#i have been thinking about this idea for a while

[alex-procrastinates]

pls click see more i spent like an hour writing these tags

This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.

This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.

[player042]

HEARTBEAT | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.

warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️

word count: 2.8k

The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.

Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...

"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.

His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.

"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"

Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."

"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"

"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"

You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"

"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."

The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"

"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.

He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."

Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"

He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."

"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"

"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"

"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."

He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."

"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"

"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."

"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."

"Anything," he said without missing a beat.

"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."

His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.

"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.

"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise,  I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."

A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."

You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."

He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."

His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. 

"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.

His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.

You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.

"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."

His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."

Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."

He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."

The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."

"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."

His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"

"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."

You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."

"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."

You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.

And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.

[yumeka-sxf]

Well, seems like something that was just a theory before has come very close to truth...

Because of this major revelation, I wanted to take a deep dive into what we know about Donovan so far and how hints throughout past chapters could indeed indicate that he can read minds. While we still don't have concrete proof for this other than Melinda's word, I don't believe there's anything that discredits this idea, either. In fact, many things throughout the series support it.

First we have Loid's encounter with Donovan way back in chapter 38. I always found it strange that we never got insight into Donovan's thoughts throughout that whole exchange. We always get to know what characters are thinking, even without Anya's mind-reading support. It's not an uncommon storytelling mechanic in general after all, especially for manga. Yet, Endo chose not to give us any insight into what Donovan was thinking. I figured this was simply to avoid spoiling anything about what his exact plans and motives are for future stories (also why Anya was absent for this). But now it seems like this could have also been to hide the fact that he can read minds. If he can read minds, certain things he said during that exchange take on a more ominous meaning. For example, what he said below about how people can never truly understand each other.

It's been a headcanon of mine that the reason why Anya, and perhaps Donovan, were given mind-reading powers, stemmed from the desire for world peace...the idea being that if people could read each other's minds - in other words, always know what others are thinking and feeling, sympathy and understanding would abound.

We learn later on that Donovan had ideas like this even as a kid when he made a similar comment during his debate competition speech. He said that it's impossible to know the true intentions of others so people will forever doubt each other, thus war is inevitable.

We also have the little detail in today's chapter that Donovan did not have the scars on his head during Melinda's flashback (of course, he didn't have them as a kid in chapter 99 either).

Now this is totally my theory, but if we take Melinda's words as the truth, without any misunderstanding, then sometime in Donovan's adult life after he married and had a child, he was experimented on and was given mind-reading powers, perhaps by force but most likely by choice. Now that he has these powers, his laments about people not being able to understand each other are no longer true, at least not for him. Perhaps the experiments done on Anya were preliminary tests that he put together to perfect the mind-reading implementation science before actually doing it to himself. Again, totally just speculation, but not out of the question.

Then we have Demetrius...we learned in chapter 93 that Anya has trouble reading his mind.

If we put that together with Melinda's comment in today's new chapter, that Demetris also took note of Donovan being able to read minds...

...then perhaps Demetrius conditioned himself to think in ways that would make it difficult for his mind to be read, specifically to thwart the "alien" that's impersonating his father. I mentioned last time that I don't think Donovan is actually an alien, and that this description is the only explanation Melinda could come up with to explain his mind-reading powers. If this is true though, it really does make the Desmond dinner scene all the more telling...that throughout all those panels without dialogue, Donovan was absorbing the deepest inner thoughts of his family members (and again, no insight into his own thoughts, just like in chapter 38).

But if the "Donovan can read minds" theory holds true, then the most disturbing idea of all is that Donovan knows that Twilight is a spy. He knows that he's the target of Twilight's mission, and that Twilight seeks to thwart him. Not only that, but depending on what he's read of Damian and Melinda's minds, he knows that they're fond of Anya and Yor, respectively - people who are close to Twilight. Mind-reading powers in the hands of a child are one thing, but in the hands of a shrewd and power political figure...I'm both excited and anxious to find out what Donovan's next move will be!

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Winter (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

Warnings: Mature language. Grief. Toddlers. Unreliable narrators. Miscommunication.

A/N: I was so excited about this chapter! These scenes are the ones I wrote first. Also, the biggest hug to anyone who is reading this. I had not expected the amount of love my first chapter got, and I am so grateful!

THERE WAS AN old northern superstition —more like an old wives’ tale, really— that said if there was snow on the wedding day, the marriage was doomed to be a cold one.

It hadn’t been snowing the day Cregan had married you, but his marriage was proving to be icier than the lands beyond the wall. You weren’t interested in spending time with him at all, and you actively tried to avoid him. He had tried to convince you to share rooms, trying to foster some intimacy, to no avail.

Cregan had hoped that if not a loving wife, he would get a caring mother to Rickon. The boy was too small to grow without one, not yet having reached his third nameday. But you hadn’t shown interest in that either. Instead, you pretended the two of them didn’t exist.

He would like to say that the days went on the same way they did before he wed you, but it would be a lie. Winterfell ran much better now there was a lady present. Cregan had been wrong about you. It seemed like you could run a keep, and you did so with ruthless efficiency.

The castle had never been warmer, the meals so well planned. Even the servants seemed happy, now that they didn’t have to follow Cregan’s too broad instructions. It seemed that asking them to clean and cook was a little too vague for their tastes.

As for you, grief still followed you around, like a too long shadow that refused to budge even in the face of Winterfell’s brightest light. Sara had befriended you, with little success. While you had been far more welcoming to her, you still looked constantly tired and sad.

The lack of sunlight had made you lose your southron tan, leaving you with a look of quiet frailty that made Cregan want to wrap you in a thousand blankets and keep you safe. He just was unsure of the execution.

You scared him. He was man enough to admit it. People were often afraid of things they didn’t understand, and Cregan was no exception. You were made of absolute ice. There was no better description. Cold, but as fragile as glass.

He was running out of ideas on how to bond with you. Invitations to tea were denied, nor did you want to ride with him to see his tenants. You seemed at ease enough around Sara, and some other northern ladies, so social interaction wasn’t what you disliked. It was him.

Never had Winterfell’s corridors been filled with so many women. The northern lords already called you Queen Alysanne’s second coming, with your all female court. The only thing missing was your husband. You didn’t have Cregan’s ear, simply because you didn’t wish to. He would support your endeavors if you asked him to. He had offered his help with your attempts to establish a charity, since the North didn’t have Septas to take care of it, but you had proudly rebuffed him.

There was no pleasing you. He was at his wits’ end. Hence, the awful choice he had made that day.

To try to force you to be in his company.

“Why are you ordering my servants around?” You complain, barging into his chambers. While usually the kitchens were the domain of the Lady of the household, Cregan didn’t know you took it so seriously. “Do you not think me capable enough?”

“I do!” Cregan sits up in his bed, bewildered. He had given the orders around lunchtime, hoping you would not find out, yet here you were, less than half a day later. Far more soon than he had expected. “I just want to throw a feast to honor you.”

“You intend to honor me by giving me more work?” You place your hands on your hips, highlighting your figure, and Cregan is but a man. He cannot help himself, his eyes lingering for a second too long, and his brain coming with no response to your statement.

You seem to take his silence for affirmation.

“Seriously? Do you at least have a guest list?”

And your tone is so haughty, your words betraying you believe Cregan to be an absolute imbecile, he cannot help but give a heated retort.

“Of course I have. Truly, I am more than capable of organizing it on my own. Arra let me do it a few times, and I was unmarried for quite a while. I am experienced enough to…”

It is the wrong thing to say. You bare your fangs then, and Cregan has a moment of absolute and utter clarity. You are not a seahorse. Such a puny creature could never hope to deliver the utter destruction that you cause with your next words.

“Yes, and your precious Arra is dead! She is gone! Why can’t you understand it?” You turn on your heel, face absolutely thunderous, and go to rush out of his chambers.

Cregan loses his head fully, then. He grabs you by the arm, hard enough to hurt, and forces you to face him. For a frightening moment, he fears himself. Fears the wolf, the one screaming for him to strike you and remind you of your place.

How dare you come in his chambers, uninvited, after rejecting all his offers of companionship, to lecture him on grief? As if he could forget Arra was dead. It wasn’t so long ago that Rickon cried for his mother still, unable to understand why he didn’t have one. It wasn’t so long ago that Sara had to take over the role of Lady of the House, and suffered mockery from it. And it wasn’t so long ago, Cregan woke with a scream choked in his throat, reliving that awful morning in every dream he had.

He still did, sometimes. Less, now that he had more urgent matters to occupy himself with. Cregan was ashamed to admit it, but before Jacaerys and your arrival here, Winterfell had been far too empty to keep the ghosts away.

Now, with the war, and the flurry of activities that seemed to follow you, Cregan had little time to dwell much in his dark thoughts. Throwing himself into his work had allowed him to begin healing a wound he wasn’t even aware existed.

And wasn’t that a terrible thought? That Cregan was a man who thrived on war and hunger? Winter was coming, after all. It wouldn’t catch him unprepared.

He had sworn a vow to protect you. As long as Jacaerys had no children, you were third in line to the Iron Throne. To think of hurting you was not only to think of staining his honor, but to think of treason.

Cregan holds you there for a second longer, curious about your reaction. His grip must be bruising on your arm, he can feel the delicate bones under your flesh shift with how hard he is holding you. Yet, you show no fear. Your hands are balled into fists.

Were he to strike, you would strike back. Your face is the very picture of anger, your body coiled and ready to tear him apart.

He throws the feast. You sit next to him in icy silence and somehow manage to speak and dance with all the guests but him.

Cregan does no longer dream of trying to hunt a seahorse. Instead, he sees the world at a much lower angle than usual, and runs for his life. Somehow, in the dream, he knows a dragon is hunting him.

OF COURSE IT is today. The only day you actually wish your Lord Husband to be in the castle, and he is not.

You had spent many of your days fervently praying for him to leave on an errand, and yet, the day he does, you cannot even enjoy it.

Because the boy has gotten sick. And look, you have visited the nursery before, it is a part of your duties. You also cannot deny that you had been curious about the tiny version of your husband that will inherit everything.

The boy is cute, you suppose. In the manner all babes are. He is well-behaved, and quiet, and takes well to his teachings, even if they involve only naming things aloud.

Had you not hardened your heart to it already, you would want one of your own. You know, though, that their only inheritance will be tears and petty squabbles over land, so it’s best they are not born at all. It had been so between your husband’s father and uncle, and it was being so between your mother and your uncle Aegon.

The only assurance a woman has in a life spent as little more than property is her children. They are to inherit their father’s lands, and that is supposed to be enough. But for the second sons, said promise is always broken.

You had never, not once, thought you would come to understand Alicent, yet here you were.

You reflect on this as you hurry to the nursery, worried the damn boy will die before you reach it. When you get there, you feel the urge to scream. There is not one, but three serving girls hovering by the door, and the Maester is mixing some herbs in a chalice.

The child sleeps peacefully, unaware the surrounding turmoil. He looks impossibly small in his bed of furs, shirt open and chest covered in strange poultices. The boy… No, Rickon, had taken ill after the first snow. Perhaps he had been spending too much time playing outside, or he lingered too much in his wet clothes. You wouldn't know. You tried to avoid him as much as you could.

After this was over, you would have a stern talk with his maids. They shouldn’t be this careless. This was your husband’s heir. Someone had to care about him.

Not you. Never you.

“Will he be alright?” You ask, as the Maester places a wet cloth on his forehead. You have never liked children, never having had the chance to be one yourself. Your mother’s constant quest for the Iron Throne and her love for Daemon had often left you in the hands of the help. And when you were old enough, you had to take the role of the mature sibling alongside Jacaerys, helping raise your brothers.

Jacaerys. You hoped that wherever he was, he was suffering. You despised this place, and he had dared plot with your mother behind your back to get you here. With your beast of a husband, and this child of a previous marriage, whose existence would forever ensure your future children would inherit nothing.

You weren’t going to have children. Despite loving children, you despise your husband too much to ever lay with him. But most of all, you are beginning to fear you will become a damn Hightower. You feared that if you had children and faced the prospect of them only being second sons, you might be tempted to start a war too.

“He will, Princess.” The Maester, unaware of your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your arm. He surely believes in the gentle hearts of women, or some nonsense like that. “The fever will lower with the tea we gave him, and the cool cloth on his forehead. His lungs are strong. He will breathe normally soon.”

The boy’s chest flutters oddly. His ribs show with each inhale, depicting his trouble breathing. You cast a dubious look at the cool cloth. If this was all they could do, it was no wonder your grandfather had been rotting alive.

“Is that all you have to say? Why do his ribs show?” You do your best to channel your mother, tone imperious. “If this is truly…” Before you can insult him by calling him the worst the Citadel has to offer, a boy comes in. You let out a sigh of relief, your desire to berate the Maester subsiding. It’s the same boy you had sent to Castle Cerwyn to retrieve your husband.

“Princess!” He says, extending a hand to you. Much to your astonishment, he hands back the message you had sent to Lord Cregan. “I have grievous news. The road to Castle Cerwyn is fully blocked. I couldn’t get past the river. I cannot go over it either and avoid the forest, for it is not fully frozen.”

“This cannot be!” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Cursed your husband, and his plans to visit the Cerwyns’ tenants today, of all days. “You have to get Lord Cregan. Send a more experienced rider.”

“My lady, I would advise not to.” The Maester says, meekly. “Even if the rider does manage to get past, it is very likely Lord Stark is in the village, snowed in.”

“Well, then send a damn search party!” You yell, uncaring your language is unbecoming of a Princess. You cannot be here while the child… While Rickon dies. The child has a parent, and it is your husband, you do not even care for him!

“It is not as simple.” The Maester cringes when you turn on him.

“Of course it isn’t. The only simple thing is the cure for the child’s malady, isn’t it?” You growl. “Do something useful, if you think a rider cannot reach my husband. Get me someone who can, and fix the boy.”

