to be added, please click here! ➺ requested by — @wrestlingbaby hope you enjoy!

➺ MASTERLIST ➺ DAMIAN PRIEST KINK LIST

First Trimester

“Wait, wait, wait,” Damian interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “So you’re saying … you’re saying I can’t tell my parents we’re having a baby for another month?”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” his girlfriend replied. The two of them sat on the very couch she’d told him she was pregnant on, facing each other. “I’m saying it’s something we do in my culture. It’s a practice that’s been passed down for—”

“It’s a superstition,” Damian remarked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, it’s a superstition. All I’m asking is that you please respect that. And I really don’t think I’m asking too much. It’s one month.” Damian sighed, gazing softly at her, and really, she’d known he would cave the whole time, but she had to let him get his argument in.

“Alright,” he conceded, “but, hey.” He pointed at her. “Thirteen weeks and a day, and I’m callin’ my mom.”

She giggled. “Of course.”

“And I’m not letting her yell at me the whole time either.”

She gasped, hand on her chest. “You would honestly make your pregnant girlfriend—” Damian tilted his head, eyes wide. “Okay, fine. Crybaby.”

Now he was offended, and he lunged at her suddenly. Even for his giant frame, he was somehow still so gentle and careful with her as he laid her back on the cushions. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, eyes, and all she could do was smile. She might have even purred. Damian moved down her body, avoiding her breasts after her complaint that her nipples were too sensitive to even be looked at, lifting up her shirt when he came to her belly. He kissed her cocoa skin before laying his head down. She brushed her fingers through his soft hair.

“I’m just excited about Damian Junior,” he mumbled against her belly button.

“I am not naming my child Damian Junior,” his girlfriend replied.

“Yeah, well, we can talk about it.”

“The hell we will,” she uttered to herself. And to Damian she said, “I probably shouldn’t even ask, but if it’s a girl—”

“Damina.”

“Oh, lord.”

“Junior.”

“Okay, get off me.” 

Second Trimester

The party was a little more complex and involved than she’d wanted, but who was she to deny Damian a wrestling-themed gender reveal? Their backyard was beautiful grass, followed by soft sand, and finally, the warm, salty ocean. Usually. Today there was an almost-regulation size wrestling ring surrounded by comfortable chairs, which is where everyone was gathered as Rhea Ripley made her entrance. Her gear was a lot less risqué and a hell of a lot more pink, and she represented a baby girl. Dominik Mysterio was next, greeted by boos simply because of who he was, dressed in blue, representing a baby boy.

Damian and his girlfriend sat in the front row, Damian with his arm around her shoulders, as they watched the match. Rhea and Dom went back and forth for a short while, entertaining the crowd, before it was time for the big reveal. They performed an intricate sequence, which ended in Rhea successfully executing a Riptide, and after a three-count, she was declared the winner, and the baby revealed to be a girl. Damian and his girlfriend turned to each other, both smiling wildly as they hugged one another. She couldn’t help but boast that she’d known all along, Damian rolling his eyes, mumbling for her to take it easy.

The following week on Raw, Damian’s girlfriend watching on television from their home as a surprising bout of morning sickness had prevented her from traveling with him, Damian made his normal entrance. But at the end, he turned his back to the camera that was zooming in, and on the back of the leather jacket he wore were the words girl dad. When again he faced the camera, he winked at the lens, and his girlfriend, now a sobbing mess on the couch, knew it was for her. 

Third Trimester

Damian set his phone on the counter, making sure his girlfriend was in the frame as she was washing dishes before he pressed record. He approached her from behind, brushing her braids from her shoulder so he could pepper butterfly kisses along the crook of her neck. His big hands slid under her swollen belly and he lifted, relieving the pressure on her back, and her hands fell into the soapy water as she all but collapsed against him. Damian chuckled.

“Oh, wow,” his girlfriend moaned.

“How’s that feel?” Damian asked, though the answer was obvious. 

“You know you’re gonna have to stay like this until I push this baby out, right?” she replied, hardly kidding.

“Absolutely,” Damian replied. “I would do anything for the ladies in my life.” Their daughter chose that moment to kick against his hand a few times, and his embrace tightened around them both. “She must’ve heard me.”

“She always kicks when you’re close.”

Damian officially announced the birth of their daughter on Instagram three months after her birth, though the WWE community’s speculation was always on point. The photo was only of the baby’s tiny feet, his thumb and his girlfriend’s thumb also in the frame, and it received over a million likes. Their family hadn’t seen the baby either, according to another cultural superstition, which had caused a bit of an outcry on his side, but he’d stood his ground—it was important to the mother of his child, which meant it was important to him.

“She’s perfect,” Damian quietly said as the couple stood beside their daughter's crib, simply watching her sleep.

“Because she’s part you,” his girlfriend said. 

Damian smiled, hugging her to him. “And part you.” A moment of silence and then, “Little Damina.”

“That is not her name!”