It would be easier for you if the boy died. You could have the children you so craved. The obstacle would have removed itself. Relationships between half brothers are never as strong as between full ones. At the very least, this child could cast out you and any children you birth when Lord Cregan passes. At the very worst, he might have them killed, as your mother intended with her usurper brother.

But you are not so craven as to let an innocent die. He is still a boy, no older than three namedays. He is vulnerable, and his father is not here.

You sit next to the bed, eyes fixed on his chest. Rickon will not die on your watch.

THE SOUND OF a door opening jerks you awake. Disoriented, you sit up on your chair, and check that Rickon still breathes.

He does. He has awakened with the sound of the door opening, just as you did. But unlike you, he has begun wailing. You get him. You would like to cry too.

“What is it?” You snarl at the serving girl who dared enter in such a manner. The sound of Rickon’s cries grate in your ears, shrill and loud, awakening you fully. You try to coax him into laying back down to no avail.

“Milady…” She stammers, holding a breakfast tray. The reason for her interruption becomes clear. Had it been so long already? You remembered standing vigil over Rickon until sundown, and changing the cool compress a few times after, but no further. By the Seven, you were a terrible caretaker. “I… There are…”

Rickon wails harder.

“Father! Father, want father!” He cries. He then attempts to remove the cool cloth from his forehead, and get up, escaping the furs laid over him.

The serving girl stares at the boy. You stare at her. Rickon continues to squirm. When it is clear she is expecting you to soothe him, you sigh and turn to the child.

“Rickon, you have to lay down again.”

“Father! Father!” He wails, face beginning to turn red, his breathing labored. You are unsure if it is his distress or the sickness, but it worries you nonetheless. The child cannot die. You are not prepared to deal with it.

“Shh, Rickon, I know you are hurting.” You tell him, as you pick him up. “Father is not here. He is trapped by the snow.”

At this, he cries harder. You can hear him gasping for air as he squirms in your arms and kicks at you. His snot is getting everywhere. Good Gods, what if he dies? Would your husband actually force you consummate the marriage if he loses his heir? The thought alone is enough to force you into action.

“He is not trapped. He is snowed in, just as when you cannot go out and play. Happens all the time.” You reassure him, rubbing his back. You know your words to be a lie, but the boy doesn’t. The weather has been especially rough this season. The snow storm is unusual in its fierceness. “He will be back soon.”

Rickon perks up at that.

“He will?”

“As soon as he can.” You promise, hoping it is the case. In truth, you do not know. Your husband is unaware Rickon is ill, and holds no fondness for you. You doubt he will be rushing once the road clears. In fact, you think he might be celebrating the weather and praising his northern gods for the excuse to get a respite from you.

Well, too bad. You would send men each hour to check if the storm waned and the road was accessible once more. He would have to come and tend to his child.

“Where is father?” Rickon asks you, a suspicious look in his little face. He is eerily similar to your husband. His sobs have turned more subdued.

“With Lord Cerwyn.”

“Why? Hurts! Father!” The boy demands, petulantly. He is clearly feeling better if his lungs allow him to shriek like that. You are no healer, but his agitation is worrying you. What if he has a fit because he overexerted himself and then dies?

“I want your father too.” You mutter under your breath. “You do not see me wailing.”

“I love father.” He sobs. “Want him.”

And you are not made of stone. You have never been, no matter how hard you pretend. He is still a babe, hands chubby, face round. He still smells like one, a mix of the nursery, and sweet innocence.

Without even realizing it, you have cradled him into your arms and begun rocking the two of you. He keeps wailing, so you begin singing.

“I loved a maid…” There is no need to be a good singer to soothe babies. You are unsure of what they like about it, but you know it works. It had worked for Aegon and Viserys, why not for Rickon? “As fair as summer, who had sunlight in her hair….”

You begin to rock him as you pace through the room. As his tears begin to subside, and he begins to grow curious about the soft song, you realize he is not the threat to your future children you had envisioned. Rickon is beautiful in the manner all babes are, soft and sweet. His little fists cling to your wool cloak, gray eyes meeting yours with fascination.

Charmed by him, you keep singing. Seasons of my love is enlarged and repeated ten times over, and now includes verses about northern babies who look exactly like their father.

“I loved a boy…” You hum, softly. It feels like hours have passed when Rickon’s eyes finally begin to drop. Of course he would enjoy the verses about winter the most. “As white as winter, with moonglow in his hair.”

The door opens, slowly. You hear the wood groan as it does, but Rickon takes no notice. He burrows his head next to your heart, yawning.

You turn to look at the newcomer, pleased that having put the fear of the gods into the maid who had dared enter before had proven fruitful. The pleased smile drops from your face when you realize it is your husband.

Lord Stark is drenched to the bone. His hair is stuck to his head and shoulders, dripping water onto his furs. The cloak he had worn is wet, and he is quick to remove it, leaving him in simple breeches and a jerkin. His face is the picture of worry.

“I rode as hard as I dared.” His voice is low, pleasantly so. You had never considered the northern accent he sported attractive, but when his voice is gruff, and pitched low, you might see the appeal. “How is he?”

He shouldn’t have bothered with the low tone. Rickon would recognize his voice everywhere because he perks up considerably.

“Father! Father!” Rickon claps. He attempts turning in your grip to look at your husband, which makes you fear he might fall, so you perch him on your hip so he can do so.

“The fever has broken.” You hand Rickon back to him, feeling a hint of embarrassment when his eyes linger on the way you had been holding him. “He’ll live.”

“Thank you.” And his voice is earnest and soft, and it makes you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Is it her still? Does Arra Norrey stand in this room with you, too?

The embarrassment from earlier, and the anger at the thought of your husband being soft because you remind him of her make you snap at him.

“It’s fine. I missed my siblings.” You cross your arms over your chest, awkward. Why does he keep staring at you? Is he… Oh, by the Seven, he is smiling at you? So softly? You cannot stand it. “I will send for a bath for you and Rickon, after washing myself. Less I catch a cold too.”

Look, princesses do not flee. They simply walk hurriedly. Very hurriedly.

[satorella]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰”

“Y’know you have to go back to Germany eventually, right?” You said while lying on 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He sighs, dragging a finger up and down your spine. “I know, Liebchen [darling/sweetheart].” He pauses before continuing, “…I hate leaving you...” You had no response. You couldn’t tell him to just up and drop his career for you. Not that you would ever make him, or let him, do that in the first place. Soccer was all he knew, before you. And you were understanding of that. “Come with me.” He breaks the silence. You lifted your head up off his chest and gave him a confused look. “Micha, you know I can’t.” “Why not? You’re not even happy here in your own country.” He made a good point.

“So, what? Just drop everything, sell my house, my car, leave my friends and family, my life behind?” You were pacing around your room now, while he was still relaxed on your bed, his private area only being covered by the thin blanket. He was casually just flipping through the novel you were currently into. “Ja.” [Yes.] You stopped and glared at him. “Babe, this is serious. Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” “Mhm.” Your eye twitched at his nonchalance. He snaps your book shut and finally looks up at you. “I’ll take care of you. What was that thing you would always say? That you’re ‘meant to be a passenger princess’ or whatever? Well, now you can be.” He shrugs. “For the record, I only said that once or twice!” You look away sheepishly. He couldn’t help but smirk at your expression. “Riiiight.” He replied sarcastically, sitting up on the edge of your bed. He pulled the blanket off, exposing himself and patted his thigh, beckoning you to come. You practically melted at the gorgeous, naked sight of him and walked over. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in between his legs, “Come on, Engel [Angel].” His voice was soft. “And what about when you leave for games? I’ll be alone again, but in a foreign country.” You slightly pouted, playing with the blue ends of his hair. He shrugged again, “You will come with me to my games too. So einfach ist das.” [It’s that simple.] It wasn’t a bad idea.

You did love watching him play. You even got too into it at times.

He remembered one time when he’d been shoved and landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. As he laid there on the field, trying to get his breath back, he looked up into the stands and saw you screaming at the top of your lungs at the ref, almost about to climb over the railing to give the other player a piece of your mind. Thankfully, Ness was benched during that half of the game and was able to calm you down before security came. It turned him on… how feral you got for him…

He dicked you down so good that night.

He pulled you even closer so that you were straddling him now, his hands making their way under your robe and slowly up your sides. “S-So… you realize… you’re basically asking me to move in with you, right?” You clarified. His hands slowly moved up higher, thumbs lightly tracing circles on your bare skin. “That’s the general idea, ja.” He kept talking as if all this was no big deal. But now that you think about it, it would have happened eventually… so. He hummed as he gently cupped your breasts, taking your now hardening nubs between his index and middle finger. You slightly threw your head back, enjoying his touch. He grabbed ahold of your hips as you started to rock against him, his grip becoming a bit rougher as he started to guide your movements. He leaned in, pressing his lips against you; starting from your shoulder and making his way up to your neck. “M-Micha… we… we still need to discuss this…” You bit your bottom lip, trying to stay focused. “No more talking. Just fucking.” His voice was low and demanding; once bright blue eyes, now dark. “Sag einfach ja.” [Just say yes.] He whispers. You let out a content sigh. He really knew how to make you loosen up, didn’t he?

Tsk.

He undid the knot on your robe and let it slip off of you. A shiver ran through you as the cool air hit your skin, along with his touch. You moaned out a “yes” just as you sunk down onto his hard cock. You guys may actively fuck like rabbits, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his larger size. He gave you a second to adjust, before he wrapped your legs around his waist and stood up to place you on the edge of your vanity. “Ah! B-Babe! My makeup!” You whimpered as his hard thrusts caused all your things to topple over. He grabs your chin and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss to stop you from talking.

“I’ll buy you more in Germany.” He grunts.

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[moonlitwitchdaisy]

i take you with your veil

₊⊹ summary: congratulations, mrs. nanami! wishing you a lifetime of happiness with the man you love. you might think your wedding is the most special moment of your life, but if there’s anything more special than that, it’s your wedding night. and if you’re imagining a night filled with candles, rose petals, and soft lovemaking, you’re in for a surprise. because your husband is going to bend you over, leaving only your veil on, and fuck you until you’re completely out of strength. once again, congratulations to both of you!

₊⊹ pairing: husband!nanami x wife!reader

₊⊹ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 husband nanami in his sexy tom ford tuxedo, gojo is the best wedding officiant, also he is very happy for nanami and reader but at the same time he feels like they've abandoned him :( slightly dom nanami, use of mature language and alcohol, temperature play, liquid play, rough sex, backshots, manhandling, overstimulation, teasing, spanking, clit rubbing, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving. also, it's not described in too much detail)

₊⊹ word count: 5.6k

₊⊹ a little note: i wrote this one-shot inspired by the imagine scenario i came up with. i might have changed a few parts (ex. in the imagine scenario, i mentioned a beach wedding, but here it’s not exactly on the beach—at least there’s a sea view!) :> there were some really unnecessary scenes originally, and i kind of exaggerated the whiskey part at the end, so i made quite a few adjustments. anyway i hope you like it please enjoy :)

Mallorca was really hot in July. And for you, who was about to start the wedding ceremony, it felt even hotter. It was impossible not to feel like your hands and feet were all over the place. Everything didn’t have to be perfect. You just wanted to declare yourselves husband and wife with the man you loved without any mishaps and end this tense moment. After that, whatever went wrong could go wrong.

Though it would be great if nothing went wrong.

You had never wanted a big wedding. Fortunately, the man who was about to become your husband in a few moments shared the same idea. A simple wedding with just 30 people among your close ones was more than enough for both of you. While choosing the location had been a bit challenging, the idea of holding it at Son Marroig, where you went on your first vacation with Nanami, seemed like a great idea. Of course, you wanted to get Kento’s opinion on it too—after all, this wasn’t just your wedding. When you told him your thoughts about the venue, he revealed that he had been thinking about Son Marroig from the start and even started explaining how he had already planned where the guests would sit during the ceremony. You had just listened to him without saying anything because it was impossible for him to come up with a bad idea. Deep down, even if you didn’t admit it, you knew his taste was much better than yours.

Kento Nanami was always a man with refined ideas. Details were incredibly important to him. And, in a few minutes, this man would officially be your husband.

Before walking toward the small white marble temple that overlooked the flawless view of the sea and mountains, you glanced at the ring on your left ring finger. The ring, with its massive oval diamond in the center surrounded by smaller diamonds, sparkled in the sunlight. You hadn’t understood why Nanami had chosen something so expensive. You would have married him with a paper ring. All you wanted was him and only him. That didn’t mean your jaw didn’t drop when he got down on one knee, opened the velvet box, and revealed the ring. You hadn’t even gotten over the shock when your closest friends had the same reaction as you after seeing it.

The heat was becoming more intense for you by the second.

Hearing the sweet sound of music, your gaze shifted to the path you hoped to walk without stumbling. As you took your first step in your small-heeled shoes, all thoughts of the heat and the possibility of tripping and rolling your way to Nanami vanished.

Although the idea of rolling your way to him was quite funny.

As you covered broad grin with the hand not holding the bouquet, trying not to let everyone think you’d lost your mind, you had already approached the temple. After managing to regain control of your laughter, you realized you still hadn’t made eye contact with the man who was about to become your husband in minutes. For some reason, you felt shy and couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on your family and friends, who were standing and clapping for you with bright smiles on their faces.

This was really happening.

Finally, when your eyes landed where they were supposed to, you looked at the man waiting for you under the temple. Standing there as if the Tom Ford tuxedo he wore had been made just for him, Nanami had his hands clasped in front of him. His hair was neatly slicked back, and a small flower from your bouquet was tucked into the pocket of his expensive tuxedo in a simple yet elegant manner. It was nearly impossible not to run and throw yourself into his arms.

You were marrying the most handsome man in the world, without a doubt.

The passionate look in his eyes, which no one else could see but you had noticed from the very first moment, once again made you glad you had chosen this wedding dress. The dress was simple. It hugged your figure perfectly, had an open back, a balconette neckline, and delicate floral lace on the thin straps that would never go out of style. The dress was mostly lace, and the veil, reaching down to your waist, matched the design of your dress beautifully.

The moment you saw this dress, you knew it was the one.

As you walked closer to Nanami, the gentle blush on your cheeks deepened. This was the first time he was seeing you in your wedding dress. You had never shown him your wedding dress, because of your friends' ridiculous insistence. Yet, deep down, you had secretly wished that after you were ready, he would walk into your room, see you in the dress, and make love right then and there.

You really shouldn’t have invited your friends.

When you reached the marble temple, Nanami stepped down the stairs and gently took your hand in his. He slowly brought it to his lips and placed a warm kiss on it, causing the crowd to cheer loudly.

Amid the noise, Nanami managed to say, “You’re beautiful.” After carefully helping you up the stairs, the two of you walked to where Gojo, who insisted on officiating the wedding the moment he heard about it, was standing. Once there, Nanami kissed your hand again, deeply and tenderly. Both of you wore smiles that reflected the sweet excitement growing within you.

In just a few minutes, you were going to be this man’s wife. From that moment on, you would officially be Mrs. Nanami.

Turning your gaze to Gojo as his voice interrupted the trance you were in while staring into each other’s eyes, you saw him grinning. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. Today, I have the honor of officiating the wedding of these two wonderful friends of mine. Honestly, who better to perform this role than someone as extraordinary and talented as me, right?” His words prompted soft chuckles from everyone, including you. “I truly never thought I’d live to see this day. Who would’ve guessed that this blonde man would falling madly in love and deciding to spend the rest of his life with just one woma—” Gojo’s words were cut off by a death glare from Nanami. Without missing a beat, he continued, “Alright, I’ll save this speech for the reception because I’m pretty sure the groom just wants to say ‘I do’ and kiss the bride already.”

This time, a faint blush crept onto Nanami’s cheeks. He looked so adorable that you wanted to kiss him right there and then. Because you knew Gojo was absolutely right.

“The couple has decided to skip the vow exchange and instead share a little speech about each other during the reception. So I won’t waste time making some poetic and enchanting speech about marriage. But if you ask for my opinion, marriage is honestly a ridiculous and terrifying concept.” Gojo’s exaggerated expression once again had everyone laughing.

Choosing Gojo as your officiant was definitely a mistake.

Gojo turned to Nanami. “Alright, groom and bride, before they murder me, let’s begin. You, Kento Nanami, the most serious man alive and, while not as handsome as me, still pretty good-looking, do you promise to stand by this beautiful woman through good times and bad, to love and protect her until death do you part?”

The man standing across from you looked at you with passionate eyes. It would have been hilarious if he said no out of the blue. Hilarious but terrifying. Looking into his honey-colored eyes, you heard his deep, beautiful voice respond, “Not even death can part us.”

There wasn’t a single trace of hesitation in his words. You had always known he would want you no matter what, but hearing him say it at your wedding made it all the more special.

Looking at him with tear-filled eyes, you were startled when Gojo interjected again. “So is that a yes or no?”

Gojo really was a jackass.

Nanami, now glaring at his friend for ruining the moment, gave a firm answer. “Yes, I do, Satoru.” His tone, laced with annoyance, prompted laughter and cheers from everyone.

“Alright, the groom may have said yes, but we still need to hear from the bride.” Gojo turned to you with a mischievous grin. “Even though you’ve bewitched one of my best friends and stolen him from me, do you promise to stand by this grumpy, workaholic, and, while not as handsome as me, still pretty handsome man, through good times and bad, to love and protect him until death do you part?”

Being without him was never an option.

Tuning out everyone and everything around you, you looked straight into his eyes and repeated his words, “Not even death can part us.” Sensing that Gojo was waiting for a more direct answer, you smiled at him and added, “Yes, I do.”

“Well, good luck with that, sweetheart, because this man is going to be a bit of a challenge.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh at that. Nanami had indeed been a difficult man at first. Expressing his feelings wasn’t something he was particularly bold about, but his every action showed you how much he loved you. It was never hard to realize you were made for each other.

He was your man.

“Well, buddy, you can now kiss your wife.” With Gojo’s blessing, Nanami’s hands immediately found your waist and pulled you close. Your free hand and the one holding the bouquet instantly found their way to his neck, and without waiting for him to make a move, you pressed your lips to his.

His large hands tightened around your waist as the kiss deepened. Your other hand cupped his face, and the both of you kissed with a fervor that seemed insatiable, as if one kiss would never be enough. The softness of his lips and the fresh minty taste on his breath made your whole body tingle.

“Alright, alright, save the rest for tonight,” Gojo interrupted, breaking the moment just as things were getting heated.

Nanami’s hands moved from your waist to cup your face. Both of you ignored everyone around you, looking only at each other.

“You’re officially a Nanami now,” he said in a low voice.

“Finally,” you replied just as softly, giving him a quick kiss.

Kento Nanami was now truly your husband.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

Everything going this smoothly was definitely wrong.

You couldn’t tell if it was because there were so few people or if you were just unbelievably lucky. Nothing had gone wrong. The food was delicious, people were genuinely happy.

But as for whether Gojo was happy, you weren’t entirely sure.

Even though he wasn’t drinking, he was going through emotional swings as if he were drunk. Despite sitting at the same table, he kept switching between hugging you and your husband, saying he loved you both, and then scolding you and bursting into tears.

Luckily, he was currently dancing with one of your close friends, seeming a bit more cheerful. One thing was for sure: he wasn’t going to be sleeping alone in his hotel room tonight.

“Have I told you how stunning you look, Mrs. Nanami?” your husband murmured into your ear as his hands rested on your hips, swaying with you on the dance floor to the slow song.

He had told you this a million times. The only thing he might have said more was how much he wanted to have you all to himself once you returned to the villa.

Had you ever seen him like this before? Not exactly. He always got excited about you, but tonight, the way he emphasized those private promises during dinner, unable to hold himself back, was something new.

“Do you really love my dress that much?” You brushed your fingers along the back of his neck, gently caressing him as you looked into his eyes.

“You look like a princess. I love the floral lace details, but the veil—” his fingers trailed up to your hair where your veil had been, now cascading down as your hair was free, “—was the most beautiful part of it all.”

“Really? You liked it more than the dress?” You tilted your head in surprise.

“I loved how it draped down to your waist. And… I’ve got a little plan for it,” he added, his fingers threading gently through your hair before resting back on your hips.

“Ken, did you hit your head or something? What could you possibly be planning with my veil?” You raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused.

Your husband let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The plan involves you too.”

“Oh, thank you so much for inviting me to your special plan with my veil,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

“Jealous?” he teased, his smirk both infuriating and endearing.

“What do you think?”

He kissed your forehead again, his hand squeezing your waist as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “All evening, I’ve been telling you you won’t be able to walk after tonight. Don’t forget that, my wife. Once we’re alone in that private villa of ours, I’m not letting you rest.” His lips brushed your cheek before he pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t forget to put the veil back on.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say because he’d summarized exactly what was going to happen tonight. The hunger in his eyes had been crystal clear all evening. You’d thought the night might end on a quieter note, but your veil-obsessed husband clearly had other ideas.

As you wondered how you were even going to put the veil back on, you found yourself wishing you could teleport to your private villa immediately, desperate to start the night you had ahead of you.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

As you got out of the car and walked toward the entrance of the villa, you called out to your husband trailing behind you. “I can’t believe it’s over. I wish we could do it all over again.”

Your husband let out an amused grunt at your reaction. “We can always have another wedding darling.”

“But I want it now. Maybe if we go back, we can keep fun again.”

Nanami’s long arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back suddenly. For a moment, you thought you might fall, but your husband held you securely. Turning fully toward him, you buried your face into his neck.

“If there’s anything better than the wedding itself, darling, it’s the wedding night,” Nanami whispered, his fingers running through your veil.

You might not have wanted the wedding to end, but the moment you’d been waiting for all day had finally arrived. You were desperate to feel your husband’s cock inside you.

Lifting your head from his neck, you smiled. “Then we’d better get inside right now.” Grabbing the keys from his hand, you darted toward the front door of the villa.

Leaving Nanami behind without a second glance, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, sighing contentedly. “I’m so happy we’re staying here. It might be a bit far from Son Marroig, but this is where we stayed during our first trip to Mallorca.” When you reached the couches in the spacious living room, you tossed the jacket your husband had given you to keep warm onto the couch and sat on the edge to take off your heels.

“Wearing short heels was the best decision ever. If they were any taller, who knows how—” You paused mid-sentence, realizing your husband wasn’t in the room. Glancing toward the door, you saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you with a serious expression. It didn’t look like he had any intention of coming closer.

Getting up, you crossed the cold floor with your bare feet until you were in front of him. As you approached, his hands left his pockets, reaching up to loosen his black bow tie. The sight of him doing it in the most effortlessly sexy way possible made your breath hitch. His hair was still perfectly styled, while yours, pinned in a messy updo, was beginning to lose its waves.

At least your makeup was still intact. For now.

By the time you reached him, he had already undone the bow tie and started unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Without waiting another second, your hands found his neck as you crashed your lips against his. The hand holding his bow tie and his free hand went straight to your ass, squeezing it firmly

Finally feeling his tongue against yours, you moaned at the intoxicating, aromatic taste of cigars lingering in his mouth. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you deepened the kiss, biting his lips with raw need.

“You’ve put your veil back on,” he murmured, pulling his lips away for a brief moment.

“You said you needed it for something important,” you replied breathlessly, your tone tinged with anticipation.

His large hands traced over the delicate lace of your veil. “From the moment I saw you walking down that aisle, all I wanted was to send everyone home, pin you against the temple columns, and fuck you.”

A small whimper escaped your lips. Damn, your husband was too honest, and he was definitely too aroused.

“Good thing the guests didn’t hear that. We wouldn’t want to be selfish hosts.”

“I couldn’t care less.”

The aggression in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, filling you with even more anticipation. You had imagined this night to be romantic, but the way Nanami spoke made you think it would be anything but gentle.

“Ken, please…” you whispered between heated kisses.

“Go upstairs and wait for me in our room,” he said, his lips brushing against yours. “You know which one I mean, right? The one where I made you scream and come in every corner.”

Of course, you knew. While you’d had sex in almost every room of this villa during your first stay, the one with the large sliding doors and breathtaking view was his favorite.

“Yes…”

His hand found one of the buttons at the base of your dress, undoing it with ease. “Take everything off except the veil. I don’t want to see a single piece of clothing on you. Do you understand me, Mrs. Nanami? Only the veil stays.”

Your skin burned as if the heat of the day had returned. “Okay.”

Nanami placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Good girl. Make sure you’re completely naked by the time I come up.”

Nanami wasn’t in a playful mood tonight. You knew all too well how he punished you when you disobeyed him. And you didn’t need your ass reddened or sore to the point of being unable to sit properly tomorrow.

As soon as you entered the bedroom upstairs, your hands reached for the buttons on the back of your dress. Though you thought Nanami had only undone one earlier, it turned out he had unfastened all of them, making it easier for you. Slowly, you slid the straps off your shoulders, pulling the part of the dress hugging your hips downward until it pooled around your feet. Left only in your white lace panties, you remembered your husband’s command and slipped off the small, delicate piece as well.

You didn’t know when he’d come upstairs. Tossing yourself onto the soft, spacious bed, you felt the veil’s lace tickling your back. Your pussy throbbed, the ache radiating through your entire body. Pressing your thighs together to ease the tension, you tried to give yourself some relief, but it was nowhere near enough. His thick fingers and the skilled strokes of his tongue should’ve been there. And then, his thick—

The sound of footsteps nearing the room made you sit up. The dim light from outside spilled into the room, framing your husband’s broad silhouette as he entered. In his hand, he held a glass of whiskey. He hadn’t had a drop all night since he’d been driving, and you didn’t know how he’d resisted. Nanami loved whiskey.

He needed to satisfy his thirst.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, your naked body on full display, you watched him as he scanned you hungrily. Bringing the glass to his lips, you noticed his shirt sleeves were newly rolled up, revealing the veins running along his strong forearms. You’d give anything to run your tongue along them.

When he reached you, he looked down at you with sharp, hungry eyes and he spoke, his voice low and firm. “It’s a good thing you obeyed me, Mrs Nanami. Otherwise, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you tonight.” He caressed your cheek with the hand wearing his wedding ring. His touch was so soft that your eyes closed instinctively.

“I always obey you, Ken.”

“Do you now? I don’t think so. You can be such a brat sometimes.” His hand slid from your cheek to your lips, his thumb grazing your bottom lip before slowly slipping inside. As soon as his thick thumb was in your mouth, your tongue began swirling around it.

“When you act up, all I want to do is stuff that bratty mouth of yours so full that the next time you open it, you won’t even have the strength to speak. Fuck…” Nanami groaned, clearly enjoying the sight of you sucking his thumb. Your tongue played with it, your head moving as you took it deeper into your mouth, your lips wrapped tightly around it.

When he finally pulled his thumb out, your lips were wet and parted as you caught your breath. His hand moved quickly to your right breast, the thumb you had just been sucking circling your sensitive nipple. The sensation made you moan uncontrollably.

“Fuck…Ken…” You threw your head back as he teased your nipple with the wet digit.

“Lie on your back,” he commanded.

As your body met the sheets once more, you waited in anticipation, your excitement mounting as he climbed over you, still holding his glass. Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You know I haven’t been drinking tonight. So now, I’m going to savor this.” Pulling back slightly, he tilted the glass, pouring the whiskey slowly over your neck.

“KEN!” As the liquor spread across your skin, your back arched, but your husband’s lips pressing against your neck brought you back down.

His mouth worked on your neck with an intense hunger, lips sucking and tongue licking every drop of whiskey. The heat of his mouth against your skin left you trembling, each stroke of his tongue pulling more desperate sounds from your lips.

“Delicious,” he murmured, his lips leaving your neck only to follow a stray trail of whiskey downwards with his tongue.

“Oh God—please, don’t stop,” you whimpered, your legs shaking with need.

As your husband’s tongue slowly trailed from between your breasts down to your waist, he placed a kiss on your skin. You thought he’d pour more whiskey to lap up, but instead, he brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip. From it, he pulled out an ice cube, holding it between his fingers.

Oh, he was going to torture you.

As he traced the cold ice around your nipple, you bit down on your bottom lip, unable to hold back your reaction when the chill sent a shockwave through your body.

“Nghh—Ken, it’s so—so cold.”

“Hmmm, but you like it, don’t you? Hearing you moan like this makes me think you do.” Watching how the ice made your body writhe and delivered a strange, addictive pleasure drove you wild. Nanami’s fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. Occasionally, the ice grazed your nipples, drawing loud cries from you.

When he brought the ice to your other breast, his mouth closed over the nipple he had just teased with the ice. Your hands instinctively found his perfectly styled hair, tugging at it as your body arched beneath him.

Just as his lips had been firm on your neck, they were equally relentless as he sucked on your nipple. Sometimes he would tug and release it with his teeth, and other times his tongue would flick over its sensitive tip. As if the intense stimulation wasn’t enough, his fingers trailed the ice over your other breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake despite your inability to see it happening.

“Fuck, they’re so perfect. They’re so hard for me,” he groaned before letting your nipple go with an audible pop. “They love my mouth.”

The way he spoke to your breasts as though they were sentient was both ridiculous and unbelievably arousing.

“They do. They love you so much. Ughh… They crave all your attention, Ken,” you gasped.

He pressed his nose to your nipple, rubbing it lightly before giving it a final kiss. “And I love them so damn much,” he said, switching to the other nipple to repeat the same torturous treatment. Your husband gave the same dedicated attention to your other nipple, never tiring of the task. The contrast between your chilled skin from the ice and the heat of his mouth made you even wetter with every touch. You needed him to fill your aching pussy.

After pressing a final kiss to your sensitive nipple, Nanami pulled back and downed the last of the whiskey in his glass. Without hesitation, he hurled the empty glass across the room, the shattering sound barely registering before he flipped you onto your stomach. Your head was so fogged with pleasure that the sudden movement made your heart feel like it might leap out of your chest.

He slapped your ass and told you to bend over, and without wasting a single second, you obeyed.

“Your pussy is absolutely soaked, Mrs. Nanami. Fuck…” He groaned as two of his fingers trailed along your slick walls in your bent-over position, drawing a moan from you.

“Put them in…please,” you begged, desperate for him.

“My eager wife,” he said with a dark chuckle. “I’ll give you what you want, but your husband needs to be inside you now. Is that okay, darling? I need to feel your pussy.” His fingers kept teasing you, never giving you enough.

“Yes, Ken. However you want,” you replied breathlessly.

Though you couldn’t see it, Nanami smirked triumphantly. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your ass before unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers in record time. His cock, already leaking precum, throbbed painfully as he stroked it lightly.

One hand gripped your hips for support as he lined himself up with your entrance, his precum smearing against you.

“Ken, please, just put it in already,” you whined.

Your impatience earned you a sharp slap on your ass. “What did you just say?”

You buried your face into the sheets, the sting on your ass making you immediately regret your outburst. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said before thrusting into you in one swift motion.

Both of you gasped as his cock filled you completely. The position let you feel every inch of his thickness as he stretched you in ways that made you see stars.

You were both ready to explode.

Nanami started to move slowly, letting you adjust to his size. But even his measured pace couldn’t hide how massive he was. Each thrust and withdrawal reminded you just how deep he could reach.

“L-look at that. Taking my massive cock so perfectly. Fuck—it’s gripping me so tight, begging me to keep pumping into it nonstop.”

“I-It is, Ken. Please, give it what it wants,” you begged, voice trembling.

“Oh, I will. I’ll keep going until I fill this perfect pussy with my cum,” he growled, his other hand gripping your hip as he began to move faster.

With every thrust, your fingers gripped the sheets tighter. Your pussy clenched around him, and the strength in your legs was fading with each movement. He clearly didn’t have the patience to wait. It made sense why he wanted to be inside you so desperately before fingering or tasting you.

“Uh-huh—fuck, darling, just like that. Move your ass back against me,” your husband growled, his voice thick with lust as your hips rolled back to meet his thrusts.

“S-shit, Ken… you’re so big,” you moaned.

“I know,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips even harder. “And you take my big cock just the way I want you to—fuck, just like I want.”

Nanami’s pace quickened, his thick cock filling your silky walls with every deep stroke. You buried your face into the mattress, screaming as the intensity overwhelmed you.

The lace veil flowing down your back swayed wildly with each of his movements. Nanami had been obsessed with it all night, dying to grab it in his fist and pull you even closer until you lost your mind.

“You should see your veil, Mrs. Nanami. With every thrust, it’s whipping back and forth,” he said, sliding one hand to your veil and wrapping it firmly around his fist.

“Nanami, no, you’ll tear it!” you gasped, panic creeping into your voice. You didn’t want it ruined, and knowing how rough he was being right now, he could rip it apart with one swift move.

Your husband’s fist tightened angrily around your veil. With the hand gripping your hip, he pulled your head up from the sheets toward him. Even as his hand slid to your throat, the hold wasn’t overly firm.

“Did you just call me Nanami?” His voice was low and sharp.

You were so fucked.

“I-I don’t remember,” you stammered. Truly, you didn’t. All you could think about was saving your veil from destruction.

“Sounds like I need to remind you how to address me, darling.”

His hand released your throat, letting your head drop back to the mattress. The veil was still wound tightly in his other hand as he started pounding into you faster, the head of his cock hitting your deepest spots with devastating precision. It felt like the same speed he reached when you rode him, bouncing wildly on his lap. You couldn’t remember him ever fucking you this fast.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, making your legs tremble as you moaned loudly. You were definitely paying for calling him by his last name. Somehow, his hand strikes synced perfectly with his thrusts, each one brushing against your g-spot. The sensations built into a crescendo, leaving you breathless.

“My name isn’t Nanami. It’s never been Nanami to you,” he growled, his frustration palpable. “You call me Ken or nghhh—your husband. You can’t even say Kento, understand?” His grip on your veil tightened further.

“Y-yes, husband,” you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his head thrown back as his hips snapped harder against you. His hand left your ass to find your clit, his fingers rubbing tight, deliberate circles that sent you hurtling closer to the edge.

“K-k-ken… ohhhh, my husband!” you cried out, your nails digging into the sheets as his fingers worked magic on your clit.

“That’s right. Don’t forget who you belong to, Mrs. Nanami. Don’t forget who you walked down that aisle to today.” Nanami started rubbing your clit faster, the trembling of your slick walls tightening even more around him signaling that you were about to come. He wasn’t far from his own release either.

“Come for me, baby. Fill my cock with all your juices. Don’t leave a single drop behind. F-fuck…” His hand loosened its grip on your veil, giving all his energy to his relentless thrusts as he pushed you over the edge.

“Ke-ken, I’m cumming. Ohhh—don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you screamed, your body trembling violently as your orgasm overtook you.

“Me too, baby, me too…” Nanami groaned, slamming into you a few more times before his fingers pinched your clit, sending you spiraling into another wave of pleasure as he spilled his hot cum deep inside you.

Sweat rolled down your spine as you gasped for air. Even after his movements stopped, soft moans spilled from your lips. Your wedding night hadn’t been the gentle, romantic affair you’d envisioned, filled with sweet kisses and whispered vows. Instead, it was raw, rough, and dangerously close to tearing your veil apart.

You just hoped it was still intact.

When Nanami finally pulled out, some of his thick cum leaked from his tip. Gently, he turned you onto your back, chuckling when he noticed that the messy bun you had styled on the way home had now gone far beyond messy.

“You’re an absolute mess,” he teased, his tone playful.

“Gee, I wonder why,” you shot back, still struggling to catch your breath.

“Guess I’ll have to mess you up even more, then,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Before you could protest, he shifted between your legs, his fingers pushing the cum leaking from you back inside. The cool metal of his wedding band brushed against your walls, making you whimper. Nanami smirked at your reaction before lowering his head, his tongue tracing your folds as he began to build you up again.

You knew very well that this man wouldn’t stop until morning. He wouldn’t let you go until he was completely satisfied. How you were going to make it to your flight to Malaysia for your honeymoon tomorrow (or rather, later today) was a mystery to you. But knowing your punctual husband, he would somehow get you there on time.

This wasn’t what you needed to focus on right now, so you closed your eyes and let your hands tangle in your husband’s hair, allowing him to fulfill the promise he’d made to you.

taglist: @sarcastic-wit @mokiczk @lafhel @raya4643 @rinkomei @madamechrissy

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

dividers by @roseraris @bernardsbendystraws

[little-jana]

"The Baby Glimmer"

Pairing: husband!Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, wanting a baby, heated/romantic fade-to-black intimacy, kissing

Summary: Where Aaron gets baby fever.

a/n: Well, since most of you voted for 2nd person writing, I'll try that from now on.

The first time you noticed it, you didn’t think much of it.

Aaron and you were walking through the mall one rainy Saturday afternoon, grabbing a few things for Jack’s school project. He’d been in need of some craft supplies and, as usual, Aaron wanted everything to be perfect.

You were strolling past a baby boutique on the way to the bookstore when Aaron slowed to a stop. He glanced at the window display—a collection of tiny onesies and soft teddy bears arranged artfully—and a soft, almost wistful smile crept across his face.

You stopped beside him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He gestured to a fluffy teddy bear in the center of the display, its bowtie slightly askew. “That’s cute,” he said simply. “Babies would love it.”

You blinked. Aaron Hotchner, notorious for his stoic demeanor, commenting on teddy bears?

“Yeah,” you replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s… adorable.”

Aaron nodded, his hand briefly brushing against yours before he turned back toward the bookstore. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, his voice calm and measured as always.

You stared after him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. Maybe he was just in a good mood.

---

Then there was JJ’s baby shower.

Aaron had insisted on going. “She’s family,” he’d said when you asked him about it. “It’s important to support her.”

And support her he did.

He spent the entire afternoon helping set up decorations, arranging tiny cupcakes on trays, and offering to hold the baby while JJ unwrapped gifts. It was… unexpected, to say the least.

At one point, you caught him holding JJ’s newborn, his expression so soft it made your chest ache. He was cooing gently, his deep voice low and soothing as he rocked the baby in his arms.

You tried not to stare. You really did. But the sight of Aaron Hotchner—gruff, protective, usually all-business—cradling a baby like it was the most natural thing in the world was enough to make anyone’s heart skip a beat.

“Wow,” Emily whispered, nudging you with her elbow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Hotch has baby fever.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment. “Please. He’s just being nice.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach fluttered when Aaron caught your eye across the room and smiled.

---

It wasn’t just JJ’s baby. It was everywhere.

You were at the grocery store one evening when it happened again. You had split up to cover more ground, and found him standing in the baby aisle when you came to find him.

“Aaron?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

He looked up, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he held up a tiny pair of baby shoes. “Look at these,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “They’re so small.”

You stared at him, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing again. “Uh… yeah,” you said slowly. “Babies tend to have small feet.”

Aaron chuckled, setting the shoes back on the shelf. “Right. Of course.”

You watched him for a moment, suspicion creeping in. Something was definitely up.

---

The team noticed it, too.

“He’s acting weird,” Derek said one afternoon, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his coffee.

“Weirder than usual?” Emily quipped, smirking.

“No, like… softer,” Derek replied, gesturing toward Aaron’s office. “Have you seen the way he’s been with JJ’s baby? Or how he’s been staring off into space lately? It’s like he’s distracted by something.”

Emily glanced at you, her eyebrows raised. “Any idea what’s going on with him?”

You shrugged, playing dumb. “No clue. Maybe he’s just tired.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the way Aaron had been looking at you lately—the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than usual, the way he reached for your hand more often, the way his touch was softer, more deliberate.

---

It all came to a head one quiet evening at home.

Jack was asleep, and Aaron and you were curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background. You’d been watching him out of the corner of your eye all night, trying to piece together what was going on in that brilliant, complicated mind of his.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aaron,” you said, turning to face him.

He looked down at you, his dark eyes warm and attentive. “Yes?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’ve been… different lately. Distracted. Is everything okay?”

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was going to brush it off. But then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he reached for your hand.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he admitted, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“It’s just… seeing JJ with her baby, and watching Jack grow up… It’s made me think about us. About our future.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck. “What about our future?”

Aaron’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “I’ve been thinking about having another baby. With you.”

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak.

“A baby?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. “I know it’s a big decision, and I don’t want to pressure you. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About what it would be like to build a family with you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice trembling. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his gaze filled with love and hope. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as tears spilled down your cheeks. You loved this man so much.

---

Over the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron’s words.

You watched him more closely than ever, noticing the way he doted on Jack, the way he smiled whenever you passed by a baby in the park, the way he held you just a little tighter at night.

And the more you thought about it, the more the idea began to take root in your heart.

It was a week later, during a quiet evening at home, that you finally found the courage to bring it up again.

You were sitting at the dining table, finishing the last of your dinner, when you set your fork down and looked at him.

“Aaron,” you said softly.

He glanced up, his expression instantly attentive. “Yes?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About having a baby.”

His eyes softened, and you saw the faintest glimmer of hope in his gaze. “And?”

You smiled, your heart pounding as you reached for his hand. “And… I think I want that, too. With you.”

Aaron’s face lit up, a smile spreading across his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he murmured, his deep voice warm and full of unspoken emotion.

You laughed through the tears welling in your eyes, unable to look away from the sheer adoration in his gaze. “I think I do,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

Aaron’s other hand reached up, his fingertips tenderly brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re really ready for this?” he asked, his tone quiet and reverent, like he didn’t want to break the fragile bubble of this moment.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “With you? Yes. A thousand times yes.”

His dark eyes softened even further, the kind of look that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world to him. He kissed you then—slow and deliberate, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude into the motion.

When he finally pulled back, you noticed the faintest mischievous glint in his eye, something you rarely saw but secretly adored. His lips quirked into a small, almost playful smile.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly, “if we’re going to have a baby… shouldn’t we start practicing?”

You blinked at him, stunned for half a second before a breathless laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, really?” you teased, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You don’t waste any time, do you?"

His grin widened just a fraction as he leaned closer, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. “Why would I, when we could make this moment count?” His voice was a low rumble now, filled with a heated edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifted—charged and electric, crackling with the kind of tension that made your pulse race.

“Aaron…” You whispered, your voice catching in your throat as he cupped your cheek, his touch so gentle yet so deliberate.

“Yes?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with just the faintest ghost of a kiss.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest. “You’re not playing fair.”

He hummed low in his throat, his other hand settling on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “I don’t plan to.”

The next kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was full of unspoken promises and barely contained need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

You gasped as he shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as though you weighed nothing. Your hands tangled in his shirt as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips never straying far from yours.

[just-another-hippie]

OKAY LETS DO IT

1. It's super fucking complicated !!

2. @decomposing-atm <3

3. An awful lot, way too much to list here and basically all about my childhood :(

4. Ehh 50/50

5. Taken <3

6. I've been debating this for ages and I'm still not sure

7. Uhhh homemade wild berry compote on Greek yoghurt (fuckin fancy ik)

8. Yep! I was very athletic when I was younger but then illnesses and eds SLAPPED me so I stopped for a while, but I'm getting into bouldering and weightlifting now that I'm recovered :]

9. HELL NO

10. Uhh when my older stepsister was round last weekend because she likes to hurt me totally unprompted ://

11. My boyfie hehe

12. Uhhhh maybe?? I've pulled so many all-nighters I can't remember

13. I don't hate people because I believe it's bad for my mental health, I tend to set boundaries and burn bridges if people are bad to me, then wish them the best and hope that one day they will truly find happiness and become a better person

14. A lot of people :(

15. YES!! My cat hermione hehe I'll post a pic of her cause she's super duper cute

16. Ehh a bit mixed atm, I'm just making sure I keep fighting because I'm sure as shit gonna make it out alive.

17. No and as "sexy" as it seems I am also a MASSIVE germaphobe so please can we do it somewhere nicer /silly

18. VERY VERY VERY FUCKING MUCH GOD DAMN

19. Definitely, and I know exactly when in my childhood :/

20. Uhhh I think his room HAHA

21. Yikes umm

22. I don't plan to have bio kids because I'm anti-natalist, but if I was in the right headspace then I would adopt older kids which got left in the system

23. I have 5 piercings, double lobe piercings in both ears and a septum piercing! I'm getting snakebites next year and I'll think about what else after that!

24. Uhhh idk I hate school so bad >:(

25. Very very much so :(

26. Chocolate HAHA

27. N/A

28. N/A

29. N/A

30. The state of the world, my home life, my lack of organisation??

31. Yes!!

32. I think green, but I love colours so I'm not sure, I'm more about vibes

33. DEFO

34. Uhh last night it was hugging @strawberri-bomb-bomb which was hella sweet because I miss them

35. Unfortunately my mother

36. I used to an awful lot, but I absolutely don't anymore

37. I may forgive but I never forget

38. Fuck yeah it will be

39. 14 <3

40. I fear not /silly

(Apparently they skipped some)

51. Man I love food so much I literally couldn't pick LMAO

52. I used to, but I lost my faith last year, I'm trying to get back to that sense of peace I had in knowing that what will be will be

53. Talk to my boyfie and drink chamomile tea

54. Absolutely fucking not!! unless you're trapped in an abusive relationship that you've tried to leave, any other circumstance go fuck yourself

55. No!! My whole thing is about peace, love, and kindness!!

56. Uhh not too many I hope

57. Absolutely 100000000%

58. SUNSHINE!!!!!

59. Hell yes, I wish we had it more where I live i love it sm :((

60. Yes!!

61. YES!!

62. So much that it deserves its own list

63. I already have socially but I will legally on my birthday!! If we mean change my name from my name now then I'm not inclined to, but I wish I chose a cooler name /j

64. The only challenge is distance /j

65. Then I'd tell them no thank you let's stay friends!!

66. Uhh I pick my friends very wisely so I'm comfortable around all of them I think, but some more than others

67. I have no idea I've slept for ages and it was like a coma /silly

68. Uhhhh I don't know maybe my boyfie??

69. ABSOLUTELY

70. The people closest to my heart

I did itttt!!

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[cthulhus-curse]

De-Loveliest

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,519

Warnings: Blow Jobs, Praise Kink, Reader has a Penis, Smut, Stepcest, Stepsister Wanda Maximoff, Slight Degradation | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When it's just the two of you alone, you don't ever dare let go of your stepsister the way Wanda similarly clings to you.

When it comes to your favorite day of the week, you’d never hesitate to say it was Saturday.

It was the one time when you could let all your inhibitions run rampant. No one dared ruin your fun with your mother going away with your stepfather, leaving you all alone but with a rather quiet, perky redhead who stuck to herself. Your college classes seeped all the excitement out of adulthood, but when it was just you and Wanda, you could finally garner it all back.

Most days the woman, only younger than you by a handful of months, sat locked up in her room writing out assignments. She was at the stop of all her classes. A rather brainiac, she had no time to socialize nor offers to do so. Wanda Maximoff preferred the company of a book during her free time rather than a person, at least until you showed her the joys of spending special time with you under the guise of bonding.

“I…are you sure? W-what if they come back? They could hear us, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes with amusement, you shook your head. “Your dad and my mom left us all alone for the weekend. I don’t think they care to come back here until Monday at the very least,” you explained calmly. “Relax, princess. Your secret is safe with me. You know it always is.”

For months it had been that way. The two of you had known one another for nearly three years, and had been students at the same college for one. Most of the time Wanda kept to herself, but slowly you began protecting her, walking her around campus to her classes and commuting several days a week for the sole sake of ensuring she arrived in one piece. That is when your carnal desire for her began and you took action. Surprisingly the slightly younger woman was nothing but excited to follow along.

Grabbing your painfully hard length, you hummed. “Come on, pretty girl. Open those legs up for me. Stop worrying about mommy and daddy catching us,” you leaned in, completely towering over her body. “No one has to know how much of a little slut you are for me.”

With her back pressed against the pink, starry bed sheets of her bedroom, Wanda nodded. She often invited you over to her room in secrecy, and while she barely had garnered any experience since the day you claimed her virginity, each time you touched her, she responded perfectly. The walls surrounding her were painted in beautiful pastel colors as every trinket spread across the area was rightfully placed. Your stepsister had no flaws in your eyes, and as you gawked down at her nude body, one you had shed from even the last bit of her former outfit, you knew you were right.

Guiding her legs to bend up for you, you settled between them. Your dick throbbed when you swirled its head over her puffy, slick folds that were easily parted. Slapping it on her a few times, you basked on the little moans she let out. Every whimper, every slight movement or sound she made, you absolutely adored.

“Y-you’re so big,” Wanda whined as she looked down to see your penis teasing her cunt, even taking its sweet time to stimulate her bulbous clit with your flushed tip. “I’m always so scared it won’t fit. I mean, it didn’t fit the first time.”

“But now your pussy can take it all. You’ve been trained, princess,” you said as you admired her sex. “Don’t you want my cock? You always look so fucking cute taking it. Hm, and being stuffed with cum…having my pups…”

“I do, I want it so bad,” Wanda cried. “But, uhm, shouldn’t we use a condom. What if something happens?”

“Shhh I like it this way. I love the idea of making you carry my seed,” you mumbled, leaning down far enough so your lips brushed against her ear. “Now look at me, honey. I’m about to go in. I know it always feels a bit icky at first, but everything will be alright. I’m right here.”

You made sure to prepare her first with your fingers before easing yourself into her gaping hole. As always, Wanda was awfully drenched with lustful juices that oozed out of her slutty pussy. Since the first time you fucked her, you ensured to stretch her out to take your lengthy, thick cock without any pain. You still gladly remembered how she barely took half of you on that first night, and now in a matter of seconds you could slide yourself deep into her velvety guts with loud grunts.

Slowly you made sure to stuff her full of your length, only stopping once you felt a soft, spongy part of her insides against your cock head while your balls slapped her skin. “So good,” you groaned. “Fuck, baby. You’re always so ready to take my cock and you do it so well. It’s like your pussy was meant for this.”

“F-feels good!” Wanda yelped, but the louder she got, the more you subdued her sounds of pleasure. “I want it to be hard, please. Uhm…I like it when it hurts.”

There was no verbalization in reply to her words, but instead action that took place. You moved your head down enough to capture her rosy, plump lips in a searing kiss. Wrapping your arms around your stepsister, you held her securely in place while beginning to move your hips. Her moans were drowned out by your mouth as your tongue slipped into hers, but neither wanted it any other way.

Skins slapped together as you rammed yourself into her suddenly abused hole. Many times you’d carry those macabre motions with your toys, but never with Wanda. No, she was fragile. A tender porcelain doll you could never harm. Well…at least not until she practically begged you to do it. Whether she admitted it or not, you knew both she was nothing but a cumrag for you to take, a sweetly innocent one at that who longer to be destroyed.

“I fucking love your pussy,” you exasperated as Wanda’s cunt gripped your cock with might. “God, you’ll look so cute, all nice and round with my pups. Tainted in so much fucking cum, you’ll drown on it like the pretty whore you are. But I bet you’d like that, huh?”

“I would,” Wanda whispered with her lips brushing your own, only to whine when you moved your face down. Her disapproval didn’t stop until her emerald eyes widened with surprise. You took her nipples in your mouth, alternating between the two as you sucked on one while pinching the other with your fingers. Her breasts were swollen and perfectly squishy for you to grope. “Wan’ be filled with cum. P-please. I need you so bad, baby. Make it hurt so bad until I can’t walk tomorrow, and make me yours to have your pups. I need it — I can take it.”

“Yeah you can,” you growled. “You fucking better, slut .”

You didn’t dare stop your brutal thrusts until Wanda came, her fingernails harshly dragging themselves over your back until they surely left angry marks in their wake. She always screamed adorably loud to alert you of the orgasm that shook her to her core and turned her mind to mush. Her pleasure was the only thing that mattered at the end of the day. You stimulated her clit with a finger, drawing out a much intense wave of lust as she fell apart. That was enough to make you let go, and as soon as Wanda’s climax finished, yours began.

Her walls were painted with white as copious spurts of it stuck to her cunt. Your cock twitched inside of her, dumping all of your seed in her depths so-much-so that some dripped onto the bed sheets you’d be sure to clean up. Sighing, you let your head rest against Wanda’s breasts, kissing them with the utmost amount of fondness as your dick remained balls-deep in her.

“‘M tired,” Wanda sleepily commented. She ran her fingers on your back in circular soothing motions. “And hungry.”

“I’ll get you some food and water before you take a little nap,” you responded with a smile, knowing already that her go-to plan after sex was snacking on fruit roll-ups, drinking water, and cuddling against you before going to take a shower together. Staring up at Wanda, you couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten with her. “Anything for my pretty princess. Now close your eyes, baby. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

During the weekdays you were much more secretive about the relationship only the two of you knew about. In front of her father and your mother you were solely stepsiblings who were slightly touchy from time to time, but behind closed doors you stole quick kisses and words of affirmation, at times even running off on dates under the guise of bonding. Even on campus at times you held Wanda’s hand before having to let go with purse dismay and seeing her run into a class of hers while you went the other way. But alas, you counted down the days to be hers again.

“There’s a party on Saturday,” you heard being commented beside you during your Intro to Philosophy class one day. “You should come. I mean, who wouldn’t want the head of the soccer team as a guest?”

You sighed at the comment. Although you had been to your fair share of frat parties during what was your first year of college, given your surprising status as the head of the soccer team as a freshman, you never truly enjoyed them. Most times you drank enough to gain a buzz as a means to soothe your boredom without Wanda by your side. She was never invited, and you knew her being a rather introverted nerd had a lot to do with it.

“I’ll see if I show up,” you shrugged. “I have plans with my stepsis this weekend.”

The woman who sat beside you, one you faintly knew as Sharon, captain of the cheer squad, simply smiled your way. “You can always bring her along. Anything to get you to come, right? If you show up, it’ll be a full house, superstar.”

Wanda never enjoyed loud, crammed spaces – especially not after you took her to a rather crowded concert months before and had to leave after she ran out fueled by her anxiety. But alas, you enjoyed humoring the idea of taking her out of her comfort zone so she could meet new people. From what you knew, she had very few acquaintances, but no one other than you that she could call a friend.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her about it,” you suddenly beamed. “Thanks, Shar.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“Remind me again why we have to go. I mean, it’s not like these parties are any fun. You’ve said it yourself – these people only drink and act like idiots. That doesn’t sound like something either of us would enjoy.”

Holding Wanda’s hand, you brushed your thumb over the back of it. “I want you to meet new people, Wands. Make some friends if you can. Plus, it’s always nice to be able to show off my girlfriend. People don’t know that but, uh, I just know people are jealous to know that my girl is taken and I bet they’re dying to figure out who owns you.”

“Oh,” Wanda blushed at that. She squirmed in the passenger seat of the car, suddenly averting her gaze from you so you wouldn’t see her embarrassingly red features. “Well, that does sound nice, but I doubt I’ll like anyone there. I mean, they’re all so different from me. They’re all so cool and popular. I’m just…me.”

“Shush,” you rolled your eyes. Bringing her hand to your lips, you pressed a kiss against it. “Come on, baby. You’re way better than any of those people in there. Plus, I’ll be by your side every step of the way. I’m not leaving my girl alone.”

That was enough of a pep-talk to get Wanda to leave the car with you in tow. Although she managed to garner some sort of confidence to walk up the steps to the frat house, your stepsister didn’t stop holding your arm for dear life. She nuzzled her face against you, and as you looked down, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty. You picked out a perfect outfit for her: a short black shirt, similarly-colored high Converse shoes, and a loose sweater that had the faint outline of her nipples poking through.

The two of you waltzed around the party without letting go of the other. Numerous fellow students waved your way, even shouting your name as a means to get your attention, all while incredulously eyeing Wanda in your arms. Never did you let her escape, at least not until you shared a space in the corner and you promised to return soon.

“I’m really thirsty,” Wanda whined as she tugged at your arm. “Y/N…”

“I’ll get you something, sweetheart,” you told her, knowing your stepsister ran away from anything related to alcohol, instead opting to get her a bottle of water. “Be right back. Don’t you run off, pretty girl.”

Only a handful of minutes passed until your return. You had been stopped a few times for girls to chat you up, some even trying to get you to, as they said, ‘have fun’ with them for the night. You didn’t pay any mind to anyone as your mind was fully set on Wanda. Grabbing the first water bottle you found inside a cooler in the living room, you ran back to your lover, but as soon as the sight of someone else and Wanda caught your eye, you huffed.

A fellow classmate who you knew as Bucky pressed Wanda against the nearest wall and towered over her. You didn’t care for the water any longer nor the drowned out callings for your name. Instead you made a beeline towards Wanda, and before she could dare react, you dragged her to safety away from Bucky, throwing him a snide look in your wake.

“Did he do anything?” You questioned hastily, knowing the history he had with fellow classmates. “Are you okay?”

“I, uhm, felt really uncomfortable. I kept saying that I was waiting for someone but he tried pushing me,” Wanda shrugged. She didn’t know where you were taking her, but then again, neither did you. All she saw was complete darkness, let alone for a dim light when you shoved her into a bathroom upstairs far away from any prying eyes. “I…I don’t want to be here, Y/N. I know you mean well and all but-”

��Shh it’s okay, baby. We can go,” you promised her. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

While you words were left ambiguous, you purposely left them that way. At that Wanda smiled, her eyes twinkling underneath the faux light as she leaned against your front. Her hands there on your chest, fingers forming small imaginary circles as her body became flush with your own. Whining innocently, she let out a rather exaggerated moan only for your ears for feast upon.

“Anything?”

“Yes, naughty girl,” you raised your eyebrows at her sudden confidence. “What are you thinking about, princess?” Already feeling a growing bulge straining against your pants, you grunted. “Go on, use your words.”

Wanda didn’t dare give you a verbalized reply, but rather dropped to her knees in an instant – she knew they’d bruise up brushing up with the bathroom tiles, but she couldn’t care less. Her face nuzzled itself upon your crotch, teeth very gingerly nipping at your slightly flaccid penis. Her need to have you in her mouth, to taste you, was far too much to ever let go of. The redhead was in disarray with her mind in a haze. So the best thing she knew to do was beg for you to alleviate it.

Hastily tugging open your pants and pushing them down along with your underwear, you allowed your member to gain freedom. Given your length, you couldn’t help it when your dick slapped itself against Wanda’s face accidentally. The woman giggled at that, placing a sweet kiss on your shaft before peppering it with even more affection.

“Open up,” you guided her with your hand, motioning Wanda’s head right to the position you longed for. A hand went to grab a fistful of her hair to pull it back and away from her face, leaving your lover free to please you. “Be a good girl and make it better. Maybe then you’ll get a special treat to swallow…”

She understood the chore bestowed upon her. With a soft hand on the base of your cock, Wanda held you in the perfect place for her to start giving you kitty licks. Your bulbous head, already oozing out bouts of pre-cum, was stimulated time and time again. She alternated between kissing and licking your tip, but once you were hard enough, she began sucking until her cheeks were hollowed out.

Fingers massaged your balls as you helped Wanda bob her head back and forth. Since the first time you taught her how to suck you off she learned to relax her throat so as to not harm herself. You were struck by your growing lust for your stepsister, especially as she never failed to break eye contact and stared up with wide, glassy doe eyes that begged for praise. Patting the top of her head, you nodded.

“That’s it, baby. There’s my good cock sucker. Go on, take it all. I know that pretty mouth of yours can do it,” you huffed out. It was impossible to keep your hips still as they began moving back and forth at a slowed pace. “Fuck, Wanda. I don’t think I’ll last long.”

Soon her hands were replaced by her mouth as teeth very carefully nipped your balls before she sucked and kissed them. Your cock was placed over her face as pre-cum fell on her forehead, but Wanda didn’t mind. She still kept her ministrations up. Lustfully she stimulated your balls until you cried out for release, adoring the feeling of them against her mouth.

Her moans were stifled with her lips around your cock, and yet you could still make sense of them. Wanda’s eyelids were heavy with the move you forced her up and down your member. She gagged over you entirely, but left her head still once she took every single inch of you for a few seconds before moving back to catch her breath. A mixture of pre-cum and saliva drifted down her chin with the more she sucked your dick, so much so that you weren’t able to hold yourself back any longer.

When you came undone, you were sure to force Wanda into place. Whether she liked it or not, she was to swallow every last drop of your cum and be thankful for it. Seconds passed where your dick twitched and throbbed in her mouth, but she didn’t let go. Not even as she nearly gargled with all the sticky substance spewed in her. Although your focus was on her own pleasure, the sole action of making you orgasm made her feel better than ever. She could forever drown in the wondrous manner in which you cried once you released your seed in her – a sight which never failed to ruin her panties as she constantly felt the urge to shove your hands down her legs to soothe her ache.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” you praised her as the girl released your cock with a loud ‘plop’. She allowed you to see all the cum on her tongue, opening her mouth for your viewing pleasure before she closed and swallowed as you wanted her to. “Fuck, baby girl. You’re such a little whore for my dick, huh? Sucking me off in this bathroom, not even giving a fuck if anyone walks in. But I bet you’d like that. You wanna be watched sucking dick, Wanda?”

She didn’t respond at first, but instead swirled her wet, nasty tongue all over your messy cock head. “I love it,” she mumbled out dumbly. “Take me home, please. I…It’s really sticky down there. I need you to make it better, baby. Please. M-maybe with your mouth and then with…”

Wanda trailed off as she stared at your dick, but you knew exactly what she wanted. Holding your hands out, you helped your stepsister to her feet once more. Hands quickly went to clean her up, to scoop some of the leftover cum off her lips before making her lick it clean and peck your cheek as a thank you. Dragging her away, you could already feel yourself harshly lusting after her once more.

“I’ll destroy you when we get home,” you promised. “And you’re going to fucking love it, pretty girl.”

[pricklyjim]

I genuinely can't get past the idea that when Orion gets the Matrix it's got to be incredibly disorienting.

Imagine nearly doubling in height all at once, being given that much more strength, power in every fiber, and potentially not knowing how to use all of it appropriately. Good gods.

Anywhoo :] I want to know if your Orion would go though some kind of brief transition period where he has to like, figure that shit out. Stumbling and bumbling around like a new mech.

Haha- yeah, the idea of Orion gaining the Matrix and nearly doubling in size all at once is something I absolutely agree would be incredibly disorienting.

like- imagine being told you’re tiny and small your whole life and then waking up to a completely different body:

one that’s way larger, snd stronger, and far more powerful than anything you’ve ever known! It’s definitely bound to come with a very steep learning curve.

For my take, yes, I think Orion would go through a transition period where he’d have to learn how to function in his new frame. I picture him stumbling and fumbling like a newly-forged mech trying to find his balance, since it’s now off kilter-

He’d probably underestimate his strength too, accidentally break things, and feel utterly awkward and embarrassed.

And although cybertronian doorways are quite large anyway, since Optimus becomes an above average Mech, his attempts to walk through an average doorway, tend to leave him hitting his helm on the frame.

The loud clang startling nearby mechs, as Optimus mutters an emotionless, “Apologies,” as he ducks awkwardly, trying very much to not seem in pain.

While picking up things, he applies too much pressure and crushes anything with a sharp crack. His optics widening as he stares at the remains in horror, and mechs, watching from nearby, burst into uncontrollable laughter, and although they don’t mean harm. It makes Optimus feel quite incompetent in his new form.

Training sessions are also a total mess now, Optimus is unable to find a proper sparring partner, the only one able to do so being Magnus- but Magnus has never really been one to spar with his commander.

The physical adjustments wouldn’t be the only challenge, there’s also the psychological toll. Suddenly, everyone is looking up at him, not just in height but in status.

His face plate, previously shadowed by his helms cap, is now exposed and on full display for all to see. Where mechs once looked down on him, they now study him with closely, awed, at now being able to see Optimus’s face with such HD 4K 1080 detail, now able to see the tiny details and little dents that scatter his face like freckles.

and I think this is where the battle mask comes in.

For Optimus, it becomes more than just armor—it’s a shield from the weight of peoples stares. Even if others see him as regal or commanding, he struggles to see himself that way.

The mask lets him hide the insecurities he feels about his worn helm and dented face plate, protecting him from the crushing expectations from those he leads.

So, yes, I absolutely think there’s a period of stumbling… both physically and emotionally—before he becomes the Prime we all love. but It’s definitely a journey, one full of mistakes, reflection, and eventually, acceptance of one’s self ❤️.

But, I also believe, his transition with his height is far easier for him, then it was for Megatron. Since the only original part of Megatron’s body that remains is quite literally his memory drive, the body he currently has not being made from any of his original form.

[thetreestumptherapist]

I don't really care about the font. As long as it is easily readable for me while I am working. I started some stories in Google docs, but moved them to Microsoft Word and am considering going back for convenience sake and I haven't touched them since I moved them partly because of the default fonts. (I am aware I could change them, but I am too lazy to do so) Maybe I do care after all...

I 100% could write it by hand, and have considered it. The only reason I don't is because editing is more difficult on paper.

I haven't been writing long enough to develop a specific ritual. So maybe my lack of ritual is the real curse?

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. That and Hippopotomonstrosesqippedaliaphobia. Yes, these are spelled mostly from memory. I checked the spelling for the phobia, I did not do so for the osis.

I don't know if it's a superstition really, but your characters are alive and will 100% change the story on you and there's nothing you can do about it if you want your story to come out good and cohesive.

I have two. That I will never get it the way I like it, (I know this is an unsolvable dilemma, but it's still a fear) and that no one will like it or even see it when I publish it.

Watching my story come together. As well as coming up with a solid idea for the next part of the story.

Dialogue, because I suck at it.

I do believe in ghosts. Probably not the ghosts you're thinking of though. As a Christian I do believe spirits do things we can't see, but not quite like the stereotypical ghosts in fiction. Although they are very similar.

Depends on your definition of haunted. Haunted as in I was horrified by it? I can't think of one right now, but I am almost positive it has happened. Haunted as in hung over my head because I haven't finished it yet? Yes, my own writing has done that. As have many stories that I need to finish reading.

I am not sure what that old advice is, and I don't know that I want to. Yes, I grieve the darlings lost. I have not yet killed a darling, but I am a sucker for pain and suffering. It just has to be handled correctly. So, if I ever kill a darling, believe me, it will be felt throughout the story and your life. A darling graveyard is a wonderful idea. Thank you for the suggestion. >:)

The Lorem Ipsum is a cruel and unusual punishment. As for the wishes, gaining the ability to actually finish my work, having the dialogue come out correctly, and having the writing be less awkward. I think those would be my wishes. The ability to finish my work could possibly be replaced with the ability to come up with ideas easier, like no writer's block or something. But they are essentially the same thing.

I don't know what subject I would have difficult writing about. Again, I haven't been writing very long or a lot, so I don't have much experience with it yet. Same with easy.

My lack of physical social life does not allow for me to easily lend books to people. But I can guarantee you I would know EXACTLY who had what book, but I probably wouldn't get them back because social anxiety.

Don't do it to my books and I will tolerate your book abuse. I would love to read in the bath, but I am scared of damaging the book.

The weirdest thing I've ever used as a bookmark would probably be a post it note, or gift card maybe, if I actually used a gift card for that. I am very boring with my bookmarks...

I cannot, to save my life, think of any details to tell you that won't make it into the text. I am sorry. I world build as I write and I'm still near the beginning of the story. My dnd campain tho? That would need a whole post of it's own. 👀

"Knowing how the Sangheili felt about their swords and other people using them, she hoped that given the circumstances they would understand her desperation. She picked two of them up while thanking the Sangheili, both for joining their cause and for the sacrifice they made. Then she left the battlefield, but not before paying respects to all the fallen soldiers, human and Sangheili alike. Some simple words of gratitude spoken over the battlefield was all she had time for." This is a passage from a Halo fanfiction I am writing. The story came about because I wanted to emphasize the Sangheili's focus on Honor and Respect and how their views of humans changed during their allyship with us. The MC's name is Emira (subject to change) and respect is also a core value in her morals. She has not gotten to respectfully return the swords to the Sangheili yet, but that will happen soon. If I can figure out how she is rescued or escapes from danger. The battlefield spoken about in that passage has already been left by the conflict and is inactive when she finds it. The Sangheili she thanks are fallen soldiers, and she took the swords from beside their dead bodies. The passage did not change much during its creation.

I started writing because I love making stories up in my head, but I wanted to share them. The bumps are I always picture them as movies in my head, so turning them into words and having it come out as a well-written story is difficult. I am currently writing fanfiction and short stories, but I would like to turn one of my stories into a novel. I just haven't figured out how and I don't know if I will try to get them officially published or not.

The one true love. Life gets lonely, and they can give me emotional support while I struggle with my writing skills.

I wish I could start. 💀 I have 3 WIPs, all my first stories that I actually started writing. (I consider my dnd campaign a WIP because I am considering turning it into its own fic and it is a joy to work on) I haven't published anything and am getting very annoyed by my lack of progress on all of them.

Another reason why I haven't touched my stories for awhile is because I liked Google Docs' organization abilities better than Word's. With Docs they have tabs inside the document so you can actually have your stories separated with in the same document. Whereas with Word, at least to my knowledge, the only thing separates them is the headings. I should go back to Docs...

My couch? And an ungodly amount of clutter? I watch tv in the evenings and sometimes I decide to write while I do so. I get my computer out and have it on my lap, while I sit on the couch and watch tv, ignoring the clutter caused by my undiagnosed ADHD and complete lack of motivation to do anything related to chores...

People put prep work into their stories? Like, they get prepared to write the story? I just sit down and write whatever I can come up with if it fits my current story. Sometimes I have to tweak things so it all fits together.

I haven't come up with any irrelevant details yet. Everything must be part of the story somehow.

Given that most of my characters are based on me, yes I very much regret going into their heads and I haven't come up with a way to get back out yet. Please send help. I think I took a wrong turn back at Imagination Avenue?

I can't think of a specific character that was stressful. The most stressful situation to write though, has been the wedding reception for my (healthy) romance story. I have no idea what to do with it.

My MC for the romance story has probably been the most delightful. Either her, or Nialith Madgarb, (pronounced nye-uh-lith Mad-garb) from my DND campaign.

My brain is a cesspool for the craziest ideas. I pull inspiration from everywhere. Sometimes I wish the inspiration well WOULD run dry so I could have a moment of peace and quiet, but nay, I am doomed to an eternity of infinite ideas that I simply must run with. I am exhausted.

I have not yet written my dreams, nor dreamed my writings.

"Thank you for reading my stories. It means a lot to have people who enjoy my writing. Or are open to civil discussion about why they don't like it. I truly appreciate y'all"

Do deepfakes count? There is a series called "Master Chief teaches" and it's a bunch of videos of an ai recreation of Master Chief's voice and a script where "Master Chief" teaches you how to do stuff. In the video titled "Master Chief teaches you what to do when things go sideways" he says "adopting a solution-oriented mind helps you stay focused on what is most important during any crisis and that is taking action. Without action there is no movement, and without movement problems remain what they are" "Without movement problems remain what they are" is something I return to regularly when I start feeling overwhelmed by school, chores, etc. I could sit there and avoid the problem until it's so bad I can't anymore, or I could take action and make a move to fix the problem when I encounter it instead of sitting there overwhelmed and frozen. I recommend giving the video a watch, even if you don't play or like Halo.

I like to draw and paint (with watercolor, acrylic, and/or ink), and I have dabbled in cross-stitch, embroidery, and diamond art. I plan to draw some of the characters from my stories. I really want to paint Nialith Madgarb in my inks, but I am still working on mentally designing her character.

"Let's eat grandma"... Use the Oxford comma, people. It saves lives.

I cannot remember a single writing rule to comment on right now. If it works for your story and style, go for it. If it doesn't, yeet it into the abyss. Idk

I know an entire alphabet's worth of star wars character's and then some. This has nothing to do with my ability to write. Also, Halo 5: Guardians and Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out the same year, one in October, the other in December. Again, not related to my writing.

They wouldn't even consider me lol. And if they did, they'd think I was insane. And had severe ADHD. And they wouldn't be wrong...

My writing process is too slow and barely existing. Nothing about it is super weird except for the fact that I bounce all over the story and fill in the missing parts once I come up with a way to do so. As for the cats, they like to think they don't care about us, but they 100% do. And they would die of embarrassment if they knew we know they care.

Nothing. If I feel like giving up, I take a break until I inevitably come up with an irresistible idea on how to continue the story. Rinse and repeat.

I don't know if you mean a poem someone else wrote, or one I wrote, so I shall do both. Robert Frost's Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening: Whose woods these are I think I know His house in the village though He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year He gives is harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake The woods are lovely, dark and deep But I have promises to keep And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep. My poem: Where’s my Neverland?: Where’s my Neverland? I’ve got so much in my hand Meetings and school I know you do too We want an adventure But life forces expenditure Paying the bills By wasting our skills Wish I could read until 2 a.m. But, alas, an adult I am And my days are made up Of working towards a paystub I wish we were kids Lying down in our beds Looking out at the sky Where the stars are not shy People today are depressed and dismayed All the time worrying about being betrayed Worried about being laid off from work And still somehow not giving a "fork" Where is our Neverland? Where is our wish? Of fun-filled times and Mom’s favorite dish? Where’s our adventure filled with imagination and beauty? Of digging in sand to find pirate booty? The answer is simple, and yet oh so sad Those days are gone by, the best days we’ve had Those memories are all that we have Of those days made whole by a laugh But, worry not, for there’s always tomorrow So, please don’t obsess over yesterday’s sorrow Look straight ahead While lying in bed Dreaming of heaven Those days will be back soon I reckon Where sorrows will be traded for unending joy And kids in sandboxes again shout “AHOY” And we can always smell the finest of food And all work turns to play and we know that it’s good

I hope this answers all your questions and confirms that writers are in fact weird. :) And I hope the poetry was satisfactory.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[prettymfwrites]

Honey pack Prank 🍯

Paige bueckers x female reader

Summary: It had started as a normal day, with Paige dragging you out to help with errands you didn’t want to do. What you didn’t know was that Paige had been plotting her revenge ever since your last prank on her—and today, she had the perfect plan.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍯　 🍯༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The car ride had been chill so far, and you left Paige in the car while you popped into the convenience store to grab a few things. What you didn’t know was that while you were inside, Paige was carefully stirring a honey pack into your iced coffee, grinning as she adjusted the camera she had set up on the dash.

“Y’all,” she whispered, glancing at the door to make sure you weren’t coming back yet. “She has no idea. None. And it’s already killing me not to touch her, but I’m about to make this so hard for her.” She giggled, sliding the coffee back into the cup holder as she saw you exit the store.

You opened the car door with an annoyed huff. “They were out of my favorite snacks. This day is already off to a bad start.”

Paige glanced at the camera for a split second before smiling at you. “Aw, poor baby. You got your coffee, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, taking a sip. You let out a content hum. “Okay, this is good, though. Maybe this’ll save my mood.”

Paige grinned, biting back a laugh as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Good. We’ve got a few more stops to make, mama. Hang in there with me.”

At first, everything was fine. You sipped your coffee, Paige teased you about your music choices, and it was all perfectly normal. But about twenty minutes later, you started feeling... off.

You shifted in your seat, tugging at the neckline of your shirt. “Is it just me, or is it kind of warm in here?”

Paige glanced at you briefly, feigning confusion. “Warm? Baby, it’s literally January. You good?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frowning. “I feel weird. Like... tingly or something. And warm. Definitely warm.”

“Hmm,” Paige said, her tone too casual. “Maybe you’re coming down with something?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think so. I just... I don’t know. Can I have a kiss?”

Paige tightened her grip on the steering wheel, smirking to herself. “Mama, I’m driving.”

“So?” you said, leaning closer to her. “Just one. Come on, Paige.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Not while I’m driving, baby. You’re gonna have to wait.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Fine. But you owe me when we get home.”

“Oh, I know,” Paige said smoothly, her lips twitching.

Paige led you into the next store, where your restlessness only grew. You fanned yourself with your hand, tugging at your clothes every few seconds. “Seriously, why is it so hot in here?”

“It’s not hot,” Paige said, grabbing a shopping basket and shooting a glance at the camera she had discreetly placed in the cart. “You feeling okay, pretty?”

“No! I feel like I’m burning up, and I don’t even know why. And you’re just... standing there being you,” you snapped, gesturing at her.

“Being me?” Paige repeated, biting back a laugh. “What does that mean, baby?”

“You know what it means! You’re just walking around here being all fine, and it’s not helping!”

Paige stopped in her tracks, smirking. “So you think I’m fine?”

“Oh, don’t even start,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands. “Can we just get out of here already?”

“We still have a couple more things to grab,” Paige said, her voice teasing. “Patience, baby.”

You groaned, trailing after her like a lovesick puppy. Every time she stopped to grab something, you leaned against her, clutching her arm or resting your head on her shoulder.

“Can you hold my hand?” you asked, pouting up at her.

Paige laced her fingers through yours with a soft smile. “Better?”

“No,” you said, your voice muffled as you pressed your face into her arm. “I need more than this, Paige. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel so... ugh!”

Paige leaned down, her voice low and teasing. “Tell me what you need, mama.”

You pulled back, glaring at her. “You know what I need!”

Paige bit her lip as you walked away from her noticeably frustrated, glancing at the camera with an amused glint in her eyes. “Y’all, she’s making this so hard to do.”

By the time you made it back to the car, you were practically vibrating with frustration. “I don’t even care about the errands anymore. Can we please go home?”

Paige chuckled, patting your knee. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you home, pretty.”

When you finally got inside, you wasted no time stripping off your jacket and tugging at your shirt. “I’m burning up, Paige. I don’t know what’s happening, but I—”

You reached for the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it off, when Paige darted forward, grabbing your hands.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Paige said quickly, her voice a mix of laughter and panic. She moved to turn off the camera she’d set on the counter.

“What?” you asked, confused and flustered.

Paige grinned, holding up the empty honey pack. “It was a prank, mama. Payback for last time.”

Your jaw dropped. “Paige! Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Paige said, laughing. “You messed with me first, baby. This is just karma.”

“You are so lucky I love you,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips against yours. “I know, mama. And for the record? You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, even when you’re mad.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re still in trouble.”

Paige smirked, pulling you closer. “Worth it.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

I take requests babes! 💕

[russellsppttemplates]

Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

[trickbxbes]

Hey girl!

Love your work, especially the Dae-ho stuff and I’m so glad I found your page!!!!

If I can, can I request more smut… WHO SAID THAT

I don’t know if you need an idea, maybe if you do what I’d Dae-ho and fem reader are in an established relationship and they haven’t had sex in a WHILE, you got it from there ;)

-🦑

Omg I’m so sorry I didn’t see this but yes >:)

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 (18+)

[𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

Summary: You and Dae-Ho have been extraordinarily busy trying to stay afloat from all the debt. It led to long days, and shorter nights. Both of you spending less and less time with each other. But one argument actually helps release some long built tension :)

Warnings: Smut, Minor arguing, angry turned passionate sex, kitchen fucking, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex,

Word Count: 1,703

Your shoulders slack as you finally get home, holding your purse close to you as a reminder to stay awake. It was a long night at work. Your eyes stung from the dryness. You fumble for the keys to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Dae-Ho. Debt had been weighing heavily on both your shoulders and his. Many times did you come home to your lover already asleep, and many times did you wake up to an empty bed.

Entering your home, you’re surprised to see the living room light still on. Dae-Ho was sitting at the dining table, back hunched slightly over his laptop. He turns to see you arrive, squinting his eyes and then rubbing them.

“Hi, honey. Wow, is it that late already?”

He checks the clock on the screen. You nod, rubbing your head. A migraine had creeped its way to the left side of your skull. You flick on the kitchen light to get yourself some water. But you’re greeted by a ghastly sight, dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. The chronic stress you were under turned your minor irritation into full frustration.

“Dae-Ho, I thought I told you to clean that…!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Dae-Ho leans back in his chair, getting scolded making it harder for him to not get defensive.

“‘m sorry, I thought I did it already. I have a lot of stuff to do too, you know.”

His tone made him come off a little more self justifying than he intended, which further amplified your annoyance. You hum, looking to the ground.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.” You mutter sarcastically. Dae-Ho’s eyebrows furrow as you go and grab a glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up a bit straighter. “It means I’m not the one in 250 mil debt, Dae-Ho!” You knew you’d regret being so harsh but right now you couldn’t care less. A dry chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t act so innocent. You’re in mil debt territory too!”

“I just wanna come home to a clean house!”

“You want me to do it so bad? Fine!”

Dae-Ho gets up from his seat and storms to the sink. “Y’know more than half of these are yours, though.” He’d say quietly, wanting an end to the conflict but also wanting to get that point across. You grip at your hair, your teeth grit. “Why are you making this so difficult? You think I like coming home super late and being so tired I can’t do anything but crawl in bed? I miss you!” You raise your voice, but lowering your volume mid shout. As angry as you were, you didn’t forget your boyfriend’s discomfort with shouting and aggression.

He’s about to turn on the sink, still heated. “I miss you too—!” Until he saw you pulling your hair, making him instinctively grab your wrist. “Stop that-!”

You jerk, trying to release yourself. “I wouldn’t be this pissed off if you had just did what you said!” Your struggling made you step back, now feeling the cold kitchen counter on your back.

“You think I like going to bed alone too? Barely being able to see you, huh?!”

His breath is hot on your face, the close proximity being mere inches. You find yourself staring up at him. Being pinned to the counter, his rough grip on your wrist, it made a certain heat rise in your stomach. You both don’t say anything for a few minutes, just glaring at each other. Until you use your free hand to grab the side of his neck and pull him in for a searing kiss.

Dae-Ho makes a surprised sound before reciprocating, groaning against your lips. He lets go of your wrist, instead choosing to grab your hips and pull you closer to his body. He presses you further against the counter, making you moan lightly as you had your hands tangled in his hair.

You lift a leg up, giving Dae-Ho a chance to grab your under thigh and lift your leg higher. You feel his bulge against your wet core, he was already getting hard. Had it really been that long since you two have done it?

You hook your leg around his waist, grinding against his body. A deep rumble leaves Dae-Ho’s throat, he pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. “Fuck…” He pants for air. Disappointment and anxiety creeped up faster than you could’ve imagined. This was the first time you two were this passionate in awhile. You couldn’t let him pull away now.

You grab the cuff of his shirt and yank him back toward you. Oh that shirt, you always hated it. The design reminded you of some clown graffiti you’d see in a sketchy part of town. You’d rather see your boyfriend without it on.

As you kiss him again, you slide your hands up underneath his shirt. His skin was hot, his hips stuttered as you ran your fingers over his abs. Dae-Ho shuddered a little. But he leaned closer, his tongue dancing along with yours. He’d attempt to speak to you in between your hot temperature kisses.

“Wait—is this… okay?”

You cup his cheeks and look him in the eyes, you could see you both were much less angry. But the passion brewing was one you couldn’t let simmer. You needed that shit to over boil.

“Dae-Ho. Fuck me. Now.”

Dae-Ho did not have to be told twice as he dived back into your lips. The passionate exchange only broken for a moment as you made him take that ghastly shirt off. His hand slowly slid down your pants as your hands slid around his neck. Dae-Ho groans in your mouth as his hand feels your soaking folds. You whimper in pleasure, trying to somehow get closer to him. He starts to rub your clit in smooth slow circles. You whine out, Dae-Ho letting your sounds fill the room so he could hear you clearly. His mouth was slightly open, as if mimicking the shape your mouth was making.

He slips in a finger, curling it and making you bite your lip. Dae-Ho thumbs the bottom of your lip. He leans in close.

“Don’t. I wanna hear you.”

His tongue swirls around yours before his lips connect for a quick peck. He inserts another finger, now drawing out all your sounds. He plunged them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. You still had both your hands on the back of his neck.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck… Dae-Ho…!” You couldn’t take it, you needed more. You took off your shirt, and aggressively pulled down your bottoms. You’re left in just your bra and underwear for him. His fingers didn’t leave your dripping cunt, continuously finger fucking you. You felt yourself getting close, but this isn’t how you wanted to go. “Dae-Ho~! Get… inside!” Your command somehow made the male even harder, his cock stirring in his pants.

He removes his fingers so he could lift you up onto the kitchen counter. While you desperately removed your panties, he took off his pants and got his member free.

Dae-Ho lines up with your entrance. Your wetness being more than needed for a lubricant. “Fuck, you’re so wet. All this cause of me?” He’d remark with a light cocky smirk. You glare up at him, still needing your nerves fucked out of you.

“Shut up.”

The male narrows his eyes and enters you with one thrust, bottoming out. You cry out, wet enough where it didn’t hurt, just raw pleasure. “Oh fuck—!” You choke on your own words. Dae-Ho barely gives a moment to adjust as he starts ramming into you at a fast pace. Pumped full with adrenaline, you didn’t mind at all. It almost felt like having sex for the first time. But you’ve never felt Dae-Ho’s thrust so desperately before. He had his hands on your hips, pushing you further down on him to meet every thrust. You were seeing stars, almost drifting away from the feeling. But then, you hear a,

“I love you.”

Dae-Ho was looking at you with a deep sincerity. You gaze into his eyes. Of course, now you remember, you were fighting. Your heart grew so full. You cup his face, and lull him closer.

“I-I love you too!”

You both kiss lovingly, now out of pure passion and love for each other, than out of lust. His rhythm struck slightly out of order, and you knew he was close. Before you could even hold out for him though, you come undone. You cry out his name, your head arched toward the ceiling. Dae-Ho sped up, his thrusts sloppy, but yearning.

“(Y,n)… (Y,n)…! Shit…!”

He lets out a held back roar, finishing inside of you. You cling onto him, whining with broken gasps. Your hands drift from his back to his shoulders as the two of you calm down.

Panting, Dae-Ho rests his head against your collarbone. You weakly rub his head, closing your eyes. He slowly comes out of you, creating a light squelching sound.

“Don’t be mad…I love you.”

His tone was soft, hesitant. You recognized this vulnerability from him, and slowly wrap your arms around him. “I love you too…” You say sincerely. Dae-Ho doesn’t say anything back, but he does scoop you up bridal style in his arms.

You’re carried back to your bed, and he lays beside you. It was late, and you were more than happy to get some rest after that. You can safely say you’re no longer angry. To double check on that, Dae-Ho mumbles,

“I’ll do the dishes in the morning, I promise.”

He gently pushes a strand of hair from your face. You scoot closer, signaling your boyfriend to embrace you in his open arms. He plants a kiss on your head. You listen to his heartbeat, the way it beat so fast.

“I’m sorry…”

“…I’m sorry too…”

The two of you lay there together, drifting off into a well needed slumber. But for the first time in awhile, you felt like your relationship with your lover was secure. And how, that’s one way to get out of doing dishes.

[notthegrouch]

The reasoning of "just a tool" shows an incredible understatement of understanding of how much the generative AI is impacting the professional fields, and as a consequence of that, the aspirations of amateurs.

A famous saying in the artistic and literary world is "Ideas are cheap". it's the actual work that goes into the execution that makes art art, and that doesn't have to mean that it all needs to be photorealistic, but that does mean that the process of the art creation is often what is talked about when you see it in museums or at competitions.

Jackson Pollock splattered paint on a canvas, Marcel Duchamp declared a urinoir to be a fountain and it was art; the idea was cheap. The boldness of actually going all in on the simplicity of that process and taking it seriously, openly and honestly showing that their process WAS in fact just splattering paint or picking up ready made objects, that was all very new.

in the same way, you can't really pull that off nowadays anymore, because you'll just be someone who imitates Pollock or Duchamps.

Some artists, however use large machines and robotics. This looks very cool! The Robotic art piece Can't Help Myself has been seen on tumblr, the sad robotic arm that does a little dance as dark red liquid oozes out, until it seemingly panics and quickly starts wiping the liquid back into itself. The machinery is used here as "just a tool" too.

But the incredibly widespread application of AI art combines all the worst factors of all of this; AI makes it very easy to execute any cheap idea and get an artwork that looks decent at first glance, but there's nothing really bold or honest about pretending to have made an oil painting while you know nothing about oil, paint, or color theory. There is barely any process to speak of, other than the prompt/programming that was offered to the AI and the amount of iterations the computer went through until you reach the desired result. but since most of the process happens through machine learning, we can't really peer into that in the same way that we can peer into humans without humanizing the machine. At the same time, because a lot of AI function via the internet (though of course not all of them do), there's also a little bit of obscuring that goes on when it comes to the process. in art, when I think of "just a tool", I think of a brush, a pencil, a pen. in some cases a personal computer, or a drawing tablet. house hold items, that, although some can be expensive, or big, are ultimately clearly tools.

What I DON'T think of when someone mentions tools are factory machines that could replace 90% of a work force. When a car factory is managed by 100 mechanics, and 90 of them get replaced by robotic arms, it's not the correct terminology to say "don't worry, that arm is just a tool". And if hundreds or thousands of amateur crafters suddenly start building shoddy cars in their back yard because they could afford to have such a mechanical arm installed, would you still feel safe on the road? The amount of mechanical arms suddenly being on the market drives up the prices of computers. Generative AI is that mechanical arm. The internet is being overrun with quickly made, shoddy art, often presented as realistic depictions of either hand made art, or even real life photography. AI art that, within it's own picture, boldly shows to be AI art is very rare and unsurprisingly THAT is the AI art that can also be seen in museums sometimes. At the same time the popularity of the AI art causes a host of environmental concerns and unforeseen political problems. Art, messaging and propaganda is made at a scale never seen before, and it's doing damage.

So when people say AI is just a tool, no it's not. It's a factory machine capable of replacing an artistic team, being put into the hands of the common people, and treated as if it's merely a pencil. And it is spreading very very cheap ideas very very quickly.

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

[phosphns]

MILAN , chris s.

🫐. you take chris around milan, enjoying a cute night in the sweet italian atmosphere.

warns. bf!chris x italian!reader | established relationship, fluff, cursing, kissing, pet names [babe, pretty], some italian sentences, flirty comments, no use of y/n

The Prada fashion show had been nothing short of breathtaking.

When Chris asked you to go with them at the show, you were beyond excited. Not just because the show would have taken place in your hometown, but also because you’d always loved fashion. You couldn’t believe you were really going to attend a Prada event, so it all felt like a dream when you actually stood in the first line, examining every outfit with heart-shaped eyes.

Chris stood beside you, his hand wrapped securely around your waist. He looked so cool in that black suit, but you could tell that he wasn’t used to this world. His brothers, Nick and Matt, were nearby, doing some comments about the designs now and then and trying to sneak pictures of the show that they would have posted later.

“You okay?” Chris leaned in close, his voice soft in your ear. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the air of sophistication around you.

“I’m better than okay,” you replied with a smile, your Italian accent giving your english words a unique charm that he adored. “This doesn’t even feel real.”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. “It’s wild, right? I didn’t think we’d actually get invited to something like this.”

You nod, your gaze not leaving the runway, too focused on the way models walked or held the precious bags.

After the show wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, Nick and Matt said their goodbyes, leaving you and Chris alone. The night was still young, and the streets of Milan were alive with lights, laughter, and the allure of adventure

Chris took your hand, pulling you away from the crowd of paparazzi and fans surrounding the fashion show area, leading you to a quieter spot.

As soon as you were alone, you wrapped your arms around his neck, caressing the back of his head while his hands moved to your hips. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes. You nodded. “You have no idea how much,” you said, before connecting your lips with his in a sweet kiss that expressed all your happiness and gratitude.

“Thank you,” you added after pulling away. He gave a confused little smile. “For what?” he asked, his fingers running up and down your sides in a reassuring but very sensual way.

“For giving me the chance to come,” you answered, looking up at him. It was true; you were extremely grateful to have been invited, but above all, you were proud of him. In such a short time, he had managed to get so far, doing it all on his own, with his brothers. You were thankful to be with someone like him.

He smiled sincerely, then his smile turned into a knowing smirk, and he added mischievously, “You have no idea how many more times I’ll give you that chance.” You gave him a playful tap to reprimand him.

“Can’t you be serious for five seconds?” you scolded, trying to hold back a grin. “Not when I’m around you, pretty,” he replied, making you blush.

You decided to pull away, taking his hand. “I want to show you something,” you said, stopping the first available taxi. Chris didn’t say anything, getting into the car after you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned forward, murmuring the destination to the driver in Italian, so Chris couldn’t understand.

Once back in your seat, the dark-haired guy wasted no time asking where you were taking him. “Wait and see,” you replied simply, leaving him in suspense. He playfully huffed, but didn’t say anything else, partly because he wanted to play along, and partly because he wanted to enjoy the view outside the window: Milan by night was enchanting, whether seen through the eyes of a local or a tourist. The lights, the life, the sounds, never failed to amaze you

Finally, the taxi stopped, and after paying, you both got out. In front of you was the square, illuminated by the lights of the street lamps and the reflections from the lively bars filled with people. Some stopped for a drink, others greeted each other with laughter and chatter.

Chris looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the cathedral. Its gothic facade seemed even more impressive under the dark sky. “Holy shit,” the guy exclaimed, looking at the building in all its beauty.

“Pretty, right?” you asked, standing beside him in front of the majestic cathedral. He nodded, but after a moment, his expression shifted slightly as he turned to look you in the eyes. “It’s almost as beautiful as you,” he whispered, getting closer to you. His low voice carried a teasing tone.

You turned to look at him too, rolling your eyes playfully. “Stop being cheesy.” He laughed and shrugged. “What? It’s true,” he replied, though his tone made it clear he was just messing around. Before you could respond, he turned suddenly and looked around.

“Hey, excuse me, could you take a picture for us?” he asked a passerby, who happily agreed. You looked at Chris, confused, not understanding what he had in mind. You watched as he handed his phone to the man with the camera app open. Then he came back to you and grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him for the umpteenth time that night.

Once again, he didn’t give you time to react, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you slowly and sensually, as if in that square full of people, you were the only ones who mattered. It was just the two of you, and time seemed to slow down.

When you pulled away, you let out a chuckle. “That was definitely corny,” you whispered, our faces still close. He winked at you and took the phone back from the stranger after thanking him.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he said.

Chris gave you a soft tap before wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging you to a nearby bench. The two of you sat down, and you rested your head on his shoulder while he opened the photo app to check out the shots.

“Babe, we need to post these, you look so sexy,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh while adding the photo to his favorites. “Mhmh, sure” you replied, making him smirk, clearly proud of his choice.

“So,” he began, “teach me something in italian. You know, to make me sound cooler.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile at his silly idea, but you didn’t refuse. “Are you trying to impress the locals?” you teased him.

“Of course, I want to show off my italian skills,” he replied with an obvious, cocky tone. “Alright then,” you said, giving him an amused glance. “Sei un coglione di prima categoria, ma sfortunatamente ti amo lo stesso.”

The brunette blinked a few times, as if trying to register the sentence, which sounded so odd to him. “Wait, I caught a ‘ti amo,’ right?” he said, his expression amused but also a little curious. You looked at him, returning his usual smirk. “You only got that part,” you replied, pretending to mock him.

“I got it! Woah, I’m basically fluent now,” he exclaimed, leaning back on the bench and taking a long, satisfied breath.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

He shot you a teasing glance. “Yeah, and yet you publicly said, I quote, ti amo.”

yaps. “milano we love you” we all say in unison. ALSO requests are open, so feel free to request anything!

wc. 1.2k